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As the primary shape began to form, I reached out into the Force and yanked the Dark Side to my side. Darkness began circling around me as my eyes turned bright yellow and the veins around them blackened. As the Dark Side filled the area around me, the air become oppressive and cold. Broonmark actually took several steps away as the unnatural cold was strange and foreign to the Talz and frightened him to his core. I could feel the Dark Side wanting into my mind and soul, it wanted to slither in and whisper all kinds of sweet and delicious horrors I could have at my call. I didn't give it the chance to make such promises, I broke it the second it approached me and fed it into my creation. A banshee like scream echoed as the power of the Dark Side grinded into the metal, it really didn't want to be confined to a single place like I was ordering it to.

"Nwûl tash." I spoke in the ancient and dead language of the True Sith. "Dzwol shâsotkun. Shâsotjontû châtsatul nu tyûk." The shrieking of the Dark Side changed as I spoke the Sith Code properly as it was meant to be recited. No longer was it wrathful ear splitting screams but instead howls of eagerness and excitement. To be given true form and proper respect. "Tyûkjontû châtsatul nu midwan. Midwanjontû châtsatul nu asha. Ashajontû kotswinot itsu nuyak. Wonoksh Qyâsik nun!" And with that there was a rupture of power as I spoke the last sound of the Sith Code blasting everything around the blade I had just formed with the power of the Dark Side of the Force. Broonmark was knocked off his feet as he had been standing closest to me, Vette and Piece had made a mad dash for Quinn and gotten him to the safety of the ship, Jaesa just watched the unfolding scene with mad glee as she drank in the raw power of her master. I just stood where I had been, not the least bit affected by the blast.

In the next second the only sound heard was that of my new sword dropping to the ground. Everyone was expecting the sword to do something to the very ground, it didn't. It wasn't supposed to. I walked over to the small crater that had formed from the explosion of power and looked down at my creation. I couldn't help but smile at my work… it was perfect… for me at least. I know that many others would say that taking the design of the Daedric Sword for this would be… so fucking overdone. But fuck them… that was a damn cool looking sword. And it wasn't a total rip off, the blade itself was completely smooth, instead of the serrated blade that the original had. But that was about it.

"Its beautiful master." Jaesa said not trying at all to hide the fact she was three seconds away from drooling over it. I had to suppress the laugh at the fact she had no idea about the origins of the blade.

"Yes… it is. It will be called Midwan." I said as I picked it up. Strangely I didn't feel any sense of intrusive power coming from it when I touched it. I had expected it to try and corrupt me to the Dark Side. To whisper to me to take the power it offered. But instead… nothing. It had power… oh… a lot of power and it was pulsing out the Dark Side in waves. But… I check my mind with all the paranoia of a Dark Council member who hadn't gotten a single death threat in a week. Given that Sith consider death threats as normal as breathing, the idea of no death threats was the gravest of bad news one could get. And still nothing. I then looked to Jaesa… no… I would need to find a test subject that I could lose.

"Power… what a perfect name." Jaesa whispered and then reached out to touch the hilt of my sword only for me to move it away. "Aw… please master… I just want to touch it." She begged putting on her best puppy dog face while also crossing her arms under her breasts to feature them in her pleading.

"No, I have told you many times the Dark Side is never to be trusted. It is a rabid tool that will take any chance it has to sink its claws in you and never let go. What is the first Rule of the Dark Side my apprentice?" I asked as I formed a small waist loop for Midwan to take its place next to my lightsabers. I would need to make its sister blade at some point. It was then that I felt a pang of annoyance come from Midwan. Ah… that's its game. I still needed to run tests but I just got a nice clue to just what I had done.

