So, posting a tiny bit early so I have my Thursday open for the launch of the new World of Warcraft expansion, but that's neither here nor there for the majority of you, my wonderful readers! I am supremely joyous about the progress that I've been making in both stories that I care deeply about, and can literally feel the inspiration flowing as dew from heaven at times. I can remember back when I first posted the prologue of ANP, I was so terrified that people wouldn't like it.
But you, wonderful people as you are, fed my idea and see, see what it has become. pure creation, regardless of its perfection or lack thereof. I am eternally grateful, and I look forward to the grand journey we take together through the stories I plan to write for a long time to come yet.
with that said, in my joyous state I warmly announce the next chapter of Power of the Dark Side. Enjoy!
Chapter Twenty Four
Relics
Millennial stood respectfully as the five goblins from Gringotts entered his office. Earlier that week the account manager for Veneficus' account had contacted him with grave concerns regarding the Black vaults and several others that the boy had inherited through them. They felt it would be wise to discuss the situation in his home rather than by mail, in the unlikely case that some other party intercepted the owls.
The Dark Lord of the Sith felt something off about the meeting, but agreed to it regardless. If the goblins were planning something against him as Lord Blackmoore, then he would be ready, but at this stage they couldn't have been more than fishing for a reason to move against him. Millennial had met their type many times before. These goblins cared for nothing but profit and wealth, and a continued stream of both. Their codes of honor and loyalty could be bought and sold like anything else in their bank, and if aroused to anger, they were more than willing to back their words with action of every sort.
What they wouldn't be counting on would be the retaliatory strike from the Dark Side Master if they attempted anything that compromised his standing in the eyes of those who thought him their ally.
So he had prepared a test and a challenge for them, setting out various objects he had taken from the vaults in his study, in sight but well disguised, and he would see how the small green humanoids responded.
"Lord Blackmoore," the lead goblin said, bowing slightly as Millennial offered the entire delegation chairs suited for their size. Neophytes Jenah and Srilis, each clad in simple clothing and with their weapons well hidden, bustled through the group offering drinks and small plates of food in a gesture of respect and compliance.
"Master Griphook I presume," Millennial responded, taking his seat and spreading the letter before him, "I was told to expect you regarding my ward's vaults."
At the look of concern in the other goblins, Millennial explained, "Young Harry is away on holiday, and therefore unable to be here for this meeting, but I assure you that I will take every precaution and action required to keep his assets strictly under his control."
"This is highly unusual Lord Blackmoore; you must understand," one of the other goblins said slowly, adjusting a small monocle in his left eye, "for us to discuss information regarding Lord Potter's account without him present would be a volatile breach in Gringotts' protocol."
"Unless," millennial interrupted politely, "Harry had beforehand given me control and rights to manage his accounts in his absence." Pulling a small note from his pile of papers, Millennial handed Griphook, who seemed to be the Goblin that the others looked to as a leader. The Sith Lord had purposefully made Veneficus write over control of his vaults as a precaution to him, and unbeknownst to him had done the same in reverse. Millennial wanted to make sure that they had complete financial control in the case that one or the other was off world at a precarious time, exactly as this moment had proved possible. It was indeed a bizarre sense of trust that bound both Master and Apprentice for the time being, only to eventually end in betrayal.
Griphook studies Veneficus' handwriting carefully, clearly seeking for any clue of a forgery. Finding none, he returned the parchment, "It is indeed in order, forgive us for our lack of knowledge of this agreement between you both Lord Blackmoore."
Millennial wave it away, "No problem at all, my good goblin, how were you to know what we planned in secret…" he said, intentionally stressing the word 'secret' and watching the goblin for any signs of reaction.
There was something, a very subtle twitch of the brow, which told Millennial that the word had struck a nerve in the lead Goblin. The smallest touch of the Force, like an artist's brushstroke, was all it took to sow the seeds of fear and doubt among the assembly of goblins, and several of the more junior shifted in discomfort.
