Hibernaculum

[Defiance]

"We found him, sir. The old Grandmaster."

"Lecchamemnon."
H I B E R N A C U L U M


"Where is he?"

"He's masquerading as the religiou—"

"Where is he?"

"N-Necropolis."​

Dry lips mashed against each other from underneath tattered cloth, flowing behind the man's steady pace on the grit-stone slabs. Necropolitan architecture towered above him, arisen like mutilated fingers from the knuckled landscape, pointed blasphemously at the heavens. Casso stood, defying in its very existence, around him like a behemoth nestled between the bones of other worlds. He walked among the elongated walkways, surrounded by this blackened stone that seemed to fester everywhere among this world, deeper into the heart of the city. Shadowy denizens walked among the paths adjacent or among alleys, faceless yet almost threatening, as if their anonymity begot danger and uncertainty.

Avlis paid them no heed, and neither did he admire the Gothic stonemasonry that so loomed ominously above him, reminding him instead of the constant influence of the famed Church of Nothing. The religion that grasped this world. It irked the Lord in all its power and influence, the very tools needed to seize the galaxy—but it, too, for that same reason was an entity that he respected. Which is why he resolved to step from the shadows, jettison his cloak and dagger, and confront the very man shrouded in legend. A living dead man.

Lecchamemnon.

A name he had not heard of for nearly a decade. He had been seen last among the chaos of Coruscant, a shocking appearance in of itself, in the hangar of the Jedi Temple. Having battled at the Main Gates, Avlis reminisced of his disappointment on having battled such a worthy opponent. His path converging into the mouth of a spacious walkway, Avlis noted the various chapels and basilicas that now towered above him. But ahead of him stood a spectacle that dwarfed all of them. The Aedificium Lux.

The daunting cathedral that rivaled even a Destroyer in size, embellished with opulent craftmanship and dark gems, glittered in a dark atmosphere unparalleled by any other place. Stained glass windows glared at him from their perch, guarded by stone gargoyles and similarly unhallowed demons. Several spires and towers soared above the ebony castle, similarly carved with grit-stone. The Aedificium Lux was a monument to behold, indeed. Avlis kept his pace, walking steadily up the smooth passage lined by colossal sculptures that he could only assume were the icons of the Church.

The Sith Lord strode up the temple steps, passing the host of columns to reveal the grand entrance, a pair of doors that were similarly crafted of two massive slabs of stone. Intricate design and script lay engraved upon them, but greatest perhaps was the unmistakeable Church insignia centered at the top. Two guardians were stationed at its feet, wielding ornated pikes. Blue electricity crackled at their tips as they were ignited at Avlis' presence. One guardian began to speak.

"Halt," he boomed. "All who enter must be endowed by th—"

The Sith flicked his wrist, crushing their windpipes. Simultaneously, their bodies slumped as they gasped for air, clawing at their throat in a desperate attempt for oxygen. He ignored them as he unhooded, even as they collapsed against the stone with the clatter of their weapons. Instead, he frowned at the sight of great entrance, an obstacle that would require greater concentration. Closing his eyes, he cleared his mind and summoned focus. Slowly, a great rumble resounded through the entryway as the doors began to slide open, echoing throughout the inner chamber as the six-feet thick slabs gradually swung open. The great wooden beams that kept them close splintered in front of him, shattering under the pressure of his telekinesis.

Satisfied, Avlis walked through the space, his boots echoing into the hall.

A single man stood ahead at the end of the palatial chamber, the archbishop. "Who are you," he spoke unfazed, more curious than scared. "To step in the house of the Alldestroyer?"

"To take audience..."

Avlis' aura loomed as his energy shrieked on the astral plane, a shrill cry that would clearly alert Lecchamemnon to his presence.

"...with the one you call Ahriman."

 

[Denzein]

There was a storm coming.