"We are Sith, we Rule the Dark Side. It does not Rule us." Jaesa recited clearly and without any hint of humor or sarcasm. This was the most important teaching that I had ever given Jaesa, while it was clear that she had abandoned the Jedi and all their teachings and had taken to the Sith perfectly… I still wanted to make sure she didn't fall to the Dark Side. There was a difference between embracing the Dark Side and falling to it. Jaesa had done the former rather than the latter. So it was a happy compromise between party psycho Jaesa and the boring light side Jaesa that no one liked from the MMO.

"Good. I'm still not sure what effects Midwan will have on people. For right now I will be the only one to be handling it." I said before I returned my look to Broonmark who had recovered from the shockwave. "Sorry old friend… but seeing how this is a pre-space flight world, I wanted a weapon that was both worthy of me and wouldn't make all fights too short."

"We understand… your laser swords would cut through any weapon these primitives have. No fight and a boring slaughter." Broonmark nodded and I smiled. I wasn't all that sure that was the truth. There was a tiny possibility that Valyrian Steel could hold up to a Lightsaber, but I would need to find a blade to test that theory.

"Now that that has been settled… let us make our way to the bloodbath." I continued to smile under my respirator. Nothing like getting a new top tier weapon and trying it out for the first time.

Rickard Stark had always thought himself a good man, a good father but now he was doubting himself. His eldest son was now in danger and alone in the mountain during Winter. This was not going to go well with his mother at all even if the boy was found. But that was the… not last but a far off worry, on his mind.

"Shouldn't be too far… damn bastards have gone and done it now." Bander Umber grumbled as he followed his liege lord through the tracks in the snow. He and his men were assisting in the locating of Brandon, Rickard knew that it wasn't meant in any slight. Northerners didn't have time for the backstabbing and double talk of the south. "The mountain clans can sometimes be a bigger pain in the ass than the fuckin' wildlings, at least the wildlings have the excuse of not living in the North. But the clans… they should know to not to screw around with the Starks."

"Aye, and it will be a mistake we won't let them forget for a long time." Rickard growled much like his family's sigil. He and Lord Umber moved through the snow with about fifteen of Umber men behind them. Around two hundred other of Lord Umber's men were out in the mountains, or at least the small area of the mountains that Brandon could have reached, looking for Rickard's boy. They had found Brandon's horse and were able to track the horse's path back to a small clearing. The scene in the snow did not help matters, tracks of many men painted a picture for Rickard that made his normally ice cold blood boil.

"The nearest tribe that might have taken the lad is the Ram Skull tribe… pretty sure they're a bunch of goat fuckers." Bander chuckled as he led Rickard through the snow to where he last heard was the main camp of the tribe. "It's just over this hill… been planning on dealing with them for a few months now… fuckers just gave us a gods' damn reason to get it over with." He explained as he and Rickard carefully climbed up the snow covered hill. They both crouched down and held their heads just a small edge over the hill line to get a good look of the tribe's camp.

The camp was surrounded by a hastily built wooden wall of sharpened logs. Inside were a few more… well built… structures. Clearly the tribe knew something bad was coming for them and they wanted to be prepared. But what really caught the two lords' attention was the approaching figure that was walking toward the gate of the camp. He was wearing armor colored in the blackest midnight they had ever seen below the Wall, with only trimmings of dark red and bits of silver to break up the black. The armor itself was strange, not very light and more compact than any plate armor they had seen before. And to the Northerners it looked like his lower body was more dress than armor… but in no way did it ruin the look of regal dark authority the figure projected. Lord Rickard was only able to catch a small glimpse of the man's face from under the heavy hood that covered his head. But even that proved of little help as he was wearing some strange mask over the lower side of his face.

"Just who is that… I never seen anyone like this before." Rickard couldn't help but asking. By the Old Gods… he looked like some of the stories that came about the shadow men from Asshai. They watched as he walked up to the only gate of the camp wall. Two of the tribesmen, two hulking brutes of men that even with their poor weapons and armor would pose quite a threat. Not to this stranger, Rickard and Bander both watched with amazement as the man effortlessly sidestepped the first incoming attacks and then dipped under the follow up. He then, without drawing his weapon from under his robes, beat the two brutes with just a few heavy punches. The sound of ribs breaking and gasps of pain and anguish could be heard from the hill where the lords were watching this unfold.