Griphook coughed slightly to break the moment's silence, "Well, to business then Lord Blackmoore?"
Millennial nodded, motioning for the delegation to present the bank's concerns. Griphook pulled out a small piece of parchment and slowly began to explain. "As of midday November seventh, nineteen hundred eighty-one, with the incarceration of one Sirius Orion Black in Azkaban Fortress for conspiracy and murder, the vaults of the most Noble and Ancient House of Black, along with many minor vaults that were linked with it, passed on, as dictated by Sirius' own hand."
Millennial nodded, understanding the implication. The man's will would have been put in force as he was sent to life in prison, and therefore considered by the rest of the world as a dead man.
"Lord Harry Potter was the only known benefiter in Black's will," Griphook continued, half reading and half paraphrasing, "and as such was given full rights and ownership of all vaults, properties, and artifacts of the Black family. However, we now have a most unusual set of circumstances. The unprecedented escape of Sirius Black throws ownership of those vaults and treasures into disarray. According to Ministerial law, only those kept in Azkaban are considered dead as to wills and inheritance, but no such provision was created or applied to anyone who had left Azkaban after a life sentence was pronounced."
Again, the stupidity of wizards and their law ground at the Sith Lords nerves. Only complete imbeciles would consider a notion like that of a perfect, inescapable prison. But one thing struck the Sith Lord above that. "Well, what is the problem?" Millennial asked, watching the goblins as they shuffled through another stack of papers for an old and dusty tome.
"The heads of Gringotts bank had to make a decision, keep the vaults in the hands of those it was given to, or return them to the Lord of the house of Black," Griphook said as he opened what looked like a ledger of sorts. "Magically, we cannot refuse the Lord Black his vaults if he requests them and their use, neither can we refuse the Ministry's authority to pass the contents of the vaults to Lord Potter, except in this case. We have ruled that if, and only if, Lord Black requests the contents of the vault we must give them to him, even if said item or items are in Lord Potter's possession."
Millennial nodded gravely, not terribly concerned with the proceedings, there were few things that they had removed from those vaults, and fewer still that the Sith would be remiss to part with, namely the interesting cup that was a Horcrux of the soul of Voldemort.
They would simple have to cross that bridge when they came to it, as there was little they could do about it at the moment. Millennial was distracted by the actions of one or two of the younger Goblins, watching as they subtly swept the room with their eyes, looking at everything in the room with calculated glances. More than once their eyes rested on the handful of Blackmoore and Ravenclaw artifacts spread around the room, and Millennial was certain by the twinges of anger in the Force that the small green creatures had figured out something was amiss with his claim to the Blackmoore name.
Griphook went on in his speculations about Black, but Millennial was no longer listening. There was no threat of Black taking back his vaults for the time being, from what he gathered, and with all other things considered, the Sith Master had more motivation than ever to catch the man and deliver him back to the Ministry. By escaping, Black had unwittingly made powerful enemies of circumstance.
Millennial plotted first of all to investigate the main Black properties, preferably with Veneficus in tow, to discover if the man had visited them. Secondly, he would visit the prison where Black had languished, and see if he could find the man's imprint in the Force, and discover where the man was going, possibly foresee it if he could. Outside of those two highly intensive activities, Millennial would dance between Lucius and Dumbledore to learn about Black and what potential threat he stood, if any, to Veneficus or the school, as any good Hogwarts Governor was won't to do.
Eventually the Goblin delegation excused themselves, departing back to their bank in the middle of London, leaving Millennial alone with his thoughts. Veneficus would return soon, and depart again for the far off school, and the secrets that the boy thought he could keep from his master. He had clearly felt the newfound ritual power that Veneficus had tapped into over the course of the year, and heartily approved of the initiative and control that his apprentice had show in perfecting a union between the Cosmic and Wild Force. Turning to glance out the window and up into the sky, already dimming into twilight, Millennial distinctly felt that such power would be needed sooner than the either he or the boy expected.
