Fell Deeds Await

[Blue]

The planet... screamed. Arriving upon the surface of Dromund Kaas was always a terrifying prospect for Kol. It was the home of many powerful beings, beings that could all too easily snuff him from existence, but that was not his only concern. There was just... so much fear here. And anger. And hunger. And envy. And despair. The Sith assassin could feel it all; it vibrated his very bones as he silently padded down the ship's ramp, causing him to shiver. Nausea churned in his guts, his own fear sending pinpricks of sensation through his body. FEED. FEED ON IT, A BANQUET- They can see me, they can all see me, don't let them see me, can't let them- With a final shudder, Kol pulled a cloak around himself and felt all that noise become deadened. Under the reflective surface of his helm, some of the strain left his mutilated features. Force Stealth was a wondrous technique for him; not only did it make him all but invisible to the senses of those trained in the Force, it dulled his own ability to feel through it. True, it left him blind and deaf, but when every world screeches at your mind, focus was difficult to maintain. Not that that storm of emotion did not have its own uses. Feeding off of that raw turmoil strengthened him, to the point where in battle he could be employed to devastating effect. These thoughts passed through his mind as he made his way towards the Temple. His tread brought him little attention, his bearing and ability posing him as nothing to those gifted in the Force. He encountered no resistance as he entered and made his way to report his mission's success to Darth Aurelius. Though he knew little of the man himself, Aurelius had been one of his teachers on Korriban. On their first meeting, Kol had still be unrefined, a blunt weapon with a fractured mind, more animal than sentient. Darth Aurelius had helped mold him into a much more effective creature of murder and, though the lessons were harsh by necessity, it had made the galaxy far more clearer to the young Sith. Finally reaching the chambers of his superior, Kol slipped silently within and kneeled, dropping his Force stealth and awaiting Darth Aurelius to acknowledge his presence before giving his report; a successful assassination on an out-of-the-way planet. His face winced as the sensation of the planet began crushing down on him once more, but he did not move a muscle.

[Rugs]

“...and what of the crystals that have aroused suspicion throughout holdings of the Hutt Cartels, my Lord? Surely, they are of interest to the Empire.”

A hologram of Moff Targus’ upper body flickered before Aurelius. The Dark Lord’s office was darkened as he strolled, thoughtfully, around the holoprojector that occupied an alcove in the left side of the room. “We’ll keep an eye on them for now,” he said. “The Empress has advised us to ensure that nothing that might strengthen the Empire slips from our touch.”

Especially with war with the Republic as an inevitability. Aurelius had, of course, recently dispatched his apprentice to investigate rumors of some “Force boosting” drug making the rounds on Nar Shaddaa. It seemed a fool’s errand on the surface, but with the rumors coming out of Hutt Space, and the words of that crazed seer on Paqualis III...

It would be foolish to ignore the happenings in the Galactic east altogether.

“Understood, my Lord,” Targus said.

Aurelius resisted the urge to glance at a chronometer. These briefings bored him to tears. But ah, a presence revealed itself near the door. A perfect excuse. “Is there anything else, Moff? I have other matters to see to.”

“No, My Lord.” Targus bowed and the holograph flickered away.

Aurelius sighed and ran a hand through his thick black and blue hair, throwing it from its temporary neatness to its usual shaggy mass. Kol awaited outside, if he pegged the presence right. He waved the door open with a touch of the Force as he returned to his desk.

His office was sparsely decorated, and what few luxuries there were had come at Danica’s insenstence. A heavy desk of dark metal, all exacting angles like Imperial architecture, occupied the center of the room. His chair was dark leather, made from the hide of some endangered species a crooked “conservationist” on Rishii had seen fit to sell for a few thousand extra credits.

Two banners, one of the brilliant Imperial black and red, the other with the golden chevron of the Cult of Ascension flanked the desk from the wall behind it. Between those, an arching display case of finely wrought metal and transparisteel held the lightsabers of Jedi Aurelius defeated during the war. Or at least those whose sabers he’d been able to claim — battlefield chaos didn’t always lend itself to hobbyist collecting.

Aurelius stopped in front of the desk, and leaned against its front edge, motioning for Kol to sit or stand, as he pleased.

“You’re still alive” he said, smirking wrly. He could still remember the first time he’d met Kol, The young Sith had been a strange one. Maybe he still was. Then again, that wasn’t saying much, for those who called the Order home.

“I assume you completed your mission without fucking it up?”

