"Lord Nihilus, you escaped death by containing your consciousness within your armor. How?!" - Darth Krayt
Chapter 17: Legends
A long time ago, in a galaxy ravaged by war…
Jedi Exile Meetra Surik looked out of the bridge window of the Ravager, sadly taking in the devastation wrought upon the world of Telos IV. A planet that was scarred and despoiled by the horrors of war, once more exposed to inhuman cruelty and violence.
Closing her eyes, she then brought her gaze to the one that caused all of this wanton destruction. Darth Nihilus, the feared Lord of Hunger, lied defeated before her, Visas, and Mandalore. No, that was wrong. Nihilus didn't cause all of this. He was but a pawn, a slave to his hunger whose hand was forced by their shared mentor.
The ship then shook, the battle scarred metal groaning as the force of nature that was holding it together was now dead. When she regained her balance, Meetra then saw Visas approach the body of her former master.
"Visas… what are you doing?" Meetra asked.
"I have to see." the Miralukan whispered out. "With the Force, and with my eyes."
"What the Hell are you doing up there! We need to get off this ship. Now!" Mandalore barked out as the ship groaned once more.
Sensing that this was something Visas needed to do, Meetra put out a hand to silence Mandalore. "Look upon his face, if it will bring you peace, Visas." Meetra then paused for a moment, considering her next actions. "Then bring his mask to me."
Visas knelt down before the body, pulling off the mask, and gazing in her former master's eyes for several seconds. She then stood, taking the mask with her as she approached the Exile.
"What did you see when you looked at him?" Meetra couldn't help but be curious herself.
"A man, nothing more." Visas shook her head, handing the Mask of Darth Nihilus to Meetra. "You are my master now. And I will follow wherever your path takes you. My path here is at an end."
Meetra nodded. "Then let this ship die, as it should have years ago."
The trio turned and began to make their way off of the bridge. As they did, they paid no heed to the body of Darth Nihilus becoming one with the Force as a storm of red lightning and smoke destroyed it.
Meetra pocketed the mask into her robe, one final trophy of the beast who died and was reborn on Malachor V. Although much weaker than when Nihilus wore it, Meetra could still sense the power of the Dark Side of the Force emanating from the mask, feeling it strengthening her connection to it. While Meetra had devoted herself to her return to the light, she knew that both the dark and the light had its purposes. Despite her betrayal, much of what Kreia taught her rang true. The Force was the Force, and dark or light was all just titles. At least until Kreia was stopped, she would bear the burden of the Mask of Darth Nihilus on her.
However, what neither Meetra nor Visas sensed, was that the mask carried not an echo of the Lord of Hunger, nor an imprint of his power, but the soul of the Dark Lord himself. Nihilus, far weakened by the destruction of his withered husk of a physical vessel, was barely cognisant as he was passed from his former apprentice to his antithesis.
Nihilus felt his consciousness fading. He would not die, no the Sith magics he used to bound his soul to the mask would ensure that. But he would become… dormant. Practically comatose as his soul healed, naturally drawing upon the Living Force surrounding him. And so, as his perceptions of the world around him went dark, Darth Nihilus sent one last spiteful glare at his treacherous apprentice and the Jedi Knight who turned her. Nihilus then slept.
Nihilus stirred as voices roused him from his slumber. He did not know for how long he slept. But for an immortal like Nihilus, time was irrelevant. Reaching out to get a sense of his surroundings, Nihilus found that his mask was in some kind of storage container or holocron.
The voice outside of his prison spoke once more, though heavily muffled, as if they were speaking through a wall or underwater.
"Not many can claim they battled a Sith and lived. You're in rare company." One of the voices spoke, a clearly feminine voice. One that Nihilus could feel the Force coming from.
Then the second voice spoke. This one was not colored by the Force, which made it difficult for Nihilus to even determine if it was a man or woman speaking. "You took some hits. Any of them leave a mark?"
"My injuries will heal soon enough." the first voice spoke. Nihilus then felt the woman touch the box he was stored within. "I see now why Zare thought this box worth killing over. Thank the Force we stopped her. This box contains a Sith Artifact. It was created centuries ago by a powerful dark lord called Darth Nihilus."
"Hm. This Darth Nihilus guy famous for anything, Nariel?" the second spoke.
Even through the box, Nihilus could feel the spike of fear in this Nariel. "He exterminated nearly every Jedi centuries ago. It was the closest our order ever came to extinction, and it took great effort for us to rebuild." Nariel shook her head, and Nihilus could feel resolution well in her. "I'll ensure that this relic remains safely hidden from Zare's allies. The Empire must never find this artifact. With its power, they could possibly turn the tide of the war against the Republic.
"Thank you once again, Voidhound. We saved countless lives today." Nariel then grabbed the strongbox as she prepared to leave.
"Let's do it again sometime." this Voidhound winked.
Nariel chuckled. "If you were a little more serious minded, you'd make a fine Jedi."
"I'll take that as a compliment." Voidhound smirked.
Smiling, Nariel placed a hand on her heart and bowed. "Goodbye. May the Force protect you."
Nihilus felt Nariel carry his container to what was most likely her ship, followed by the unmistakable feeling of hyperspace travel as the Jedi began her journey. Flying her freighter, Nariel performed random hyperspace jump after random hyperspace jump. It was simple enough for Nihilus to ascertain her plan. She was going to the Unknown Regions. Far beyond explored space in order to hide Nihilus's mask from any who would seek it.
