Sitting aboard his Infiltrator, The Dominator, Blood pondered on what to do more than anyone else involved in this matter. His Alpha was not aware of this meeting, but surely the Wolf would bring this to him in the time it was a ripe thing. As of this moment, it was not. It was a nuisance, and he wouldn't bother his Master with such trifles. But one he would bother with this was the one who was about to get involved.
Blood held no feelings against Krox, other than wanting him dead. That wasn't so bad, considering he usually was power hungry as always, so it was a natural thing to want this alien gone. But Slade, that wonderful man who just couldn't let go- couldn't see the picture for what it was just worth, knew he couldn't lay a finger against the Dathomirian Hammer. It wasn't intimidation that held him back; it was respect. And unless he was told to by his Alpha, the handsome hunter wouldn't rip Life from the alien that brought him back to it.
Blood grew sick of it. Day by day.
It was only a matter of time before the Zabrak had his back turned to him.
Until then, Lord Blood finished what he needed, conversing with his pack on what his plans were. Mercy, the logical girl, said to bring the matter immediately to Tormentous, but after hearing what Blood said on priorities, she had to agree with his plan. Fox was swift to nod his head, as he didn't want anything to do with getting on Tormentous' bad side. Blood left them in the mini 'Chen they had aboard the ship as he went to the communications room.
This had to be settled.
As all high ranks within the New Age Sith were, the leaders held eachother's personal holonumber. Blood wasted no time in calling Kroxata, the Beta of his Alpha, with an intent to tell him the news before anyone else swayed his mind. Including Neive.
"Kroxata, there is an issue pressing on someone who claims they desire retribution. Your ear is needed for this, as it will involve your judgement if they get to you." To the point and blunt, as he always was involving business. Some habits died hard.
To Kill, or Not to Kill. That is the Question. [Krox/ Open to other Sith]
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Slade Xandir
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To Kill, or Not to Kill. That is the Question. [Krox/ Open to other Sith]
"𝒯𝒽𝑒𝓇𝑒𝒻𝑜𝓇𝑒, 𝐼 𝒶𝓂."
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Kroxata Akhoi
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Re: To Kill, or Not to Kill. That is the Question. [Krox/ Open to other Sith]
Alone in darkness, leaving the bulking Dathomirian brute to reflect once more on his life choices form the day he joined the Sith as a clumsy oath to now, a Sith Lord, a Dreadlord commander of an entire army designed to invade planets and combat it galactic warfare. From mere disputes within a tribe to dealing with the everlasting battle between the Light and Dark, so much has changed in merely a matter of years and yet this was ongoing his entire life without him realising. The improved chamber provided more space for many more trophies to collect, despite his new Sith warship being twice as more durable, powerful and mostly every aspect, there still stood a place in Kroxata’s soul of the Essence, his first command ship the one that started it all.
A small beacon was sounded from the his new throne room, the continuous buzzing noise irritated the Sith, usually used to merely the small flicker of a light beside him, a correction he would have to fix soon. Upon tapping his long finger upon the small console unit on his right armrest, a small hologram emerged from beneath it, displaying Cap- no, Admiral Graden of the Dreadlord’s new fleet, his long black trench coat covered in many different medals of servitude under the true Emperor, his cybernetics looking much more refined and built with a more durable metal to bring a very new and pristine look to the Sith admiral. His new armor shined a shimmering gold that matched the coat covering his augmentations a nice metal plating concealed the delicate parts connecting to his nerve system so he became more efficient in combat with less weakness, the perfect man to serve under such a beast, he stands at attention lightly bowing his head, Kroxata waves his hand aside, no longer did he see Graden as his inferior, but now as an ally, a useful asset and name to placed under his legacy. “Admiral Graden, what is the meaning of this nice little visit?”
“Dreadlord, we have picked up a transmission through our scanners, a message directly to you.”
Kroxata sat back on his now metallic throne tapping his fingers against the armrest, could it be an enemy? An ally? “Play it through.” “As you wish Dreadlord.” The hologram disappeared momentarily, showing the frequency waves of the transmission, listening closely.
“Kroxata, there is an issue pressing on someone who claims they desire retribution. Your ear is needed for this, as it will involve your judgement if they get to you.”
The frequency wave vanished, the small hologram of Graden appearing once again, “It appears to be sent from a Sith Infiltrator by the name of the Dominator, last known owner was Slade not going by the name Lord Blood.” It had been some time since the bounty hunter came to visit, but from this new title it would seem that Slade had finally seen his potential, bringing a smile to the Dathomiri Hammer, “At long last he is worthy… My master has trained him well I assume. Give him the coordinates to the Maul, tell him to dock within the main hangar, an escort will be awaiting him to my chamber.” “As you wish Dreadlord.”