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Septin awoke slowly, struggling to shake haze from his eyes and mind. He felt dizzy and very confused, plus the back of his head radiated pain. Touching the spot, he recoiled when he felt a warm wetness from a massive gash. Staring at the redness on his fingers as he sat up, Septin tried to remember how it had happened. He remembered the lift door sealing itself behind him and he started to run from… something, and from there it was a blur.
Wincing from the wound in his head, Septin staggered to his feet and attempted to take in his surroundings. It appeared that he was in some sort of circular room, the only feature decorating it being the small stone table in the very center, and the door in the far side. Approaching the raised stone table, Septin noticed pattern and designed carved into it and painted in a reddish dye.
His delirium was soon banished away by a dose of fear as he realized that the red markings were made with long dried blood. Staring in increasing horror, Septin turned in a slow circle, analyzing the room. Worn and very ancient carvings lined the walls, ones that he hadn't noticed until adrenalin had woken him completely from the haze of his unconsciousness.
He stood in a Sith sacrificial chamber. He had briefly read about the countless atrocities that the Sith had ritualistically performed in such places, slaying jedi and using their bodies as part of despicable Dark Side rites that had been far too ghastly for Septin to learn of in their entirety.
Shuffling and a muffled cry had the Ex-Jedi spinning about in shock, just in time to see three figures enter from the direction of the door, two in the black robes of ancient Sith, and the third wearing the brown robes of the Jedi Order, with his or her face covered with a large black sack. The captured figure was struggling to escape, but the Sith held their prisoner fast as they dragged the being toward the bloodied alter.
Unbidden, an unnatural rage erupted through Septin body at the sight of the captured Jedi, and he instinctive sought for his Lightsaber on his belt, but the weapon was no longer there. Glancing around in a panic, he froze when the two black clad Sith turned their attention to him. from beneath their upturned hoods Septin could see nothing but the glowing red-orange of their eyes. One remained with their prisoner, seizing the being roughly by both arms and holding him in full view for Septin to see, while the other advanced on him, drawing his weapon high.
Knowing he had mere seconds before the crimson blade struck him down, Septin reacted, tapping into the rage within him and launching himself at the black robed Sith, screaming in fury as he tackled the larger being to the ground. Red swam through his vision at he tore at the weapon in the Sith's hands, simultaneously punching and scratching at the shrouded face as he tried to pry the lightsaber hilt free.
Wrenching the weapon free, Septin's triumph was short lived when the Sith threw him off, climbing to his feet and pointing both hands at Septin. He knew the Sith was about to throw lightning at him, but in his blind state of anger he did not care. Instead of dodging he charged, batting the bolts aside with the blade and driving it through the Sith's gut and jerking the weapon up sharply, cutting a wide swath in the being's midsection.
The Sith fell without a sound, and the companion restraining the Jedi looked on without any sort of care or remorse, activating his own weapon and holding it to the Jedi threateningly. Septin stalked closer, trying to find an opening to attack through. Yet somehow, everything about his actions felt horribly wrong, and he hesitated, attempting to clear his thoughts.
The Sith struck, throwing the captive aside and slashing with deadly precision. Septin staggered back, only dodging a fatal wound by centimeters and earning a painful burn on his chest for his indecisiveness and lack of focus. Biting back a scream of agony, Septin struck back at the Sith, throwing more of his strength into the strikes than he normally would have, and ending up with a much sloppier form than he knew he was capable of. Nevertheless, it was effective in driving the black robed figure into the wall, and with a powerful downward strike, Septin severed the figures sword arm at the elbow.
Before he could even stop and distinguish that his opponent was defenseless, Septin attacked again, a powerful horizontal blow that took the hooded head clean off the rest of its body to roll away behind the alter and out of sight. The body slumped to the ground, and Septin heaved for breath for several seconds before turning to face the Jedi he had rescued.