It was indeed a simple plan, but one that would be effective nonetheless. If his mask was placed on an unexplored wild planet, it would be a very long time before someone found it. And so, using what little energy he was able to regain over his years in hibernation, Nihilus projected his soul from the mask, summoning a ghost of the Force.
Nihilus knew he didn't have long. His power was weak, extremely weak. During his slumber he had barely been able to absorb the Force around him, and he knew he couldn't sustain this form for long. He also knew that the Jedi Nariel Pridence would not fall to corruption. At least not in the timeframe that he had. Corruption was a slow, and insidious thing, especially slow on Jedi who had learned to shun their desires and emotions.
To her credit, Nariel sensed something was wrong almost immediately. Running from the cockpit of her ship, her face fell as she saw the ghostly spectre of Darth Nihilus looking right back at her. Without hesitation, Nariel drew her lightsaber and swung. She was fast, but not fast enough.
Before her blade could connect, Nihilus let loose a torrent of orange lightning against her, draining her of her very life. Over the course of only a few seconds, Nariel went from a beautiful young woman into a desiccated corpse. Meanwhile, Nihilus felt his strength start to return, but it still was not enough. He was far from the power he had when he was starving to death above Telos, let alone how powerful he was in his prime. And what power he had drained would not stay if he kept exerting himself.
If he were to continue to survive, he would have to return to hibernation once more. Quickly, Nihilus looked to the cockpit of the starship, and with a wave of his hand, manipulated the controls. The starship's distress beacon was activated, and with luck and guidance from the Force, someone would detect the ship and Nihilus would be able to escape into the greater galaxy once more. His plan set in motion, Nihilus released his control over his mortal projection, returning to his slumber so he could continue to gather his strength.
As Nihilus slept, time continued to flow. Days turned to weeks, weeks to months, and months to years. So far out in the vastness of space, the chances of someone finding a single, lost freighter were far from likely.
But through sheer astronomical chance or through the will of the Force, the freighter was happened upon by a pair of smugglers who were running spice for the gang known as the Wavelength Gale. The duo explored the ship, taking everything of value, before continuing on to their homebase on the nearby planet Volik. Unfortunately for the Lord of Hunger, none of the smugglers possessed enough of a connection to the Force to rouse him from his slumber.
It was on Volik that the smuggler's discovered the mask, but had no knowledge of what it truly was. And so, everything was catalogued and organized in the smuggler's base in preparation for later sale.
This would not come to pass however, because before they had the chance to sell their ill gotten goods, the Wavelength Gale gang would be ambushed by the Republic Navy. Rather than face guaranteed imprisonment, the smugglers took their chances and tried to run the Republic blockade. This resulted in only the death of all the smugglers, and with their deaths, the loss of all knowledge of where their treasures were hidden.
And so, the mask of Darth Nihilus was once more lost, trapped within a cargo hold on an unknown planet. It was here the mask continued to sit as time marched forever onward. Years turned to centuries. And centuries, to millennia.
Nihilus did not know what occurred on this planet, or that he was even on a planet for that matter. It wasn't until Nihilus felt the presence of several figures around him that he began to awaken and return to consciousness.
"Really Sando, a double cross? Curse your sudden but inevitable betrayal." Nihilus heard a voice deadpan. Stretching out his perception, Nihilus did not sense a creature, but instead a cold body of machinery and electricity. It was a droid speaking, albeit one of high intelligence and agency, with a heavily armored light-blue colored body, and a helmeted head that had a single glass visor instead of face. Beside him, were several other droids, all of similar design, but of different colors.
"Hmm. Your sarcastic wit may be cute Alpha, but it's not enough to save you. Now hand over the artifact, and you and your friends get to leave." Sando spoke in a high pitched, whining alien language that immediately identified her as a Rodian. Behind her stood several other humanoids of varying races. It was easy to identify them as some kind of mercenary or pirate band.
"Oh god the meatbag called you cute." a black colored droid beside the Alpha spoke with a feminine voice that dripped annoyance. "Listen here bug eyes, we didn't bust our ass helping you get here for you to just leave us high and dry. Now I'm giving you one last chance. Turn around, walk away, and I don't turn you into a blaster ridden corpse."
"You should listen to Beta, Sando. She may be a crazy bitch, but you know how fucking lethal she is." Alpha added on. "You're making a big mistake if you think you can take us down."
A new voice cut in once more, this one belonging to a human male, that carried a tone of regality and nobility. "No, I think both of you have made a mistake."
The heads turned to the newest speaker, a young man with pasty white skin, and medium length black hair, along with a group of warriors behind him. While the boy wasn't worthy of becoming even a Sith neophyte, he was just barely Force sensitive enough to awaken the Dark Lord. Nihilus could sense that he was ambitious, cruel, and sought out the path to becoming a Sith.
"Collan Eislo. Pampered noble and wannabe Sith." Sando spat out. "Didn't you learn your lesson the last time my boys kicked you off planet?"
"Oh, but I did learn Sando." Collan said with a savage grin as his allies all drew heavy repeaters and aimed at both Sando and her crew and the droids. "I learned to bring more than enough firepower to wipe your pathetic groups off the face of the galaxy."
Half of Sando's group and half of the droids aimed their guns at Collan and his allies.
