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Located in the Itaana belt beyond Yridia IX, The Sword's Sheath serves as the home of House Gladius and has a long history of which few are aware of. Created millennia ago in the era of the Old Republic, the large asteroid base was hidden in the middle of the belt. The asteroid had been also equipped with a very powerful planetary shield and an ancient cloaking device, which were both inoperable prior to the occupation of House Gladius when its founding father, Shadow, had lead the house there. The base had been occupied by pirates prior to their demise at the hands of House Gladius.
Manuscript
I am alone.
Although I have chosen to remain in solitude, I wonder if it truly was by my choosing, alone, to remain behind. My House, my Clan goes to fight our adversaries, Arcona and Naga Sadow. Surely they are two worthy enemies to stand against the might of Tarentum. I only wish I stood at the front, leading my men and women into battle. What a shame, to sit behind, as others go before you, and fight for honor, for glory. But, perhaps, in due time, my seeming cowardice will be forgiven. Perhaps my lightsaber will yet be able to draw blood in our Feud of Clans. But I must remain behind. The dark side calls. Who am I to deny its call? Surely, if the Force beckons, one must call. And who else might the Dark Side show the secrets of the Sword’s Sheath besides he who holds his hand on the hilt of Gladius?
As I wander these dimly lit halls, the lighting toned down for my own comfort, I cannot help but admire the craftsmanship that went into creating these halls my House calls home. Ancient beyond all belief, these are the only words one can find to describe the halls of the Sword’s Sheath, as our home has been known since its relocation here. It was known when the newly formed House Gladius moved here that the base was ancient, and even then, the power of the dark side could be felt radiating from this place. I wonder if any of them, those who first came here, ever felt the call of the Force, and sought out the answers that I now seek. Perhaps. But, for here and now, my quest is all that matters.
The walls of the upper levels of the base are carved of granite, purely gray, and somehow comforting in its cold embrace over us. The base itself is no marvel of handiwork, for the most part. It seems simple enough. The place itself is nothing more than a normal latticework, sectioned by hallways that cut the area into square areas of equal space. Rooms meant for study, for relaxation, and for slumber, and other dwelling purposes fill the upper levels. A training area, and a grand audience chamber, large enough to fit the entire populace of our Clan, and more, also find themselves in the upper levels. But surely these areas could not radiate such power as I feel, as all who have visited this base have felt.
Oddly enough, one thought seems to strike my mind at this moment, as never before. Surely this base was not crafted of a mere asteroid. There could’ve been no purpose, no tools, and no ships that could’ve carried people out to this rock to create such a work of brilliance. I am convinced now that it was not created of this asteroid. Perhaps the Dark Side continues to unravel mysteries to my mind, but I am convinced this was no mere asteroid upon its creation. I find myself under the impression this rock we call home, possibly the entire Itaana Belt itself was once a planet, or moon, within the Yridia system. As has happened before, it could be very likely a traveling meteor struck whatever this once was, planet or moon, and destroyed it, caused it to move beyond its prior location, to the edge of the system where it resides now. I cannot say for sure. That part of history is blocked from my mind. But, perhaps, it is not. Perhaps this sudden impression is the Force opening up the past to my mind’s eye. Perhaps this is no flight of fancy, but a moment of true vision.
But I digress. Even in my writings, I seem to wander onto tangents at times. As I said, surely the upper levels could not be that which gives off the feeling and aura of power that finds life within our home. As I walked the paths known to only few, most notably, I am sure, to the Quaestors of this honored House, I descended to the lower levels of the asteroid base. Few beyond the leaders of Gladius have been given access to these levels. On the mid-level is housed the cloak, as well as the planetary shield, that guard our home. Ancient in their creation, they still seem, somehow, infants to the halls of our base itself. Rumored to have been in disrepair when Gladius first located itself here, they have since been somewhat updated and repaired, thanks to the modern wonders of Imperial engineering. They keep our base hidden from those we choose not to reveal ourselves to. They keep our home protected from any bombardment of weapons, natural or man-made. Perhaps a fleet of Star Destroyers could overwhelm our planetary shields, but first, they would have to get past the shielding embrace of our cloak. Yes, truly remarkable. They bring a feeling of security, true. But, to me, they bring a sense of power. It is better to sneak up upon an enemy, and watch the terror in his eyes as he turns to see death materialize upon him from behind.
The lowest levels of the base. The darkest levels of the base. Utterly evil. Perhaps good statements to describe the depths of the base. Perhaps only beginning to describe the feeling one gains upon descending to this portion of our home. I believe this portion was created to bring this sense of unease to some. To me, it is a feeling of understanding. What a thought, that an inanimate object could understand my own darkness, the terror that gives my form the power I revel in. The walls, the entirety of the hallways, everything, created of black granite. As the floors above are a latticework meant to be easy to navigate, and more of a feeling of home, the hallways in these levels farthest below are a maze, designed to confuse, and to make one feel at unease. I have walked these halls many days before. I have walked them since I became the Quaestor, and I feel nothing, none of the discomfort others are meant to feel. I know my way, my path is sure.
The walls have runes, both ancient and wondrous, inscribed upon them. Every wall, the ceiling, even the floor itself has been inscribed with these runes. I have often wondered what these runes tell of. Perhaps one day the Force will open their words unto me, allow my mind to translate them to their fullest, and know the secrets they hold.
I cannot stay any longer. My House needs me. The Feud draws near its completion. For victory or defeat, I now go. The darkness keeps me no longer; it has released its hold over me for now. I come to you Gladius. Tarentum will not be defeated.
