rayneneverwind Posted May 14, 2015 Share Posted May 14, 2015 Preface: I love the Dread Masters. They're just fabulous for writing material. Each one of them are rounded, three dimensional characters with flaws, weaknesses, strengths, dreams, and hopes. But the fun part about their characters comes when you break down each and every one of them and really analyze just how broken they were. This is a mini-series delving into the mind of my most favorite (and frequently played) character, the light side Sorcerer Vasilii. I'm actually working on another story (the poor thread hasn't been updated since 2013, thanks to raiding and graduating and working.. ) that fleshes out a lot of his character, but I took this particular challenge to myself, thanks to a friend of mine. It's broken up into several segments that I'm hoping to update on a semi-weekly basis, all depending on how busy I am at work that day. As always, Credit and copyright to BioWare for Star Wars: The Old Republic, the Dread Masters' characters, Oricon, and everything else from the game. Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
rayneneverwind Posted May 14, 2015 Author Share Posted May 14, 2015 (edited) Once, We Were Mortal (Prologue): It’s difficult to pinpoint that exact moment of terrifying revelation, when the world around you crumbles like sand under foot. Even more so when you’re forced to relive that moment on more than one occasion, an experience the Dread Masters were only too happy to accommodate. Oricon. Death lingers in the air, putrid and vile, shrouded in a spine-chilling fog of despair. Its red sun burns hot enough to remind you of the barren wasteland surrounding you yet strangely offers no warmth as it touches your skin. Lava pools gargle and bubble, whispering the sounds of drowning cries into your ears, yet no sounds echo through the stale air. The rocks are sharp and unforgiving as they reach towards the sky and if you look close enough, the crevices within them glow bright with freshly spilled blood. Around every turn is an enemy, wild eyed and hungry for flesh. Republic, Imperial, innocent. Every mind is a blank canvas and ripe for the picking. A few lucky ones die at the first caresses into their mind. Most succumb and die through living. I am Sith, a member of the Dark Council, and no stranger to horrors, yet I found myself horrified. When I first encountered the Dread Masters on Belsavis, they seemed much like any other tightly knit group of Sith. Closed off, yet brilliant, and dedicated to the Emperor, but far more loyal to each other. Their story is one I’ve never heard in completion aside from whispers in the Academy about these six powerful figures and how they brought worlds to ruin. All for the glory for the Emperor. Yet their time in captivity, as I look back, cracked already broken minds and warped already twisted desires. Locked away in stasis chambers, isolated from each other, their time apart brought out uncontrollably murderous intent and a thirst for power that would lead the galaxy into extinction. Loyalty died and in return bred insanity. Drowning in my own entanglements, I forgot about the Dread Masters for a long time and I believe a majority of the people involved in their rescue did the same. Thanaton fell, I ascended, and while all was not perfect, for a brief moment, it was. Then the call arrived. Edited May 14, 2015 by rayneneverwind Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
rayneneverwind Posted May 14, 2015 Author Share Posted May 14, 2015 (edited) Part One: Solitude Vivifies, Isolation Kills (Styrak) It came at a time where I was surprisingly in-between personal missions. Since my ascendance to the Dark Council, the position came with no shortage of problems that demanded my attention. Thanaton left much to the wayside during the feud that escalated between us, but events on Makeb took much of my own time away from my duties to the Dark Council. After Toborro was taken down and the Empire began its harvesting of Isotope-5, I turned my attention to the work I inherited. Scribes on Alderaan, artifacts on Taris, arrivals on Korriban, an away mission to Denova for the Council. So much to do, yet with the arrival of the Dread Masters back in the Empire’s sights, these tasks became obsolete. Moff Orlec reached out to me one evening a couple of months after my work on Makeb, informing me of a serious and sudden collection of powerful mercenaries, all with connections to the Hutt Cartel, gathering together on the planet Darvannis. Rumors swirled around them, some outlandish and immediately dismissible. Others not so much. Some whispered that the motley crew was being led by a powerful Sith lord who lurked in the shadows, but those who spread that rumor were dealt with severely and instantaneously. Orlec believed these threats, however, and attempted to cajole me into leading a small strike team to the heart of Darvannis. He claimed his scouts reported black arms dealers, called the Cartel Warlords, joining forces to attempt to bring down the Empire. These warlords, he said, never worked together before and that something was afoot, that something falling right into my motif. I hesitate to use the word hate, but I really hate Moffs. I considered the option polite decline, because I’m in no way required to really give anything a second thought, should a request come from anyone besides the Dark Council. Something in the Moff’s voice, however, hinted at a legitimate concern, and I resigned myself to yet another stomp around a desert planet for absolutely no