He watched its approach from his tower, a spire that jutted hundreds of metres above the main dome of the Aedificium Lux. It was the tallest of them all, and the grandest by far: The Tower of Ahriman, the Spire of the First Saint. An all devouring cloud of airborne grit was making its inexorable way through the skies of Casso, the temple caught almost directly in its path. His analysts said it blew in from the Jurathan sea, that it was a sign of great upheaval and change among all those it touched.

Lecchamemnon thought them fools: All that awaited those caught in that storm was a gruesome death as the grit tore the very flesh from their bones. Necropolis, though, was not a world for rational thought. The more one managed to let go of their sense, of their sanity, the higher one seemed to climb. The only ones above this convention were the Altar, almost mythical figures in their own right: Living paragons of the Church of Nothing.

It was well, then, that he had become Ahriman the First Saint more than a decade ago. It was a safe place to hide, a hibernaculum of sorts. When the war ended Lecchamemnon had left Coruscant as only he could and went to ground, burying himself in his role as de facto leader of the Church. His Necropolitan heritage aided him, he was a convincing radical - even if he didn't believe in what it was he was preaching, he could at least make everyone else think he did. A perfect hiding place.

As the Sith consolidated their control of the Galaxy Necropolis remained untouched and shunned, as it always had been. Even Palpatine's great purge had left the Nightmare World be, fearing what might lurk beneath the ages and the dust. They didn't know what to make of the Church: It had no reason to accept their authority, but made no move to publicly denounce the Sith regime. Their philosophies were at odds with those of the Sith - dark heresy to an orthodox, but so nihilistic and bleak that many Sith actually found them quite familiar, even if they didn't admit it. No decision was made over what to do about them, and so the religion carried on as it always had. Unkillable and all pervasive, but Nothing. All of this made Necropolis the perfect hiding place, one Lecchamemnon had gambled on being ignored just as it had been long ago.

He brought himself from his reverie, noting the grit storm's progress. The important parts of Casso were shielded against such events, the Aedificium Lux included. He could already smell the stink of ozone as the gigantic shield generators began powering up. It was time to go below. He turned towards the elevator - and felt it. A pulse of energy: Dark, but obviously so. It was not evil in the way the Church was tainted, but loud and brash. It screamed of the darkside, of total enslavement to the black road. This was not the Church.

This was Sith.

Lecchamemnon's face darkened, knowing why they had come. There was only one reason a Sith would make their presence known within the Aedificium Lux... His long sleep had come to an end. The lift brought him to ground level quickly and he strode from it the moment the doors opened. A featureless black mask formed from the aether around his head, enveloping everything and leaving him totally anonymous as was the custom of all members of the Altar when in public. He might as well look the part for the beginning, he reasoned.

The doors to the shrine of Ahriman swung wide, and the First Saint went forth alone. He could see the Sith making his way towards him, being led by the Archbishop of the Aedificium. There were guards, in particular his Shrineguard watching the pair approach eachother, but they would not intervene unless Ahriman told them to: They all knew what happened if they moved without his consent. Electro-pikes crackled in the dry air - the only other sound being that of three pairs of footsteps echoing through the cavernous space. Off in the distance the Seat of the Alldestroyer loomed, as if presiding over what was to come. Was there a presence sitting in that mighty throne judging and his deeds? Lecchamemnon did not know. He was going to put on a show though, just in case.

The force smoldered quietly through his veins, Lecchamemnon's only companion. It was always with him through the darkness and the light, and though he caused it great pain at times it never left him - The force was his ally and his slave, the best of both worlds. He called upon it, coaxing it from its slumber. It rumbled gently through his soul, echoing through his being - the energies he was channeling were titanic. He did not yet loose the, upon the world, instead letting it seethe and boil beneath his skin. His heart pumped strong, he felt more alive than he had done for a decade and they hadn't even begun; he trained daily and had fought several Sith in the long years since his return to the Nightmare World, but they had all died without much resistance. He hoped this Sith had the considerable power needed to back up his foolish deed.

For it was foolish, tracking down Lecchamemnon. Some things were best left forgotten.