A small beacon was sounded from the his new throne room, the continuous buzzing noise irritated the Sith, usually used to merely the small flicker of a light beside him, a correction he would have to fix soon. Upon tapping his long finger upon the small console unit on his right armrest, a small hologram emerged from beneath it, displaying Cap- no, Admiral Graden of the Dreadlord’s new fleet, his long black trench coat covered in many different medals of servitude under the true Emperor, his cybernetics looking much more refined and built with a more durable metal to bring a very new and pristine look to the Sith admiral. His new armor shined a shimmering gold that matched the coat covering his augmentations a nice metal plating concealed the delicate parts connecting to his nerve system so he became more efficient in combat with less weakness, the perfect man to serve under such a beast, he stands at attention lightly bowing his head, Kroxata waves his hand aside, no longer did he see Graden as his inferior, but now as an ally, a useful asset and name to placed under his legacy. “Admiral Graden, what is the meaning of this nice little visit?”
“Dreadlord, we have picked up a transmission through our scanners, a message directly to you.”
Kroxata sat back on his now metallic throne tapping his fingers against the armrest, could it be an enemy? An ally? “Play it through.” “As you wish Dreadlord.” The hologram disappeared momentarily, showing the frequency waves of the transmission, listening closely.
“Kroxata, there is an issue pressing on someone who claims they desire retribution. Your ear is needed for this, as it will involve your judgement if they get to you.”
The frequency wave vanished, the small hologram of Graden appearing once again, “It appears to be sent from a Sith Infiltrator by the name of the Dominator, last known owner was Slade not going by the name Lord Blood.” It had been some time since the bounty hunter came to visit, but from this new title it would seem that Slade had finally seen his potential, bringing a smile to the Dathomiri Hammer, “At long last he is worthy… My master has trained him well I assume. Give him the coordinates to the Maul, tell him to dock within the main hangar, an escort will be awaiting him to my chamber.” “As you wish Dreadlord.”
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Slade Xandir
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Re: To Kill, or Not to Kill. That is the Question. [Krox/ Open to other Sith]
The Wolf waited for a response, and one came. Prompt and handed to him by...
Not the man he sought.
"That spike skulled coward," he hissed deeply in his ire.
Graden's message was direct, just as his was. He picked what he needed from the cords and placed then in the directory to Valkyr, his Cathar Cyborg who was currently flying the ship. And while his pilot confirmed the destination and began the trek, Slade fumed in his disbelief at the Zabrak sending a puppet to deliver his message. Whether he was busy or not, the respect was not mutual it seemed. And for that, that little slice Slade held formed a crack right in the center. it was up to the wretch to either make it work, or break it.
With dismission, Blood swept away the feelings. This was business. Nothing personal. Scorn would have to wait until the Zabrak lay bleeding and kneeling to him. Otherwise, emotions were worthless.
It took hours, but they reached the location in a blended in fashion. Menacing ship to hold another. And with it, they disembarked and left Valkyr with seeing over the ship. The ramp engaged and off they stepped into the hangar, filled with ships and other valuable transport options. Lord Blood, Mercy and Fox stepped well into the light with him. With him at the head, the others flanked him, but before taking a step, they were intercepted with the 'trusted personel' who was to guide them to the Zabrak.
Confirming their identity, they were led through the maze of the Maul, and soon the lights began to dim and lower the nearer they came to the chambers. The dark, all of the darkness, seemingly, as they came to the forefront of the room. Nothing as drastic as his own Sire's throne room, but it was close.
His eyes narrowed as he decided to be professional with Kroxata moreso than ...'friendly'.
"Wait out here. He doesn't need to meet you two yet."
It would be better if they didn't meet him, either.
They didn't need to pick up on his too-clean-to-be-touched habits.
With nods and lookout positions taken, they kept on the outside of the chamber as he was brought inside.
Not the man he sought.
"That spike skulled coward," he hissed deeply in his ire.
Graden's message was direct, just as his was. He picked what he needed from the cords and placed then in the directory to Valkyr, his Cathar Cyborg who was currently flying the ship. And while his pilot confirmed the destination and began the trek, Slade fumed in his disbelief at the Zabrak sending a puppet to deliver his message. Whether he was busy or not, the respect was not mutual it seemed. And for that, that little slice Slade held formed a crack right in the center. it was up to the wretch to either make it work, or break it.
With dismission, Blood swept away the feelings. This was business. Nothing personal. Scorn would have to wait until the Zabrak lay bleeding and kneeling to him. Otherwise, emotions were worthless.
