A young man stepped off of the platform of a cargo ship onto the cold glossy floor of the docking bay. This docking bay led to a space station, somewhere in the vast expanse of the galaxy. The man had no clue of where he was or even where he was going. He stood firm on that cold floor, feeling a slight breeze rush through his short dark brown hair. Fellow passengers moving around him to get off of the cargo ship, often bumping into him.
The man caught some interesting looks from others in the docking bay. He wore a very elegant looking robe, yet it looked battered as if it was not cared for. He gripped tight a medallion close to his chest. Eyes closed, the young man could feel the bitterness of everyone around him. They were staring at this point as he was still standing there. His skin dark and tan, but not dark enough to cover the bruises on his face. The fit man looked like he had been beaten senselessly.
Feeling the animosity of people growing around him, the man removed his robe, dropping it where he stood. Underneath he wore typical trousers and boots with a cloth garment. The robe no longer covered his arms, which seemed to be cut all over, not in any organized way.
The dark brown eyes of the man opened to scan the room. He found an empty area in the docking bay where multiple crates met. He propped himself up on the crates, feeling the relief of resting his back up against something. The man’s feet dangled off the crate, he was around average height. He then found his medallion again resting on his chest. His fingers circled the edges of the round emblem at the end of the chain. His eyes closed, flashing back to darkness.
He recalls, an older rustic looking man standing over him. The older man looked very similar to him. His emotions were intense, his heart beating even faster now. The older man glared at him with an angry look in his eyes. The older man stood up lifted his boot and sent it crashing down at his head. Along with the pain, he recalled the fear he felt. Over and over again the older man beat him. Desperate and scared, the young man looked over at a chair sitting next to them. He reached out for it but could not reach it. As a punch came in for his ribs, his arm came closer to protect himself from the blow. A loud thud soon followed as the chair had flown through the room and smacked older man off of him. He got up, bloody and bruised and stood over the dazed older man. He felt a sense of anger throughout his body, his heart beating even faster than before.
In the docking bay, the young man’s hand pressed up on one of the crates next to him. Panicking in his daydream, he somehow sent the heavy crate toppling over. As the loud noise of the crate smacking the floor echoed throughout the docking bay, he somehow managed to gather more attention than he had before. Nervous and unsure of everything around him he grabbed his medallion, feeling a sense of calm and peace. His heart rate went back down to normal as he hoped to not attract any unwanted attention. Cold and alone, the young man cowered on the crates.
(OOC: New to this, feel free to join in.)
Repressed Memories
Repressed Memories
“You can’t stop the change, any more than you can stop the suns from setting.”
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Slade Xandir
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Re: Repressed Memories
Lord Blood walked through the Docking Bay of Dromund Kaas, his plans for his next lesson to Raphael and Lilith already unfolding in a crystal clear method in his mind. His two children were progressing fairly fast, his daughter taking a liking to alchemy, chemistry and biology, where his son excelled in vocal and violent exhibitions, along with differentiating between when and where to use either. They were molding well within his regimen of training, and as expected, their connection to the Force grew.
The Sith walked through the terminal, lost in his thoughts, until the noise of a disembarked human caught his attention. Immediately his golden gaze shifted to the source, and the 6"4' Hunter looked upon the wary soul. A newcomer...a new worker for the planet's prison? He turned his attention to the brunette pelted man, a sharp contrast to himself who was proud, sharp, and drenched in confidence. Blood stared down this seated man, a man who wore humble clothes compared to his dragon- inspired attire, light armor fashioned out of chain link beskar, stolen and forged to meet his personal tastes. A matched set for both top and bottom half of the Sith Lord, with gilded beskar light boots to match. From his back draped a cape that was tailored to stop just before the ground, composed of a matching cloth to the trim of the armor. Scales of unknown to most reptile hung around the connecting hem behind his neck shimmered under his dark long mane of hair.
On his wrist lay two adjacent saber hilts, both on the underside of tan forearms. Dragon bone handles with dim cresent garnet hued buttons glared underneath him from the shadows of his cape, seeming to be eyes of a nightmarish creature beneath his folds.
As he approached the omega, his baritones rang clear and unhindered to the man on the crate.
"Why do you sit idle on a planet of the Sith, whelp. Speak now, or this will be your last chance to do so, again."
His golden irises intensified as they narrowed on this strange young man.