 

[Defiance]

Avlis followed the Archbishop down the long hall, floored with stark white carpet, and lined with lavish design. Icons and Church murals followed them as their footsteps echoed through the dark, spanning infinitely all across the walls. His eyes, he kept trained ahead: focused on a fiery presence that loomed above him. Whether the famed Lecchamemnon or not, formidable power flowed within this being's life force.

It was this power that prompted the Sith to shirk the eyes that watched him from the shadows. They lurked there, like hungry wolves, eager to see the outcome of such heresy. As powerful as the Lord was as he strode down the hall, darkness crackling underneath his very steps, they were not afraid. For they could also sense the great tempest that brewed at the hands of their Ahriman, and curiosity reigned far superior. Surely, a great event would be witnessed in the halls of their very Aedificium. A sight unlike any they would ever see, in all their experience among the nightmares of the Nightmare World.

Gods that come to play.

The crest of the Shrine swung open to reveal her treasure, a chimerical individual shrouded by twilight. Yet Avlis needed no face to know that this was the figure that he had come for. A shudder flowed among the spines of the spectators, a cold, abysmal shiver. The sheer energy and darkness that flowed among them was palpable, even still as the Sith Lord came to a halt and beheld the man he had come for. To Archbishop shriveled to the side, near blinded by the darkness that silently swelled within the hall. For a moment, it seemed as if no room could contain such ferocity. For here, the behemoth meets the leviathan.

An exhale snaked from Avlis' throat, manifesting in a small cloud of frozen vapor.

"Your reputation precedes you,"

His voice rung throughout the hall like a harsh whisper, accented by the curve of his wicked smile.

"Lecchamemnon."

 

[Denzein]

It was true then. This one knew.

Lecchamemnon stopped before the Dark Lord and for a moment stood completely still, taking in this one that had dared uncover his true fate. It was a powerful thing, steeped in the black magic of its kind, and had brought with it an air of revelations. No matter the outcome of this encounter, which was by no means guaranteed, Lecchamemnon could not remain as Ahriman. His shroud of anonymity had been evaporated by this figure from the dark, and that cut more deeply than any wound he might suffer in the next hour or so. His last attempt at fading from this world quietly and painlessly had been thwarted.

He had reluctantly expected it to be so, eventually. Ten years were a long time, and in the small hours of the night while he was alone sometimes he had dared to hope this was finally it, that he had escaped his fate and would be allowed to anonymously fade from this world - penance for all his sins. Reality had at last put that dream to rest.

There was no peace. There was no respite. There was only shadow for beings such as he; trying to avoid that fact was a pointless gesture. It was a lesson he should have learned decades ago. There, in the hushed cavern of the Aedificium Lux facing down a Sith Lord in its prime, something finally clicked. No words were necessary to persuade him, Lecchamemnon knew what must be done.

One had to accept their fate. If they did not their fate would simply hunt them down and break them, as it had so nearly done to him. He knew this now.

Looking upon this monstrous thing before him he saw himself. Not what he might become, or what he feared most, the thing before him was little more than a mirror. The only difference was that one called themselves Sith. They were both monsters, both had been for a very long time. Slowly and deliberately the opaque mask enveloping Lecchamemnon's head disintegrated back into the nether from whence it came, revealing a face all too familiar. He was looking the Sith directly in the eye with the barest hint of a smile playing about his lips. Was it mockery? Bloodlust? Relief?

"You already know who I am so I won't be needing that. What happens now, Sith? Are you going to take me in for the glory of your Empire?"

No more hiding, time to accept one's fate.

 

[Defiance]

"Glory."

He said it mockingly, playing with it like a bad taste in his mouth. It was a petty, foolish thing.

"I have no desire of glory." A silent echo seemingly boomed throughout the great hall. The Sith Lord gazed at him, perfectly still. They were two titans, standing in their places, almost anticipating the great desolation that would wreak between them. The spectators in the shadows shivered at the astral maelstrom that was beginning to brew. The Archbishop eyed him wearily, already stepping away from the two beings of power. A hiss began to form from the Lord's tongue, and Avlis bared a wicked grin at Lecchamemnon's now exposed face.

