So, in reviewing the poll I created, as well as my update schedule, I've realized that PotDS will actually end long before ANP 7 does... Therefore, I was wondering what I ought to do regarding the poll that so many have graciously voted upon, whether to keep it and modify the actions taken upon whatever happens, or delete it and create a new, more accurate one...
Well, I'd once again like to turn the question over to you, my wonderful readers. Private messages and Reviews stating your thoughts regarding my little dilemma would be more than welcome. In the meantime, here is a new chapter for you all to enjoy!
Chapter Thirty Nine
A Reordering of Priorities
Fae Coven sensed amid her meditations a minor pulse in the Dark Side. If she hadn't been currently monitoring the undercurrent of the subtle energy at that time, she doubted that she would have even noticed it. The regularity of these pulse was quickly starting to greatly disturb the Jedi Grand Master, knowing that the work of darkness was abroad in the Galaxy once again, and there was little to nothing she could to either discover the source or combat it.
Several of the other Council members were starting to notice Fae's increasingly absentminded behavior to matters surrounding the Jedi Temple and relations with the Republic. Thankfully, none had yet approached her with their apparent concerns, which gave the Jenet Jedi Master still more time to set up preservative measures in the event of the destruction of the Order.
With the archives copied and secreted away on a system that only herself and the trusted Jedi Knight, Laudara knew the location of, Master Coven could start focusing on sending out teams of Jedi to search out pockets of Dark Side activity, and hopefully some would return with clues toward the underlying Sith activity. Fae hoped desperately that with such evidence she would be able to convince the rest of the Jedi Council of her suspicions.
The Jedi Shadows had still not reported back from their hunt of Zhar Quelmok on Tiss'sharl, and Fae had a sinking suspicion that sending anyone else to follow the fallen Jedi was going to result negatively, however she didn't think that the Council would relent in the pursuit. Sad though she was to send more Jedi on the trail that had already claimed several lives already, she would end up being one voice against eleven.
So, there was little that she would attempt to do in opposition to that, but at the same time use the fixation as an excuse to send out more teams to sweep other systems for Dark Side activity, under the pretext of searching for Zhar.
It wasn't the most ideal of plans, but it was the best that the Jedi Master could come up with given the amount of opposition she expected to receive if her motives were plainly stated in a Council meeting.
So, with this idea in mind, Master Coven returned to her meditations, preparing to present her small addition to the continued search to extinguish the influence of the Dark Side in the Galaxy.
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Veneficus roused from his meditations, having some time ago achieved the ability to abandon sleep altogether. Since the last few days of the previous Hogwarts term, he had been having a recurring vision, growing more extensive and detailed as time progressed.
Each time, he viewed himself within a darkened cemetery, grim looking tombstone lighted only by the fire underneath a large cauldron in the middle of a small clearing. Sometimes there would be flashes of a small town in the distance, while other times Pettigrew's face appeared momentarily. The ending of each vision tended to be the same, with a dark figure rising from the cauldron with blood red eyes, and a flash of green light.
The most recent one seemed to take place nearby, from what Veneficus could guess at. Some old man had been sneaking through an old and badly run down house. The man had discovered Pettigrew, as well as someone who may have been Voldemort, but the man was killed when he saw the supposed Dark Lord, ending the vision before Veneficus could make any further details out.
One thing did stand out from both premonitions. The town of Little Hangleton seemed to be of some importance. From that, Veneficus could compile several conclusions. From the number of times and increasing repetition of the first, there should be some sort of graveyard where Veneficus would inevitable confront Voldemort once again.
That thought made the Sith Lord smirk. It would be the most appropriate venue to finally put down the pretender for good in a graveyard. If this was to be the case, and the more Veneficus considered it the more correct it felt, then there needed to be a great deal of preparation in order to fully enjoy his vengeance on this man who began all the madness that formed Veneficus' current life.
Foremost, the final container of Voldemort's magical and life essence needed to be found, and brought together to the graveyard along with the cup, ring and locket that the Sith already had in their possession. Veneficus felt strongly that if he wanted the man dead for good, these objects had to have their power drained utterly beforehand. Naturally he could obliterate them now, ripping the Force energies from them effortlessly, but he wanted Voldemort to know his end at the hands of the Sith was permanent.
