the false prophet

[devlen]

coruscant, the business hub of the world, center of trade, commerce, and the home of the Jedi Order... the prophet hated the planet. So full of men and women wasting their lives living lies forged by money, fame, and power... disgusting.... The prophet had left Dantooine suddenly, because he had felt something, vibrating, and pulsing from this planet, something familiar, but sinister and vile.


in otherwords, a traitor.


~

*the prophet walked through the streets of coruscant, the lower city, beneath the rubble and demolition of the upper city, where the refuse of the bustling planet gathered, there were countless gangs, and probally even a cult or two, but other than that, the undercity was full of pathetic beggars. the prophet, with his hood pulled down over his face, walks slowly through the crowded streets, which were full of not people, but garbage, litter, and pieces of wrecked skycars and fallen buildings of wars long past that were fought on the surface of Coruscant. one such building was the Original Coruscant Military Command Center, which was at one time a Jedi Enclave, before another was built in its place. The Military Command Center was deserted for the longest time, mainly because noone could open it. the massive doors were sealed shut, and the windows that were broken out had been blocked with heavy bookcases, building debris, or skycar wreckage. it had seemed as if the command Center would never have been opened again, until the last prophet had appeared to a group of dark jedi, who had recently fallen. he spoke to them about the deeper powers of the darkside, and how he could train them in the arts of the Dark Side of the Force. the Prophet used his powers to open the Center, and after the corpses within were cleared out, the bunker served as a perfect dark jedi Enclave, and the best part of all was that the never knew they were there... It is this Command center that the prophet was heading to, for it was the enclave that was producing these pulsations in the force...*

 

[devlen]

*after a few hours of walking, the prophet feels the pulse again, and leads himself to a huge path that cuts off from the main road, in the distance, beyond the debris, looms a domed building, in which, an ancient republic cruiser is wedged at a 23 degree angle, starship fuel still leaks slightly from it's hull, even after 75+ years of being stuck in the side of the Command Center. The prophet turns and walks down the road, and eventually makes his way to the huge Doors of the academy.... 2 "Dark Jedi" stand guard at a smaller entrance on a balcony, leading up to which is a large staircase, which has been created with many pieces of scrap metal found throughout the slums... the prophet walks to them and uses a mind trick to persuade them to grant him entrance.

 

[devlen]

*the foolish Men open the door to the prophet and he slowly walks up the stairs to the balcony where he enters. the hallways form a labirynth, but the pulses continue, showing the prophet the Way... he is enraged... he begins to piece together what is going on... He turns the corner and sees a group of guards, they ignite their sabers...*

*the prophet raises his hand and the men float up from the ground, he harshly slashes the air with his hand, and they fall to the ground, severed from the shoulder to the waist. he proceeds over the corpses and sees a large door at the end of the hallway, another pulse reassures him this is the right one...*

 

[devlen]

Clayton Maals was enjoying the sacrifice of a young child. the boy was perhaps 10 to 11, and was being punished for a crime against his master. Clayton had bought him from the hutts, to serve as his apprentice, but the boy was too rebellious. Clayton had had it with the child, and so, he was now bound to the floor of the circlular room, a man with a knife was haunched over him, holding the crude Kriss to his neck threateningly. things were going to plan until...

~

The prophet barged into the room, a dark grey mist engulfed the room and circled the feet of the Dark Jedi who stood in the chamber. Clayton Maals, the "Prophet" sat on a black throne wearing gray and red robes, with his face painted with a similar design as that of the prophet's mask...

The prophet slowly walks to the man huddled over the boy... he reaches out a gauntletted hand and releases a spring latch on his right hand. the heavy chain and plate glove falls to the ground with a clang, and the scarred, black, jagged hand of the prophet is revealed... he places the hand on the face of the man and bends his neck backwards, the moisture and oils are drawn out of the man's head, and slowly evaporate, his eyes begin to dry and soon turn to dust, he would howl in pain, but his vocal cords have dried out and disentigrated. within moments, the prophet holds in his hand a dried skull, burnt into which, is the sillhouete of the prophet's hand. he hurls it at Clayton and it disentigrates on contact with him, dirtying his robes. the man is at a loss for words and simply draws his lightsaber, his followers reach for their own. The boy on the ground simply bleeds from the wound that the man inflicted upon him before the prophet entered. the prophet grabs his saber and flicks it on, he stands ready for the battle...

"GET HIM!" screams clayton, regaining control of his voice box. The jedi run to The prophet, but with a flick of the hand, the dark master brings down tapestries that are hanging frm the cieling upon them, disorienting them, and brining them to their knees. he quickly cuts through them, and continues. the next wave proceeds towards him, only to be warded with a large pillar, seemingly plucked from the wall. the jagged column of rock crushes their ribs, sending them into a maelstrom of pain, and a slow death.

Clayton readies himself for the battle...

"Clayton... fool..."

Clayton shivers as the prophet utters his few words... he again has lost control of his speech.

"You stole my throne... and falsely took... my title... the punishment-"

Clayton foolishly tries to catch the prophet off guard and he lunges at the prophet, only to have his saber deflected and his arm grasped by the bare flesh of the prophet. the arm dehydrates and becomes like dirt in the prophet's hand. it falls to the ground and shatters in a cloud of dust. the man moans in pain, not only from the loss of his arm, but from the slowly moving death that has been impended upon him. The prophet kicks him onto the throne and picks up the blood splattered pillar used to crush the infidels who stood against the prophet. he turns it so that the circular end is facing Clayton and he takes one final look at the pathetic man who tried to fill his shoes...

"it is sad... you were promising..."

The prophet crushes the man with the pillar, spinning it and crushing the stone until there is nothing left of the weapon or the victim but a pile of a bloody paste, thickened by the stone of the column. the prophet reaches down into the mass and pulls frm it a single femur and walks to the center of the room, where the boy lay dead. he looks at him and twirls the bone in his hands. the Femur is slightly jagged on one end, and he uses the jagged edge to plunge the bone into his own shoulder.... he removes it and a shadowy blood oozes from the femur, he plunges the bone into the boy's stomach and watches as the body slowly reanimates. he stands and looks at the prophet in confusion...

"you.... you are reborn of my blood.... and you are my servant..."

The boy is still terribly befuddled. he stares quizically at the prophet...

"your name... shall be... Kerberos. I will teach you my ways."

Kerberos looks at the prophet and speaks, but instead, throws up blood onto the ground. the prophet slowly walks away and the boy wipes his mouth and slowly follows...