However, when he had turned, the room was suddenly empty, the figures completely gone from where they had been previously. Even the wound on his chest had vanished, and his own saber was in his hand, the blue blade shining in the semidarkness.
But the rage and anger remained. Countless reasons to feed it, the injustices at the hands of the Jedi and the Sith just inches below the surface. Septin no longer cared, just basking in the freedom he felt at being able to allow his emotions a free reign. This was power, pure and simple.
The door slid open, and Septin whirled, blade dancing in the air to destroy the intruder, but another crimson blade sprang to life and parried it with ease. In the dual glow, Septin could make out the serious glare of Lord Veneficus, but there was something more to the Sith apprentice than Septin had ever noticed before. A dark aura of power hung heavily around the black haired boy, something that Septin felt himself instantly drawn two and lusting after.
This had to be what the Dark Side truly was, not some irrational madness that consumed those who 'fell' to it, but a power that drove every individual to greater heights than before. Septin immediately lowered his weapon, knowing through the Force that to challenge the Sith Lord would mean annihilation, like a small stream trying to turn aside a mighty ocean. One day he would have power to contend with such a force, but not now.
Acting sufficiently cowed, Septin looked away from the Dark Lord, listening partially to the instructions to follow Veneficus back out and down several corridors in search of the other Acolyte, Anguis. Somehow, despite earlier attempts to before more friendly with the blond Darksider, Septin felt less inclined to be concerned over the boy's safety, and chose to focus more on the fact that he and Veneficus were his only way off the asteroid temple they were currently trapped inside, and therefore allowed Darth Veneficus to lead the way back to the ancient lift, which hopefully would bring them to freedom from the painfully heavy yet surprising energizing air of the temple.
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The corridors of the stone Sith Temple twisted and curved around as Anguis made his way deeper into the cold darkness. On edge and alert, he held his saber aloft, having quickly realized that the temple itself was attempting to distract and confuse him with illusions. He had already bypassed two without, one of his mother and his godfather, trying to guilt him into abandoning path of power he was pursuing, and a second of his father, trying to persuade him into serving Voldemort with his Force abilities.
Both had been laughed away by Anguis. He was not some naïve child any longer. He was completely tied to the Sith for as long as he lived, bound by blood, bone and magic with a Wizard's oath. 'But,' a voice not quite his own said in his mind, 'you could be free. Utilize your power to overrule the oath and become a Sith Lord in your own right.'
Yes. It would be most ideal, if not highly difficult. Anguis pondered the nature of wizard oaths, particularly life and death ones as he had made to Veneficus two years ago. From what he knew, it was impossible to escape, but maybe, with the Force and magic at his beck and call, he could discover ways to undermine the tenants of his contract to the Sith.
It would be the perfect way to sever himself from them if Veneficus ever decided he was no longer worth the time to train, which he grew dangerously close to very often. Even in the meantime while he researched it, Anguis thought he would inevitable receive more direct and powerful training. He simply had to wait until Millennial or Veneficus killed the other. He had learned all about the Rule of Two and the laws that surrounded the Sith's existence. He also knew that he was Veneficus' apprentice in all but name, and honestly, who in the Galaxy could be a better selection. Force user and wizard, young enough to continue learning regardless of the victor of the Sith inevitable duel for power.
He was set in the perfect situation, poised on the edge of unlimited power, and a following that would serve him to their dying breaths. Even as he thought the image started to form before him, swirling like the clouds of s crystal ball.
'Anguis stood upon a podium of solid metal amidst a vast congregation of all species of the Galaxy, their leader, speaking of peace and justice and their need to crown him Emperor for life. And it would be a very long life if Darth Anguis had any say in it. The Jedi crushed by his former master and he himself in turn defeated by Anguis and the Republic they had fought, he now had everything all to himself. The crowd cheered, calling immediately for a vote to amend their laws and government. Basking in their praise, a much older version of Anguis held his arms high in humble acceptance, chiseled features hiding a much more sinister nature'
Tearing himself from the vision of a potential future, Anguis smiled at the power he could wield, would wield if he played his card right and sought for the long game of power.
