The greatest structure still standing on the volcanic moon of Oricon, the ruined fortress that once served as the headquarters of the Dread Masters, remains as a beacon of darkness. Impenetrable at its heart, the fortress is surrounded by a lava moat with a single bridge for access with walls two stories high and crafted of the hardest permacrete. Its walkways and open courtyards are decorated with eternally-burning braziers, hanging and broken chains, and even plaques and murals depicting acts of tyranny and strength. Statues, obelisks and pillars show signs of aging, crumbling, cracked and ruined, though their fearsome, ancient Sith visages still stand as a testament to the Dark Side and the imposing power that the masters of the fortress willed upon their visitors.

Down into the central palace and through one of the two sets of staircases lays the ruins of the atrium. It has long been looted for all of its artifacts and knowledge, left bare by the raiding and marauding of treasure hunters and researchers. Four side-chambers lead down, two to the left and right, deeper - these rooms, all abandoned, hold obelisks fused into the very stonework of the floor. Ancient Sith wisdom is etched into each one - messages of fear, of control, of domination and madness alike.

At the very rear of the palace is a large, tall stairway, leading up into what can only be considered the throne room of the wicked Council. A seven-sided platform sits atop a bottomless pit, with the walkway from the doorway taking up one side flanked by six green crystals. The remaining six edges are dedicated to walkways ending in a dais, resting upon which are the tall thrones topped with crystal where the ancient Masters of Dread once sat. Here, you can feel the twisted knots in the flow of the Force, plucked and pulled at with a more powerful grasp than you could ever hope to possess. As you approach the center of the massive platform, you hear footfalls behind you. The deathly silence is finally broken.

Darkness has always been a formidable ally to the Sith, for all in this Order old and young, but to Lexiconus it was something unusual. His society had a strong fear of the shadows, and rightly so because on their homeworld there was something corporeal to fear. But here, the threat was dead, most likely extinct and buried so deep into the ground that only machinery could remove their corpses. But the chill still ran down the Zelosian’s spine as he entered this illustrious throne room and gazed at the void of the walls, pillars and the council seats. Mist seeped and rose from empty pit below as Lexic carefully treaded inside, his eyes darting everywhere in fright of something dreadful becoming of him.

Then the echoes of tinkering metals, tumbling rocks and wisping of dust perked Lexic’s ears, he felt another lifeforce was here and not quite a threat as he thought. Lightsaber firmly in grip, the Sith slithered into the shadows of the pillars and searched the west area, where the ancient sarcophagi lay sealed by the Dark Side. One however was trespassed right at the very end of this prehistoric graveyard, Lexic could detect that the person was not a Force User and carried his life very weakly. The signals given from this looter were faint and deteriorating into a willing death, as he was ensnared by something very human of the world. Once closer and slithered behind the grave-robber, the Zelosian felt the human more as a husk of his former self, malnourished and deeply scarred, both mentally and physically. In short, this person was no longer human and made his way in life by extreme measures. Lexic finally began to witness one measure as the creature suddenly dived into the tomb of the lord, ripped open the embalming wrapping and devoured the corpse with his claws and mouth. It seems that whatever extremities this looter was dealing with, became immaterial from what he delivered.

The Sith approached the feasting pit while his nostrils flared with the scent of mutilated flesh, blood and saliva, and carefully peered close to the husk. With an adequate movement, Lexic ignited his emerald lightsaber and thrashed the blade into the chest of the necromantic. Squealing and snarling out in pure agony, the creature of insanity arched its back and collapsed from the pain. Lexic aggressively yanked his blade out and deactivated it, then returned it to his waistcloth and pushed the corpse onto it’s back. Aside from a singular bloody rag that covered the hermit’s excitement, the leathered skin was tailored with scarring that appeared to be from some sort of whip and metal. Eager to learn more about this odd creation that the Dark Side couldn’t of missed, Lexic began to peel back the skin from the corpse’s chest wound and cut deeper, between the ribs of the creature.