The Sith walked through the terminal, lost in his thoughts, until the noise of a disembarked human caught his attention. Immediately his golden gaze shifted to the source, and the 6"4' Hunter looked upon the wary soul. A newcomer...a new worker for the planet's prison? He turned his attention to the brunette pelted man, a sharp contrast to himself who was proud, sharp, and drenched in confidence. Blood stared down this seated man, a man who wore humble clothes compared to his dragon- inspired attire, light armor fashioned out of chain link beskar, stolen and forged to meet his personal tastes. A matched set for both top and bottom half of the Sith Lord, with gilded beskar light boots to match. From his back draped a cape that was tailored to stop just before the ground, composed of a matching cloth to the trim of the armor. Scales of unknown to most reptile hung around the connecting hem behind his neck shimmered under his dark long mane of hair.
On his wrist lay two adjacent saber hilts, both on the underside of tan forearms. Dragon bone handles with dim cresent garnet hued buttons glared underneath him from the shadows of his cape, seeming to be eyes of a nightmarish creature beneath his folds.
As he approached the omega, his baritones rang clear and unhindered to the man on the crate.
"Why do you sit idle on a planet of the Sith, whelp. Speak now, or this will be your last chance to do so, again."
His golden irises intensified as they narrowed on this strange young man.
"𝒯𝒽𝑒𝓇𝑒𝒻𝑜𝓇𝑒, 𝐼 𝒶𝓂."
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Dastan Imatari
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Re: Repressed Memories
Three Figures walked in a wedge through the terminal. All three garbed in blacks covering their armor. The foremost wearing a cowl, the two behind wearing the typical robed sith eradicator armor upgraded to newer specs. Covered head to toe in armor, all beneath thick black short sleeved robes.
Their footfalls falling in time, they marched across the final terminal- totally bypassing security- before their intended destination. These three were clearly Sith knights- warriors of the order, and had no problem navigating the crowds here.
Though before reaching a closed turbolift, the lead of this wedge stopped abruptly, and tilted their head.
"Peculiar. " Stated plainly through his helmet's vocabulator. Voice was masculine, and flanged by his full helm's interference.
"Master-?" One of the figures asked, a feminine voice- the other just watching, waiting silently.
"Something wrong, master?" A males voice, imperial accent.
"We can't leave yet." The foremost man spoke again, turned on his heel and headed back toward the main terminal. His speed increased with each step, as did his followers. "I've just felt an... untapped potential."
The two behind shared a quick glance, before continuing behind their master.
Their footfalls falling in time, they marched across the final terminal- totally bypassing security- before their intended destination. These three were clearly Sith knights- warriors of the order, and had no problem navigating the crowds here.
Though before reaching a closed turbolift, the lead of this wedge stopped abruptly, and tilted their head.
"Peculiar. " Stated plainly through his helmet's vocabulator. Voice was masculine, and flanged by his full helm's interference.
"Master-?" One of the figures asked, a feminine voice- the other just watching, waiting silently.
"Something wrong, master?" A males voice, imperial accent.
"We can't leave yet." The foremost man spoke again, turned on his heel and headed back toward the main terminal. His speed increased with each step, as did his followers. "I've just felt an... untapped potential."
The two behind shared a quick glance, before continuing behind their master.
Re: Repressed Memories
Unknown to where he was in the galaxy, the young man Emre sat on top the crates unsure if he was on a friendly planet with people from the same background as him or a wretched planet filled with all the wrong individuals. He tucked his medallion under his plain cloth shirt as he felt a sense of fright throughout his core. The young man was unnerved for a reason he could not explain yet.
Emre looked up and happened to catch a glance at a man that seemed to be twice his size. This man permeated confidence as he wore the most attention-grabbing outfit. While he was trying to go unnoticed, this older man did not care if everyone stared in awe of him. This man seemed to have found something interesting with young Emre. Obviously he had caught the wrong attention in this docking bay, but there was nothing on the young man if he wanted to take anything from him, so he wondered what this older man wanted.
As the mans powerful footsteps grew closer, Emre decided the only way to not seem weak in front of this man was to meet his level of confidence. Before the older man reached young Emre, he scrambled to his feet to meet him. His shoulders cocked back and head held high. He figured the only way he was making out of this alive was to talk his way out of it like he had many times before through his adolescence.
The man got within spitting distance of Emre. He was tall, nearly four inches taller than him. He could never match this man physically, and he knew that. As the man spoke a shiver went down his spine.