It took hours, but they reached the location in a blended in fashion. Menacing ship to hold another. And with it, they disembarked and left Valkyr with seeing over the ship. The ramp engaged and off they stepped into the hangar, filled with ships and other valuable transport options. Lord Blood, Mercy and Fox stepped well into the light with him. With him at the head, the others flanked him, but before taking a step, they were intercepted with the 'trusted personel' who was to guide them to the Zabrak.
Confirming their identity, they were led through the maze of the Maul, and soon the lights began to dim and lower the nearer they came to the chambers. The dark, all of the darkness, seemingly, as they came to the forefront of the room. Nothing as drastic as his own Sire's throne room, but it was close.
His eyes narrowed as he decided to be professional with Kroxata moreso than ...'friendly'.
"Wait out here. He doesn't need to meet you two yet."
It would be better if they didn't meet him, either.
They didn't need to pick up on his too-clean-to-be-touched habits.
With nods and lookout positions taken, they kept on the outside of the chamber as he was brought inside.
"𝒯𝒽𝑒𝓇𝑒𝒻𝑜𝓇𝑒, 𝐼 𝒶𝓂."
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Kroxata Akhoi
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Re: To Kill, or Not to Kill. That is the Question. [Krox/ Open to other Sith]
A bright light emerged from the blackened lair of the Beast, the only source of light showed a brief glimpse into how the Dathomiri Hammer spent the majority of his time dwelling inside his own pride and honour. The only thing that kept him from being the same as the power hungry Sith of the past and present, for despite his savage nature and inhumane actions, he was still a warrior, a hunter, a predator and his chamber reflected upon his pleasures, much like his previous lair aboard the Essence, the brief show of Light revealed the heads of many different alien species all primitive and predators in their own worlds. Though unlike his last lair, the room was vastly bigger and this time came with its own viewpoint of the stars to the far right where a small meeting table was placed.
Obviously with his new title came new responsibilities, he was allowed to conquer as he sees fit but being the Dreadlord also meant that he had to command the Sith armies spread far across the galaxy, being the Head of the Sith Navy and its military might. Although Kroxata would have prefered that they would stand before him begging as he sat upon his heavily decorated throne, but alas not everything binds to his desires.
As Slade entered the room, he would see the large stone throne before him, a small staircase leading up to it, elevating himself above the other inferior warriors and officers that dared came to him personally. Atop the stone throne, the Dathomiri Hammer sat proudly, his black armour covering almost the entirety of his body dave for his hands and head, but he sat with a s mile on his face, for what he saw was not the man he picked up from a lawless planet. He had changed into something far greater, far more powerful, he rises from his throne dropping down to the same level as Slade offering a smile to the man, sensing the presence of the Dark Side swelling with the two sharing the same room.
“Much has changed since we last encountered each other my friend, and so have we.” He guided his hand to the small meeting table, crafted with a sleek black metal, “You are sought my audience let us discuss this matter you speak of, I assume it is something of great importance, hence why you would need to talk to me directly and not inform Admiral Graden first.” He makes his way to the bigger seat of the eight all tightly crafted into the ground, Kroxata’s back being the viewpoint as the plates covering the window slide aside revealing the dark empty void of space.
Obviously with his new title came new responsibilities, he was allowed to conquer as he sees fit but being the Dreadlord also meant that he had to command the Sith armies spread far across the galaxy, being the Head of the Sith Navy and its military might. Although Kroxata would have prefered that they would stand before him begging as he sat upon his heavily decorated throne, but alas not everything binds to his desires.
As Slade entered the room, he would see the large stone throne before him, a small staircase leading up to it, elevating himself above the other inferior warriors and officers that dared came to him personally. Atop the stone throne, the Dathomiri Hammer sat proudly, his black armour covering almost the entirety of his body dave for his hands and head, but he sat with a s mile on his face, for what he saw was not the man he picked up from a lawless planet. He had changed into something far greater, far more powerful, he rises from his throne dropping down to the same level as Slade offering a smile to the man, sensing the presence of the Dark Side swelling with the two sharing the same room.
“Much has changed since we last encountered each other my friend, and so have we.” He guided his hand to the small meeting table, crafted with a sleek black metal, “You are sought my audience let us discuss this matter you speak of, I assume it is something of great importance, hence why you would need to talk to me directly and not inform Admiral Graden first.” He makes his way to the bigger seat of the eight all tightly crafted into the ground, Kroxata’s back being the viewpoint as the plates covering the window slide aside revealing the dark empty void of space.
