#dread master brontes

[cursedbeasts]

The Dread Masters

The series is complete!

Commissions info - Prints* - Merch*

*might be domestic only!

[imperial-topaz2003]

Y'all know the Dread Masters, right?

Well, I've been playing Tyr 2 through Oricon, and now I have these insane gooberheads on my mind. And let's be real here, THESE guys should've had the first expansion. Sure, Rise of the Hutt Cartel is decent on its own, but c'mon! The Dread Masters were built up through the operations as primary antagonists and all they get is a side update with one planet and two operations?! Man, BioWare, I liked these guys, dammit! Okay, that aside... If anyone else has anything they'd like to share about the Dread Masters (feelings, headcannons, ect).

[supersecretsombraboop]

Brontes simp gang

[vierabathwater]

(This MIGHT turn into a multi chapter fic.  Dunno.)

Brontes woke up to find the sun pouring through her window.  She had never been to Coruscant before; it would have been one of the last steps in the Dread Masters’ plan to terrorize the galaxy.  Her daughter’s apartment was surprisingly roomy.  She hadn’t expected much for a Jedi Master.

She threw on her plush red robe and shuffled downstairs to make herself a cup of caf.  She could hear an ongoing, angry, frustrated conversation as she neared the kitchen.

“...of all the people in the galaxy!  Why does she have to stay here?”  The angry voice was male, but it was not relaxed and deep like Felix’s, nor snobbish like Cedrax’s.  Since the voice spoke Basic, it was definitely not Ursulina’s Trandoshan friend.  This must have been Zenith, whom Brontes had heard about but not met.

“Because imprisonment would only aggravate her rehabilitation, Zenith, especially if she had been sent back to Belsavis.”  Ursulina, as Barsen’thor and a member of the Jedi Council, had been used to intense arguments and debates, both from her peers and her enemies.  But the Dread War had exhausted her, like many others.  She was also arguing with an ally and a friend, something she did not enjoy. 

“Belsavis is for people like her, Ursulina,” Zenith insisted.  “She needs to be put away where she’ll never hurt people again.”

“And the cycle will continue.  Do you not remember what Darth Lachris did to your fellow Balmorrans?  I’m not asking you to befriend my mother.  I’m asking you to tolerate her.  You don’t have to spend time with her.  You know you are free to do what you want to.”

“My mother.”  The words...Brontes didn’t know what to make of them.  She hadn’t heard Ursulina refer to her as “mother” since the latter was a little girl.  Now she was fully grown, married, and a mother through adoption. 

Zenith said something in Twi’leki, then stormed off.  There was a bit of silence before Ursulina spoke.  “You can come out now.”  She had a bit of a laugh in her voice.

Brontes entered the living room, flashing her daughter an awkward smile.  “I see I’m popular with your friends.”

“Zenith has been through a lot.  If I may be blunt, I don’t blame him for worrying about our arrangement.  Did you sleep well?”

“I...guess.  I still have a lot of vivid dreams.  And I don’t sleep for more than a few hours at a time.”

“Satele did warn me about this.  We can look into it.  Do you want some caf?”

Brontes nodded, following Ursulina into the kitchen.  Seated at the table were Felix and Nadia.  Both tensed up slightly when they saw the former Dread Master, but they also smiled at her.

“Zenith is fuming in his room,” Felix addressed his wife Ursulina, planting a kiss on her cheek.  “He’ll be fine.”

“I know, Felix, but--”

“And I know how you worry about other people.  I don’t need the Force for that.”  He turned back to Brontes, unsure of how to address her.  He decided a short bow would suffice.  “Ma’am.”

Nadia followed suit, a bit more nervous than the soldier.  The Sarkhai was very curious, but also more than smart enough to know to choose her questions carefully.  She decided to sit back down while her master and Felix talked.

Brontes accepted the caf from Ursulina and stood by the refrigerator.  She was adjusting and nervous too.  She just hoped things would work out.

[swtorpadawan]

Are the Dread Masters older than we think?

So we know the Dread Masters are human. But the Dark Temple was literally built about a thousand years before the game. If this is correct, it indicates that they much older than we’d assume.

So what was keeping them alive???

On the other hand - we now have three suspects for “Who Built The Dark Temple?” (That’s a future project.)

Thoughts?

