Ask Demands of Sacrifice, Hungry Work

[Asminys]

Mustafar​

The planet of Mustafar was shrouded in legend. A once dark planet that had begun to heal, thick ash lay at the feet of the Ironwood Trees that surrounded the location of Vader's Caster. Darth Asminys stood for a moment at the periphery of the castle, staring up at the ruin of the building within which one of Emryc's gods had made his dwelling. Ancient history now. The man, or machine as some legends told, was dead and gone. But the darkness here remained.

Asminys continued his approach to the castle ruin, each step leaving footprints in the ash. Tugging on a chain that attached to a shackled and collared padawan, Asminys continued to walk the Jedi to his death. He supposed the Jedi learner knew that he was going to die, somewhere deep in what was left of his broken mind. Asminys had already taken some time to work over the padawan, extract what little secrets he may have known before deciding upon this fate for him after the strike on Ajan Kloss.

The lightsaber of the Grandmaster, Oota Boan, rode Asminys' hip, opposite to the one he carried since the days of the Cadre. The two lightsabers were a sharp contrast to one another, the black hilted and Sith rune carved blade of his own looked ill suited to be worn with the brown leather and clean light durasteel of the Grandmasters. Within the force the two were diametrically opposed, dark and light clashing on his hip as he walked, the light of the grandmaster's saber weighing heavily on his hip, insubordinate. Defiant.

As he walked into the shadow of the castle ruin, Asminys stopped. His red-gold eyes flicked to the shadows, where robed figures shuffled. They bristled with murderous intent.

Snap-hiss

The red blade of his lightsaber ignited from his fist as he swept the blade up, blocking a blaster bolt from the shadows. Sweeping his blade twice as more bolts came, he sent them flying back at their senders, striking them to the ground. He continued walking, tugging the chained padawan and pulling his grip tighter. These cultists would not stand in his way, nor would he allow them to harm his sacrifice.

A pair of robed cultists charged him with vibroblades while another retrieved one of the fallen blasters. Parry, strike and a cultist lay dead. The cultist retrieved the blaster and fired at him. Sweeping his blade from the dead cultist, Asminys' saber caught the incoming red bolt to send it into the other swordsman's leg. Batting the wounded man's blade aside, Asminys dispatched him with a swift thrust before tearing the blade out through the cultists chest to catch the last blaster bolt.

The last cultist dropped as the blaster exploded in his hand, crying in agony as the weapon exploded from the returned bolt. Continuing to walk at the same pace, Asminys buried his saber in the man's chest as he walked. Stretching his senses outwards, Asminys was satisfied to no longer feel the presence of life within the castle grounds besides the whimpering padawan that he dragged behind him. The only thing he could sense was the padawan's fear. The padawan's fear...

And Darkness.

Down below the castle.

Searching the castle, he found the stairwell and followed it down. Deep down under the ground where the heat of the world still burned. Where the darkness still dwelled. The descent seemed to stretch on, until finally he emerged into a large chamber. The lava had cooled long ago, leaving only obsidian rivers to ring the chamber, but the walls were still etched with runes of the Sith. Runes of power.

A broken henge ringed the altar at the center of the chamber, also carved with runes of the Sith. This place was a place of power. A place of Darkness. It had been used before and likely would be used again. The Darkside was strong here.

Asminys dragged the padawan before the altar, savoring the fear that radiated off the young man. It was the fear of impending death, and the padawan knew that his usefulness to the Sith Lord had come to an end. Taking the chain lead of the Jedi, Asminys flung it over one of the stones of the henge, letting it nestle into a crack in the rock before walking around and pulling it taught on the other side. Hanging the Jedi from his wrists, he secured the chain with a spike to the floor and observed his handiwork.

The Jedi hung in front of the circular stone altar, his toes barely touching the ground. Silent tears dropped from the Jedi's hanging head as he silently tried to come to terms with the imminent end. Asminys gave him no such time to contemplate.