It seems I find my way back to these writings after some time has passed. We were not defeated fully. Our Clan showed we are a force to be reckoned with. Gladius proved it had no challenge from the other Krath of Arcona and Naga Sadow. They are unworthy. Perhaps, in time, they will one day rectify this. But, in that day, we showed our prowess. Gladius earned itself a victory in my eyes, in our eyes, in the eyes of all who watched those confrontations.
The Dark Side calls to me once more, to descend to the lower chambers of darkness. Again I find myself thinking that, perhaps, the Itaana Belt was once a planet, or a moon belonging to the Yridia system. If so, if it was once more than a gathering of asteroids, how is it this place survived? Was it once buried far beneath the surface of the world it inhabited? Or was it, perhaps, a boon of the Force, the Dark Side protecting in from destruction for a purpose? Was this once a temple to some dark god? Was this once the stronghold of some Lord of the Sith, or other potentate? The Force chooses not to reveal this to me. I believe it was once a temple. What other purposes could the runes have? Surely they tell of their god, or the stories of their priests, or other such use. The darkness here could surely be the power of the Dark Side remaining, left behind in the foolish, but still potent, worship of a false god. The Force itself empowered those who dwelled here, and they were likely to have known it not.
A large chamber. Almost as grand as out audience chamber above, but not quite as large in scale. It was surely meant to hold a number of people. A place to gather in ritual, or worship. Or in sacrifice. Even the eons cannot wash the stains of blood my eyes see upon the walls, upon the floors. This was a place of sacrifice. Their dark god demanded blood in tribute, it would seem. Were it so that I had stood with them in that day and age, knowing what I do. I would have shown unto them the power of the Force, and destroyed them all as unworthy wretches. I beg before no man, and I despise any man who does to this day. We are the masters of our own destines. The weak beg. The strong rise up and conquer, and take that which belongs to them.
Long days have passed. I know not how many. It matters little. Time has no meaning for me. It never has. My people see time as something to watch in amusement, as people run to and fro, like ants, rushing forward to nothing more than their own doom. I have pored over the ancient tomes of knowledge and power that are houses in the libraries of Gladius. Something in the works of literature, the words of men and women who have gone before pulls out to me. I know not what it is, but I can feel them looking through the ethers of time, trying to point my eyes to something, to the clues I need to solve this mystery of the lower levels. Why a mystery? I know not. I only know that this question, the secret of the darkness we feel in our home has eluded us for too long. I must find these secrets, I must uncover them. I have seen my days numbered. No, my death is likely to evade me for some time to come. My days, however, are numbered. I know this for a surety. The time will come soon when I must depart, when I will be alone from my kin, but I cannot deny my destiny. I can only give myself up to the power of the Force, and seek out that which it pulls me towards.
I had taken a number of the tomes which seemed relevant to the lower levels with me in my last trip, and things began to have clarity, a certain sense of understanding, almost. Although no great secrets have been revealed, I know now a sense of death, of destruction. The dark god I had thoughts of before must surely have just been "Death" itself. These people came here to cause death, to revel in it. The blood staining the lowest, most secret chamber was likely caused in ritual sacrifice, possibly to lend "physical" elements to their cries to the unforgiving, harsh hand of death. Their dark god, as I had thought, didn't demand it, they either thought falsely, or somehow discovered a manner to lend aid to their spells with the sacrifice of one of their own. Or more likely a prisoner of war. But to what ends did they beseech Death? Did it somehow empower their own abilities in the Force, or did it give them powers they otherwise would not have had?
This tome speaks of "Death from above," almost as if they called down a "destroying angel" of sorts. Several times the same runes, or rather, similar runes, so I assume it means the same, is spoken throughout the inscriptions within this room. Death from above. The only thing I can seem to think of might be Force Storms, which the fallen Emperor, Palpatine, was said to have created. Visible clutches of death, which could be seen as Death from above. But if Palpatine created the power we know as Force Storms, what could this be? Or perhaps, this might have been an ancient incarnation of Force Storms, which Palpatine used to draw inspiration from? What if it was something completely different? I have read in some histories that certain ancient Sith Sorcerers were quite fond of flame, as their uncivilized minds saw flame as a great symbol of both life and death, capable of holding back the cold night, lighting the darkness, or frying everything to a crisp in one pure blast. I wonder if these people could've somehow managed to hurl balls of fire at their enemies. Or another thought springs to mind. Great flaming meteors. Perhaps they sought to use the Force to pull projectiles from space to rain down upon their enemy. Perhaps this is their true secret. I wonder if they were destroyed because they tapped too great a Force, and rained Death from above on themselves instead.
The ancients thought themselves secure in their power. Likely, they destroyed themselves out of pure foolishness, unable to contain the power they tapped into. But perhaps one of their number saw them as something dark, and not to be infected upon the universe. Maybe they destroyed themselves to hide their blight from the eyes of the rest of mortality? But why cap such potential torrents to rain the fire of darkness upon those they considered their enemies? Why was it such a burden, that they could no longer afford to maintain its darkness and glory of destruction? Why have its secrets been kept from us for so long?
I have been away from my House, from those I called Kin for much time now. Who knows if they shall ever understand my need for departure. I can only hope they can accept me for who I am, what I have done, and the darkness that I continue to seek out. I can no longer continue my search for the power that rests within the asteroid base we have called home for so long, but perhaps another has the ability, and the desire, to seek out this dark power. I have felt it, even if only for the briefest of moments, and I have reveled in the true power that can be touched within the Dark Side. I maintain my search for this dark power, and one day I may return to my home, and seek out the secrets that remain for calling "Death form above." But, for now, I remain alone.
For the honor of Tarentum.
--Sith Bloodfyre, Krath Archpriest