good reason. Strike teams set up by Moffs are usually, in my own limited association with them, a terrible thing. I almost suggested I assemble my own, but in my experience, most Moffs have an extraordinarily fragile ego - much like most of the Dark Council - and only the Force knows what would happen should I suggest something aside from their opinion. At this point in time, I was concerned with supporting the Imperial Military and all those associated with it, so I eventually agreed to his terms and scheduled a departure date for Darvannis. Our arrival to the planet was less than memorable, along with most of the actual infiltration. Moff Orlec’s assumptions of the threats ended up being spot on, though to a lesser degree, as I had originally assumed. The mercenaries set up an outpost in Oasis City, which was easily breached after killing a couple of oversized beasts and dismantling a very large droid. The entire trek through the planet brought back unpleasant memories of my time on Tatooine, searching for an artifact that almost led to my death at the hands of Zash. Memories I tried very hard to repress most days. As my team continued to clear through the mercenaries as we grew nearer to these so-called Warlords, something odd stood out to me: they almost seemed confused, acting upon wishes and thoughts that I would’ve never associated with people of that particular profession. I remember trying to reach inside the mind of a younger looking man - no more than his early twenties - and being met with pure, utter silence. As if a void had overtaken his thoughts and removed all individuality. That revelation found itself pushed to the side, however, once we engaged the Warlords. The rumors around them were far from overblown, which actually was a relief. Having to report to the Council about a going on a mission for a Moff that could’ve easily been dealt with by a team of special forces is not a conversation I enjoy delivering. The Warlords themselves consisted of four individuals: a Devaronian smuggler with a nasty addiction to a stealth generator, an ex-Republic gunman turned mercenary, a giant Gen’Dai encased in armor, and an oversized Whiphid with a foul temper. They were, however, no match for a Lord of the Dark Council and it wasn’t long at all before the last of the Warlords fell at my feet and a quiet stillness released a breath. It was then I heard his voice. Your courage... your power... are not completely insignificant. Perhaps you can be made to serve. I have felt pain. I have caused it. I have shielded from it. But I have never experienced agony like I did at that moment. A splintering force shattered my mental defenses and paralyzed my entire being as if with shards of hot glass. I watched, helpless, as my team gave out a single collective cry and collapsed to the arena floor, never to stand up again. Then, a razor focus targeted me and I felt my mind touched by slimy, darkened tendrils of the Force. Crawling, probing, exploring. They forced me to my knees as pressure surrounded me, pushing past the defenses I have always carefully maintained, until they found what they were looking for. Alone. I have always been alone, though mostly through my own desires. Memories of my childhood prior to becoming a slave to Alderaan’s House Thul are very vague and blurry, but I do remember one thing: for the only time in my life, I was happy. But after my family was destroyed by greed and malice, I adopted the creed of isolation, so I could never truly be hurt again. The dull ache that is solitude was a constant, unchanging factor of my life and I welcomed it. That ache became a roar, inflamed by the invading dark presence, and nearly tore my mind apart. My breath no longer came easily. Memories that had been buried so deeply in order to keep them away from prying eyes resurfaced immediately to drag me down further into a darkened abyss. Cold. I am cold. Gray walls surround me and I know that if I hurl myself against the wall to my left, I can almost feel her warmth seep into me. Stay strong, Vasilii. You’re such a big boy now, I’m so proud of you. The smile never left her lips as they fastened a thick brace of steel around her neck, but I saw her struggle to reach out to me as three men picked me up off the floor and held me still as a similar but smaller brace clamped itself onto my own neck. Then, and only then, did I see her weep as we were separated. Rain pelts the grass underneath my feet as thunder rumbles through the mountains behind me. I am to depart for Korriban within the hour. My Force sensitivity is finally turning from blessing to curse, as my still pounding head ruefully reminds me. She’s resting in an unmarked grave underneath a small sapling I planted in her honor. I can’t help but kneel, my hand tracing the now-hidden lines I dug not even a year ago. This is most likely the last time I will see her, as I am now entirely alone in this universe and headed for my own destruction at the hands of the Sith overseers on a harsh red planet. I don’t know how I managed to revive myself, and to this day, I attribute it to the lingering remnants of past inhabitants, but the sudden feeling of emptiness and freedom woke me from the induced stupor. I had collapsed on the sandy arena that was stained with blood and littered with bodies. My head pounded in time with my furiously paced heartbeat as adrenaline coursed through my veins, making my hands shake and my knees weak. Do not fight. Do not resist. Give yourselves over now, or be destroyed. His voice once more oozed into