Audience Chamber

The Great Temple

Sepros

The stonework had been restored meticulously. No, it was more than that. Even the original, beaten down by thousands of years and the necessities of war, did not bear the fine details that this reconstruction did. It had been a process. Starting years ago with the scans on Yavin IV, the construction had started almost immediately upon the Clan’s return to their homeworlds. As they followed wandering paths through forgotten history and deep lore, they found so very much more.

The murals on the walls spoke to him. Where bare walls stood on Yavin, the intricate carvings lay in front of his eyes, dyed with pigments created the old way, from plants and blood, wrath and alchemy. He blinked slowly, a grey eye refreshing itself in the dim torchlight. It seemed anachronistic, but it fit. Closing his fists, the crackle of knuckles echoed across the quiet room, his mind retracing his steps through the recent conflicts, the medals and trophies earned these past few weeks.

He didn’t hear him enter, but rather felt him. He let his eyes close as he instinctively reached out with his senses, fingers twitching as he let the Force whisper to him. The consul in his dark mask, Overlord of the clan. Behind him, the Lion of Tarthos. The summit had summoned Veil Arcana to the Great Temple, but to what end, he could not tell. He had asked around, and was met with a variety of responses, none of which eased his mind. Surprises were not his most favorite thing.

“Hunter Arcana.” Darkhawk’s voice carried across the chamber, the echoes from far corners of the hall seeming to focus on where he stood. Was this some function of the architecture, or was it a ruse of the Force? It didn’t much matter. Veil shook off the thought, opening his eyes and turning toward the pair, a hand pushing stray black hair from his eyes. “You have been brought here for judgement.”

Arcana blinked slowly compared to how fast his mind ran. He seethed through memory, trying to find something that would have caused this, that could have been construed as dishonorable. Sure, his methods were sometimes….well, unusual, but his ends always worked out. The stack of commendations surely spoke to that.

The world seemed to tremble, as he looked to them, seeing Muz flick his wrist, a palm to the floor. The air grew heavy, laden with the Force as Veil struggled to stay on his feet. A knee twinged, then buckled under the weight, drawing him to his knees. There had to be some mistake, something that he missed as his mind scrambled. The cruel crack of a lightsaber ignition only pulled further on his mind, eyes darting up to see the crimson glow of DarkHawk’s blade.

“You have been judged.” DarkHawk dipped his helmet a degree, stepping forward and raising his saber up with both hands. “...and been found worthy.”

The blade seethed down, stopping millimeters from Veil’s right shoulder. The heat warmed his cheek as the Consul lifted the blade and brought it down to rest above his left shoulder. Darkhawk nodded once and retracted his weapon, stepping back a few paces as Veil exhaled in relief, his ears hot from the stress.

”Let this be the last blow you receive unanswered.” The words echoed between his ears and his mind, Muz’s words setting into his heart with curiosity at what that meant for a moment. Snapping in realization, he braced himself as the Force congealed in front of him, rushing into him like a tank, sending him back on his heels and he scrambled, trying desperately to not topple over. As quick as it came, it was over. Veil steadied himself, rising to his knee again, his head fuzzy and eyes wide, steeling himself for what could come next.

“Rise, Veil Arcana.” Darkhawk spoke as he stepped forward with his proconsul, each of the men offering a hand to help him to his feet. “Rise and be counted as a Knight.”

Everyone please take a moment and congratulate Veil Arcana on his recent Knighting! An amazing accomplishment for our newest member. Your path to darkness and ascension to greatness has a new beginning,