Shadow of a Doubt

[Crim]

Theme
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A flash of lightning briefly illuminated the interior of the transport, a thunderclap rattling the inside of the starship. Dr. Prasinaima sat in the dark, pacing back and forth in her own thoughts. Another bolt of lightning split the sky in a dazzling display of energy. It was close enough to snap the doctor out of her trance and back to reality. The subsequent thunder shook the transport once more, the ship pouting as it tore through the atmosphere of Dromund Kaas. She looked out the window and returned to her own thoughts. Truth was, she'd been lost in her own mind the whole ride there. Dr. Prasinaima had been summoned by the Dark Lord of the Sith. Whatever happened on her last mission had earned his attention.

She came to the summons dressed in her medium armor, sans the helmet. A dark cloak was drawn over her shoulders and head, concealing her features. She had five lightsabers clipped to her belt: hers and the sabers of four fallen Jedi. She had taken the sabers from their cold, dead hands not twenty-four hours ago. Dirt and grime covered its hilt; either the Jedi hadn't cleaned it or the saber was dirtied in their fight. She suspected the latter: Jedi were filthy hermits living in squalor and muck, resigned to squandering the holy gifts of the Force. Of course, the Sith forcing the Jedi into such conditions never helped. Yet, Dr. Prasinaima saw a perfect order to this. The weak were meant to suffer at the hands of the strong. It was simple nature. It was the will of the Force.

As the transport cleared the clouds, the Black Citadel was in plain view. It approached a landing pad protruding from the facade of the Black Citadel, hissing as it landed. With one final hiss, the boarding ramp opened and the Templar stepped out of the transport. Her cape fluttered in the wind, the Templar standing there for but a second. Whatever happened in the Black Citadel was going to change her life, one way or another. Whoever entered that chamber would not be the same person as the one who would leave it. With this, she continued along the landing pad and entered the Black Citadel.

When Dr. Prasinaima entered the Dark Lord's chambers, she approached a ring in the center of the room. There, she bent a knee and bowed her head.
Upon taking this position, she asked,"What is thy bidding, my lord?"
@Vinny

 

[Vinny]

March of the Steward

Amidst the relentless storms that plagued the surface of Dromund Kaas; The Black Citadel stood alone. In it's depths lay the chambers of the Dark Council. There the Dark Lord of the Sith sat, his throne standing at the far end of the room. Mist billowed along the floor and a snap like chill clung to the air. On either side of him, priests mulled quiet prayers, droning on as they swayed left and right, working themselves into a frenzy.

Four other Thrones lay empty along the walls. Two on the left, two on the right. The Emperor's Wrath was not present, his mission to protect the Emperor taking precedence, even over the sacred rite that Cain was about to perform. This was fine, the Dark Lord preferred a level of intimacy in this moment. If the being that sat in that highest throne was capable of smiling, it would have.

Darth Cain was hardly a person anymore. Nearly a foot taller than his mortal guise, his skin was like stone that had been steadily shifted to further emulate the likeness of a statue. His head was rounded and smooth with six eyes that glowed a sinister red. His mouth was nothing more than a carving, red light spilling out from it when he spoke. His voice seemed to come from all directions-a true monstrosity of the Dark Side.

"The Dark Side is with you, Ebiara Prasinaima." Cain rasped. He shifted in his seat, his stone-like body grating against the surface of the throne beneath him. He gestured, the chill in the air growing deeper. "Rise, faithful one. Your reputation proceeds you. The Inquisition has been impressed with your work." He paused. "As have I."​

 

[Crim]

The Templar rose, swelling with pride. "I appreciate your words, my lord. I have much pride in my work," she said. As a Force-user, she owed everything to the Sith. It was they who opened her eyes when she was just a weak doctoral candidate on Zelos II who was afraid of the dark. It was they who revealed the existence of the Force and the true nature of the universe. She had an understanding of life and the Force most could only dream of and it was all because of the Sith. It was only right and just to return the favor to the Empire and serve them with everything she had. Every scientific discovery, every breakthrough in alchemy and Sith magic, every slain foe had been achieved in the name of the Empire. And here she was, being recognized for it.