To this end, Veneficus decided to go down to where the artifacts were stored in the underground portion of the Manor. As he approached the storage room where the items were held by the large collection of Sith relics however, a strangely familiar presence became apparent to him in the Force from behind him.
Turning, Veneficus widened his eyes as Sirius Black smiled at him. His wand was out in a flash, a dark curse flying from the tip without a second thought. Black, unexplainably, caught the curse with an outstretched hand, magic correlating around the dark colored bolt and condensing it into an orb before shrinking into oblivion.
"Calm yourself, little Sith…" Black said in a voice that was quite unlike the one Veneficus had known previously. "Despite appearances, we have indeed only just met, and it would be most ungracious of me to slay you without even being formally introduced."
Veneficus did not lower his weapon, but inwardly he was fascinated with the display of tutaminis, a power Force technique that allowed the practitioner to absorb or redirect energy based attacks without the need of a Lightsaber or other tools. But there was no possible was that Black, a wizard, could use a Force ability like that.
"Who are you then?" he asked. Black's face contorted again into a strange, lopsided smile, and gave a slight bow. "I am Gor-lak, once known as the Cruel, and now gratefully using the body provided for me by your master."
Veneficus narrowed his eyes, uncertain if he could trust this being. Sirius Black was dead, this he was absolutely certain of, but for something to have taken over his body. Neither Dumbledore nor the Ministry had claimed to find the man's body, so it was plausible, but…
"Ah, Veneficus, I see you've met our newest guest…" Millennial appeared from around the nearby corner, "Gor-lak is a new ally of ours, who has knowledge from when this world was far younger, interesting interesting things about when the ancient Je'daii came to this system."
"Ah," Veneficus replied, still uncertain why something like this was withheld from him by Millennial, but dismissing it for the time being. Right now, testing the Horcruxes to see if there was a better way for him to pinpoint where the one he sensed in Hogwarts was hidden.
Not that he was intending to completely disregard this mystery and potential gain to himself. If what Millennial and this Gor-lak said was true, it would mean that the creature wearing the skin of Sirius Black could not leave the manor unless they wanted the wizarding world to panic at the return of the supposed mass murderer. Therefore, the supposedly ancient being would have nothing to do but teach Veneficus everything he knew about the Wild Force.
Entering the artifact room, the Sith Lord quickly was drawn to the ring, locket and cup instantly, their energies resonating with the power he had absorbed over a year previously. The objects buzzed with power as Veneficus lifted them in his hands, and he felt his mind sharpen as he focused on Hogwarts and the location of the item hidden within the castle walls.
Within the swirling thoughts, a familiar corridor manifested itself, decorated by a terrible wizard painting of dancing trolls, followed by flashes of a room filled with mountains of discarded items, and a tiara of gold, stylized with an eagle perching atop a large jewel. Veneficus was certain that this was the last item that he needed to destroy Voldemort.
All that remained was claiming the crown-like item and planning out how he would bring everything together in the graveyard. Portions of a plan began to blossom as Veneficus took the items and returned to his chambers, content with keeping the Horcruxes on hand from now on.
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"A time of Darkness draws near…"
Albus froze at the first line of Sybill's prophecy. Ever since the first prophecy she had given, nearly thirteen years ago, Albus had kept her on staff for her own protection. Thankfully Voldemort never thought to go after the Seer who gave the prophecy leading him to the Potters, not that finding her would truly help. Seers never remembered their Prophecies when giving true ones.
"The One who will Rule is growing in strength… fostered in evil by his Monstrous Lord…" Sybill continued unflinchingly, even when Albus walked around her to sit at his desk.
At first, Albus thought she may be speaking of Voldemort, but the mysterious 'Monstrous Lord' strangely reminded Albus of Blackmoore. But, if that was true, then the 'One who will Rule,' referred to… Harry?
"The Light must bind together or be extinguished forever… and all of existence will fall into Darkness…"
Not that Albus was ever blasé about a prophecy, but when had the Light ever not needed to bind together when a great evil was rising. Even still, contemplating that Harry would be the bringer of great evil was not the brightest of thoughts.