"Why do you sit idle on a planet of the Sith, whelp. Speak now, or this will be your last chance to do so, again."
He had never heard of a planet of the Sith and only heard stories of who they were. He was unsure if it was possible that this was man himself was a Sith but if he had to guess what they looked like, this would be it. He had to come up with a quick and witty answer to this man or it would be the end of him.
He looked at the man from head to toe and then met his eyes. Portraying the same confidence this man clearly had. His face bruised and battered, a smirk peaked out through the corner of his mouth.
“Well…. I’m here for the great scenery and sunshine this planet offers. I’m just waiting for my ride.”
The gaze intensified as he waited to see if his response would satisfy the older man.
Emre looked up and happened to catch a glance at a man that seemed to be twice his size. This man permeated confidence as he wore the most attention-grabbing outfit. While he was trying to go unnoticed, this older man did not care if everyone stared in awe of him. This man seemed to have found something interesting with young Emre. Obviously he had caught the wrong attention in this docking bay, but there was nothing on the young man if he wanted to take anything from him, so he wondered what this older man wanted.
As the mans powerful footsteps grew closer, Emre decided the only way to not seem weak in front of this man was to meet his level of confidence. Before the older man reached young Emre, he scrambled to his feet to meet him. His shoulders cocked back and head held high. He figured the only way he was making out of this alive was to talk his way out of it like he had many times before through his adolescence.
The man got within spitting distance of Emre. He was tall, nearly four inches taller than him. He could never match this man physically, and he knew that. As the man spoke a shiver went down his spine.
"Why do you sit idle on a planet of the Sith, whelp. Speak now, or this will be your last chance to do so, again."
He had never heard of a planet of the Sith and only heard stories of who they were. He was unsure if it was possible that this was man himself was a Sith but if he had to guess what they looked like, this would be it. He had to come up with a quick and witty answer to this man or it would be the end of him.
He looked at the man from head to toe and then met his eyes. Portraying the same confidence this man clearly had. His face bruised and battered, a smirk peaked out through the corner of his mouth.
“Well…. I’m here for the great scenery and sunshine this planet offers. I’m just waiting for my ride.”
The gaze intensified as he waited to see if his response would satisfy the older man.
“You can’t stop the change, any more than you can stop the suns from setting.”
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Slade Xandir
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Re: Repressed Memories
It felt like a challenges, sounded like a challenge, but tasted bland, gilded, and flavorless. It was an impersonation, and the inner demons howled, trying to provoke him into making a move against this omega, to make him kneel, to submit. It was clear however, that this man showed his hand too early.
Classless.
Blood stepped back, a slight smile ripping away at the chiseled man's intentions. If it was a ride this man wanted, then it was a ride he would get. And it would indeed be a fun one.
Time would mock him, and gravity would fight him. He would live his life in a paradox of sin, and he would enjoy every decadent morsel of it.
A wolf smelled well the fear of sheep.
"I admire your approach to my own, Kitok Kraujas. But do not flash fangs at a Sith Lord unless you are willing to bite."
Lord Blood had called him a 'New Blood' in Sithian Dialect, using this moment as an opportunity to practice his learning of Sith language. As many texts and holobooks as he had scoured, there were words that were picked up and others that fit between them, puzzle pieces. Not much of the ancient puzzle changed, and he appreciated that. Would this man be another piece to the Sith? Or was he unfit to run in their pack? A new potential, or a new worker; this man's life was held within the mind of a bipolar schizophrenic, currently. The Hunter eyed the handsome younger man, golden orbs scanning beyond the flesh, past the muscle, and within the bones of who he was.
There,...a gleam in the webs of Force, a thread which spurned three beating but weak strings, a heart which bore 3 aortas, an essence being sustained, but unflexed. This man had what few souls in the galaxy could be gifted with, had what many lustful beings yearned for...the ability to manipulate the Force.
It was then he made up his mind.
If this man took the chance, Blood would deliver him into salvation, and would host the lost soul, this ignorant sheep, a shepherd who would not let him stray from taking arms against any and all who cast disrespect on him. He would be a tool, a malleable being for both the Sith, and himself, worthy for the fear he would invoke on others.
Take my hand through the flames....
Blood turned his unflinching gaze to the man who had so much potential, who was an unpolished and rugged piece of coal amongst the rubble that walked through the terminal.
"Despite your coy words, I know what you are, and what you are destined to be. And instead of outright killing you, or even worstly letting you leave, I'm going to offer you a choice. A choice most would kiss my ring, for."