"Oh ho ho." A dark grey droid cackled out as it leveled what looked like a rocket launcher. "Looks like we have ourselves a Tatooine standoff! How absolutely delicious muahahaha."
"Can it Omega." Alpha then turned to a green colored droid beside him. "What's it looking like D?"
D, or Delta, simply responded. "I calculate a 37.20% chance that we will make it out of this situation unharmed."
"Never tell me the odds!" Beta hissed out as she aimed her two blaster pistols, one at Sando and the other at Collan.
With violence about to erupt, the three groups were so completely focused on one another that they didn't seem to notice a new form taking shape in the cargo hold. Behind the multicolored droids, the spectral form of Darth Nihilus rose once more.
Sando's face fell as she was the first to see the ghost appear. "What the Hell!?" she cried out as she raised her blaster pistol and aimed at the dark lord.
But Nihilus was too fast. His body phasing through the droids, Nihilus dug his hand into the heart of the Rodian pirate, and with a simple thought completely drained her of her life. Several of her faster pirates swiveled and fired their blasters, but they would do nothing to a being of pure Force. Nihilus then roared as orange lightning shot out from him, slamming into all of the pirates and draining them of all of their lifeforce, killing them instantly.
The droids lowered their guns out of sheer awe at what just happened, while Collan only threw himself onto the ground in supplication.
"My lord Nihilus!" the nobleman cried out as he fell to his feet. "My Lord, I have come here with my people, the Apex Society, to save you and ask for your favour. Please, grant me the power of the Forc-" Collan's voice was cut off as Nihilus appeared before him and unleashed his powers.
Collan looked down in horror as his and his follower's lifeforce was drained by the dark lord. Tilting his head up, Collan stared at his lord in confusion and horror as he died. Meanwhile Nihilus didn't even give the boy a second thought. The boy had a connection to the Force, no matter how miniscule, and Nihilus was hungry.
As every living organic died the colored droids kept their blasters trained on the ghost, but didn't pull their triggers.
"Warning. I calculate a 0.01% chance that our weapons will be effective against this adversary." Delta, the green droid spoke.
"Yeah, thanks D, I got that." Alpha snapped out as he tried to figure out what to do.
Nihilus didn't pay the droids any mind. He could not sense them, nor could he drain them, so they were worthless to him. With no sentients left, and only one barely being Force-Sensitive, Nihilus knew he couldn't sustain his form for too long. And so Nihilus decided to return to sleep, allowing his spectral form to collapse as his mask fell to the ground.
As the mask harmlessly clattered to the ground, all of the droids kept their blasters trained on it for several more seconds. Once it became clear that the mask wasn't going to do anything, Alpha was the first to lower his gun and say, "Well… that just happened. Any suggestions on what to do with this thing?"
"Suggestions?" Beta incredulously asked. "Why are we even talking about this? Did you not just see the ghost turn those guys in bantha jerky? We put this thing back in its box, and get the Hell out."
"If I may, Beta." Delta interjected. "Knowledge of the mask's existence and location seems to have been leaked to the wider galaxy by Sando's Boys, as exemplified by both our presence, and the presence of Collan Eislo's Apex Society. If we leave the mask here, there is a very high chance that the mask will be claimed by someone else after we leave."
"Why do we not take it?" Omega asked with his nefarious accent. "Did you see the amount of power this mask has? It is absolutely diabolical. Or at the very least, we could sell it for quite the pretty penny."
Alpha shook his head. "Beta, if Omega ever suggests something like that again, you have my permission to shoot him." Beta then turned and flicked the safety off her blaster as she faced Omega, somehow smiling despite her lack of a face. "In fact you can shoot him twice." Alpha continued. "No, we can't just leave it here for someone else to take. We can't let this thing get back to the Empire. Trust me, Vader is the last type of person who should get something like this."
"So what's the plan 'boss'?" Beta asked, her last word dripping with sarcasm.
Alpha thought for a moment before deciding. "We take the mask and go further into the Unknown Regions. Way beyond any charted star system. We find some random rock and dump it there."
"While I do not have enough data on the Unknown Regions to project a threat rating should anything find it there, I can calculate that this plan has a high chance of success for hiding the mask from the Empire." Delta added on.
"Sounds fine to me." Beta shrugged, going along with the flow.
"Then we're all in agreement." Alpha declared.
Omega protested. "I didn't agree to anything!"
"Everyone who matters is in agreement." Church snapped as he picked up the mask and put it back in its box. "Now come on, everyone back to the Mother of Invention. The sooner we get rid of this thing the sooner I can wipe my memory and forget all of this happened."
The droids hurriedly returned to their starship, piling in as they took off from the planet. At Alpha's orders, they then began a series of random hyperspace jumps. Eventually they reached a completely unexplored system, with 1 habitable planet whose main feature strangely enough was a moon that seemed to have been shattered.
"What the Hell happened there?" Beta asked as she stared at the fractured stellar body.
"Probably an asteroid or something hit it, who cares?" Alpha grumbled. "Give me a sitrep D, we good to drop the payload?"
Delta nodded his head. "All calculations are completed, approach vector is locked for a low orbit drop off."
"Aren't you worried about any natives finding this thing?" Beta asked, tilting her head.
"Fuck 'em." Alpha simply responded. However, he then felt Beta's blank stare at the back of his head, causing him to groan and turn to his green companion. "Hey D, are there any spaceflight capable races on this planet?"