"The time of his rising draws night… there can be only one Master… and none other shall he serve… for he is… Sith'ari…"
Sith'ari…? Albus was completely unfamiliar with that word, but within the context it seemed to be a title for some sort of Dark Lord. Sybill blinked once and mutter an excuse about dozing off, and Albus engaged her in an uneventful and short conversation, all the while debating his next move with this information that potentially had much to do about his current plight with Mr. Potter and his guardian.
As Sybill departed, Albus realized that he needed Alastor more than ever this year. The Aurors' skill in combination with the man's exquisite magical eye would be the most ideal to keep tabs on Harry wherever the boy got to in the massive school.
As for this prophecy, the major activity of the upcoming year could be put to an excellent purpose to reveal any manifesting dark powers that Harry was hiding. If Albus was wrong he would provide more than adequate assistance to make sure Harry survived any dangers he would encounter in the tournament, but if there was a chance to prevent the horror that had been foretold, Albus would risk everything for it. The new prophecy seemed to indicate that Harry could become a greater threat to the Wizarding World than even Voldemort, and Blackmoore was indeed at the heart of these matters.
Could it have something to do with the man's unnatural magic? Could he be teaching the same powers to Harry? There were so many questions that Albus could only guess at. It didn't settle well with the aged Headmaster, but alas, there was little that could be done about it at the moment. It was best if he spent as much of his time preparing just in the event that his newfound suspicions were confirmed, and Harry turned out to be a great threat to the world.
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Anguis felt rather aloof for the few weeks after the incident. His mind burned with the horror of what had happened, but both Veneficus and Millennial reminded him directly that he was at no fault. Lucius had already accepted his fate in provoking him to display his power. The man was nothing but a fool if he had so long chosen to ignore and neglect his only child instead of realizing what a priceless opportunity aligning with the Sith was.
As for Narcissa… he did regret her death. Anguis had loved his mother dearly, despite her somewhat standoffish nature and preference to allow servants to care for him over herself taking charge of Anguis' upbringing. But pain was something he could work with, fueling the power of the Dark Side with the unfairness of life that had now robbed him on his family.
A tiny silver lining was that Minister Fudge had taken a special interest in Anguis, through his now very high respect for Lord Millennial, and was willing to offer a listening ear whenever any of the Darksiders had an opinion to offer.
They had even received special invitations to attend the upcoming Quidditch World Cup Final between Bulgaria and Ireland. Veneficus had been of the opinion to not attend, due to his lack of appreciation for the sport, and the more reasonable priority of training and preparing for his future as the reigning Dark Lord of the Sith. Millennial however, had overruled him, saying that for them to maintain their current level of political sway over the man; they had to give concessions when they were due, such as attending the otherwise pointless game.
Veneficus had frowned at that, before submitting, and departing to resume his rigorous training regimen. Anguis now understood why Veneficus had for so long refused to directly train with him. The black haired Sith's skill far surpassed anything Anguis had even seen, let alone his own skill with the Lightsaber.
Veneficus also was spending great quantities of time down in the lower levels of the underground portion of the Manor, learning dark curses and spells from the strange being that had housed itself in the empty shell of Sirius Black. Anguis was momentarily startled when he had first seen the body of his near cousin, but all too soon the reaction had faded away.
Anguis watched many of these sessions, even if the spell work was somewhat beyond his level, he could still master the technique for when his magical power grew as he aged.
The morning before the Quidditch World Cup, Gor-lak was drilling Veneficus on a spell that caused the victim's internal organs to start to burn inside them. "Again!" the Ork in human form demanded, and Veneficus slashed his wand outward at the metal droid targets, "Ardens!"
The center droid started glowing orange from internal heat, before one of the internal components ruptured, causing the droid body to explode outward. "Pathetic!" Gor-lak snarled, "The spell should have affected all three of them, you humans and your inferior magic…"
"Inferior possibly, but none the less effective," Veneficus countered astutely, although Anguis knew that the Sith Lord considered his power superior to anything or anyone.