Snap-hiss.

Asminys ignited the blue of the Grandmaster's blade. The hilt weighed heavily in his hand. Its movement was sluggish as he brought the tip of it to the Jedi's knee, and it seemed to resist him as he pushed it in to the scent of burnt flesh and bone. Repeating the process to the Jedi's other knee and his elbows, Asminys was satisfied as the Jedi cried out in pain with each burn. Satisfied that the Jedi's last moments would be spent in agony as he dangled there by burnt joints.

Deactivating the blade he turned and placed it on the altar. Walking around it, he took position opposite of the Jedi, his red-gold eyes meeting the Jedi's with a cruel glint of malice as the jedi shuddered, every movement wracking his body with pain. Asminys smiled. Oota Boan's saber sat on the altar in between the two of them, and Asminys turned his focus to it as he closed his eyes. Reaching his hands out towards the blade, he drew upon his hatred, dredging up the deepest pain and agony in his heart as the lightsaber began to come apart, floating into the air as its pieces began to shift and open, letting the pure blue kyber reveal itself to shine in the darkness.

Asminys would bleed the kyber black.

@Mr. Teatime

 

[The Gatekeeper]

Defiant was the lightsaber of Oota Boan, Grandmaster of the Jedi Order, as Asminys made his way into the depths the ancient castle. It shone in the Force with an arcane brilliance all its own, a captured star sheathed in metal and leather on the Darth's black belt. The aura was bright and true, the crystal within suffused in the old Ithorian's very nature as a healer.

Stalwart was the lightsaber of Oota Boan, wise and powerful in the Force, as the man smoldering in his rage burned the souls of cultists from their flesh with his crimson blade and brought their lives to a swift end. It did not waver or weaken in the face of death no matter how sudden or cruel. A rock in the river, a leaf on the wind, ordinary Darkness could do it no harm.

Heavy was the lightsaber of Oota Boan, the greatest healer of the Jedi Order, like lead and stone that dragged at his waist to pull the Darth away, far from this path he took. Even heavier in hand, heavy with the echoes of the entirety of the Grandmaster's life as a Jedi. It defied his touch and his commands, each cut to the captive Padawan a struggle to accomplish.

Irradiant was the lightsaber of Oota Boan, a beacon of the Force in its purest form, the light of life and compassion within only intensifying when the Darth unsheathed the star from its sheath. A blinding illumination that stood against the evil before it. Hatred and peace, the dichotomy meeting between and forming a connection of Asminys and the crystal. The light was unyielding and strong, every moment threatening to wash away the Dark energies in the altar and at the Darth's grasp.

A flash, a rush of the Force, and in the next blink Asminys would find himself in a familiar place- The cadre halls of his youth, the source of his hate and his anger. At his feet lay an instructor, cut down in revenge. But it did not satisfy him, did not quench the anger in his heart.

Asminys turned and there he was, laying in bed beside a pointy-eared young man with ice in his eyes. He wanted to put fire in them, and he hated that he wanted it, raged at their defiance, angry at the sense of weakness it brought along with it. He would refused peace for anger, but sought it out in the frosty arms of an evil man.

The Darth stood from the bed and into the half-light of a ship, landing on Ajan Kloss. He stepped forward, fire and flame sending his blade into the tender flesh of the Jedi. He turned a corner down a stone-tiled hall and was fighting beside his cadre sister, the elf, and the sorceress. They faced down an old Ithorian, a healer who defied their every attack and responded with lessons and wisdom to match the radiant power he sent at them.

A crack, a thunder booms, a prison shatters. Consuming fires fills the veins of the Darth as he rushes forward, twin blades burning through- nothing, only robes. The Ithorian is gone, and it soothes not the hate in his soul. Asminys bends down to pick up the fallen Grandmaster's lightsaber and turns-

Into the rain, where Emryc bleeds crimson from his back to mix with the falling droplets from the sky. The fire burns him inside, scorching his thoughts. He hates and he loves and does not know which is what, where to go, what it means, why he can't crush that tiny spark fluttering and flickering in his heart. Only a candle in a storm, but the storm can't touch the flame.