[Blue]

As Kol awaited for permission to move, he could not help but feel the ripples the Dark Lord before him sent out through the Force. Sith of the Inner Sanctum did not reach such a position without the personal power to ensure they could remain there, and Darth Aurelius was no different. If the position he held was not evidence enough, the various lightsabers the man displayed of his defeated foes was tangible proof. Darth Aurelius stood in front of his desk and spoke, his words sending a shiver of apprehension through the younger Sith. Kol did not sense any anger coming from Aurelius, but that did not mean much; some Sith could be whipped up into rage so swiftly one would not even have the chance to react, though he had never known his old teacher swing to wrath without cause. Better to answer quick, in case you turn his mood foul. "I am, my lord. And I have," Kol responded, his quiet voice mechanically tinted as always by the modulator that assisted his damaged vocal cords. The assassin rose to a standing position, though his posture maintained a somewhat coiled element, as if ready to spring into motion at a moment's notice. "The politician is dead. And his anti-Imperial agenda with him, long before it had a chance to be revealed. There is no evidence of his intentions left, and no evidence that his death was caused by Sith. His demise has since been quietly attributed to one of his many vocal political rivals, though with no proof the investigation is stymied and soon to be cold, and forgotten..." Forgotten, forgotten, forgotten, forgone, forgone, foe gone- QUIET, MAKE IT ST- Suddenly, the young man's helmeted head twitched violently to the left before swiftly snapping back to face his superior, the scratching voices in his mind sidling back down into mere white noise once more. There was a short burst of what sounded like static from Kol as he cleared his throat, already itching after speaking for far longer than he was used to. "What task would you have me do next, my lord?" Kol asked, a hint of a pant in his tone. This world is crushing me, so much fear, so much rage, so much food... Can't consume, not here, not now. Be viewed as gathering power to attack, not a Dark Lord, death death death. "I am ready to serve again," the younger Sith continued, pushing on through the hunger and the fear that sent a faint tremouring through his limbs.

[Rugs]

“Good.” Aurelius smiled subtly. The mission Kol had been sent on was a... sensitive one to put it mildly. An assassination, even on an independent world, ran the risk of inflaming tensions between the Empire and the Republic. The time for that would come, inevitably, but it wasn’t now.

Aurelius lurched suddenly forward, walking with a casual, swagger toward Kol as the Sith Knight’s head twitched and he cleared his throat. Dangerous, perhaps to move so suddenly toward a Sith who seemed to be so constantly on edge. Aurelius was confident the boy knew his place, though.

“You seem tense,” he said, stopping just close enough to breach Kol’s personal space. He looked the Sith Knight up and down, noting his tense posture. Kol’s presence seemed to bristle, like a urchin with its thorns out. “Are you afraid?” Aurelius smiled, showing his pointed fangs.

He turned abruptly, returning to his leaning spot on his desk with a quiet laugh. “Loosen up, will you?” he said. “You’re not getting punished for handling your business.”

Quite the opposite, in fact. Aurelius ignored Kol’s question for a moment as he walked to stand behind the wide, heavy desk. He topped at a small terminal and Kol’s file projected into the air, distorted from the guest’s side of the table but crystal clear for Aurelius. What’s next? Ready to serve again. Aurelius snorted. Kol’s eagerness to please his superiors was commendable, and would do him well, but he found it a bit stuffy.

“As I thought,” he muttered, stopping on a pair of lines in Kol’s files. “You’ve not taken a name, yet, Klairn. Nor have you found your way into one of the cults.” He looked at the assasin over the hologram, golden eyes given a blue tint by its glow. “So how ‘bout we fix that before you get another task, hm?”

[Blue]

As the Dark Lord came closer, it took all of Kol's restraint to resist either bolting for the exit or reaching for his lightsaber. If you run, he will easily catch you: Dead. If you draw your weapon he will easily defeat you: Dead. Only choice is to remain, be ready, and drown in the fear. Darth Aurelius stopped uncomfortably close, close enough to no doubt notice his trembling and tension. When the lord confirmed this through his words and asked if Kol was afraid, the young assassin shuddered before answering quietly, "Always, my lord." The response was pure truth; even the most untalented Force sensitive would be able to feel the waves of fear rolling off of the Sith, like heat from a thermal vent. But there was also no shame in his admission, no desire to disguise his terror. And why would he? Though there were those within the Sith hierarchy who would view such a blatant display of fear as a vulnerability, Kol knew better. Fear was the progenitor of all emotions, the true root of everything everyone felt. Love, the fear of being alone. Greed, the fear of having nothing. Rage, the fear of weakness. Hate, the fear of defeat. Fear birthed them all. You cannot master fear, for fear is already our master. You cannot master fear, for fear is already our master. You cannot master fear, for fear is- Darth Aurelius had spoken again, snapping Kol back into reality. Assurance that punishment was not to come. Not today. The lord was returning to his desk but made no motion to dismiss or have Kol follow, so the younger Sith stayed where he was, waiting. A screen lit up, showing him the reverse of something that, upon closer inspection, was a file pertaining to himself. “You’ve not taken a name, yet, Klairn. Nor have you found your way into one of the cults... So how ‘bout we fix that before you get another task, hm?” Under his mask, wide eyes rolled and a tongue whetted thin lips. New station, title, Knight. Climbing the Chain. More power. MORE. POWER. "Yes, my lord," Kol said, as thoughts flashed across his brain like lightning. "Where am I to be placed? What name am I to have?" A moment's pause, uncertainty. Honestly, Kol had never be sure he would reach a point where he might have to make decisions for himself. "Are you to choose it, my lord? My name? Am... I?"