From behind, the sharp clicking of the metallic boots from the unknown came closer and closer to their position. The Sith could already feel the prodding of this person inside his mind, but fought hard against the pressure from the Dark Side user. Then a torch was lit next to the Zelosian as he was deeply concentrated inside the chest cavities of this dark creation, the other man who was new revealed to be the Sith Warlord Andrelious. He cocked his head slowly and became confused by the Warrior who had his hands deep in the lungs of the malnourished necromantic.

“You do realise there’s tool to do that for you, right?” Andrelious cheekily quipped at the Sith Doctor.

“That’s the difference between a layman and a professional, my old friend. Laymans need tools, I just use what is available. It’s interesting because his organs are slightly healthy and so are his senses, but he’s still a husk of his former self.” Lexic smirked as he spoke to the Taldryan, as he was always interested in relating to the superior Sith.

The Sith Seeker crossed his arms and nodded in sadness, he knew this man wasn’t born this way but made by the trials of slavers and harsh men.

“Insanity is the real enemy of men, it doesn’t care what you think.” Andrelious nodded to himself in confirmation, he has seen what war and chaos can do to the minds of weaker men. Even the machinations of the Sith can be overwhelming on the mind, which is why the Warlord seeks only the most purer of power in violence and combat. His partner Lexic however, was much more indepth with the knowledge and limits of humanoids, and this worried the Imperial. The Dread fortress of Oricon delivered an evil and foreboding aura to all it’s denizens, it was only a matter of time before the more curious of the two became ensnared by it’s mysteries. Andrelious would be damn it all for it to be him. He’d damn Lexiconus immediately.

“I don’t know what you are doing here, nor do I care,” Andrelious hissed. He had not seen Lexiconus since the pair had both served Clan Arcona.

Andrelious had come to scour the Dread Fortress for anything remotely useful. He had heard that the ancient building had long been picked clean, but came anyway, determined to increase his relatively low standing in Clan Taldryan by any means necessary. He had remained empty handed, but now, having run into his former ally, he could at least report that he had slain an enemy. That, if nothing else, would further prove his usefulness to his superiors.

Lexiconus was well aware of the Warlord’s prowess with blasters and lightsabers, and that was even before he took Mimosa-Inahj’s strength in the Force into account. He had to act, fast, if he was going to get out of the situation in one piece. With that in mind, he screamed a command at the Force, ordering it to keep Andrelious away from him. The dark side obliged, curling invisible fingers into a fist of pure durasteel. This fist slammed into the Taldryanite’s chest, bringing him to his knees as he struggled to regain his breath. Seeing his opponent struggle, Lexiconus turned, ready to run. His eyes peered desperately into the darkness ahead, unable to ascertain exactly where the nearest exit was. Lexiconus cursed his body’s limitations, and began to sprint away, his lightsaber active and lighting the way.

Having climbed back onto his feet, Andrelious craned his head around and quickly spotted the absconding Zelosian. With a smirk, he extracted his E-11 from its holster and fired several shots. The blaster bolts headed towards Lexiconus at high speed. The teenaged Sith, having heard the blaster go off, turned on his heels, skidding slightly on the floor. He moved his lightsaber with a little hesitation – he was not the most comfortable with the blade, and managed to block the first three shots. The fourth and final shot, however, slipped past his defence and hit him in the left thigh.

Watching his target fall to the ground, Andrelious wasted no time and started to approach, switching to his lightsaber. His chest ached, reminding him of what the Warrior had done to him not long before, but nonetheless he neared Lexiconus expecting to make short work of the Zelosian.

Lexiconus stood up, his expertise in the Force allowing him to nullify most of the pain from the blaster wound, even if he could not ignore the smell of his own burnt flesh. He started to move away from Andrelious again, determined to keep out of range of his opponent’s crimson blade. He healed his wound as he went, finding each step slightly easier than the one before. Eventually, the level of pain dropped to nothing, and he was able to begin to run, again. He spotted a doorway a few feet away. Changing direction so that he could bolt straight through, Lexiconus turned to spot Andrelious was baring down on him a little faster, as if willed onward by the Force.

I must get away! the Warrior thought.