"Well damn… I'm not going to call that fancy shite these easterners use useless again." Bander said a little disbelieving at what he had seen.

"You think he's from Essos?" Rickard questioned, that seemed to be a rational thought. But… they were far from the Narrow Sea and it was unlikely that a person dressed as this man was would go unnoticed. They both then watched as the man picked up one of the brutes by the head and… just held him up for a few minutes. Rickard could only think that they were too far to hear him speaking. He had to be interrogating the tribesmen… right? Then he dropped him and began moving into the camp. The Lords had a good high view of the camp and the walls weren't so tall as to block their view.

The man in black drew his sword upon entering into the camp. It reminded Rickard about the blades they had down in Dorne. Scimitars if he recalled correctly. But his sword wasn't as wide as the drawings Rickard had seen in the Maester's books, and the black color of the metal that made up the guard and ran up halfway through the back side of the blade was different as well. The whole angular design wasn't Westerosi in the slightest and it if it was from Essos… it had to be from Asshai.

But they watched as with nothing but with that single blade, this man cut through all the coming tribesmen. He flowed between the ranks of the savages with an eerie grace that seemed impossible. His speed was unreal and the ferocity of his attacks couldn't be discounted. Every slash, the anger and rage in it bled out into the air itself… but never was any movement wasted. Rage… but control. That was how Rickard would describe what he saw later. But right now he just watched the butchery with a mix of horrified disgusted and dark satisfaction as these had been the ones who kidnapped his son.

And then the last of the tribe lunged at the stranger… only to be decapitated with one last stroke of the black sword. In a motion that Rickard could swear he could hear a scream along the wind, like the air itself was shrieking in rage at the finishing move of the carnage. Like it wasn't enough.

The man himself looked at his blade for strange amount of time before returning it to his hip. He gave no spare look to the blood and bodies he left in his wake but instead went straight for one of the rustic buildings of the camp. It was then that Rickard knew that he needed to move. He had no way of knowing if this man would extend his wrath upon his son. He had no means of knowing that was what was going to happen, but as a father he couldn't take that chance. Bander Umber was right behind him but the great man stopped to yell back at his men to follow. While the Lord of Last Hearth was stupidly fearless and Rickard was fueled by a father's courage, their bannermen lacked such traits.

"… don't seem to be hurt too bad. Nothing I can't fix up." Rickard heard as he entered the building that he saw the man enter. He saw the black armored figure at the other end of the cabin, kneeling down and in front of his son who was chained to the wall. The man turned his head slightly only to give a single gray eye to Rickard before looking back to his son. "You're better armored than the trash that I just killed." His voice was strange, strong and with a foreign accent that Rickard couldn't place. But what was really strange was the… he had no word for it. There was something on top of his voice that felt artificial, not organic to a normal human. "I'm assuming that you are with this child in some way?"

"He's my son." Rickard said before drawing his sword. He wished that he could have Ice in his hands but the Valyrian Broadsword was too large to bring to the mountains. "Now… if you would step away from him." Rickard said holding the sword ready for any move that the stranger had ready.

"Relax, I'm not here to kill you or him." The stranger said as he stood up and then he brought a hand up to his face. There was the sound of hiss, much like a snake but sharper. Then with his other hand he pulled down his hood which showed his midnight black hair. Tightly combed and pulled back into a small tail. He turned his face, giving Rickard a full look at the man that had saved his son. He was handsome, in a way that even Northerners could admire, strong and regal like a man that had earned his keep. Made Rickard think of the Stormlords or maybe his own kin. The two scars over the right side of his lip and the one cutting up the right side of his forehead was all the proof that was needed to show that he wasn't a man that had lived an easy life. But Rickard was still having a hard time placing just where did this man came from, his skin was pale, only a small touch of color to keep him from being as white as snow. Rickard couldn't place where he was from based on all he had in front of him. "I had seen them taking this young man here… and I sensed… less than friendly desires toward him from those I just killed. So I acted."