Their lips touched and the candle burned brighter,ever brighter, and for a moment the hate in the Darth's heart retreated from it, leaving him without what he'd walked with his entire life. That moment stretched out, exagerated compared to the memory, forcing Asminys to confront what he'd felt there with Emryc, standing in the rain.

Benevolent was the lightsaber of Oota Boan, as kind and as clever, but it had a determination that was all its own. It would force Asminys to confront who he was at his core and everything that could have been and could still be. Make him see these memories all over again and feel what he'd felt.

This was just the beginning.

@Arclight

 

[Asminys]

The kyber of the lightsaber of Oota Boan was as blinding and powerful within the light as the Jedi Grandmaster who wielded it had been. Its light pierced the mind of Darth Asminys as devastatingly as his painless Jedi lightning. Falling into visions of the past, Darth Asminys found himself in the Cadre halls of his youth. He stood over the corpse of one of his instructors, recognizing her face as the one who had hurt him the most. She was dead and he still felt all the rage and hatred he had when she had been alive.

He turned away from the corpse, resolved that whatever punishment he received would be worth it when he found himself on the hard slab that was his bedding, besides him lay his cadre-brother, but he seemed different yet the same. He saw his icy eyes and desired to see them melt, burned at the frosty glare they offered in return.

He stood to escape their gaze and rushed the halls of Ajan Kloss. He raced into the council chamber behind the others, rushed the Grandmaster. They fought and he rejected their power, their every attack washing over him harmlessly. Until...

His world was consumed by flame, the cage he had built to contain his darkness bursting open. Fury raged in Asminys as he swung his blades, for them to only cut air. His rage found no release as he picked up the Grandmaster's fallen blade.

He turned to rejoin his companions, and it was raining. His hatred and rage poured through him, unfulfilled with the death of the Grandmaster, but it is snuffed by Emryc's kiss, their embrace quenching the fire of his hatred to dim it enough for another flame to form. A flickering candle that burns brightly in his chest, brightly with a light that burns not unlike that of a Jedi. The moment stretched, their kiss lingered, and Asminys began to doubt.

He felt Emryc's lips against his, a life raft in a sea of confusion and doubt. His chest burned with emotion, emotion that had no place there, a fondness that seemed so foreign he wondered if he had ever felt it before. The kiss continued, lingered long beyond the shadow of the memory and it dredged up new shadows of memories long past. Painful memories. Another's lips. A woman's. The woman he had killed in the cadre halls.

No.

His eye's shot open and they burned with hate. He had never killed her. She had not been there on the day of his chain-breaking. The flickering fire of love quelled in his heart, replaced by a renewed hate. The flame roared in his chest as he fueled it, recognizing this farce for what it was. He embraced Emryc's shadow as he laid his head against him, but this time with violence. The flames of his hatred roared and burst forth from his chest, consuming them both in a flash of an inferno before leaving Darth Asminys holding Emryc's charred corpse.

He cast it aside, returning to the council chamber where he struck down the Jedi Grandmaster, his robes falling away from his blade. Asminys rage was not quenched by the fading corpse and he turned on his allies. He charged, stabbing the fallen form of Emryc to leave him a corpse on the ground, dead the way he should have made him the last time he collapsed with weakness. He grabbed the witch by the throat and pressed her against the wall to stab her through the heart, as he should have done when she struck him on Malastare. He cut down his Cadre-sister, the way he had refused to do when it was ordered by the masters.

He lay next to his cadre-brother, who in this moment so reminded him of Emryc. The face of his youth snarled in rage as he flipped onto him, straddling him as he strangled the life out of his neck. He ignored the punches that flew from below as he wrung him dry. He would chase this spectre all the way to the beginning, back to that first memory, back to the crystal that placed these illusions in his mind. And he would kill everyone in his way.