[Rugs]

The hologram dimmed as Aurelius turned his golden-eyed gaze to Kol over his desk. He studied the Knight silently for a long moment that stretched into discomfort. The name was a secondary matter. It wasn’t until his ascension to the Sanctum and some prodding from the Empress that Aurelius even began using his own.

Picking the proper cult was an important matter, though. Aurelius’ eyes narrowed slightly. Kol’s work tended to be direct — in principle if not necessarily execution. Threats or enemies to the Empire were found, he was one of those regularly sent to deal with them.

“Yea, that’ll do well for you,” he said, typing something into Kol’s file.

“Klairn, you thrive on conflict,” he said. “You, more than most Knights, live with it daily inside that twisted head of yours.” A subtle smirk showed the tip of a pointed canine. “You will join Strife. When the Empire’s enemies rise, you will cut them down. Where voices rise to question us, you will silence them.”

Aurelius folded his arms across his chest, looking over the boy. He wasn't the typical Cult of Strife candidate. He struck Aurelius as neither militaristic nor brutish — the two most common strands that drew Sith two the Strife club. But Klairn’s talents would serve the Cult well.

“Strife can destroy you if you’re weak,” he said. “But those of us who have endured know that it can give us strength.” He smile grew. “Don’t we, Klairn?”

The hologram blinked away as Aurelius stepped around his desk again. His gaze locked on Kol, intense unflinching. “For your name, choose your own,” he said. “Why should I take this step for you?”

[Blue]

The lord observed him at his question, saying nothing. More shivers shot through his spine as the younger Sith contemplated the silence. Was it all a trick? Do I die now? Do I kill now? I can hear the nothing screaming at me, eat eat eat! Mind all jumbled up, poison leaking in from the world, rage, hunger, DEATH. Kol's head jerked at the sound of Darth Aurelius speaking. The pause... a test? A play on power? Toying with me? The words the Dark Lord spoke were not untrue. Conflict offered strength, if one was strong enough to take it from the outstretched hand. The comment about his head, too, rang all too close. The Darth before him, more than anyone, understood Kol's fractured mindscape. He had been chief among those responsible for forming it into a serviceable weapon; flawed, cracked, but still sharp enough to cut and puncture. Still sharp enough to kill. Strife. The word fit well for Kol. Kill, kill, kill. Foes, potential threats, possible rivals. The galaxy was full to bursting with them. There would be fewer when Kol Klairn was put to the task. "Yes, my lord," he responded. Though his broken voice still flickered with fear, there was more in his tone now than there was before. A hint of eagerness, with something else beginning to grow beneath that. "Yes, my lord," Kol repeated. "We climb the Chain. Every kill, every wound. We climb." Under his featureless mask, the assassin tried to meet the Dark Lord's gaze, but settled for the man's shoulder instead. A name for myself? What do I call myself? What are you? From some long abandoned cavern of his mind, something came forth. A story once told to a young child on a dead world. It was a story about a god, one of many that dwelt in a great field of stars. It was a small thing, the smallest of it's brethren, and it existed in a state of eternal terror of it's larger brothers, who all fought constantly. The stars were filled with the never-ending sound of strife, war, and endless fighting. Until one day, in a fit of fear, the little thing surprised and ate one of it's siblings. As it consumed their flesh, the small god felt a surge of power and peace it had never felt before in it's entire waking life. So when the meal was finished and the sensation began to fade away, the small god knew what must be done. One by one, it ate every last one of it's kin in the universe until all that was left was itself, and itself alone. And the stars were, finally, silent. The name of that creature echoed in Kol's mind, clear as a bell, a pure sound he had not ever heard before. "Moor". The name came from the young Sith in an elongated hiss, and the hidden drive behind his tone now overlapping even the fear that usually sat there. Hunger.