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Slade Xandir
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Re: To Kill, or Not to Kill. That is the Question. [Krox/ Open to other Sith]
Dark and Solemn, the two themes most Sith kept to was evident overly so in Kroxata's lair, something Blood had to appreciate, though someone else cringed inwardly at it. It just felt like walking into a trap, but you see everyone who was foolish enough to do the same hanging by their hooked and pedestaled heads along the rimmed walls of the Zabrak's Den.
Chained up, tied...
dOwN...
-he came from the throne he scored as his seat for all to revel his might in.
unWoRthY
Snapping from the reverie, Blood snatched his focus into the current situation he put himself in. This was a matter of importance, and dwindling from the subject was irksome.
Just as this pompous alien was-
Golds found their path to the irises of the nearing Sithian, the giant Zabrak, another packmate of Tormentous' House. One, no doubt, higher than him in rank, but a rank he was swiftly catching up to. Beta, the Zabrak was, this unnaturally burdensome hulk of alien was, this man Slade owed his birth to.
The birth Blood never craved creation to.
“Much has changed since we last encountered each other my friend, and so have we.”
Snide remarks broke the surface of a subdued mind, but their only evidence lay in the gilded smile he brought to light. A smile which offered positive consideration of the respectful words, though behind it lay a hatchet thirsting for purchase.
Beware, BEwaRe,
Be skeptical,
Of the smiles, the smiles,
Of PlaTEd GoLD.
Following the universal gesture, Blood took seat adjacent to the Dathomirian, the intensity of his golds salting the kind-tinged respect Slade would usually offer his superiors. There was going to be no kissing ass, today. None.
"Neive Undant was found hunting for a relic of ancient warfare on Dromund Kaas. I intercepted him with my DeathStalker Pair, with more than a single intention of what to do with both him and them, as traitor's futures don't bode well in this heart. The man was intent on destroying the weapon within the temple, so I let him take to the majority of the work, and once the threat, a weapon he claimed was capable of bringing ruin to the Sith, was destroyed, he promptly asked for my blessing of help in another matter. For this instance, he wanted command of a portion of the Sith Fleet for purposes my ear couldn't bear to listen. "
Blood took the second to give pause, leveling the situation, before he brought his reasons to the ear of the Beta.
"My denial to his desire weighed negatively on him, and he concerned himself with a new task; To bring this issue to you, 'knowing' you would listen to him. He didn't exactly grasp how only a few months prior, that he not only stole from the hand he asks for materials from, but the one and only Kenobi was released through his nuisance. On the very same planet he dared show face to, again."
I'm well acquainted with villains that live in my head...
They beg me to write them, so they'll never die when I'm dead.
"The one he claimed allegiance to, was you, Kroxata. So what sayst the Second Hand of Tormentous?"
Chained up, tied...
dOwN...
-he came from the throne he scored as his seat for all to revel his might in.
unWoRthY
Snapping from the reverie, Blood snatched his focus into the current situation he put himself in. This was a matter of importance, and dwindling from the subject was irksome.
Just as this pompous alien was-
Golds found their path to the irises of the nearing Sithian, the giant Zabrak, another packmate of Tormentous' House. One, no doubt, higher than him in rank, but a rank he was swiftly catching up to. Beta, the Zabrak was, this unnaturally burdensome hulk of alien was, this man Slade owed his birth to.
The birth Blood never craved creation to.
“Much has changed since we last encountered each other my friend, and so have we.”
Snide remarks broke the surface of a subdued mind, but their only evidence lay in the gilded smile he brought to light. A smile which offered positive consideration of the respectful words, though behind it lay a hatchet thirsting for purchase.
Beware, BEwaRe,
Be skeptical,
Of the smiles, the smiles,
Of PlaTEd GoLD.
Following the universal gesture, Blood took seat adjacent to the Dathomirian, the intensity of his golds salting the kind-tinged respect Slade would usually offer his superiors. There was going to be no kissing ass, today. None.
"Neive Undant was found hunting for a relic of ancient warfare on Dromund Kaas. I intercepted him with my DeathStalker Pair, with more than a single intention of what to do with both him and them, as traitor's futures don't bode well in this heart. The man was intent on destroying the weapon within the temple, so I let him take to the majority of the work, and once the threat, a weapon he claimed was capable of bringing ruin to the Sith, was destroyed, he promptly asked for my blessing of help in another matter. For this instance, he wanted command of a portion of the Sith Fleet for purposes my ear couldn't bear to listen. "
Blood took the second to give pause, leveling the situation, before he brought his reasons to the ear of the Beta.
"My denial to his desire weighed negatively on him, and he concerned himself with a new task; To bring this issue to you, 'knowing' you would listen to him. He didn't exactly grasp how only a few months prior, that he not only stole from the hand he asks for materials from, but the one and only Kenobi was released through his nuisance. On the very same planet he dared show face to, again."