The life faded from cadre-emryc's eyes, and Asminys stood in the hallway of his youth. He was not a young boy anymore however. He was Darth Asminys.

Instead of a corpse, there was the Cadre-master. The Sith Guardian, Joanna. Asminys did not say anything. He merely ignited his saber and struck. The image smashed as his blade hit her, for he knew he could not kill her here. Not while she still lived.

He was back in the cave, the brilliant light was dazzling. He roared in defiance at the light, the light that had tricked him. That had used his pain and anguish, that had tried to show him a fate where happiness may reign in his life. There was no such life. He was a beast uncaged. A monster born of pain and hate.

Lightning sparked from his fingers as he roared, connecting with the kyber crystal as he reached for it. Each step seemed like he was moving against a current, but his hate would not be faltered. His left hand moved to clench the kyber in his fist as his mind focused on the Jedi padawan beyond.

He had brought him for a reason.

The hunger that itched at his soul salivated at this thought. It was new, but it had gnawed at him since Ajan Kloss. He could feel the feeble spark of the Jedi's life, a flickering candle compared to the brilliance of the Kyber. But he focused on it.

He reached for it.

And he drew it out.

Red lightning sparked from his right hand, through the kyber of the Grandmaster's saber and over to the Jedi. It flowed in reverse, away from the Jedi and through the crystal, corrupting its heart as the stolen soul made its way to Asminys. The Jedi jerked and shook in his binds, eyes up and mouth locked open in a silent scream as his life force was ripped from him, slowly, painfully.

Darth Asminys fought against the kyber as he brought his right hand over to it, brimming with red lightning. The lightning flowed through the crystal in his left as he contained it with the usual kind, not daring to touch the brilliance of the light. He could feel the crystal's anguish in his hands as he strained the Jedi's spirit through it, letting it know his hatred and disregard for its Light. He would torture the crystal until it bled, his lightning both blue and red wreaking pain and anguish on it, inside and out. He would keep the Jedi from feeling the release of death until the kyber had lost its will to fight, draining him slowly of life and drawing his tortured soul through the kyber until it relented. Only then would the Jedi know the peace of death.

@Mr. Teatime

 

[The Gatekeeper]

The life energy of the captured Jedi sparked and burned through the crystal, corrupted by the fury of Darth Asminys. Red and blue danced across and through the crystal and, for a moment, it seemed as if it would fall to the Sith's assault.
Then without it lit up, physically and in the Force, defiant of the Darth just as Oota had been. The captured life of the Jedi was purged of the Dark by a flash of of Light as intense as an exploding star. The Light flowed along the conduit of Asminys' attacks, faster than any living being could react.

The beam of Light struck him in the hand, reflecting up and through his arm, the Dark power inside him withering at the touch. The Darth's body was wracked with pain and weakness as the very hatred, fed year upon year by the Dark in a vicious and all-consuming cycle, was wiped clean from his soul. It was over in an instant.

Asminys collapsed to his knees before the altar that now contained a dead Jedi and a blank Kyber crystal, as transparent as shaped glass. The pieces fell to the table below and clattered across the floor, nothing more than worthless scrap without a living kyber. In anger the Darth struck out with his hate and his anger, hand stretched out in a fist to crush the defiant thing, but the fire was dim and wouldn't come. He couldn't sense it any longer. He couldn't feel the anger running wild in his veins just below the surface. The anger was still there, but without a fire to fuel it was worthless and impotent.

Darth Asminys had been cut off from the Force, wiped clean of each and every stain, completely and utterly. No matter how much he tried, how much he hated, how much he raged, it was only the simple anger of a human. The man who had been a Darth left Malastare behind, now only Asminys.