"Preliminary scans have found no evidence of space flight capable sentient life. However, there is some evidence of primitive natives who have yet to industrialize." Delta simply responded.
"See? Just a bunch of low-tech natives." Alpha gestured to the planet. "That mask isn't getting off world for a long time. Now prepare for atmospheric drop Delta."
Delta's metallic fingers began to quickly tap on his console. "Beginning planetary approach now. Venting stern cargo hold. And the package is away, Alpha."
Alpha nodded. "Good. Now let's get the Hell out of here."
The Mother of Invention listed to the side as it pushed its sublight thrusters to the max before hyperdriving back to civilized space. Meanwhile, the strongbox containing the Mask of Darth Nihilus rocketed downwards toward the planet the locals had dubbed Remnant. The durasteel storage box maintained its structure as it burned through reentry, until it eventually made planetfall with a cacophonous explosion.
Petros Krizoz was a simple man. A monk of the church of the Two Brothers, Petros eked out a meager, but pious existence for the two decades he had been alive. Petros considered himself a good man. He made sure that his flock were clothed, fed, and heard the good word of the Two Brothers regularly. Incidentally, his position as a monk had made him something of a leader in his village located along the Eastern Sanus mountains despite his young age.
While he normally enjoyed such a position of power, it often came responsibilities that he never asked for. That included investigating the star that had fallen the night previous. As was tradition with monks of the Two Brothers, Petros had his aura unlocked and knew how to fight, in order to better protect his flock from the Grimm and other such threats. Sighing, Petros hoofed his way over a hill where the star had impacted.
As he made it over the cliff, Petros' eyes widened with shock. The verdant green forest that once covered this land was completely destroyed, charred black and ruined by the impact of the falling star. It was like the Brothers themselves had come down from the heavens, and ripped out the land that was once here. As he looked over the devastation, Petros saw something that caught his eye. At the center of the crater was the star itself. It was a strange box or cube, in fact it looked like a storage chest but only made of some strange metal rather than wood and iron.
Apprehensively, Petros approached the box. A quick tap with his finger revealed that the box was not hot, but actually rather cool to the touch. Seeing it was safe to handle, the monk began to examine the box, eventually finding what looked like a latch to open it. Pressing a button, the chest unlocked and slowly opened, revealing to Petros a bone white mask inside, with two red stripes beneath the eyes.
Petros found the mask a curious thing, and began to study its features. What he didn't know, was that in turn, the mask was studying him. Nihilus had once more come into consciousness when the monk approached. Unlike before however, his previous meal of the aspiring Sith acolyte and the pirates sated his hunger just enough that he didn't immediately consume this man.
And he was glad he didn't as what appeared to be a simple baseline human in front of him was anything but. The man had a connection to the Force, but not like what Nihilus was used to seeing in Force adepts. The man examining the mask had no Force Sensitivity to speak of, but the Force solidified around him, creating an aura that enhanced his durability and strength not unlike the techniques of Force Barrier and Force Valor.
It was a very curious thing, even to a being such as Nihilus. What was the cause of this? Could the midi-chlorians have evolved into something different on this world? Was this offshoot of humanity a completely Force Sensitive species, such as the Mirialukans or the Ancient Sith, or even the Rakata he recalled Revan speaking of once during the Jedi Civil War.
Regardless, this was different. This man and his people could feed Nihilus, more than a non-Force sensitive being, but less than someone who was fully sensitive. Luckily for Nihilus, his previous meal had sated him enough that for now he was no longer a vicious beast, feral, with no thought beyond its next meal. And as such, Nihilus decided to hold off on consuming the man. He could lead Nihilus to others who could sustain the Dark Lord's appetite. It was a simple matter for Nihilus to use the Force to convince the monk to take the mask with him. And while Nihilus could feed on the young man and his strange connection to the Force, Nihilus did not believe he could be a worthy vessel for his soul. He would have to wait until the Force brought someone to him else.
Meanwhile, Petros found the mask to be quite terrifying, but awe inspiring at the same time. Both beautiful and dreadful. A balance between two sides, much like the Two Brother gods, though obviously more on the side of the Brother of Darkness. Petros looked back at the storage box, and then at the devastation around him once more. This… this had to be a gift from the Gods, an artifact dedicated to them. He had to take the mask back to his monastery and show it to the abbot and other monks.
And so, Petros quickly placed the mask back into the box and closed it. With his aura enhanced strength, Petros was more than strong enough to lift the box to his shoulder and begin the arduous journey back to his mountain monastery.
The elderly Grand Master Petros of the Temple of Shadows sat upon his throne, gazing at the mask he had found so many years ago. Crossing his now decrepit fingers, he began to almost gleefully chuckle at the memories the mask brought upon. So much changed in his life when he found the mask. When he first showed the mask to his fellow monks those decades ago, they found the mask an interesting curiosity, but left Petros to his devices with it.
It did not take long for Petros to realize that the mask was indeed an artifact of the Brother of Darkness, once the mask began to whisper to him. At first he was scared, terrified even of what it spoke of, but soon he found the wisdom of its words. It taught him the ways of darkness, of how to break free from the chains that society and the followers of light and order would impose on them.
Many of the other monks did not believe in Petros when he tried to awaken them. They saw his words as blasphemy. Though the ones who did choose to follow were gifted with knowledge of Darkness as well. They learned to hide in the shadows, to hunt those who offended them. It was a simple matter for them to eliminate their former brothers and sisters who refused to follow the new way.