"I covet a thing greater, grander..."

Cracks began to form underneath his very feet, splintering the block of stone. They diverged into two twisting cracks that ran up the floor and up two nearby columns. Like a plague, gnawing at the craft and creation as nothing more than fuel to destruction. Focused, deadly telekinesis.

"I will consume your soul, Lechamemnon."

The tremendous columns began to grumble as the cracks weathered their foundations. Small debris and ceiling tiles crumbled to the floor above, and the entire chapel began to groan.

"And what remains of your strength shall be mine."

Voices stirred in the shadows as they witnessed great power unfold. Darkness surfaced around the Sith's form, enveloping him with increasing intensity. The columns continued to shift in unstability, and the fight was born. In a great blast, the columns abruptly shattered. Thick stone collapsed into innumerable pieces, flying through the air and spiraling towards the man like a beacon.

Avlis clenched his teeth at the considerable telekinetic technique, outstretching his arms in absolute focus. A missive murmured itself throughout the room, reverberating through all the minds within reach, darkening their thoughts with woe.

Duel me, Grandmaster of old.

In one hand, the reaper drew his weapon, his silver sickle.

And I will show you true despair.

 

[Denzein]

The pillars collapsed, shattering under the might of the Sith Lord's mind. Jagged chunks of gritstone fell away, hundreds of tonnes of rock splintering and tumbling not as gravity might intend, but instead towards the motionless form of Lecchamemnon. It was force enough to pulverize a man, to crush him to paste and leave nothing left, but he did not move. Lecchamemnon's death rumbled his way and for a moment he stood in thought.

One moment, he could afford that.

Dying here was what he wanted, if sooner than he'd anticipated. His objective in coming back to Necropolis and assuming the role of Ahriman had originally been in order to find an anonymous death at the hands of some loon or another, thus removing himself from the world without causing anymore harm than he already had. The Sith before him was clearly intent on killing him; whatever he planned to do with him after his death was irrelevant, Lecchamemnon seriously doubted he'd actually feel anything once he was gone. All he had to do was stand there and let that mass of rock smash him to pieces, it probably wouldn't even be all that painful.

The only question in his mind was about what happened after. If this Sith truly did consume his soul, what would that mean? He didn't care about himself, but what would that mean for everyone else he left behind? The Church was an evil thing, something he would be only to happy to see torn apart, but they weren't going to be the only victim. A being infused with that much power would have limitless potential, they could do anything they wanted - and what this Sith wanted seriously concerned Lecchamemnon. He could become Dark Lord, Emperor even, and begin an age of bloodshed and suffering that was birthed right here in the Aedificium Lux. The Galaxy would burn at a madman's whim, a madman too strong to ever be put down. Lecchamemnon knew he didn't want to be a part of such an atrocity, burning down the Galaxy was certainly not his destiny. The question was therefore: Did he care?

His world slowed to a crawl. He could see every boulder, every pebble and every sliver of death headed right for his heart suspended in the air, slowly tumbling from grace. Was this it? Was this his fate?

A flash of green. A ripple in the air.

The ruined pillars crashed to the ground, smashing against the smoothly paved floor with a resounding crunch. Nothing beneath them could have survived, even the rock they fell onto cracked and split under the force. An ageing Sephi, fit or not, would have had no hope. But there was no such creature to be found amid the wreckage, crushed and broken. Instead there stood a warrior, emerald blade in one hand with the other out in front, as if holding it out for his opponent to grasp. It had taken little effort to manipulate the debris in such a way that it fell around him, not on him. The Sith might have directed them well but simply opposing that influence was enough to send them marginally off course - and a small margin was all he required to not get pulped.

The ground shook around him as the dust began to settle, but not thanks to the pillars' fall. A great energy was building, you could taste it in the air like static. The Sith had shown his hand, now it was time for Lecchamemnon to close his. Like a vice his open palm formed a fist, and the very air sang with the power of the force. His face became a twisted rictus, whether he liked it or not this would be enjoyable. He hoped his opponent was ready.