He couldn't return to the Sith as he was. Even if they could help him they'd kill him for his weakness, a den of starving wolves searching for any weakness in a rival. So he left them behind as well, to go into hiding and rethink his life. Over time the hate and anger faded to the background without the Dark Side to feed it, leaving only a distant echo of what was once a terrifying and cruel warrior. He wallowed in despair and self-hatred for his weakness, for his failure. His hate had failed him at the critical point and left him with nothing. Perhaps ironically it was an ordinary man that saved him from an undignified end.

They met each other on Dantooine, Asminys and an ordinary and kind-hearted farmer. Asminys needed work and the farm needed hands, of which Asminys still possessed two. Over time they grew to be friends despite the former Darth's general attitude, and eventually it grew to be more. One day, Asminys moved his things to the farmer's house, and that was where they stayed.

Time passed on the farm, distant from the conflicts of the galaxy and the clash of Light and Dark. Now in his middle years, Asminys realized one day, sitting up in bed and looking over at the farmer's sleeping face, that he was happy, that it had been that way for years now. Truly and genuinely happy. He was at peace with his present and his past, now only looking to future days with his new family. Asminys turned out the light and laid down, pulled the silk-soft covers over himself, and fell back asleep with the light of a distant, bright star shining through the window.

The star of Oota Boan, Grandmaster of the Jedi Order, that glimmered on the altar in front of Darth Asminys.
It would show him what life could be if he failed before the altar and took a different path, took a different, loving man to a different altar. Far and away from everything he stood to gain- and to lose.

If his resolve faltered overmuch, if he sank too deep into the vision, if he let go of his hate, he could well lose his grasp on everything that made him who he was, one way or another.

@Arclight

 

[Asminys]

The crystal began to bleed in Darth Asminys' hand as he forced the Jedi Padawan's soul through its glow, black light beginning to shimmer within its heart. A grin of triumph began to form on the Sith Lord's face only to be wiped away by another flash of the treacherous light that dwelled within Oota Boan's kyber. The Light flashed along the lines of red lightning, splitting it and riding its flow up to his arm where it seared through him in a flash, right to the heart. He felt the Dark within him wither and recoil at its touch.

His heart burned for a moment as the Light and Dark clashed within him, but the Light prevailed. Sinking to his knees, he shuddered as the blank kyber dropped away to roll uselessly across the floor. He reached within him and felt... nothing. He was still angry. He burned with hatred for a galaxy that had taken everything from him, and given only false power in return. He reached for that power within him, tried to deny the power of the Light.

And he felt nothing.

There was no Darkness there. No furnace of hatred from which to stoke power in an ever growing inferno of unlimited fuel. The Dark had abandoned him and he felt nothing. He kneeled there for a long time, wallowing in his powerlessness as his mind raced. How had the crystal done this, was the Light truly so powerful. Or had he merely underestimated his own power. Now he had no power, there was no going back was there? Perhaps the Sith could aid him in reconnecting with the... No. They would kill him, and he would deserve that death. Was this the end?

His minds eye carried him far from the cave, wandering the galaxy for years before finding love in the arms of a simple man. His heart yearned to lay claim to the life that was presented before him, to reclaim what little humanity remained alive and unwavering within him. To cherish with every fiber of his being the love that another could give.

He stood from his place on the ground, no longer Darth Asminys in his mind, but a shaking and starving man, his form emaciated, nearly that of a corpse. He felt weak, as if every movement ripped and tore at his desiccated muscles. The humanity inside him shuddered in pain as it took its first step in decades, yearning for the strength to be free from the monster that kept it locked up and caged. Starving in the Dark.

Finally, he turned. Agony coursed through his body as his brittle bones creaked and muscles tore. As the human inside of him tried to turn away from the path that had been laid before him so long ago. To turn away from the pain, suffering, anger, and hate that was his life. But his human heart was weak. A snarling growl echoed from above as he turned, his eyes meeting bare flesh and muscle that oozed blood onto the floor. His eyes slowly lifted to lock with the burning gold and red slits of the monsters. Lava bubbled underneath molten gold in those eyes, an inferno that consumed everything around the black slits that gazed into his own eyes.