When she looked at Darth Cain, she saw only a set of six red eyes in a sea of blackness. Zelosians had trouble seeing in the dark, which was especially a problem for a Sith. She had become used to using the Force where her eyes failed her. But his presence in the Force made her... uneasy. The founder of the Priesthood of Tund had been disfigured by the Dark Side of the Force. His arcane work was a particular area of interest for her. One who could command the Force as such earned her admiration. Come to find out, the man had been following her work as well. She had always wanted to work with him before.

"Indeed, the galaxy has many mysteries. It is the will of the Force for those such as us to discover and ponder. As is its will for those without our gifts or lust for power to bend a knee to those with whom the Force's favor rests. To squander one's gifts over laze or misguided notions of morality is heresy," she added.
@Vinny

 

[Vinny]

The Dark Lord's eyes flashed as it spoke;

"Good! The Dark Side is indeed with you, my young Templar." The Dark Lord's obvious pleasure filled the room with his presence. It was a strange sensation, a chilling warmth, an icy comfort that seemed to seep out from the ground and through the walls like a biting wind through weathered cracks. The entity sitting on the throne raised a hand and gestured, from behind the throne a single weapon leaped into the air and with a snap-hiss burst to life between the two of them. He had chosen the weapon from many others to be the badge of office he granted to this one;

"Approach, Ebiara Prasinaima. You have been chosen for an incredible honor! From this day forth the woman you are will be no more. In her place, a Lord of the Sith shall arise. Kneel, and be baptized by the Dark Side." He hissed, rising to his feet. The stone of his body grating and shifting with each movement.

"Are you prepared?" He demanded.

 

[Crim]

"It is with both great pride and humility that I accept this badge," she said. Ebiara had been known by many titles over her life. Doctor, professor, master, Director. Now, she would be known as a Lord of the Sith, one of the most powerful beings in the Galaxy. To be among the most powerful in the world was a feat few could ever hope to accomplish. It required ambition, years of practice, and the favor of the Force. To be among the most powerful in the galaxy took an entirely different kind of mettle. To earn the title was not enough: every waking moment would be spent defending the title. There were truly few things Dr. Prasinaima would rather do with her time.

Her cape flowed behind her, almost dancing in the air. A stream of black mist erupted from the cloak with each step she took. Her glassy green-and-yellow eyes fixed on the saber in front of her, its crimson reflection growing increasingly closer. The air of the room had a bittersweet feeling to it. It was like the first laugh after a long cry: beautiful, but still carrying the fresh taint of pain.

She knelt in front of Darth Cain and bowed her head. On the outside, Dr. Prasinaima was calm and collected, as per the usual. But if Zelosians had hearts, hers would be practically thumping in her chest. For the first time in recent memory, Ebiara Prasinaima was afraid. Not of death, not of her ambitious peers, not even of the man who stood before him. She was afraid of herself - what she would become as a Dark Lord of the Sith. She asked herself how far away from Ebiara Prasinaima she would be after she walked away. The growing coldness of the air and approaching stony footsteps were her answer.

@Vinny

 

[Vinny]

The Dark Lord of the Sith looked down upon the young woman on her knees before him. Six glowing eyes taking in her presence, his will feasting on her aura. He raised his hands to the left and right, bringing them up as if entreating the ceiling above him. The light of the room dimmed even further. Even the flames that burned in braziers were not enough to provide any true sense of light. The storm above the citadel raged, growing wilder as the eyes of the Dark Side were brought upon that place.

"Ebiara Prasinaima shall die today! In her place, a Sith Lord shall rise!" The Dark Lord proclaimed in a loud voice, the room shuddered with every syllable. From his hands, raw power leaped into being and crashed into every wall of the room. The cold was so great that one could see their breath in front of their very eyes. Malice, pure and dark thundered into Eibara's body. The Dark Side in it's purest form consumed her. Dark power ripped into her hopes her dreams, her love, her mind, everything. It would be an agony unlike any other, heart-stopping, mind-breaking, unchecked power to let her-for only a moment, feel what it would be like to become an Avatar of the Dark Side. She would experience a fraction of what Cain had endured twice. Once when he had restored Vanus' powers and the other when he had led the ritual to destroy Tython.

"PEACE IS A LIE! THERE IS ONLY PASSION!" He roared.

"THROUGH PASSION, YOU GAIN STRENGTH!" He chanted.