The fallen pillars shattered yet further, becoming countless shards of razor sharp rock. More than that the very floor disintegrated around the pair, paving slabs cracking and breaking, their fragments crawling along the ground to join the swirling mass of rock slivers that slowly orbited Lecchamemnon, swimming in the aether of titanic force energy that surrounded him. More and more slabs broke apart, the radius of destruction getting ever wider, consuming ever more of the Aedificium Lux's floor. Lecchamemnon showed no signs of stopping, content almost to add to this cloud of rock indefinitely - both obscuring the Sith's view of his target and erecting a deadly barrier between the pair of them that was, for now, completely under his control - an extension of his body, his indomitable will.

The slabs beneath the Sith, however, were yet to explode. That changed very suddenly as Lecchamemnon gestured slightly, bidding them rise and shatter like all those before them. They acted as a landmine might, the ground beneath the Sith tearing itself apart and spewing lethal rocky shrapnel straight upwards, a geyser of razor sharp death.

He didn't think for a moment that this would be the end of it. The Sith would counter, and he was prepared. He spoke to the man through his mind as the Sith had done, drawing involuntary moans from all those watching the duel as their Lord roused himself fully for the first time in a decade. Some began to sob, others sank to the floor, overcome by the montrous presence echoing through their heads.

It was a voice filled with grim mirth and foreboding. It was the voice of a Destroyer.

Show me, then.

 

[Defiance]

Enlivened breath entered the Lord's lungs as he felt Lecchamemnon's energy swell, driving him to begin to walk towards him. The vehement vortex that whirled at the old Grandmaster's form only added to Avlis' delight. He clenched his fists as he conjured his own energy, shimmering the darkness around him with pulsating ecstasy.

And he waited. Alert, ready to pounce.

Avlis perked as he felt the unsettled ground beneath him, hearing carved slabs of gritstone break apart in succession. With little time, the Lord channeled his energy around him, forming an penetrable barrier formed of pure concentration as the ground around him shot into the air. Despite a couple grazes off his skin, Avlis deflected the tiny rock shards with ease. Instead, the Sith strangley proceeded to walk up the spacious hall, unruffled by the whirlpool at the Lecchamemnon's grasp. He was nearly enthralled by it.

The emerald gleam that glowed from within the swirling debris was all too familiar. It made him hungry.

Let us test your grip, old man.

With another fling of his arm, a crack ran up the side of the wall, encroaching unto the ceiling. Boulder-sized slabs detached from above Lecchamemnon's head, threatening to crush his form, and vortex along with it. The Sith ignited his own blade, bathing him in a crimson sheen. His eyes, he kept poised on the rocky maelstrom.

Things were about to get interesting.

 

[Denzein]

He sensed tendrils of force energy snaking their way up towards the roof, hearing a great crack as the ancient stone above him gave way. He didn't know what the Sith hoped to achieve by bringing down the ceiling, but if they continued the entirety of the Aedificium Lux could well collapse. Lecchamemnon for his part wasn't sorry to see this monument to all the cruelty and despair in the universe crumble, as his power continued to awaken he realised how much he despised its dusty expanse and the freakish things that called it home. In a way the Sith had given him back his purpose - he was almost thankful for that.

They'd also ruined his life. Punishment it was, then.

His shield of rock burst outwards, not in every direction but right for the Sith. Its momentum and speed were staggering, if it connected the man would quite likely be torn limb from limb. Once it went past him (or through him) however, the blast did not continue going or drop to the ground. Instead the slivers split into two distinct streams, one heading left and the other right - coalescing mid air for but a second as the huge slabs of ceiling slammed into the earth. For a split second Lecchamemnon stood alone, calmly observing his opponent with sword held at his side. He was not crushed, no doubt to his opponent's chagrin.