"I thank you for doing so, you may have just saved my son's life as well as the men with me who may have died trying to recover him." Rickard said still not fully ready to lower his weapon. "But I ask you again… step away from my boy." This time Rickard took a step forward. The man smiled, looking amused and in an instant… Rickard felt as if a snake was coiling around his neck and was staring right into his face ready to bite down. But then it was over and the man was standing away from Brandon as the Lord of the North requested.

"I told you… I'm not here to kill him or you." The man shrugged and leaned against the right wall of the cabin. Rickard blinked and recovered his wits. He sheathed his sword and went to his son. Now finally Bander Umber came into the cabin as Rickard had been blocking the door.

"Rickard, is your lad well?" The Umber asked eyeing the stranger carefully.

"Aye, it seems Brandon is fine. He's going to be getting a lesson or two when we return to Winterfell but fine for now." Rickard said before he stood back up from looking over his boy. He then turned to the still unnamed stranger. "I thank you Sir. You saved my son's life, if there is anything I can do for you, I will make it happen. By my honor as Warden of the North and Lord of Winterfell." That was the honorable thing to do, Rickard might be nervous of the man but he did a selfless action, and by his side of the story… it seemed that he had no means of knowing that it was Rickard Stark's child that was in danger.

"I am no Ser." The man seemed greatly amused just to be saying those words. As if it was a joke that only he knew. "My name Naraiz Rhyhall, and if at all possible I would like to seek asylum for myself and my order… or what is left of it." The man said shocking Rickard as he certainly wasn't expecting that.

Oh that was fun… I honestly thought I would have more issues with killing. But as it turns out… I'm fine with it. Or at least… the Sith side of me is making me okay with it. I'm sure that I'm not fully the person that I was in my old life. But more of a mix of me and Naraiz Rhyhall.

"We didn't get to kill anything… Sith stole all the blood." Broonmark grumbled as we made our way back from the now ruined tribesmen camp. He was not happy with the orders that he would be on standby due to the other humans. But he was happy when he saw the first battle I carried out with Midwan. And damn did this thing have a kick to it. Sharper than any normal blade, and I was happy that the Umber men didn't look too deep into the tribesmen because every time I cut into flesh… it rotted away instantly. Yeah… Overpowered doesn't even begin to describe it. And I'm pretty sure I only scratched the surface of my new toy.

"Stop complaining, you'll get to kill soon enough." I shot back to the Talz following me. We were walking back to the small campsite where the rest my followers were still waiting for me. As I approached the clearing I could see that Quinn had recovered and was placed on… my… chair. I was happy I had put my respirator back on because there was a small twitch of annoyance at seeing that. But then I shut down those feelings, I've been exposing myself to too much of the Dark Side today. I'm starting to get a little irritable and moody.

"Welcome back master, did you enjoy your stress relief?" Jaesa chuckled but I could sense that she had wished to join me, which in turn made me smile. Oh my little psychopath… how I adore you.

"Much so, Quinn… good to you're up again." I said as me and Broonmark stopped at the larger campfire where everyone else was gathered. They were all eating the stag that Broonmark had killed earlier. As the Talz declared, the head was left alone for him to eat. Something that he would do far away as the rest of the crew had made it a rule that the Talz would not eat in front of them.

"My deepest apologize my lord, I shall endeavor to not let this happen again." Quinn said with a small groan of pain. His loyalty to me was still as strong as ever. I would never tell him but I considered his debt of betrayal paid. He served me well before and after and never once has he failed in his orders. But if he wants to keep that loyalty to me tied to a sense of guilt… I'm not going to stop him. Hey, I'm Sith after all.