"THROUGH STRENGTH, YOU GAIN POWER!" He increased the intensity, letting her taste more.

"THROUGH POWER, YOU GAIN VICTORY!" The room shook as the roar of his voice battered the walls. Shadows warped and churned as the faces of Lords of the Sith both long dead and not, rose from them to bear witness to the birth of a new Darth. She would be marked by the Dark Side. Forever changed, forever marked, forever twisted. Just as Cain was.

"THROUGH VICTORY, YOUR CHAINS ARE BROKEN!" The howling reached its Zenith, the power literally searing Eibara's skin. An unending, chilling agony that abruptly caught ablaze. Like cold oil struck with a flame. An inferno that raged inside her, the power becoming hers.

"Your devotion is your passion, your zeal is your fire. You have been reborn. Rise, and Claim your new weapon." The Dark Lord said. "This is the blade of Darth Vanus, who was called Solum. Her passion for the Sith knew no equal. May it serve you well." The blade, still ignited, lowered itself to be taken up by the newly minted Darth. "Rise, and utter your new name in the presence of your ancestors, so that they may hear it and be pleased."

 

[Crim]

Arcane power coursed through her body, rushing over every surface. It felt as if someone had poured gasoline down every pore and opening on her skin, then lit a match. It was pain unlike any she had endured previously. She felt the Dark Lord in her mind, like a burning ember stuck in her skull. Her fingers curled as she, for a brief second, instinctively fought back against the pain. She had once understood the Dark Side of the Force as the natural order of the Force. It was an energy field created by all living things. As a biologist, she understood the nature and dynamics of life. All living things struggled to survive - the strong dominated the weak. Those that could not adapt were unfit to continue and therefore perished.

In feeling this power, Ebiara Prasinaima was more alive than she ever had been. And she was dying with each passing second. It was the most painful thing she had ever endured and she didn't want it to stop. With every second, she felt as if she gained a greater insight on the Dark Side of the Force. So many believed the Dark Side to be a terrible, corrupt thing. To her, it was beautiful. It was everything she had dedicated her life to. Cain's presence tugged at each corner of her mind, upending long-forgotten and repressed memories. As her world began to collapse on itself, she could barely feel Cain turn up the intensity.

But she knew he had.

The abstract reality of the Force, Cain, and her own thoughts danced together in an abstract melting pot of consciousness. She saw through Cain's eyes, through her eyes, and the eyes of several other presences in the room. For every illusory Sith Lord she recognized, there were ten that eluded her. The Sith had a long-standing history. There were ancient beings, long-since buried and forgotten, bearing witness to her ascension. She felt the hungry, empty eyes of Darth Nihilus. The cold stare of Traya. Their presences were as clear as Darth Cain's for a brief second. As a silhouette stepped into view, the Sith Lords began to vanish. In seconds, the Citadel began to corrode and age with time, life sprawling across its surface. The sounds of mechanical breathing shook her out of the trance.

As if a switch had been flipped, it was done. The pain was over and she was alone in her thoughts once more. She was both relieved and distraught that the ritual had ended. Yet, there was only one thing to do. Finish the code. "The Force shall free me," she said. Her voice echoed off the walls. The Dark Lord ordered her to rise and assume the weapon. She rose and gripped Darth Vanus' - no, her - lightsaber. She examined it for a brief moment; it felt like it belonged in her hand. She looked up at Darth Cain and said, "I... am Darth Trepidus."

 

[Vinny]

The Dark Lord's eyes literally flashed with his pleasure. If he could smile, he would. He gestured towards the weapon and then towards the newly titled Darth Trepidus. At long last, he had found someone who was worthy to stand at the helm of his mighty Inquisition. He tilted his head up a bit and looked down upon her as his power began to fade from the room. Only his presence remained after a while and the suffocating pressure lifted.

"I see you, Darth Trepidus, and name you Grand Inquisitor of the Inquisition. You are now the shield of the Empire. You will protect it from it's enemies, direct the Inquisition, and destroy heresy wherever you find it. I expect great things from you. My new friend..." The Dark Lord hissed, levitating backward and finding his seat in the throne. The stone of his body grating against the surface of the seat beneath him.

"Congratulations, Darth Trepidus."