Gor-lak grumbled, dismissing the pair of them, and exited to go about whatever the creature did to amuse himself. The humans took the lift back to the main floor of the Manor, Veneficus in need of cleaning up before they were to take an exclusive Ministry portkey to the World Cup. Fudge had sent it directly to Anguis by owl, with key instructions on its activation word and the approximate time the match would begin.
Most other attendees had to arrive in prearranged groups depending on their location and ticket, but as they were to be in the Minister's Box by personal invitation, the Darksiders had a pass on the unnecessary association with the common rabble that would no doubt be swarming the area.
Normally, if he was still with his parents, Anguis would have been out to purchase an entirely new set of robes for the occasion, but the Sith were mercifully far more practical about such trivialities. The midnight blue robes from Yule last would be more than sufficient for this occasion. Lord Millennial had scoffed at the notion of dressing the part of Muggles for secrecy's sake, so they were not going to bother adhering to it.
Exiting his guest room, Anguis found Lord Millennial and Veneficus waiting for him in the Entrance Hall of the Manor. Veneficus wore the same black robes trimmed in crimson and gold that he had on the previous Yule as well, while Darth Millennial wore a deep midnight purple, also trimmed in gold hieroglyphs that shimmered as he moved. There was also a strange symbol across the back, a strange triangular pattern in three parts. Anguis couldn't place it.
"Are we in readiness?" Millennial said quietly, glancing pointedly at Anguis, who withdrew the portkey from his robe pocket, a small brass charm on a silver chain.
"Yes my Lord." Anguis responded, and the two Sith Lords took a hold of the portkey, and Anguis spoke the command word to transport them to a partitioned V.I.P. area of the massive World Cup stadium.
The sounds of thousands of people congregating to the huge gold walled building, weaving through the nearby woods from where Anguis knew was a figurative sea of wizarding tents for those who came well in advance of the match.
There was a Ministry witch waiting at the entrance to the stadium, "Prime seats!" she announced as she checked their passes, "Top Box! Straight upstairs, go as high as you can." Without a word, the three Force users proceeded up the wooden stairs to the very topmost box, passing through the throngs of eager spectators as they flocked to their seats in anticipation of the match's start.
When at last they arrived, the view across the sea of a hundred thousand people spread before them. Veneficus smirked as the took their seats in the back row of the twenty or so purple and gold chairs that filled the box. Anguis had a suspicion that despite the magnitude of the stadium and its occupency, the Sith had seen far larger in his journeys abroad.
They weren't alone in the box as they entered, and through only the Force the three were able to know that there were two other occupants. Visible to their eyes was only a House elf, which Anguis could only guess was saving a seat for her master or mistress. The other occupant, and invisible human from the Force aura, seemed strangely off, as if suppressed or muted somehow in the Force. Lord Millennial's mouth twitched toward a small smile, but even as Anguis registered the expression it was gone.
Taking their seats, Anguis between the two Sith Lords, with Veneficus on the very end, they waited for the box to fill. It was a slow process, but people started trickling in over the next half hour. The most interesting appearance was the red haired Weasley family, who took the majority of the front row. How the incredibly large and poor family managed Top Box seats, Anguis didn't know, and neither did he truly care. The red head's father threw him a saddened glance, but otherwise none of their group even noticed his presence.
Even when Cornelius Fudge arrived, Anguis went overlooked in favor of the two Sith Lords, whose guises were far more in the spotlight of notice. The idiotic fool spent a great deal of time trying to communicate with the Minister from Bulgaria, introducing Veneficus and Millennial with great difficulty. Fudge took his seat on Millennial's far side, with the foreign dignitary next to him.
Shortly after, another Ministry worker in ill-fitting yellow Quidditch robes charged into the box, checking with Fudge if they were all ready for the match to begin. "Ready when you are, Ludo," the Minister responded comfortably, as though relieved from having to act host for a time.
The man named Ludo, Bagman Anguis guessed from his father's time in the Ministry, pulled out a wand, put a Sonorus charm on himself, and boomed out a welcome to the assembled audience.
"Ladies and gentlemen, welcome! Welcome to the final of the four-hundred and twenty-second Quidditch World Cup!"