And the mask only wanted one thing in return. One simple thing. Sacrifices. Souls who would be offered up to the avatar of the Dark God. At first, monks and followers who refused the new god were sacrificed. Once they were all gone, the monks began hunting for travelers and vagabonds that would not be missed.
But Petros knew that if they simply continued their path of random violence, it would attract the ire of the outside world. And no amount of blessing from their Dark Lord would allow them to withstand their united fury. So instead of attacking any and all who would stray too close to the monastery, Petros began taking contracts from the kingdoms and many smaller villages to hunt down and kill their enemies. If possible they would capture their targets alive, bring them to the monastery, and offer them to the mask.
The monastery had completely transformed. No longer were the monks teachers and protectors who spread the word of the Two Brothers. Instead they had become hunters, assassins who killed for the honor of the Dark Brother. They were now a death cult of assassins, infamous across Remnant for their tenacity, brutality, and most importantly their lethality.
For years Petros and his fellow acolytes hunted across Remnant. And when their physical forms began to fail, they trained the next generation of assassins to continue their dark ways. And now, with the world of Remnant embroiled in its so called "Great War," business was as they say, booming. Petros had lost count of how many contracts they had gotten from this war. How many military officers, politicians, and more across Mantle, Mistral, Vale, and Vacuo had died by the blades of his students.
An explosion outside of the monastery rocked both the building and Petros out of his reminiscing. The Grand Master Assassin then heard hurried footsteps rapidly approaching his position. Bursting his way into the inner sanctum, a young monk still in the midst of his training ran to Petros.
"Grand Master!" The boy cried out, not bothering to catch his breath. "Vale's army is here! They are destroying everything and will breach the outer gate in but a few minutes!"
Despite his impending doom, Petros couldn't help but feel a wry smile appear on his face. "So, the Warrior-King Osmund has finally grown tired of our presence." Despite his ancient age, Petros stood tall, and reached for a sword at his side. "Come child. Gather your brothers and sisters, and we shall honor our Lord by dying well."
General Alixandre Arc stood stern faced as the battering ram worked its way on the monastery door, rain pattering down on his dented and scarred armor. Many nobles and Generals believed in always wearing a pristine suit of armor, but General Alixandre saw every marr and dent as a badge of honor earned on the battlefield.
His gaze then turned to the pile of freshly made corpses that were gathered up from the previous engagement. The exterior guards of this temple were terrible opponents already, each single assassin killing a dozen of his men before being put down. The General didn't know how many cultists called this accursed temple home, but he knew that the cost of taking it was going to be heavy.
With a deafening crash, the wooden doors of the monastery were broken open. With a nod of dour determination, Alixandre drew his sword, Crocea Mors, and turned to his soldiers.
"Men and women of Vale! Brace yourselves for a battle the likes of which none of you have ever seen! King Osmund has tasked us with the unenviable duty of removing these blighted cultists from this world. For too long these murderers and marauders have lived under the guise of holy men and women, killing any and all for their blasphemous rituals. But no more! We of Vale are here now to stop this evil! And though it will be a grim task, one that will claim the lives of many here, know that what we do today we do not just because it was ordered, but because it is what's right! What's just!" General Alixandre raised his sword into the air, drawing the cheers of all his soldiers. "Now come! For death and glory! For Vale and the King!"
Extending his shield, General Alixandre Arc led the charge into the Temple of Shadows. Much like he had assumed, the assault into the temple was a costly one. Every assassin and cultist they ran into was absurdly fast and skilled, even when aura was put into consideration. Not to mention the sheer amount of traps and fortifications within the temple made every step potentially lethal. Spike pits, razor wires, poison darts, Alixandre lost count of how many men he lost to impalement due to a misplaced foot activating some hidden pressure plates.
And as was their way of war, the assassins never struck them from the open. When the soldiers of Vale were most vulnerable or distracted, assassins would strike, killing dozens of men in an instant. Several of these assassins weren't even fully fledged warriors, but youngsters probably barely in their teens. It ached the General's heart to kill ones so young, especially when he had a son of similar age, but these cultists were a plague who could be afforded no quarter. The King wanted this temple destroyed, and it would be destroyed.
Soon enough, the General and his men reached the temple's inner sanctum, bloodied and harried, down scores of soldiers already. That's when Alixandre saw Grand Master Petros Krizoz, the decrypt old fossil that led these blasphemers, surrounded by a dozen of his followers. His face was set with deep wrinkles, his eyes a sickly yellow, and he was clad in a dark black robe.
"General Arc." the master assassin rasped out. "You are a bold one indeed."
"Save the pleasantries Krizoz. By order of King Osmund, for crimes of murder, conspiracy to commit murder, kidnapping, and crimes against humanity, I sentence you and your followers death." General Arc declared, pointing his sword at the man.
Petros only smiled, revealing a mouth full of rotted teeth as he began cackling. "Come then, great hero! We shall see which of us the gods shall favor tonight!"
Alixandre stood, resting all of his weight on his sword panting and gasping for air. Around him were the bodies of the assassins, and nearly a hundred dead soldiers of Vale. Each one a veteran warrior with years of experience and auras unlocked. To call the battle a massacre was not just an understatement, it was an insult to the dead. These monks were monsters, each and every one. And now they were all dead.