I'm well acquainted with villains that live in my head...
They beg me to write them, so they'll never die when I'm dead.
"The one he claimed allegiance to, was you, Kroxata. So what sayst the Second Hand of Tormentous?"
"𝒯𝒽𝑒𝓇𝑒𝒻𝑜𝓇𝑒, 𝐼 𝒶𝓂."
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Kroxata Akhoi
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Re: To Kill, or Not to Kill. That is the Question. [Krox/ Open to other Sith]
Kroxata listened closely, his left hand stroking his chin upon the news his amber gaze averted to Lord Blood scowling slightly, not due to anger but merely interest for there was much to consider with the information given. He spoke truth of the last two meeting, times had changed indeed, Kroxata finally saw the true chosen and respected those that followed under the banner of the Red Cauldron, under Darth Tormentous. With his new found position he could no longer remain stubborn to his vision of a warrior, for he had to forge the warriors himself instead of shaming them for their weaknesses, at it seemed that this new Lord Blood that sat beside him had also realised this.
“Neive Undant was found hunting for a relic of ancient warfare on Dromund Kaas.” Neive Undant, for all the Dathomiri Hammer knew, he joined Kroxata as being the last Zabrak Nightbrother in the galaxy, the hulking Dreadlord slowly clenching his fist to the name his knuckles cracking as he forms a fist pre sent on the table but allows Slade to continue. “I intercepted him with my DeathStalker Pair, with more than a single intention of what to do with both him and them, as traitor's futures don't bode well in this heart.” Another notice he was already aware of,the Nightbrother may have contacted him before offering his assistance when the time came, but there was also no denying of his action being punishable by execution, even for law as apart of a small clan.
“The man was intent on destroying the weapon within the temple, so I let him take to the majority of the work, and once the threat, a weapon he claimed was capable of bringing ruin to the Sith, was destroyed, he promptly asked for my blessing of help in another matter. For this instance, he wanted command of a portion of the Sith Fleet for purposes my ear couldn't bear to listen. " This request did not bode well with the Dreadlord, he required the full entirety of his fleet if he desired to face against the forces of both the Empire and the Alliance, he did not know what he was up against, to place any disadvantage towards himself could cost him many lives, besides what authority did Neive believe he had over the Dathomiri Hammer?! He always treated him more as a pet than a brother, holding true very dearly to the Sith mind set.
"My denial to his desire weighed negatively on him, and he concerned himself with a new task; To bring this issue to you, 'knowing' you would listen to him. He didn't exactly grasp how only a few months prior, that he not only stole from the hand he asks for materials from, but the one and only Kenobi was released through his nuisance. On the very same planet he dared show face to, again. The one he claimed allegiance to, was you, Kroxata. So what sayst the Second Hand of Tormentous?" This was not something the Dreadlord was aware of however, releasing the famed Jedi prisoner made trusting Neive all the more harder. Once Lord Blood had finished his message, the Dathomiri Hammer slowly spun his chair around, his hands together at his waist, tapping his fingers against each other thinking over the situation. His face changing into a concerned stare through the void of space “That fool asks much…” he finally state, his eyes once again returning to face Lord Blood.
“Not only would he weaken the fleet by taking a small part of it, but he would also be responsible for -my- warriors, knowing his mind set I would not be surprised if they were mere pawns in his sick game.” He spins his chair around once more to face Lord Blood, taking a deep breath that lasts a good couple of seconds. “However, I know he made a pact with me, we were to say only truth to one another and no matter the situation to never betray each other, after all he may be the last of my kind, I do not want to be destroyer of the Nightbrothers. But neither would I blindly follow his command like some pet on a leash, I will allow his request, but I want -you- to accompany it, in this time of the new leadership, there are still a very small amount of Sith Lords I can trust, you are loyal to Tormentous, your thoughts may be different about me, but there is no denying that you would want to see our Emperor's Harbinger at full strength."
“Neive Undant was found hunting for a relic of ancient warfare on Dromund Kaas.” Neive Undant, for all the Dathomiri Hammer knew, he joined Kroxata as being the last Zabrak Nightbrother in the galaxy, the hulking Dreadlord slowly clenching his fist to the name his knuckles cracking as he forms a fist pre sent on the table but allows Slade to continue. “I intercepted him with my DeathStalker Pair, with more than a single intention of what to do with both him and them, as traitor's futures don't bode well in this heart.” Another notice he was already aware of,the Nightbrother may have contacted him before offering his assistance when the time came, but there was also no denying of his action being punishable by execution, even for law as apart of a small clan.