[Rugs]

Moor. Aurelius huffed a chuckle at the name. “Very well,” he said. “I name you Knight Moor, of the Cult of Strife.” Some paperwork would have to follow, but that was a minor detail. Aurelius’ words carried more weight than those files ever could. “You will continue to serve the Order vigorously, I hope, Knight Moor?”

A slight narrowing of his golden eyes betrayed the hinting of question in Aurelius’ voice. It wasn’t a question, not truly. It was a command. “Climb your chain to whatever heights you want, as long as you make the Order stronger. You cannot be the wink link.”

Aurelius straightened suddenly, clapping his hands together. He left the desk, strolling to the room’s far wall, where he leaned over a small table. A few maps of Sith territory were stretched out across it, with missives from the Empress scattered among them. “We’ll see how far your chain gets you soon, Moor.” He lifted a datapad and punched a few commands into it. It pinged as it sent a message to Moor. A briefing, for the Knight to read whenever he found the time.

“We have been watching a group of Force users who’ve set up on Iego for some time,” Aurelius said, still leaning over the map. “They call themselves the Shadow’s Hand. They’re not so different than us. They bathe themselves in the Dark Side. They’d be a worthy addition to the Order.” He looked to Moor, flashing a toothy smile.

“However, the Empress has grown tired of allowing another order persist within our Empire, and so myself, along with you and two others I have hand-selected, will go make an offer.” He looked back at the map. Iego loomed in the Empire’s frontier, highlighted in pulsating red. “They will join us,” he said, “if they’re smart.”

Now he looked at Moor, eyes locked on the younger Sith’s opaque mask. “Or we’ll wipe them out. The Empress demands total obedience, and nothing less. Are we understood?”

[Blue]

As the Dark Lord spoke his new name, Kol felt as if he was peeling away from a chrysalis. More power awaited, new heights, climbing higher. Station, title, access; those were just a few parts of the mosaic of benefits that his new name opened up for him to take. He was Moor, now. Knight Moor of the Sith. The young assassin could almost feel the change wash over him. Then Darth Aurelius kept talking, and the fear creeped back into Moor's soul. More power meant more eyes, watching, angry, hungry. The ranks of his enemies and those that would threaten him, had just increased in both number and strength, always waiting for the moment when his grip on the Chain weakened to strike and toss him down into the nothing that awaited... The sudden sharp sound of the lord clapping his hands together made Moor visibly jump, startled at the unexpected noise. His posture changed to a slight crouch, ready to pounce or dive away as needed. He could hear his heart beat in his ears, accelerating in anticipation of attack. But no assault came, and Moor's mind observed the fact that Darth Aurelius was moving to the room's far wall. No attack, not yet. Moor listened in silence as the Dark Lord talked of an outside group of Force-users. More competition, more threats. The Empress seemed to be of a similar mind, as the new mission involved turning them or ending them. The younger Sith felt his stomach tighten when the lord mentioned that he himself would be joining the mission, and that there would be others coming as well. The assassin had been going on his assignments along for so long, the concept of working in close proximity with others of the Order was almost entirely alien to him. But this was a mission, and he could not turn it down. Darth Aurelius' words made it more than clear that that was not an option. "Yes, my lord," Moor responded, his internal thoughts churning his stomach. "They will join us, or they will be destroyed." A part of him hoped that they would resist, and force himself and the other Sith to wipe them out. Fewer threats, clear of the Chain. Up, up, up. Fewer hands to try and drag me down.

[Rugs]

“Your enthusiasm will serve you well,” Aurelius said with a slight upturn at the corner of his mouth. If you can use it right. Zealotry was no guarantee of success in the Order’s dark halls. Oftentimes, to Aurelius, it seemed to be as much a hindrance as a boon. Rod was proof enough of that.

“You have a few days to prepare,” Aurelius said. “This mission may be dull, or it may see us wiping the Shadow’s Hand from Iego’s face.” He smirked at Moor, perhaps hinting at which of the two options he found more enjoyable. “Do see that your mind is in the right place for either option, hm? I’d hate for you to cock this up.”

Moor’s inclusion in the group filled a final void among Aurelius’ chosen for the mission. The Empress’ errand boy had already agreed to the mission, and Aurelius had a particular Sith Lord in mind to fill out the group.

They’d move out after Unification Day. Aurelius would prefer to go sooner, but the Empress had impressed upon him the need for social engagement beyond matters of strength

The Inner Sanctum couldn't be all fun, he supposed.

“That’s all I have for you, Moor,” he said, glancing at the young Knight. “You’re dismissed, unless you have anything else you wish to bring to my attention?”

The phrasing made the words seem a question. Aurelius’ carefully flat expression made evident that it was not.