"Aw quit with that captain." Pierce grumbling loud enough for all to hear. "You can't salute the Sith Lord when you got a piece of shrapnel lodged in your arm."

"Pierce is correct Quinn, I appreciate and admire your dedication to Imperial standards of conduct, but I value your life and skills more so." I said as I began pacing in front of the fire. I could feel Quinn taking my words as gospel… normal. Vette was happy for the care I was showing for those under my command. Piece was happy I said he was correct. Jaesa couldn't really care either way.

Broonmark was the only one was unhappy by what I said, he still was a large detractor toward Captain Quinn for his betrayal. A subject the Talz took very seriously after his own from his Republic squad. But Broonmark would follow my orders to his death, he knew that while Quinn had betrayed us, I would never.

"So… you learn anything from your little trip." Vette asked as she picked at her small plate, more like a small piece of slag, of food. I could already guess that that was not her first plate. Vette like nearly all Twi'leks had a large appetite and it would be normal for her to have at minimum three plates of food.

"Yes… a great deal in fact." I said as I removed my respirator and levitated over my own plate of meat to myself. Everyone was hopeful by the fact I was clearly smiling. But I doubt they would like what I had to say. "We are on a feudal world." I said before pulling out one of the many hidden knives in my suit to cut my meat with. The reaction I got was a bunch of groans from the three humanoid non-force users. Jaesa went quiet and began thinking over this development. Broonmark on the other hand was perfectly fine with this as it really didn't matter too much to him.

"You have to be joking… a fucking feudal world. A human feudal world at that." Vette groaned as she knew that meant she was going to have to hide and not interact with locals. Not at least until we found people we could trust but that could take time. I knew this was a problem for her, Vette was a thief and a scoundrel by nature… and she was a very social animal that liked to be around people. Isolation didn't do well with her.

"I'm not joking. We have crashed landed on a continent called Westeros. In a kingdom called the North." I knew all of this by heart, I was a very big fan of the books and the show. But I had run through the minds of several of the tribesmen as well as small bits of information from Rickard and Lord Umber, without their knowledge of course. I also did the old fashion way of asking a few questions, my cover of a traveler from across the western seas provided me with a good excuse.

"The North… not that original." Pierce chuckled, but on the inside he thought it was a lot better than some of the Sith ideas for their naming. Either it was in strange tongues that didn't make a bit of damn sense or it was overly dark sounding.

"The locals of Westeros name things based more on descriptive traits than original names." I shrugged before continuing with my explaining. "From what I was able to gather from both my speaking with the locals and reading their minds, this world is deep in a technological stagnation. There is some advancement but not much has been improved."

"It will be difficult repairing the ship my lord with a limited environment such as that." Quinn said making me frown.

"How bad is the damage?" I asked looking to Vette and Pierce.

"It was the left side that took the most damage, so we got lucky there. Reactor is nearly intact, we were damn lucky about that." Pierce said, and I had to hold back my knowing smirk. So God didn't dick me over one last time. "Guidance systems are in pretty good shape as well, so if we can get her off the ground than we can still fly it straight too." Good, those were the key most things that would be a pain in the ass to fix. Everything else I was fairly confident that we could repair in a few years' time with enough resources. I'm sure my crew wants to get off this rock as soon as they could so that was going to be bad for them but I planned on making this world my staging ground for my new Empire. What I wanted the ship for was to be able to get out into space to start laying the groundwork for that Empire as well as bringing in outside help and resources.

"Very well, I trust that you can get it working soon then." I said looking to Vette with a shit eating grin on my face. She just sputtered in disbelief at that.

"W-what… what do you mean me? You're saying that like I'm going to be doing it all by myself." She accused glaring at me which got her a glare from Quinn. I felt bad for what I was going to do to Vette… I will be sure to find someone that can keep her company as soon as I can.