For now he would trust the Sith, but only so far as he could understand, and constantly form his own escape route when their hellish designs were unleashed upon the unsuspecting Galaxy. Finally returning his attention to where he was, Anguis was surprised to find himself standing in what appeared to be a cloud of purplish energy, pleasantly reeking of the Dark Side. He had been absorbing its power for minutes now, and he felt the strength in his connection to the darker powers increase by the moment.
There was far too much than his body could take in, and sensing his companions' approach from whence he had come, Anguis tore himself from the cloud of pure power, not wishing to share such a secret boon with anyone. If he was to ever ascend himself to the ranks of the Sith Lords, he needed to establish abilities and secrets of his own to utilize when the time was right.
Leaving the chamber he had stopped in, he smiled coolly as Veneficus and Septin rounded the corner. "We must leave," Veneficus said hurriedly, and Anguis knew that not only had their ship less state been repaired, but there was something in the temple that worried his Master, and that was more than enough motivation for him to obey.
"Lead on, Master." He replied with a subtle bow.
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Veneficus took several moments to observe Septin and Anguis as they made their way back up from the bowels of the Temple of Pain to return to the hanger and their freedom. It had only been several hours since the boy was separated from him and Anguis, but already Veneficus could sense a change in each of their Force auras and mannerisms.
Septin's was distinctively darker. Veneficus smirked at the success of his side plan for the boy, but time was too short for him to relish it. There was also an odd sense of wanton carelessness, but Veneficus chalked that up to the boy having his delicate Jedi restraints broken at last, and choosing to revel in newfound freedom that the Dark Side offered. He would need retraining to learn to harness his abilities, but at least the hardest part was over.
Anguis on the other hand had grown cold, more distant from Veneficus, and far more calculating. The Sith Lord knew he didn't have time for these observations, but he was greatly pleased to see that their individual trials in the Temple had changed them into more useful servants. Old habits and weaknesses had been pruned by the intense exposure to the dark energy of the edifice, ready to be replaced by more productive traits by careful training.
The Force speeding their way, they had reached the lift and rode it to the top level in record time. The door had just slid open when Veneficus felt his spell shatter far below then. An unearthly shriek rang through the temple, and both Anguis and Septin turned to Veneficus, their eyes widening. "What did you do," Anguis deadpanned, but Veneficus said nothing, and instead turned toward the hanger, and ran.
The pounding of his companion's feet behind him nearly matched the equal pounding of his heart as Veneficus tore up the corridor. He was not afraid of Kodank, but he was shrewd enough to know fighting her was not wise and retreat with the artifacts was a far better option.
Sadly, the Force Ghost demonstrated its advantages in catching up with the mortals, manifesting itself partway between them and the open hangar door. "You thought your petty skills were enough to entrap me, boy!" she screeched, acting very much like one of the creatures Veneficus had glimpsed in books back at Hogwarts: a Banshee.
Skidding to a halt, the three boys activated their weapons, illuminating the narrow corridor with their red and blue hues. Valik smiled as they readied their defenses, drawing on of her hands through the air and creating a blade of her own, brandishing it with a sadistic grin.
Veneficus instantly remember a favorite line of advice from that Millennial had given him as a child, 'If you were to face an ancient Sith Lord in combat, you would learn that we are as children playing with toys compared to the prowess of the old masters.' Currently, Valik held the edge on all fronts except numbers, and the young man knew that if they wanted to defeat her and escape alive they had to work as one.
Back away and putting both Septin and Anguis in front of him, he spoke swiftly and quietly to them. "Septin, we need her blade completely occupied. Use all the skill you have to prevent her from getting in a single strike." The boy nodded, stepping forward and dropping into a standard Soresu stance.