my mind and I felt the dark presence pushing at me once again. That time, however, I was ready. Years of training mental defense was summoned and I called upon the Force to barrier my mind, protecting it from the penetrating mental barrage. I didn’t dare to breathe or move, but poured every ounce of concentration into my self preservation. After what felt like years, but in reality was only mere seconds, the barrage faded and the dark presence slunk away. I was breathless, shaking, and barely conscious, but I was alive. A crushing darkness pulled at my consciousness and before I gave into it, I managed to send off an emergency signal to our ship orbiting the planet. EDIT: added content 5/14/2015 EDIT: added content 5/18/2015 EDIT: added content 5/19/2015 Edited May 19, 2015 by rayneneverwind Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
rayneneverwind Posted May 14, 2015 Author Share Posted May 14, 2015 Part Two: The Dread Planet Oricon To be updated Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
rayneneverwind Posted May 14, 2015 Author Share Posted May 14, 2015 Part Three: Descent into the Dread Fortress To be updated Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
rayneneverwind Posted May 14, 2015 Author Share Posted May 14, 2015 Part Four: Pride Goeth Before a Fall (Brontes) To be updated Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
rayneneverwind Posted May 14, 2015 Author Share Posted May 14, 2015 Part Five: Through Passion, I Gain Strength (Bestia) To be updated Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
rayneneverwind Posted May 14, 2015 Author Share Posted May 14, 2015 Part Six: Even the Most Well Laid Plans (Tyrans) To be updated Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
rayneneverwind Posted May 14, 2015 Author Share Posted May 14, 2015 Part Seven: There is No Ignorance, Only Knowledge (Calphayus) To be updated Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
rayneneverwind Posted May 14, 2015 Author Share Posted May 14, 2015 Part Eight: Through Victory, My Chains are Broken (Raptus) to be updated Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
rayneneverwind Posted May 14, 2015 Author Share Posted May 14, 2015 And We Dreamed of Mortal Things (Conclusion) to be updated Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
rayneneverwind Posted May 28, 2015 Author Share Posted May 28, 2015 5/27/2015 Thank you all for your reading and kind words. I'd like to apologize for the lack of an update this week. I've been extraordinarily busy - both in game and at work - and have not yet found the time to sit down to finish the end of the Styrak chapter. But I do promise to have that updated and a special goodie next week as an apology. <3 Thank you again! Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
rayneneverwind Posted June 4, 2015 Author Share Posted June 4, 2015 (edited) 6/4/2015: Dat Special Goodie Tho As promised, a little special something I wrote regarding my favorite protagonist, Vasilii. Disclaimer: I -hate- writing poetry. I really stinkin' do. Stupid freaking creative writing classes, grumble grumble grumble. But I liked this one! and I hope you all do too. Changing Memories I remember. Staring off into distances with the weight of the world on my neck. The taste of freedom, bittersweet as blood and chocolate, a stinging bite on my tongue. Steel towers sparkling like glass in the afternoon sun, stars against a green horizon. Their graceful spires beckon all who gaze upon them, promising a life worth living, even to those who have given it all away. I remember. Tasting that forbidden fruit of freedom, savoring it against my lips. Thinking to myself how now those gleaming towers of promise were within my reach. My fingertips could graze its secret promises and touch its alluring wonders. No more delays. No more naysayers to turn me away. No more. In the midst of houses all fighting for a worthless trinket crown, peaceful harmony sang its soothing song. Velvet grass caressed my feet with each step closer while the wind’s children breezes danced merrily through the grasping fingers of leaves at play. Majestic mountain peaks, sleeping quietly under soft blankets of snow, snored their frigid dreams into my ears. With every passing step, every moving moment, those crystal glass towers grew. It wasn’t long, nature’s breathless beauty keeping me in quiet company, until those glittering towers loomed above me. They seemed to smile down at me, laughing with the joy in my mind as they called me forward. A dream forever held in secret, tucked away for fear of destruction, finally blossomed into reality. My first step into those marble halls crashed me speechless. Towering golden statues of heroes long forgotten stood watch over blubbing brisk fountains and lush purple couches. Clay marble wove into pillars like tree trunks, holding high looming ceilings that could very well challenged the skies. But. I remember. Branded with an enemy’s mark, I, a victim of stolen freedoms, was cast out. Fear drew faces on the skin of the people, their lips in tightened lines as they threatened, screamed, begged for my disappearance. I turned my back on the place once held so dear. Corruption’s heavy hand had poisoned even that which loomed untouchable. No hesitation as I walked away, the memories once held so dear falling through my fingertips, shattered glass gleaming against the grass. Edited June 4, 2015 by rayneneverwind Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
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