[pawsimses]

Dread Master Cats

(Brontes being a Tiny Void gives me life lol)

(yes I spelt Bestia's name wrong. Am aware)

[insufficient-focus]

Couple of pictures from tonight’s Dread Fortress

[mandorways]

The Foundation of Fear

 (I’ve been thinking about writing about the Dread Masters for a while now, so thanks to @animperialmarch for creating a perfect opportunity. AO3)

The shadows in the Dark Temple seemed alive, creeping around her, clinging to her skin, their indistinct whispering sending chills down her spine. She could feel a soft hum of the stone floor under her feet, the unmistakable sign that at least one of the Phobis devices was active. Well, that, and a slippery sensation somewhere just beyond her grasp, clawing relentlessly at her mental barriers, urging to cover, to flee, to disappear among the shadows. She smiled, her steps not faltering even for a moment. Bestia knew fear and thrived on its power: it followed her everywhere she went, and it was her who commanded it, not other way around.

Ignoring a sudden blood-curdling scream, reverberating in the corridors, Bestia entered the Phobis chamber, steeling her mind against the direct onslaught of pure, crippling terror.

Some poor acolyte’s body laid on the floor, still twitching, her dead eyes open wide, a small trickle of blood in the corner of pale lips vivid red against the woman’s ashen skin.

“I think she bit her tongue off.” Brontes didn’t bother looking up from the research station, reaching up for a datapad held up by some sort of metal claw attached to the stone floor. There was more of them, all around the chamber, hanging off the walls and ceiling, waiting motionlessly for their mistress’ commands. “I wonder if...” she started, but then just shook her head, turning to the Phobis device. It was surrounded by four claws, which unfolded gracefully, and then joined together activating a forcefield, creating a dome crackling with white energy. Brontes didn’t move, engrossed in the readings flashing on the datapad.

Bestia felt her fists clenching in anger. Oh, how she longed to lash out, make the other Lord crawl at her feet, teach her some respect. She never took lightly to being ignored, but, unfortunately, she was also painfully aware that Brontes was essential to... their new cause. There was no one else quite like her, but the same could be said about the rest of them, and wasn’t it infuriating? For the Sith, a rivalry resulting in bloodbath was like breathing, so this new... cooperation felt unnatural.

“Magnificent, isn’t it?” Brontes’ silky voice cut into her musings. She still wasn’t looking at Bestia, her gaze focused on the device, sitting dark, cold and silent inside the forcefield, yet still pulsating lazily, relentlessly pushing on its boundaries. “And yet I can’t not hate it a little, because I know I won’t be able to master and harness its power properly just by myself. Sooner or later it will claim me, take my mind and turn it against me. It’s so beautiful. However... to suddenly find myself forced into becoming merely a part of something greater is... unnerving, to say the least.”

“Yes, it is.” Bestia shrugged, and came to stand at the other Lord’s side. “But the Emperor brought us here together. We should trust his will.”

“Oh, I know, I know.” Brontes waved her hand impatiently. “Raptus told me all about it. I swear, this man could talk for hours. I’m certain Tyrans agreed to join us just to quiet him.”

“Tyrans is more than that.”

“Yes. We all are.”

To say that Bestia never hesitated would be an overstatement, but she was used to acting swiftly and with force. Brontes was meticulous, always analysing and calculating, her mind was able to make leaps and connections none of them could ever dream of. If she wasn’t sure about the devices... well, if that was the case it was too late, anyway. The choice was made, by them or for them, it was never entirely clear when one acted under the Emperor’s direct orders, and all that was left now was carrying it through.

“If you’re having doubts, this is no time or place for them. Not anymore.” Bestia said coldly.

“Only Jedi do not doubt, and that’s because they don’t think.” Brontes answered mockingly. “But don’t worry, I don’t plan on backing down. This, “she pointed at the Phobis device,” surpasses everything I’ve ever dreamed of. Calphayus looks at them and sees our future victories, sees greatness, and you don’t have to be a prophet like him to understand that they hold the potential for so much more. I want to know it, I want to have it all, but...”

“You will.” Bestia interrupted her imperiously. “We will. This is just a beginning.”

“Yes...” Brontes looked ahead, her eyes empty. “But what will be the end?”

Bestia sighed. There was no point in arguing any further.

“Come” she commanded.” Give Styrak your notes, make him do some work, you’ve been here for too long. It’s starting to affect you.”

Brontes hummed and cocked her head, still looking thoughtful.

“Perhaps. Well, at least if we all go mad, the entire galaxy will follow.”

Bestia smiled at that, there was a dangerous glint in her eyes.

“Of course. The galaxy will fall before us. One way or another.”