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[Solas Night-Thorn] Rise of the Lord of Craving


In this topic will be the ongoing story of Solas Night-Thorn, as it unfolds. Please do not reply in this thread. Thanks!


Chapter 1 - Pains

[ Exert from The Dragon of Dathomir ]
“In order to give you this power, we must perform an ancient ritual. A ritual that has existed since the dawn of the galaxy. This ritual will bind our spirits to your own and thus imbue you with our powers over the spirits of the galaxy. This is a blood ritual that requires a great sacrifice. The lives of the army you brought with you.”

“That’s all? I give you my troops and you’ll give me the power to command that horde?”

“Not just control over that horde, but the power to raise such a horde wherever you go.”

‘You forgot the pain, and the destruction of my body.’ Solas Night-Thorn sat in the Inner Sanctum of the Pyramid musing over his choice to accept the Grand Mother’s offer and allowing their spirits to be bound to him. And while the ritual had given him many boons, it had also plagued him with a myriad of curses.

These curses included the near constant pain that wracked his body and mind, the slow deterioration of his physical form, the endless hunger for Force energy and the craving for sentient life. He knew what this meant; he was becoming a wound in the Force. and if he did not do something to ensure that he would live on, the energies contained within him would tear him apart.

As he sat thinking the room around him seemed to fall away and revealed an empty void populated by three figures.

“Do you regret your decision child?”

“No, I simply do not yet know how to contain it.”

“Travel to Malachor V. Find the darkness held there, it will reveal to you the information you seek.” and before Solas could ask any further questions, the three disappeared and the void dissipated.

“Hmmm, Malachor…”


Solas sat behind his desk as he stared at a hologram of a bleak and destroyed planet.

“Malachor V, home of the Trayus Academy and seat of the Sith Triumvirate. I have to agree with the witches, if anywhere would hold the knowledge I seek it would be there.” Turning his chair to the self on the wall that held his collection of Sith artifacts, including the holocron of Darth Nihilus. The Sith warrior stared at the glowing cube for a minute before turning back to his desk and activating the comm on it.

“Quee, prep a shuttle for me. No crew.”

“Understood my lord.” As the comm clicked off Solas stood from his seat and grabbed the holocron before heading out of the office. Throwing his cloak over his shoulders as his black hawk perched upon his shoulder, the Sith strode through the halls of the Pyramid taking the shortest route to the hanger. Passing many members of the Nekros Syndicate as they saluted the Supreme Commander before scurrying away. He would have returned the salutes if it did not take all of his strength to not double over in pain. Soon he arrived at the hanger and made a beeline for the shuttle being prepped in the center of the hanger. As the technicians saw him coming they swiftly finished their duties and cleared the area around the shuttle.

Solas strode aboard the vessel and took his seat in the pilot’s chair. Quickly plotting a course for Malachor as he exited the hanger. It wasn’t long before the shuttle was off the planet and hurtling through hyperspace towards the Chorlian sector.


Solas looked out the viewport of his ship as it dropped out of hyperspace revealing the torn and ravaged planet of Malachor V. A place so steeped in darkness that one would think that nothing of worth could be found there. But how is darkness created? By something standing in the path of light. And why is light created? To banish the darkness by those that fear it. So of course one who fears darkness will find nothing of worth in it. But to those who do not fear its embrace the darkness holds many things, some of great worth. This was the knowledge held by the members of the Sith Triumvirate, Darth Sion, Darth Nihilus and their master Darth Traya. Traya was cast out of the light. Nihilus was destroyed by the light. and Sion was sent to war against the light. The stronger the light, the deeper the shadow it creates.

“Now let us see what I can find in this deepest of shadows.”

The ship descended to the surface, touching down as close as Solas could estimate to the location of the lost Trayus Academy, seat of the Triumvirate’s power. And the holding place of their knowledge.


Stepping off the ramp of the ship Solas took a deep breath in, only for his chest to feel like it was being caved in. Doubling over coughing the Sith watched as noxious black blood splattered onto the ground in front of him. Slowly standing he wiped his lips with the back of his right hand. Breathing heavily as his hawk perched on his shoulder, Solas pulled his hood up over his head and began walking towards the temple. An errant gust of wind rustled his cloak earning a cry from Mokusatsu. Ignoring the bird he pressed onward. In an age long ago Malachor was a fertile place teeming with life. Now it was nothing more than a desolate wasteland. Where once countless sounds would have permeated the air, now only a ominous wind and the cracks of a lightning storm broke the silence. The Sith walked for hours and soon night began to fall.

“Whyyyyyyy…….” A raspy voice entered Solas’ mind. Whirling around he activated his saber, it two crimson blades casting hazy red shadows.

“Who’s there? Show yourself.” The man demanded. Again the voice spoke to him in his mind.

“Whyyyyy have you commmmmmme?”

“Who are you?”

“I am called many thingsssssss. Chaos, doom, discord, but you may call me Aramastus my chillllld.”

“Who, or what, are you Aramastus?” Solas cautiously waved his saber in front of him.

“I am the beginning, and the ennnnd. I am everything and nothingggg. I am the master of the voidd and the void itssself.”

“Why can’t I sense you? Are you masking your presence?”

“What presence my chillld?”

“Your Force presence. I can sense neither the light side or the dark side coming from you.”

The voice chuckled. “Forgive me chillld. But I know not of what you speak. But they sound similar to my children, Ashlana and Bogandir. Ashlana was the embodiment of everything good in me, while Bogandir manifested of my inner pain. One my light, the other my darkness. But I grow weary my chillllddd, we will speak again.”

“Wait.” Nothing, silence. Solas had come to Malachor seeking answers and now he had only more questions. Resigning himself to this fact he deactivated his weapon and continued on his journey towards the temple. Perhaps it held some information as to who this Aramastus is or was.