“The man was intent on destroying the weapon within the temple, so I let him take to the majority of the work, and once the threat, a weapon he claimed was capable of bringing ruin to the Sith, was destroyed, he promptly asked for my blessing of help in another matter. For this instance, he wanted command of a portion of the Sith Fleet for purposes my ear couldn't bear to listen. " This request did not bode well with the Dreadlord, he required the full entirety of his fleet if he desired to face against the forces of both the Empire and the Alliance, he did not know what he was up against, to place any disadvantage towards himself could cost him many lives, besides what authority did Neive believe he had over the Dathomiri Hammer?! He always treated him more as a pet than a brother, holding true very dearly to the Sith mind set.
"My denial to his desire weighed negatively on him, and he concerned himself with a new task; To bring this issue to you, 'knowing' you would listen to him. He didn't exactly grasp how only a few months prior, that he not only stole from the hand he asks for materials from, but the one and only Kenobi was released through his nuisance. On the very same planet he dared show face to, again. The one he claimed allegiance to, was you, Kroxata. So what sayst the Second Hand of Tormentous?" This was not something the Dreadlord was aware of however, releasing the famed Jedi prisoner made trusting Neive all the more harder. Once Lord Blood had finished his message, the Dathomiri Hammer slowly spun his chair around, his hands together at his waist, tapping his fingers against each other thinking over the situation. His face changing into a concerned stare through the void of space “That fool asks much…” he finally state, his eyes once again returning to face Lord Blood.
“Not only would he weaken the fleet by taking a small part of it, but he would also be responsible for -my- warriors, knowing his mind set I would not be surprised if they were mere pawns in his sick game.” He spins his chair around once more to face Lord Blood, taking a deep breath that lasts a good couple of seconds. “However, I know he made a pact with me, we were to say only truth to one another and no matter the situation to never betray each other, after all he may be the last of my kind, I do not want to be destroyer of the Nightbrothers. But neither would I blindly follow his command like some pet on a leash, I will allow his request, but I want -you- to accompany it, in this time of the new leadership, there are still a very small amount of Sith Lords I can trust, you are loyal to Tormentous, your thoughts may be different about me, but there is no denying that you would want to see our Emperor's Harbinger at full strength."
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Slade Xandir
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Re: To Kill, or Not to Kill. That is the Question. [Krox/ Open to other Sith]
".. I will allow his request, but I want -you- to accompany it,.." he had said.
He had never felt fury reign so indignantly in his chest as he had, now.
"..there is no denying that you would want to see our Emperor's Harbinger at full strength." he had finished his command with.
What, was he some lackey? Some mediocre Acolyte that polished his throne every morning? An errand whelp who had to cower against his leg with a tail tucked?
His golds betrayed nothing of his wrath, but his temperature rose furiously. Could it be seen in this almost imperceptible lighting?
His voice whisked forward another strand or words, coiled and neutral, but braced to either strike or slither to more agreeable tones.
"If you craved your strength, why not conserve it, Lord Kroxata? Save your fleet for your assured bombardments and warfare, rather than taking from it to place in the claws of this wish-wash rat? He has stabbed his own Former Master in the back with no apology henceforth; what loyalty does a man like that have to you?"
Blood was a hunter, a dragon-riding Warden of his Master's Den on Moraband. He was no babysitter. If there was one thing he and Kroxata shared, it was their insatiability to be free from rules, to do as they please and engorge on the realm of Chase and Catch. To be tied down in watching this confused mutt while he tried to claim glory in some randomly thrown out attack on alliance or even the imperials...it was hypocritical. It was insane.
Blood knew Kroxata was not one to think of every possibility, but for him to overlook this man's traitorous streak through the stars rendered the Wolf near baffled. A pact was meant to thrown out if you bit the hand that fed you. Neive kept snapping. But why did the Dathomirian Hammer keep offering? If Tormentous heard of this, if he sat between the two, or even off to the side, simly to listen, what else would he expect of Blood? Would he expect his automatic refute? It was weakness that prevented Slade from outright condemning Neive the second Tormentous asked what should have been done with it. Weakness!
Blood would not make the same mistake that fool had.
Black engulfs the dying light,
as he falls,
on frail wings of Vanity
and Wax.
"He spoke of balance, wanting to be the bringer of balance. Does that ring victory in the name of Sith? It sings of stagnation, and reeks of a soul who does not respect nor crave the power a true member of our pack would, Kroxata."