"Anguis," he continued, watching as his acolyte's eyes flicked to him momentarily, "Whatever you can muster to keep her from bringing offensive force techniques to bear." Veneficus needed time to consider their options, and figure out what they needed to do to get past Kodank, and instinctively the other two recognized it and obeyed without question.
As if sensing their plans of resistance, the spirit of the ancient Sith Lord mocked them, "All you efforts are in vain, each of you will kneel before me in the end, and I will leave this prison at last…" raising her sword in a salute, she charged.
Despite her lack of a physical body, the blade of her weapon was very real, and clashed powerfully with Septin's blue saber, the boy managing to keep her attacks at bay by using the narrowness of the corridor to his advantage. Just behind him, Anguis had stowed his weapon, opting to throwing volleys of telekinetic blasts and bolts of lightning at the spirit, the Force based attacks having more effect in keeping the specter off balance.
Veneficus stilled himself, drawing upon the vast quantity of the Dark Side energy in the temple, reaching out with his senses and touching both of his companions, energizing them and giving each a boost to their abilities. It came to no surprise to Veneficus that he was able, in this place, to use the very rare and powerful Battle Meditation ability, and having learned the concept, he knew it would give him a powerful advantage in the future as well as in the moment.
The only drawback was the vast amount of concentration that sustaining it required. Dropping to one knee to conserve his physical strength, Veneficus kept up a constant stream of power to both Septin and Anguis, while what little power he retained for himself worked furiously to examine the Force Ghost. The presence in the Force betrayed little, as Kodank was obviously comprised entirely of Force energy, having no weakness for the young Sith Lord to exploit and rip power from.
However, a thought did come to him, another rather rare ability that Millennial had taught him about that had been an overriding feature of Darth Cognus. She had been able to turn the Force of an individual or group back on them, creating a sort of reverberation that disrupted concentration and connection to the Force.
Veneficus had rarely had opportunity to use the ability himself, but it may very well save them. Digging deeper into his reverse of strength, Veneficus reached out, not so much touching Kodank's Force aura as striking it, and attempted to bore the tendrils of energy into the Dark Side Nexus that was the ghost's form.
The Sith Lord cried out in pain, lashing back with sword and lightning, Septin and Anguis taking several wounds and being heavily battered by the specter's unleashed fury, but they held their places, sensing the struggle between Kodank and Veneficus.
Agonizingly slowly, Veneficus felt a chink start to split in the seamless shell of the Force that held the ghost together. But at the same time, Kodank started to strike at him directly, reaching back by the same paths to attack his mind and body, seeking desperately to weaken his meditation so she could overpower the two protecting him physically.
It was agony beyond much of what the Sith had had to endure before, and he screamed, uncaring of the presences, but drove onward, succeeding in breaking open a wound in the spirit, and switching tactics to drain at the energy within happily, much like the vampires of his home world broke skin to feast upon the warm blood of their victims.
The power was the darkest and richest that Veneficus had ever tasted, and part of him wanted to reject it, cease draining and simply banish it harmlessly into the temple around him, but he had to learn something from the spirit before destroying it. Anguis blasted Kodank with lightning again, and Veneficus felt the sparking energy as if it was across his own body, but he refused to release the constant pull.
Growing stronger, Veneficus rose to his feet until he felt that his physical body would split open if he took any more from the ghost. It had been like trying to drink an ocean through a very small opening, and barely weakened the ancient Sith, but the wound was what Veneficus had wanted.
Pinpointing the exact location on the spirit, Veneficus lanced a high voltage bolt into it, blasting the crack wider so that it started to leak energy into the ambient aura of the temple. Again and again he and Anguis, who picked up the plan quickly, attacked the ghost, ripping Force energy from the spirit until it was too weak to maintain its form barring their path. With a roar, Septin waded in, unable to harm the ghost with his saber, but bashed at Kodank's weapon, knocking it away and causing it to fade out of existence.