Much as he once was greatly excited for such events as this, Anguis couldn't help but find himself quickly bored with the frivolous spectacle. Even as the Bulgarian nation team mascots, a contingent of Veela, ran onto the field and began to dance, Anguis was more interested by the whispered conversation that sprung up between the Dark Lord of the Sith and Fudge.
The Sith Master was drawing information about the upcoming year from Fudge, with all the touch of an artist at the canvas. Even as the crowd cheered and booed extraordinary loudly, Anguis remained fixated on the pair next to him. He couldn't overhear their conversation word for word, not with the crowd surrounding them, but he was able to make out select key words, such as Dumbledore, Hogwarts, Triwizard Tournament, and Safety Measures.
Those few were enough for the blond Darksider to piece together a picture that coupled with stories he had read of the previous decades at Hogwarts. The Triwizard Tournament was a dangerous competition that pitted the three major European magical school against each other, and due to the nature of the tasks that had to be completed to determine a winner, the Tournament was canceled and reinstated many times.
For the peaceful, muggle loving fool of a Headmaster to agree to the return of such an event, there must have been many great concessions made to Dumbledore that would ensure not only the safety of the competitors, but even perhapes some other secretive purpose that the old man alone was privy to.
Millennial seemed to be of the same mindset as Anguis over the matter, and asked many specific questions of Fudge, but it was not possible to understand what was said further, because just then the crowd went berserk, screaming as the game came to an abrupt end. The match hadn't even lasted a few hours, let alone a day, as these caliber of matches were wont to do.
Aside even from the match, the event as a whole was somewhat of a let down for Anguis. He had to somewhat agree with Veneficus' initial argument that attending such a function had been a complete waste of valuable time. However, the small tidbit about the Tournament had to count for something, right?
Almost slower than it had filled, the stadium eventually emptied, most to all of the spectators filtering back to the assorted campsites amid the noise of their many conversations regarding the game. Ireland had won apparently, and even though he had been not feel from the teams as they had lifted the Cup in triumph, Anguis hadn't paid any attention whatsoever.
Even with the game ended, Millennial seemed as though he wished to delay their departure for some time longer, and while Anguis was becoming more desirous to depart and return to the Manor to ponder the things he heard, the blond was distracted when Blaise Zabini appeared through the crowd, looking directly at him.
Venefiucs had already splintered off from their group and disappeared into the crowd, so Anguis felt that there would be no problems with him departing as well. Worst off, Millennial could easily find them through the Force if he needed to.
Approaching Zabini, Anguis could tell immediately that the boy was edgy about something, and he felt very certain about what the darker skinned boy wanted before he even asked. "I want to speak with Potter as soon as it can be arranged..." he said, glancing back to where Anguis could see the boy's mother flirting with a small cluster of older wizards.
"I can arrange that, if you wish it so," Anguis replied cryptically, "Now or sometime in the future?" he added.
"Not, now," Blaise replied hastily, "on the train back to Hogwarts at the soonest. I can't get away right now..."
The boy hastily made his excuses and returned to drag his mother away from the hopeful suitors, who were quite literally flirting with death. Shaking his head at Zabini's fleeing form, Anguis reached into the Force to find Veneficus and turned, walking through the crowd to inform him of his plan starting to move forward.
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It was well after dark when Darth Millennial finally disengaged himself from the foolish Cornelius Fudge and began to seek out his charges to return to the Manor. The Lord of the Sith had gotten quite a decent amount of information out of the pudgy man about the goings on of Dumbledore and the school for the upcoming terms. He was only mildly annoyed to learn that such a large event as the Triwizard Tournament was so effortless pushed past the Governors without their even recognizing it.
What was more disturbing was the tremors in the Force that he felt when the Tournament was mentioned. Many echoes in the Force seemed to resonate with the event, or some event within it that was yet to occur, and all this while Veneficus was there under the prying eyes of Albus Dumbledore. It did not sit right with Millennial for these events to simply play out as they may.
He was currently walking through the sea of tents, following the Force signature that indicated his apprentice and the young Malfoy, somewhere near the center of the camp. Before he even reached part way through the winding lanes formed between the groups of tents, Millennial froze as the Force sounded a warning. Seconds later the tent before him exploded into fire, sending the celebrating wizards fleeing like ants. More wizards, hooded and masked, were marching through the camp, firing spells aimed to terrorize more than kill.