If Kroxata still wanted him to keep an eye on Neive, then Blood had no other choice, as the Dreadlord was a higher rank than his own. He had a foreboding feeling that 'honor' would prevent this beastly man from slaying his own kin, but Blood knew nothing of 'honor'. Morals died long ago. And within this shell of a man lay two halves to a whole. Both wanted Neive to also be split in two, but on a different sense, a sense stricken with mutilation and decay. With dripping petals of glorious, delicious...scarlet..
He had never felt fury reign so indignantly in his chest as he had, now.
"..there is no denying that you would want to see our Emperor's Harbinger at full strength." he had finished his command with.
What, was he some lackey? Some mediocre Acolyte that polished his throne every morning? An errand whelp who had to cower against his leg with a tail tucked?
His golds betrayed nothing of his wrath, but his temperature rose furiously. Could it be seen in this almost imperceptible lighting?
His voice whisked forward another strand or words, coiled and neutral, but braced to either strike or slither to more agreeable tones.
"If you craved your strength, why not conserve it, Lord Kroxata? Save your fleet for your assured bombardments and warfare, rather than taking from it to place in the claws of this wish-wash rat? He has stabbed his own Former Master in the back with no apology henceforth; what loyalty does a man like that have to you?"
Blood was a hunter, a dragon-riding Warden of his Master's Den on Moraband. He was no babysitter. If there was one thing he and Kroxata shared, it was their insatiability to be free from rules, to do as they please and engorge on the realm of Chase and Catch. To be tied down in watching this confused mutt while he tried to claim glory in some randomly thrown out attack on alliance or even the imperials...it was hypocritical. It was insane.
Blood knew Kroxata was not one to think of every possibility, but for him to overlook this man's traitorous streak through the stars rendered the Wolf near baffled. A pact was meant to thrown out if you bit the hand that fed you. Neive kept snapping. But why did the Dathomirian Hammer keep offering? If Tormentous heard of this, if he sat between the two, or even off to the side, simly to listen, what else would he expect of Blood? Would he expect his automatic refute? It was weakness that prevented Slade from outright condemning Neive the second Tormentous asked what should have been done with it. Weakness!
Blood would not make the same mistake that fool had.
Black engulfs the dying light,
as he falls,
on frail wings of Vanity
and Wax.
"He spoke of balance, wanting to be the bringer of balance. Does that ring victory in the name of Sith? It sings of stagnation, and reeks of a soul who does not respect nor crave the power a true member of our pack would, Kroxata."
If Kroxata still wanted him to keep an eye on Neive, then Blood had no other choice, as the Dreadlord was a higher rank than his own. He had a foreboding feeling that 'honor' would prevent this beastly man from slaying his own kin, but Blood knew nothing of 'honor'. Morals died long ago. And within this shell of a man lay two halves to a whole. Both wanted Neive to also be split in two, but on a different sense, a sense stricken with mutilation and decay. With dripping petals of glorious, delicious...scarlet..
"𝒯𝒽𝑒𝓇𝑒𝒻𝑜𝓇𝑒, 𝐼 𝒶𝓂."
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Kroxata Akhoi
- Registered Member
- Posts: 86
- Joined: Thu Sep 14, 2017 4:30 pm
- Location: UK
Re: To Kill, or Not to Kill. That is the Question. [Krox/ Open to other Sith]
The Dathomiri Hammer pondered his eyes back to the vast space, a scowl coming to his to Slade’s clear rejection of this honorable opportunity, then again Slade was not much of a leader, or a commander, he felt more of a rebel, wanting to do and see how he pleases without anyone telling him otherwise. Though it hit him once again that he had been many months since he saved the former bounty hunter from his fate. THe many treacherous deeds his fellow Nightbrother had caused did bring much conflict within Kroxata’s code of honour, any act would have been punishable by trial by combat, and in this current state Kroxata would most likely straight up killed him in a public execution to his tribe to act as a warning to those that use deception and lies to gain power.
"If you craved your strength, why not conserve it, Lord Kroxata? Save your fleet for your assured bombardments and warfare, rather than taking from it to place in the claws of this wish-wash rat? He has stabbed his own Former Master in the back with no apology henceforth; what loyalty does a man like that have to you?"
An insult? A warning? Advice from a friend? He could not tell, though once again he spoke truth adding another crime to the list he has made with the Sith. The Sith were his new tribe and he was their champion, he needed to set an example, but neither could he kill Nieve, it would bring too much shame to his mind knowing he killed the last of his kin in cold blood with no honourable battle. He had searched for m any ways to revive his race, but none proved to be as successfully as he envisioned them to, so at this very point in time, he and Neive would be the last Dathomirian Nightbrothers left. He pushes against his arm rest lifting himself to his feet his arms crossed around his chest as he approached the viewpoint to his fleet, many starfighters dart past patrolling the area followed by a Harrower Dreasough that pases by the Maul.
