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17-08-2023, 05:25 PM
Journal 14: Legacy of the Phoenix
I'm still trying to put together pieces. But I went out of control.
Lord Vipion disappeared, and I went off the handle. I declared a challenge, that I was Household Sith and anyone refuting could fight me about it. A couple were - and then the Dark Lord put out a decree, a "blood hunt". To take me down. There were five, six people, all ganged up. I was held down, mind and body assaulted, and then pierced through. They declared me dead on the steps.
When I faced the Quiet Speaker, my life flashed, different memories all in Speed. It's said this happens because you're attempting to find a way out, the right maneuver, and I did - I copied my own maneuver against a mutated Gundark, all the way back in my Acolytehood. It made my legs move, and it snapped me out of that fear, that indecision, that inaction that would have caused me to die. This time, I didn't have that. It was fury, pain - and then, suddenly, blood. Coughing it right into my helmet, my visor. And then it felt like falling - sinking into the water.
Deeper, deeper. Not coming back - the light growing dim.
... and then, a scream. Echoing. Pain, my pain. My hands on fire. Anguish so strong, so feral, so raw. I could not tell if it was mine, or his. But it was like... a tether, a line. I wasn't done. A burning, raging star, ascending from the waters, following that line back.
It was Faelice that sealed the hole, taking the risk of working without a siphon. Hazlem assisted, and I was put in a cell to await judgement. Then, he came to talk, and then to bail me out, get me treated. I wasn't done. To die would be so easy - to live, to keep moving, rising, is hard, and nothing of value I've done was ever easy. It's been... a week, two? Two. And after discussions, advising, I've taken the role of Sith Zevasa's Apprentice. Envoy of Purity - repeating the deeds of Lord Kalkoran picking up Sith Tarimra.
It's one thing to have my failures around me, berating me, but it's another thing to fail and fall so utterly, that everyone let a mouthy brat nearly kill me permanently. I was not suffering as long as Tarimra was, but I understand fully what I unleashed on him. Perhaps it's poetic justice this happened because of a grand act of defiance. People will prey on any weakness, any opportunity that they can look better, so whether it was that or simple loyalty, many turned on me.
I'm putting together the pieces. Only thing to do is try again, here, now with renewed focus. Despite everything that happened, things are changed, now. I broke out of the block of my stalemate, and it's time to walk this path where it leads. So I fly, on burning wings, like my Master before me. The original, the infuriating. But in his own right, the first to shape me and show me how to rise again.
I'm still trying to put together pieces. But I went out of control.
Lord Vipion disappeared, and I went off the handle. I declared a challenge, that I was Household Sith and anyone refuting could fight me about it. A couple were - and then the Dark Lord put out a decree, a "blood hunt". To take me down. There were five, six people, all ganged up. I was held down, mind and body assaulted, and then pierced through. They declared me dead on the steps.
When I faced the Quiet Speaker, my life flashed, different memories all in Speed. It's said this happens because you're attempting to find a way out, the right maneuver, and I did - I copied my own maneuver against a mutated Gundark, all the way back in my Acolytehood. It made my legs move, and it snapped me out of that fear, that indecision, that inaction that would have caused me to die. This time, I didn't have that. It was fury, pain - and then, suddenly, blood. Coughing it right into my helmet, my visor. And then it felt like falling - sinking into the water.
Deeper, deeper. Not coming back - the light growing dim.
... and then, a scream. Echoing. Pain, my pain. My hands on fire. Anguish so strong, so feral, so raw. I could not tell if it was mine, or his. But it was like... a tether, a line. I wasn't done. A burning, raging star, ascending from the waters, following that line back.
It was Faelice that sealed the hole, taking the risk of working without a siphon. Hazlem assisted, and I was put in a cell to await judgement. Then, he came to talk, and then to bail me out, get me treated. I wasn't done. To die would be so easy - to live, to keep moving, rising, is hard, and nothing of value I've done was ever easy. It's been... a week, two? Two. And after discussions, advising, I've taken the role of Sith Zevasa's Apprentice. Envoy of Purity - repeating the deeds of Lord Kalkoran picking up Sith Tarimra.
It's one thing to have my failures around me, berating me, but it's another thing to fail and fall so utterly, that everyone let a mouthy brat nearly kill me permanently. I was not suffering as long as Tarimra was, but I understand fully what I unleashed on him. Perhaps it's poetic justice this happened because of a grand act of defiance. People will prey on any weakness, any opportunity that they can look better, so whether it was that or simple loyalty, many turned on me.
I'm putting together the pieces. Only thing to do is try again, here, now with renewed focus. Despite everything that happened, things are changed, now. I broke out of the block of my stalemate, and it's time to walk this path where it leads. So I fly, on burning wings, like my Master before me. The original, the infuriating. But in his own right, the first to shape me and show me how to rise again.
![[Image: iLA5SH0.png]](https://i.imgur.com/iLA5SH0.png)