Looking at the corpse of Petros Krizoz beneath him, the elderly monk having been eviscerated by Crocea Mors, it took every ounce of honor and self control Alixandre had left to not spit upon the corpse.
"General!" A voice spoke up behind Arc, causing him to rise and turn around.
It was one of Arc's lieutenants, a young woman by the name of Isabelle. Like all the other survivors, she was drenched in blood, and carried more than a few wounds. But luckily hers were shallow enough that she could still perform most of her duties. And despite her wounds, she was still able to snap off a perfect salute to the General. He had to respect that discipline.
"What's your report Lieutenant?" the General quickly asked.
Dropping the salute Isabelle said, "Sir, teams have finished their sweep of the temple. We believe all of the monks are accounted for. There were no prisoners." While military professionalism kept her from having any outward emotions when she reported, she couldn't help but feel a grim satisfaction at the deaths of all the monks.
Alixandre nodded his head. "Good. May they all rot in Hell. Gather the bodies and burn them." As he gave the order however, something caught his eye.
Within the center of the inner sanctum, beside some kind of altar or podium, Alixandre saw what looked like a Grimm mask. Scowling, Arc gripped Crocea Mors and moved for the center of the room. Noticing something was wrong, Isabelle fell in line behind him.
Once he reached the altar, Alixandre pushed the body of a cultist that was covering the mask aside. Bending down, Alixandre examined the mask that was on the ground. It was bone white with red markings, not unlike a Grimm mask that he mistook it for.
"General?" Lieutenant Isabelle asked. "What do you want to do with that? Destroy it?"
Thinking for a moment as the General observed the mask. He was here to destroy all traces of these monks and their dark religion. But… there was something about this mask that he couldn't put his finger on that attracted him to it.
"It would be a terrible waste to just destroy it." Alixandre said. "It would be a shame to have lost so much and not even have a trophy." Alixandre then pocketed the mask into his jacket as he turned back to the Lieutenant. "Now then, let's finish our job here Lieutenant. Purge everything in this foul place. Everything shall be put to the torch and hammer, so no future generations may learn of the evils practiced here. History will forget the name Petros Krizoz ever existed."
And so his soldiers did their duty. Libraries were burned, statues razed, tomes and records destroyed. When they were done nothing remained of the infamous Temple of Shadows other than a pile of rubble, and a strange mask within the General's possession.
General Alixandre Arc, famed hero of Vale, rode by himself on a single horse drawn carriage as he made his way back to his home of Ansel. The old farts in Vale's newly established Council wanted to send him back with a parade and escort, but he most fervently declined.
Times were changing in Remnant. King Osmund had abdicated his throne and the Kingdom of Mantle was being reorganized into the Kingdom of Atlas. Many of the kingdoms were now disbanding their militaries as well to prove their dedication to the newly born peace. The age of war was over, so the good general thought there was no more need to celebrate war heroes like himself. Best to let old soldiers like him just fade away.
And so, taking both his severance and the gracious amounts of gifts and medals awarded to him, former General Alixandre Arc gathered all of his possessions in Vale, purchased a cart and steed, and began to make his way towards his ancestral home. With years of warfare now figuratively and literally behind him, Alix Arc traveled on a poorly maintained road located within Vale's Southeastern forest, and was now ready for some peace.
…
But they do not deserve peace, do they? A voice spoke out from nowhere but everywhere at once. It was gravely and distorted, and only barely intelligible to Alix.
Immediately Alix pulled back on the reins of his cart and drew his sword, scanning the area around him for the speaker.
"Who is there!?" Alixandre called out. "Show yourself brigand, and I promise I shall show due quarter!"
Despite his declaration, no one revealed themselves. Instead, the voice only spoke out once more.
You gave everything to your Kingdom. To your King. And this is how they repay you? With a simple horse and carriage? Don't you believe you deserve more?
Alixandre felt the words pierce into his heart. That for all the blood he shed, should not he have been given more? Didn't he deserve more? Angrily, Alix shook the thoughts off. "No. The war is over. I did my duty to my kingdom and that's enough!"
A chill ran down Alix's spine as the voice spoke once more. But you can have more. All you have to do is reach out and take it. Put on my mask, and you will be given the power you deserve! Power to do whatever you want. To protect your family, to destroy your enemies. Or to take the crown of King for yourself, and not let Vale cast you aside like an unneeded tool.
Alixandre felt his hands move unconsciously towards the bag where he stored the mask he collected from the Temple of Shadows.
Meanwhile Nihilus began to put more pressure on the former general. It had been so long. Decades within the possession of those monks, and none of the monks nor any of the sacrifices they brought were worthwhile hosts. None of them were Force-Sensitive, despite the aura of Force that they wore around their bodies. It was as if the planet itself was barren of Force-Sensitives.
Alixandre Arc however, was a latent Force-Sensitive. While it wasn't the strongest connection Nihilus had seen, it was more than enough to serve his purposes. The general probably didn't know he was sensitive to the Force, as the people of Remnant were ignorant of its very existence. And like most untrained Force-Sensitives, he could not call upon the Force to perform the various Jedi and Sith powers.
At most, the General's sensitivity would have granted him abnormal luck and intuition. And specifically within the context of these Remnantians, Alixandre Arc's latent sensitivity had resulted in his massive Aura, which no doubt contributed to the General's prowess as a warrior. Alixandre Arc was the first person who had the slightest connection to the Force Nihilus had seen, meaning he could serve as a host.