The Sith Lord quickly followed her weapon, biting out a scream of rage, before becoming reduced back to a harmless wisp of Force energy, and vanishing from view as it retreated back downward. Veneficus knew that Kodank was fleeing for her tomb, and there would be able to regain strength from proximity to what was left of her physical body.
The three boys were battered, bruised and thoroughly exhausted, but victorious. They dragged their bodies the rest of the way to the newly acquired ship, and Veneficus kept himself on his feet only long enough to plot the ship's autopilot to return them to Dromund Kaas before passing out in the pilot's chair and entering a desperate meditative trance to renew his energy.
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Griphook visibly sagged the moment he reentered the bank side of the floo connection to Lord Blackmoore's Manor. The meeting felt like a complete disaster, with the supposed nobleman seeming to see straight through their reasoning about Sirius Black to the goblins' true reason for coming in person to see him.
It had become painfully apparent from the off, with Blackmoore withholding the information that he was written in to be able to manage the accounts of his ward, and had spread rapidly from then on.
The junior goblins had all noticed, at some time or another, the collection of artifacts that Blackmoore had displayed for them specifically to see in his office. Griphook could tell that they had been meant for the goblins by how the objects' magical auras hadn't fully adapted their surroundings.
Turning toward his back office, Griphook felt the need for a large stiff goblin grog, a bitter drink that humans detested greatly by its pungent smell. However, before he had even reached the door, Chieftain Ragnok appeared at his side, a silent look that clearly expressed the goblin leader's worry and desire for information.
Griphook sighed, beckoning the taller goblin into his office and offering his a seat and drink. As he poured one for himself, the chieftain was wondering the office, examining the different decorations from Griphook's home, stopping at a portrait of the Lore Master's family.
"How fares your son?" Ragnok said as he stroked the golden frame with a long forefinger, "I heard that he fell ill some time ago."
Griphook frowned at the memory of several weeks past. His young son, by goblin standards, had collapsed into a coma while working in the deeper tunnels of the bank. There had been no injuries or other disease that had been found as a cause for the coma, and it had lasted up until most recently.
The Lore Master goblin would be there now, if not for the pressing matters of the Goblin Nation and bank, and duty was as important to goblins as family. The boy had awoken with harsh cries of pain and alarm, speaking of a great darkness that was coming and requiring several goblin healers to settle him.
"He'll be fine," Griphook replied after several moments.
Ragnok huffed, "But you still fear this man posing as Lord Blackmoore, that he may be the cause of your son's distress."
"Yes," Griphook said quickly, wanting to change the subject. He loved his wife and son, and wanted the very best for them. But there were situations and times, especially when it came to his truly gifted son, where he was out of his depth to help him. In these events, Griphook found it best to remove himself and focus elsewhere, for his own safety from the crushing despair that usually accompanied such strife.
Ragnok picked up Griphook's desires quite clearly, they having known each other for most of their lives, and sat in front of Griphook's desk. "So, tell me about everything you found at Blackmoore Manor…"
Happily, Griphook started to discuss every detail of the manor-house and grounds, as well as any other detail that he felt would be of use to the Goblin King in the pursuit of this issue. Griphook still saw no efficient or even painless end to the fiasco that was Gringotts' misappropriation of vaults to a stranger, but he feared that the ending of it would be nothing close to what they would desire it to be.
Griphook found his thoughts wander to the first words his son spoke after awakening from his coma, 'Beware the three eyed one and his red death.'
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It had taken Zhar a full day to realize that Septin and the others were missing from Dromund Kaas. At first he had simply assumed that they had gone to explore the massive stone structures surrounding the Dark Force Temple, but when they hadn't returned for over twenty-four hours he started to wonder.