For a moment or so, Millennial simply stood and watched, appreciating the effectiveness of the group, which he sensed were members of Lucius' old crowd, led now by Macnair in their quest for vengeance for their fallen master.
Soon enough, Millennial turned back and recommenced tracing the two young boys by their Force signatures, which were heading back toward the woods that separated the stadium and the tents. The pair was watching the chaos from the edge of the trees, expressions of neutral calmness reflected in the explosions of fire and light from the sea of tents.
"Enjoying the show?" Veneficus said cheekily, but Millennial was willing to allow the insolence for the time being. Again he paused, sensing a person approaching, who felt familiar.
"MORSMORDRE!" a voice bellowed from nearby, and Millennial recognized Barty Crouch Jr. by his voice as he cast the spell. A vast green symbol exploded in the sky, appearing as a skull with a serpent tongue entwining around it.
Almost immediately in reply, the cracks of apparition sounded all around them. The three Force wielders were able to dodge the twenty or so spells that flew at them. "Stop!" yelled a voice, "STOP! There are children there!"
Millennial sighed slightly as Barty Sr. strode up to them, looking distraught. The general agitation was probably due to the symbol in the sky, which Millennial hazarded a guess was connected to Voldemort. "Ah, Bartemius…" he said pleasantly.
"Which of you did it?" the man snapped, ignoring Millennial's greeting and staring wildly between the three of them, "Which of you conjured the Dark Mark?"
"Bartemius," Millennial said calmly, "you know me, would I ever conjure that mark? And these two are mere boys, how could they even know how…"
"Do not lie, sir!" Crouch shouted, bordering derangement. His wand hand was shaking, and the Sith Master could sense that the man was frazzled more by the disappearance of his son than anything else. "You have been discovered at the scene of the crime!"
"Barty," a nearby witch said, concern in her voice, "You don't honestly believe that the guardian of the Boy-Who-Lived would cast the mark of his enemy?"
From that point it seemed the assembled group chose to ignore Crouch's paranoia, and they quickly dismissed any of the three Darksiders as the culprits. Millennial chose to not mention the presence of Crouch Jr., but made some vague speculation that the spell originated from the opposite direction. Soon enough the Ministry wizards departed to search for the culprit and Millennial waited until they departed to move. He had seen some of the red stunning spells fly in the direction Crouch Jr. had been, and the small splash as someone invisible was struck.
As soon as the Ministry workers were out of sight, the Sith Master made a beeline for the clearing where Crouch was last, Veneficus and Malfoy in tow. Ordering them to silence with a wave of his hand, Millennial searched the clearing, instantly discovering the Crouch's House Elf, stunned in the clearing with a wand in hand. Not far away, Millennial felt a slippery cloth beneath his hand, and drew it away to reveal Barty Jr., also stunned.
The two younger Force users watched in interest as Millennial placed two fingers directly between Barty junior's eyes, tapping into his mind with minimal effort. With the man unconscious, any defenses he may have had were lowered, and Millennial had unfiltered access to affect the man's thoughts and memory. Quickly, Millennial scanned Crouch's most recent memories, and discovered that the tattoo that connected all of Voldemort's followers magically had begun to grow in power, which contended with Crouch Senior's mental domination over his son. Just a bit longer, and Junior would be free once again, and set out to find and obey his master's will.
This was all well and good, as Millennial wanted a spy within Voldemort's ranks if and when the man became active again, so he quickly unlocked the memories of meeting Crouch Jr. the previous year, slowly filtering the conclusions to the stunned young man. When he awoke, he would continue to act as though under Voldemort's and his father's control, but at the first opportunity he would make contact with one of the Sith Lords to confirm the plans of their enemies. Force willing, the fool of a dark lord, Voldemort, would place Crouch Jr. in a position of great trust, and then the Sith would have free reign to manipulate the man's plans to their liking…
Once finished, Millennial replaced the cloak of invisibility and beckoned to his two charges to approach. Without another word, the Sith Lord removed the small charm Portkey that would return them to Blackmoore Manor, and held it out to them both. Veneficus took it without question, but the Malfoy boy looked as though he wanted to demand his answers now, but one glance from the Sith Master put him back in his place, and he submissively took hold of the charm.