Thoughts were racing around Alixandre's mind. It would be so easy to listen to the words of the Mask, put it on and gain its power. He was already a peerless warrior. If he were to become even more powerful, who could stand against him? Those fools on the Council? They were politicians, not warriors. Former King Osmund? The pathetic old man was far beyond his peak.
Alixandre felt his fingers run along the edge of the mask. As he did however, he recalled the wrinkled, decaying face of Petros Krizoz as Alixandre ran Crocea Mors through him. He remembered the corrupt, evil man the monk was. And he refused to become like him. To be a puppet to whatever foul sorcery this mask perfused.
"NO!" Alixandre roared. "Loyalty… is its own reward!" Gripping the edge of the mask, Alixandre cried out as he threw the mask away from him.
That mask… that mask was pure evil. He should have never taken it from the Temple. It sought to use him for whatever diabolical plots it had in store. The mask attempted to whisper to him once more, but Alix shut it out through sheer willpower alone. He then swung his sword for the mask, only to find that the mask itself resisted even his strongest blow.
Snarling, Alix then went to the back of the cart, retrieving one of his strongboxes and dumping all of the contents out.
Gripping the box tightly, he then moved for the mask and threw it inside, ignoring any of its protests as he pressed a few buttons, locking the strongbox shut. Swiftly, Alixandre looked for a place he could hide it. If he couldn't destroy the mask, he would seal it away, hopefully for forever.
That's when he saw it. A small, rocky cliffside that would serve his purpose. Approaching the wall Alixandre activated his semblance Geokinesis, stomping his foot in the ground, which sent reverberations through the stone. The rock then shifted, moving itself to Alixandre's will, creating a small cave. The General placed the strongbox within the cavern, and with a final look of disgust and contempt for it, walked away.
Exiting the cave, Alixandre stomped once more, sending a wall of stone up from the ground, trapping the mask within. Content that he had sealed away the evil artifact, Alixandre Arc made his way back to his cart. He was going to go home, see his family, and never speak about this moment of weakness that almost sent him down a path of darkness.
Meanwhile, the Mask of Nihilus felt Alixandre Arc leave its range. The spirit of Nihilus had considered simply consuming Alixandre when he refused to put on the mask, but Nihilus had learned from his previous mistakes. While it was his uncontrollable hunger that forced him to kill potential hosts before he landed on this Force-forsaken planet, killing them had resulted in his prolonged confinement in the mask.
With Alixandre Arc leaving alive, he could potentially spread word of the mask's existence, or at the very least sire more spawn so there would be more Force-Sensitive natives on the planet.
And so Nihilus would continue the pattern he maintained for the decades and centuries previous. He would continue to sleep and wait until the Force presented him with another opportunity.
Seasons continued to pass as Nihilus slept. For the longest time, the only event of worth was a small earthquake that damaged the exterior wall of Nihilus' prison and the storage box that he was stored in. Soon enough, Nihilus once more felt the presence of another. Another latent Force-Sensitive being. It was a presence much like that of Alixandre Arc years ago, but one much younger. And one currently fleeing for his life.
With a slight pull of the Force, Nihilus drew the boy's attention to his prison. Seeing sanctuary in the small opening to the cave, the boy sprinted for fissure, forcing himself within. As the boy approached, Nihilus was able to examine him far more closely.
It was a young man, probably only a teenager, with unkempt blonde hair, and untested armor. But at his side was the blade of Alixandre Arc, Crocea Mors. This, combined with the boy's appearance and connection to the Force, was more than enough evidence for Nihilus to surmise that he was a descendant of the General.
And like the General, the boy found the Mask of Nihilus a curious artifact. But Nihilus could feel his apprehension and fear, enough that he might abandon the mask right then and there. Repeating what the mask did with Alixandre Arc in the temple, Nihilus gave a small push with the Force, one that was not strong enough to even be considered a mind trick. But it was enough to make the boy's curiosity overtake his fear, causing him to bend down and grab the mask.
As soon as the boy touched the Mask, there was enough of a connection for Nihilus to make the changes to the boy he needed. Reading the boy's surface thoughts, he gleaned the name Jaune. Nihilus needed a vessel, one strong enough to contain his soul without being destroyed. Jaune's latent sensitivity to the Force was a starting point, but it wasn't enough. The boy was weak and spoiled. First Nihilus reached out with the Force to unlock the boy's Aura, a simple task since Aura fed off of the Force like any other power.
What Nihilus had planned next however, was far more difficult and invasive. While the Boy's connection to the Force was there, it was latent, dormant. It would take years of training under a Master if Jaune wanted to awaken it and actively draw upon the power of the Force. Years that Nihilus no longer wanted to wait. As such, Nihilus called upon the foulest of ancient Sith techniques he had learned from the archives of Marka Ragnos himself. Nihilus reached out with the Dark Side and gripped onto the midi-chlorians within Jaune, and forced them to multiply. The midi-chlorian count within Jaune skyrocketed, artificially activating and increasing the strength of his connection to the Force.
And with that Nihilus elected to leave the boy alone. Nihilus learned from his mistake with Alixandre Arc, trying to subvert a new host too fast. Instead, Nihilus would monitor the boy, subtly guide him further and further into the Dark Side, eroding his willpower and pathetic moral fibre. He would feed him crumbs of information, keep him hungry for knowledge of the Force, an irony that was not lost on the Lord of Hunger.