"You are. You and Broonmark will stay here while the rest of us will journey out of the mountains and to meet up with Rickard Stark. Turns out that those tribesmen that I just killed were holding his son hostage and he is the leader of this kingdom." Vette, Pierce, and Jaesa all dropped their jaws at that turn of luck. Quinn just frowned as it sounded like he and myself would be submitting to this man soon. Broonmark… didn't care. "And I was able to spin a story that has gotten us into his good graces."

"What sort of story my lord?" Quinn asked carefully.

"Myself and Jaesa are members of the Order of Magic users from across the western sea. A sea that has never been crossed before. While I am loathe to simplify the Force as mere magic… I didn't have time to explain it in great detail. Myself and my apprentice are the last members of our order after it had been destroyed by our rivals the Jedi." Jaesa and Pierce chuckled at that. "We the Sith escaped as the Jedi burned down our last enclave of followers, and you and me, are the last of our kind." This was true in a sense… me and Jaesa are the last True Sith. Plagueis and Sidious and the rest of the followers of the Rule of Two are not Sith. Darth Bane can burn in Chaos for all time for perverting Master Revan's teachings into that damned Rule of Two.

"What about myself and the Captain?" Pierce asked noting that he and Quinn were lacking in the story. They weren't Sith or even Force users.

"You…" I said pointing to Pierce. "Are the last of the guards made up of the vassals of the Sith. Trained to protect and guard the Sith with your life." Pierce nodded at that, wasn't too far from the truth anyways. "And you…" I pointed to Quinn. "Are the only remaining member of the government of the nation that was the patron of the Sith Order, a nation he Jedi destroyed for helping and housing the Sith within their borders."

"But my lord, that suggests that I am your superior. I cannot even in a fabrication assume to be that." He said, still so humble and filled with guilt over what he did. I'm going to need to find him something to pull him out of that just a bit. Grow his character just a little bit.

"You have already pledged your loyalty to me after the collapse of your government. You recognized that the Sith should have been given a larger role in ruling and so serve me." I waved off like it was nothing but Quinn breathed a sigh of relief that he wouldn't be overstepping his place. Even if it wasn't him that was doing it. "Rickard Stark bought it, and in thanks for saving his son's life he has extended the North as a place of asylum for the Sith Order. He has said that we may establish ourselves here with his support." I had thought about asking for Moat Cailin but that wouldn't do, while I loved the North… the old ruin was too important strategically for the North for any of the Northern lords to be okay with a foreigner to be holding it. Besides… I had my eyes on another keep for the Sith Order.

"By support… what does that mean?" Jaesa asked, her normal carefree murderous demeanor was erased and replaced with one of seriousness.

"We for the time being will be staying at his home of Winterfell and there we will discuss the details. Mostly we will use the chance to learn all we can and then develop a proper plan." I said before taking a bite of my meal. Barely a meal given that it was just meat and whatever they could find in the ship that wasn't destroyed or burnt to a crisp. I then looked to Jaesa with a serious look over my face, She was going to be the problem of this whole thing. "Jaesa… you cannot kill a single person I don't give the okay to."

"What? But…"

"No, while we are on this world are not Sith Lords, masters of the Empire. We have no official authority and so we cannot simply wave away any charges of murder with the normal excuses." The Sith had a ridiculous amount of immunity when it came to Imperial Law, given that it was the Sith Empire that was obvious. But in my Empire, that would be rolled back a bit. "And when it comes to anything concerning Sith beliefs you send them to me. We need to be careful in what we give away. This world's moral code would not find our views to be… safe… given our powers."

"Very well Master…" Jaesa said this and she wasn't hiding any thoughts of going against my orders. Didn't mean she wouldn't grumble about it.

"And to all of you, avoid showing off our technological advancement. As far as I can tell, pre-gunpowder, pre-steam power, this world is as feudal as it gets." I got several nods but it was clear they weren't too happy. "Our goals are at the moment, get the ship working and survive in this backwater world long enough to do so." I said, that was far from my real plans but it was what they expected for right now.

Author's Notes

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