He no longer stood where he had a second previously. When his razor shield attacked, thus providing a distraction, he'd taken several sidesteps to the right to avoid the mass of rock falling from above. The slabs burst apart as they connected with the ground, smashing into hundreds more fragments of shrapnel that should by rights have ripped the former Grandmaster apart. They did not. The instant the stone hit the floor it was as if all force was robbed from it, losing all kinetic energy: For it had fallen under Lecchamemnon's spell, his shattering influence. These new slivers rose inevitably into the air, another weapon in his arsenal. Without pause he sent them flying at his foe, a whole new threat born from his opponent's own move.

They did not strike alone, however. The other two masses joined the assault, creating a tri-directional crossfire of razor sharp rock that threatened to end the Sith in a blood soaked orgy of grit and bone. Lecchamemnon stood motionless, silently directing the attack as if he were a conductor overseeing some great orchestra. Onlookers stood transfixed as they watched their lord and his three serpents of stone, their rational sense of fear overcome with awe at the demonstration of grandmaster level telekinesis. None of them had seen him roused to such fury before now, and the results were nothing short of horrifying: To wield such power without so much as a blink...

For as visually impressive as his technique was Lecchamemnon had yet to expend any real effort. To him this was the simplest of techniques merely taken to its logical conclusion: Anyone could lift a rock, it was one of the most basic rites of passage every Sith, Jedi and whatever there was in-between experienced. The size of the rock involved wasn't of import to a man that truly knew the force, and Lecchamemnon was currently giving a masterclass in just how dangerous that very first lesson could prove to be. It was a frightening display, but not one of brute power as was usual for him; instead he was exercising control, the delicate balance of a thousand tiny razors working as one yet divided by three. Not for nothing was he considered one of the premier force users of the age.

Size matters not.

His only response was brief, he was not here to talk to this man. Lecchamemnon was well versed in the art of Dun Moch, having studied it for a short year back on Tython when such distractions intrigued him. He was disinterested in engaging with words now because instead he wanted to kill this thing in front of him; Seeing what colour the Sith's innards were was a much more exciting prospect right now - as was usually the way with Lecchamemnon once an enemy told him he was going to die.

Standing alone amid the crumbling edifice of the Aedificium Lux, Lecchamemnon made his peace. The Galaxy would remember his name once more.

 

[Defiance]

Indeed, the Lord mused.

He cackled in the face of Lecchamemnon's composure. It was a reminder to himself that the sheer hubris of his confidence was unfounded, for he now faced the great adversary he sought to face. And it nearly added to his delight. A great rumble now caused the Aedificium Lux to shiver, quaking through its very foundations as the spectators moved in fear. Avlis continued to walk to the former Jedi, unfazed by the propulsion of the vortex.

With a wave of his hands, he erected a telekinetic barrier about his person. The large boulders pranced about the edges of his barrier, passing him, while the smaller pieces reflected off him harmlessly.The Lord walked through the vortex. The technique, too, required little effort on his part. To form a barrier unbreakable by mere rock was a parlor trick, given the proficient focus. To Avlis, it was second nature, and it would take greater lengths than grit-stone to touch him.

His face was solemn, a cold glare now within Lecchamemnon's reach. He outstretched his free hand, and all of the telekinetic energy he had amassed fled to it. The very air shimmered at the Sith's focus, and with a swipe the blast shot towards the former Grandmaster's chest. Saber in hand, he lurched forward with a growl hanging on his lips. "Your fallacies are as faulty as mine own, Lecchamemnon." he yelled over the Aedificium's grumble.

"Chaos is the only ruler for beings such as us."

Debris began to fall from the ceiling. The cathedral was collapsing, and darkness had begun to envelope the dying monolith. This did little to faze the Sith Lord. A curious instance for the Sith to share such an ideal with the Church, and yet be the one to shred their sacred temple apart. Every slab that fell from the masonry was another desecration to the Destroyer, and yet desecration had become his religion.

Avlis flourished his saber, his pale skin gleaming red at it's gentle hum.

Perhaps now, he had gained the Jedi's attention.