With this, Jaune would continue to grow in power, until he would become a vessel truly worthy for Nihilus's return.
A/N, 12/23/20: And we're back! While I know everyone wants to see Nihilus burn Remnant to the ground, I wanted to give an aside to show how Remnant fits into the greater Star Wars universe. For a little context on some of the events, the stuff with the Jedi Nariel is based on a SWTOR side quest that has to do with Darth Nihilus, while the stuff with the Pirate Sando and the Apex Society is based on an adventure for the Wizard's of the Coast Star Wars Roleplaying Game. The RvB AI inserts represent the Player Characters for that adventure.
And before anyone comes at me for making Aura connected to the Force, I would just like to remind that I did say in the first chapter that I'm willing to play fast and loose with the canon of RWBY and Star Wars. And this includes changing up origins of powers, or how some powers work in order to better fit both universes together.
Review Responses:
Gogo bananas: Maybe
DNWorks: We'll see what happens.
Codfix1998: Well you're not wrong.
Rvala117: Thanks!
The Baz: Plot holes? In my fic? It's more likely than you think.
Colossus Bridger: lol well I'm glad you're having fun. As for grimm and darkness, I will say I do monkey around with both the origins of powers in both universes in order to make them fit together better.
8-bit Pirate: I haven't thought of using hungry hungry hippos as a metaphor for Darth Nihilus but I'm ok with it.
General McGuyver: Thanks!
Batman1998: Like I always say, path to Hell is paved with good intentions. And thanks!
Shadowwolf of Phantasms: Thanks! Those are some good predictions. And thanks for the spell check on the last chapter. Fixed that.
Skye6392: LOL I like the analogy.
SupremeDarkTrooper: That could be another way of looking at it too. Power corrupts is more or less a general blanket statement, and less of a hard fact. But I would say like 90% of the time, it is the rule, not the exception.
As for the Dark Side corruption, yeah the Dark Side would rather have Nihilus than Jaune, and that if a person was already a psychopath then they would find that using the Dark Side would be easier than someone who is a good person. But I would say that the Dark Side goes beyond a person's nature because it's pretty much magical in nature. It is an active Force that can change and twist a person to the point that it changes what their "baseline" nature is, mostly due to its addicting nature. But also this is trying to apply rules to fantasy space magic that doesn't, and in my opinion shouldn't, make sense anyway, as it's more of a soft magic system.
X3runner: I wouldn't necessarily call Qrow and Ozpin scummy. They're manipulative yes, but they're far from the worst they could be. I think it's a little more complex in how they're willing to do immoral or morally grey things to fight Salem, but to quote Halo, "in the face of extinction, is not every alternative preferable."
4dv1ct0r14m2017: Thanks! And it will be a storm.
SuperKamiEdgeLord: An aside, but for a second I thought you were going to make a power rangers Rita Repulsa reference lol. And I'm glad you like this fic so much! I did have an end goal with this story. Typically when I write fics, I try not to write the first chapter until I have a general outline of the whole plot, and maybe a more specific chapter by chapter outline. Helps keep the story together and helps with keeping writing consistent.
Knight of the Thorn Crown: The relationship with the greater Star Wars universe was kept ambiguous on purpose. And I mean the galaxy is a big place, not many people knew who, what, or where Nihilus was when he was hunting Jedi in KOTOR 2.
SilverArrow123: I live for sneaking in prequel references into this fic. And yep, I do enjoy myself a good tragedy.
Falskor: Glad you enjoyed it. And as for your question, no spoilers.
Cyricist001: Thanks. And yeah Nihilus is a very different character to Vader.
Diego Silver: Indeed
BrutusPrimus: Thanks! And I do not plan on giving him a lightsaber.
SWoP: "P is for Perfect, the look upon your faces…"
Guest: Lol I wouldn't put ALL the blame on Qrow, he just didn't help.
Kuroyami Fukaikuro: Indeed it has. And you're not wrong.
Deathleaper90: True.
KarimHD: Thanks! And it'll be fun.
Miko 56: I mean it's the rising of a BBEG, so it makes sense.
Torogi71791: Thanks! And no spoilers lol.
T3mp3rusMaximus: Thanks! I'm glad you enjoyed this story so much! And yeah Remnant does lack on the WMD department, especially for a fantasy world where extinction is a very real threat.
Mr ChubbySnorlax619: Had Jaune had years of training and willpower, he might've been able to resist. But he was just a boy unprepared for what he faced. And thanks!
UnlawfulGentleman: Thanks! I'm glad you rate this story so highly. And like the quote on the first chapter, "It is all that is left unsaid upon which tragedies are built." Much of this story is a series of unfortunate events combined with deadly ignorance that culminated in one big tragedy. And yep, Darth Nihilus has always been my favorite Sith Lord because of the existential, Galactus-level threat that he is.
Nexus4123: I too enjoyed watching Jaune fall to the Dark Side, and I wanted to give what I thought was a good example of a person falling to the Dark Side. Paranoia, selfishness, cruelty are all exacerbated by it, especially when they are ignorant of its very existence.
Mastermind32: He'll probably kill. And thanks!
MeteorElDrago: Praise the Lord of Hunger lol.
And with that, I hope you all enjoyed the chapter, keep staying safe, have a fun and happy holidays, and I'll see you all in the next one!