Its engines roar with pride, causing the Beast’s lair to vibrate to the intense sound waves that passed through them. The many preserved heads of his many prey also sustained to these effects, the weapon collection of tribal spears and amulets ripple on their stand until finally the Dreadnought passes, revealing a small cluster of Sith warships seemingly straying away from the rest. Turning on a complete axis away from the direction of the Dreadlord’s grand fist.
"He spoke of balance, wanting to be the bringer of balance. Does that ring victory in the name of Sith? It sings of stagnation, and reeks of a soul who does not respect nor crave the power a true member of our pack would, Kroxata."
The Zabrak let out a quiet growl, his eyes glowing much more vibrantly his fists clenching tight once again, turning his body to face Slade looking directly into his eyes. “Nieve is a Nightbrother first, long ago we made a pact, a pact that neither of us would dare break. I care little for his actions, we may even conclude with being on either side of the battlefield to face on another, but we cannot lie or deceive each other.” He returns back to his throne, seeing the conversation reaching a conclusion, “However, I am not being eluded by that simple pact, Neive has committed many atrocities to the Sith, to Tormentous, if it is balance he seeks but comes to us with a proposal, does that not suggest that the Force too influenced by the light? I ask you to go, to lead this small dispatchment to do with as you please, you have no reason to follow his command for this shall be yours. I want you to record and monitor everything you hear, and retract it to me. I shall be awaiting with the rest of the fleet as close as possible to your location, if what you say is true and he betrays us, you have my blessing to kill him. But, if he does indeed wish to offer us information and a good enough reason for this fleet, then we shall abide…” Slowly sliding his back down the stone carved throne, decorated with the tribal symbol of the long dead clan Kroxata once served as champion. “..until he is of no further use to me.” He offers a devilish grin to Lord Blood.
"If you craved your strength, why not conserve it, Lord Kroxata? Save your fleet for your assured bombardments and warfare, rather than taking from it to place in the claws of this wish-wash rat? He has stabbed his own Former Master in the back with no apology henceforth; what loyalty does a man like that have to you?"
An insult? A warning? Advice from a friend? He could not tell, though once again he spoke truth adding another crime to the list he has made with the Sith. The Sith were his new tribe and he was their champion, he needed to set an example, but neither could he kill Nieve, it would bring too much shame to his mind knowing he killed the last of his kin in cold blood with no honourable battle. He had searched for m any ways to revive his race, but none proved to be as successfully as he envisioned them to, so at this very point in time, he and Neive would be the last Dathomirian Nightbrothers left. He pushes against his arm rest lifting himself to his feet his arms crossed around his chest as he approached the viewpoint to his fleet, many starfighters dart past patrolling the area followed by a Harrower Dreasough that pases by the Maul.
Its engines roar with pride, causing the Beast’s lair to vibrate to the intense sound waves that passed through them. The many preserved heads of his many prey also sustained to these effects, the weapon collection of tribal spears and amulets ripple on their stand until finally the Dreadnought passes, revealing a small cluster of Sith warships seemingly straying away from the rest. Turning on a complete axis away from the direction of the Dreadlord’s grand fist.
"He spoke of balance, wanting to be the bringer of balance. Does that ring victory in the name of Sith? It sings of stagnation, and reeks of a soul who does not respect nor crave the power a true member of our pack would, Kroxata."
The Zabrak let out a quiet growl, his eyes glowing much more vibrantly his fists clenching tight once again, turning his body to face Slade looking directly into his eyes. “Nieve is a Nightbrother first, long ago we made a pact, a pact that neither of us would dare break. I care little for his actions, we may even conclude with being on either side of the battlefield to face on another, but we cannot lie or deceive each other.” He returns back to his throne, seeing the conversation reaching a conclusion, “However, I am not being eluded by that simple pact, Neive has committed many atrocities to the Sith, to Tormentous, if it is balance he seeks but comes to us with a proposal, does that not suggest that the Force too influenced by the light? I ask you to go, to lead this small dispatchment to do with as you please, you have no reason to follow his command for this shall be yours. I want you to record and monitor everything you hear, and retract it to me. I shall be awaiting with the rest of the fleet as close as possible to your location, if what you say is true and he betrays us, you have my blessing to kill him. But, if he does indeed wish to offer us information and a good enough reason for this fleet, then we shall abide…” Slowly sliding his back down the stone carved throne, decorated with the tribal symbol of the long dead clan Kroxata once served as champion. “..until he is of no further use to me.” He offers a devilish grin to Lord Blood.