Dass'in had been the one to discover the missing ship, and questioned the engineers that had been present. They reported that Lord Veneficus had taken both his acolyte and Septin into a old solar sailor and flown out during the shift change. The fear of Millennial's wrath should anything have happened was truly weighing on Zhar, not that he feared that the three young Darksiders would be inclined to deliberately put themselves in danger, however…
Zhar was just preparing to take off in the Sith Infiltrator and seek out their trail if he could, when Dass'in's voice rang over the ships communication system.
"There's another ship inbound, flashing all the Sith markers that were present when you first arrived. Veneficus and the others have returned…"
Zhar breathed a sigh of relief he wasn't aware that he had been holding. Departing the ship he took off running down to one of the lower hangers, where Dass'in had indicated that the boys were landing in. halting just inside the massive hanger and observing the ship that the three had acquired, Zhar was stunned into admiration at not only the physical things they had brought with them, but the massive changes in the auras of the three.
Aside from the large containers filled with Dark Side artifacts that radiated massive power, each of the three had substantially grown in their connection to the Force. Veneficus and his blond acolyte Zhar wasn't certain about the extent of their chance, as he was not nearly as familiar with them as his apprentice, but Septin had made huge leaps and bounds. His aura with finally darkened, and it was apparent boy was had lost his old resistance to using the power that he was rather gifted in.
That change was clearly manifested in everything that Septin did, Zhar noticed, even down to the way the boy held himself and walked, more upright and proud than he had before. Zhar smiled, it was the walk of a true Dark Jedi, ready to take on the galaxy and flaunt the freedom that was given through the Dark Side of the Force.
The Supreme Prophet arrived, along with a small group of lesser prophets and acolytes, obviously drawn by the newfound presence of the Dark artifacts in their temple. Zhar recognized a few, namely the insane Togruta Ocraadi Nuhok, whom he had met on Dathomir. She was bouncing on her feet, looking quickly from item to item as the servants and acolytes took each one and carried them down to the temple vaults.
Finally, Zhar approached himself, eager to hear a portion of the tale the boys had to explain their disappearance and the trove that they had brought with them.
Unfortunately, any comments on their story were forestalled by the long-range comlink on Dass'in's belt chiming an incoming message. The Supreme Prophet activated the devise immediately, which allowed Zhar to clearly see the face of Lord Millennial in the miniature hologram that it projected.
"Supreme Prophet," Millennial said, unaware of the others surrounding the Kel-Dorian Darksider, "I have news that will greatly affect the workings of your people on Dromund Kaas…"
"What is it, my Lord?" Dass'in replied, eagerness evident in his muffled voice.
"The time has come, Dass'in, for the reclaiming of Korriban, and the long waited uncovering of the valley of the Dark Lords. Many have tried in ages past, but very few have succeeded in keeping those tombs open for long, but I know that under your leadership, we can find the secrets so long untouched by time."
Silence reigned upon those gathered around the small device. Zhar knew what this announcement meant to the gather Darksiders. Korriban was the burial world of the most powerful Dark Lords of the Sith that had ever lived, and their tombs had once been full of great secrets and treasures, many lost through time by looters and Sith empires previous. If any secret or item remained, then they would be more than willing to dig through mounds of sand to find it.
"It will be done immediately my Lord," Lath Dass'in replied, signaling for several passing neophytes to halt.
"Good… Send Zhar Quelmok and Septin Aranis in with the first wave of Neophytes to oversee the restoration of the Sith academy just outside the valley. It will serve us well as a base of operations just as it has in times of old. My apprentice and his acolyte should return here as well…" Millennial said, and Zhar felt something between a swell of pride from being handpicked to lead, as well as edginess from being in charge of an important project.
Room for error was not about to be tolerated. Millennial ended the communication, and both Zhar and Dass'in moved off together to discuss who to send with Zhar to Korriban, the treasures that had been brought by the three boys momentarily forgotten, Zhar reasoning that he had time to question Septin about his little adventure at a later time.