His own eyes that he looked down upon, golden honeyed brown orbs that shimmered with pain. And weakness. The form that stood below the beast that was Darth Asminys was disgusting to look upon. An emaciated wretch that shuddered in agony with every movement. A gasping shred of humanity that didn't deserve to draw another breath.

“Cherish it. Cherish it with every fiber of your being and hold onto it. Because in the end it is the only thing that is truly yours. It is the only thing that was not forged by them.”

The words of another man whispered through his ears as he regarded the shriveled corpse that still walked beneath his gaze. How could he cherish such a wretch, a powerless human. A weak and despicable human that would fall prey to the next predator that might come along. Darth Asminys snarled as a beast, his flesh weeping blood, agony coursing through his entire being as the Dark within him fought back against the Light. He was that predator.

He pounced.

The man on Dantooine lay gasping beneath his hands, his trust broken by the monster that he had unknowingly invited into his home. Asminys the man watched as fear and terror coursed through the eyes of the man he had grown to love. His hands clamped around his throat, crushing the oxygen from his lungs and the life from his body. The eyes that he had gazed into many nights faded, their light lost forever as he died. An illusion, there was no man to mourn.

The beast in his soul that was Darth Asminys pounced, reflected within the chamber of the Sith cave of Mustafar. The weak and emaciated man before it screamed in terror, helpless before the predator that buried its fangs into the man's throat. Teeth gnashed and blood sprayed, claws tore at flesh and ribs cracked open for the predator to gorge itself on the shriveled beating heart that lay within and feast on what humanity remained.

Darth Asminys roared in rage as he once more brought his hand down on the altar, his hand forming a claw that crackled with black lightning as he slammed it down on the kyber crystal that rested there. He screamed in agony and his eyes burned with hate as he poured his rage and pain into the crystal. The furnace roared within him, its dark light casting a shadow that plunged the room into Darkness as the Light failed.

Darth Asminys stood there in the darkness, breathing heavily as he leaned on the altar before collapsing against it. He looked down at the hand that lay over the kyber crystal and he could feel darkness there. A small twitch tugged at the corner of his lip as he slowly raised his hand to view the crystal underneath, its shimmering red light glowing slightly with a black darkness that burned at its core, the inside of the kyber bled black.

He continued to breath, regaining his composure before kneeling to close his eyes. He concentrated, and the lightsaber casings rose from the floor around him where they had been scattered. The dark kyber found its home once again as the pieces reassembled around it, the Grandmaster's saber looking the same, yet different. Its pieces almost had a darker sheen to them as the darkness within leeched out to seemingly dull the metals shine and darken the leather. Rising, he grasped the floating hilt and looked at it with his red-gold eyes for a moment, their slits regarding it as he weighed the hilt in his hand.

The lightsaber was no longer Oota Boan's, the crystal within no longer owing its allegiance to the wretched Light. It served the Darkness now. It served Darth Asminys. Igniting the blade Darth Asminys admired its dark light for a moment. He felt pride at his accomplishment, but it was hollow. His eyes found the dead padawan who hung from its shackles, the life sucked from its form. Sunken cheeks and shriveled limbs threatened to slip from once tight bonds but hung for the moment.

Walking from the altar and to the cave, Darth Asminys took one look back into the chamber. He felt as if he were forgetting something. His eyes scanned the room, passing over what appeared to be a large stain of blood under where he had stood. When his eyes flickered back to it however, it was gone. A trick of the light. Or the Dark. Asminys chuckled to himself for a moment as he turned to walk from the cave. He stopped at the stairwell though and cast one last look at the spot. There was no blood there, no stain, but he couldn't shake the feeling that some unspeakable violence had occurred on that spot. An echo in his mind heard a scream, the tearing of flesh and cracking of bone. And the taste of blood.

Shaking his head, Darth Asminys climbed the stairs up and out of the chamber. Whatever had happened, it was of no concern to the Sith Lord.

//End Thread.