A whisper of the command word and the world around them shimmered with color, until they landed gracefully back in the Manor's walled courtyard.
And, knowing that both young force users wanted answers, Millennial turned and walked away without a single word to either of them.
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Septin was groggily awakened by the surge of pain from his side. Sitting up sharply he was almost thrown off balance as his new, sleek metal arm came into view. Suddenly the last few hours of memory returned. Feyd had landed the ship smoothly in the hanger and had helped Septin stagger down the ramp and across the hanger bay.
No one had come across them until, panting from the effort, Septin nearly fell into the medical bay. The droids there had immediately noticed his condition and sprang into action, grabbing Septin and injecting him with a paralytic to prevent him from thrashing as they commenced surgery to install a mechanical arm to his body.
The pain burned like nothing Septin had ever experienced, but he had been unable to do anything to manage it, as he could neither move nor fall unconscious from the jarring agony that was boring in from his severed shoulder. Soon the direct, needle sharp pain was replaced with the metallic burning as the cybernetic limb was assembled and wired into his skeletal and nervous systems.
That had been the part when Septin had mercifully passed out from, of all things, the smell of burning flesh, only for the droids to reawaken him with an electric jolt, causing all the pain to flood back into him afresh. Again and again he relived the agony that was being scarred into his mind, until at long last, with the surgery completed, the vile droids allowed him to embrace the blackness of unconsciousness.
And now he had awakened again, who knew how long afterward, and with the memory of the pain in his mind and the dull brass limb shakily responding as he weakly stood and moved about, growing accustomed to the new weight.
It was somewhat off putting, seeing the shiny metal limb poking out of his tunic sleeve, and yet still seeing the near lifelike movements from the digits. After flexing the new hand several times to get his bearing on the grip strength, Septin weakly padded from the room, following the Force auras of the largest group.
As he entered the training area, he found the majority of the now rather sizable group of Sith advocates, including Supreme Prophet Dass'in and Feyd. "Ah, so the little prodigy awakens at last," giggled a deranged looking Togruta next to Dass'in.
Septin narrowed his eyes at her, but otherwise said nothing. "Yes," Dass'in replied to her, "It certainly seems that the boy's surgical procedure was a success, and now all that's left is to decide to whom you will be assigned for further training."
"I… further training?" Septin said, confused.
"Yes," Dass'in affirmed, "Zhar Quelmok returned you to us with a high recommendation, and said that despite your injury you had the bearings of a powerful connection to the Dark Side through your hatred and aggression. There is one among us that has access to the knowledge of the ancient Sith Marauders, who had those very same traits and powers."
Septin had a very suspicious feeling regarding who the Supreme Prophet had in mind, "And who would that be?" he asked, dreading the answer.
"Me, sweetie, Lady Ocraadi Nuhok, at your service," the Togruta said, sickening cheerful.
For a fleeting moment, Septin believed he may have just been dropped out of a bad situation into a far worse one. Lady Ocraadi clearly sensed Septin's foreboding regarding them being set together, and she giggled, quickly approaching him. "Don't fret, little apprentice," he said, tracing a long nailed finger down his jaw, causing Septin to shiver, "We have much to accomplish if we're to make you a powerful wielder of the Dark Side."
"We'll leave you both to it, then." Dass'in said as he turned and left, with Feyd in tow. Septin wasn't sure if he wanted to be left alone with this mad female, but the choice was stripped from him too quickly to even be considered.
Lady Nuhok smiled again, "first off, it seems that you were short one weapon when you arrived back with us here, you should go and rectify that immediately. Truly, a Darksider is never without weapons, but we wield the Lightsaber to mock the weakness of the Jedi, and how we will be superior in all aspects that they deem valuable."
Septin, seeing that resisting this change of events was not going to help, chose to cow his will to this new master, for a time, as he was desperately in need of a new weapon regardless, and new skills and knowledge would be most useful if he was to eventually settle the score he had with Zhar Quelmok. "As you wish… Master…"