Was this man hungry? It was clear he had been shown discipline, but it was wrong, all wrong. Someone had maimed this younger male with a vengeful authority, the bruises marking hate and vile intent. Someone loathed this soul, this tarnished man.
"Take my guidance, and accept my assitance. Submit to me, and I will bring you a better life than the one you are trying to leave behind. Then whoever wrecked this havoc on you can pay for what they have done."
His gloved hand reached out, not only to help the younger male from the crate, but to offer the deal.
Would this man prove wise? Or ill-fated?
Classless.
Blood stepped back, a slight smile ripping away at the chiseled man's intentions. If it was a ride this man wanted, then it was a ride he would get. And it would indeed be a fun one.
Time would mock him, and gravity would fight him. He would live his life in a paradox of sin, and he would enjoy every decadent morsel of it.
A wolf smelled well the fear of sheep.
"I admire your approach to my own, Kitok Kraujas. But do not flash fangs at a Sith Lord unless you are willing to bite."
Lord Blood had called him a 'New Blood' in Sithian Dialect, using this moment as an opportunity to practice his learning of Sith language. As many texts and holobooks as he had scoured, there were words that were picked up and others that fit between them, puzzle pieces. Not much of the ancient puzzle changed, and he appreciated that. Would this man be another piece to the Sith? Or was he unfit to run in their pack? A new potential, or a new worker; this man's life was held within the mind of a bipolar schizophrenic, currently. The Hunter eyed the handsome younger man, golden orbs scanning beyond the flesh, past the muscle, and within the bones of who he was.
There,...a gleam in the webs of Force, a thread which spurned three beating but weak strings, a heart which bore 3 aortas, an essence being sustained, but unflexed. This man had what few souls in the galaxy could be gifted with, had what many lustful beings yearned for...the ability to manipulate the Force.
It was then he made up his mind.
If this man took the chance, Blood would deliver him into salvation, and would host the lost soul, this ignorant sheep, a shepherd who would not let him stray from taking arms against any and all who cast disrespect on him. He would be a tool, a malleable being for both the Sith, and himself, worthy for the fear he would invoke on others.
Take my hand through the flames....
Blood turned his unflinching gaze to the man who had so much potential, who was an unpolished and rugged piece of coal amongst the rubble that walked through the terminal.
"Despite your coy words, I know what you are, and what you are destined to be. And instead of outright killing you, or even worstly letting you leave, I'm going to offer you a choice. A choice most would kiss my ring, for."
Was this man hungry? It was clear he had been shown discipline, but it was wrong, all wrong. Someone had maimed this younger male with a vengeful authority, the bruises marking hate and vile intent. Someone loathed this soul, this tarnished man.
"Take my guidance, and accept my assitance. Submit to me, and I will bring you a better life than the one you are trying to leave behind. Then whoever wrecked this havoc on you can pay for what they have done."
His gloved hand reached out, not only to help the younger male from the crate, but to offer the deal.
Would this man prove wise? Or ill-fated?
"𝒯𝒽𝑒𝓇𝑒𝒻𝑜𝓇𝑒, 𝐼 𝒶𝓂."
Re: Repressed Memories
"I admire your approach to my own, Kitok Kraujas. But do not flash fangs at a Sith Lord unless you are willing to bite."
His approach seemed to not go over so well with the very large man, he only seemed to be agitated more. Emre had no idea what the man had called him though; it was of a language he had never heard before, but he was fascinated by it. Emre always strived to be an active learner. He figured the more he knew the more he would be able to handle any situation thrown at him. The older man had his attention, and at that moment he wanted to know the things that he knew.
As the man stared him down, it was concerning why he was so interested in confronting him. Emre had no clue what he could possibly have to offer to the dark haired man. Yet it seemed as though the older man was staring into his soul as his gaze did not move.
Emre quivered as his gaze shifted and he began to speak.
"Despite your coy words, I know what you are, and what you are destined to be. And instead of outright killing you, or even worstly letting you leave, I'm going to offer you a choice. A choice most would kiss my ring, for."
The smirked looked on Emre’s face quickly turned into one of concern. He took a step back in confusion. What was it that he was destined to be? As intelligent as he might have been on his own planet, Emre didn’t concern himself to be extraordinary. Surely this powerful man had the wrong guy. What choice would he have to make? All he wanted to do was escape from his past, what could this man offer him?
"Take my guidance, and accept my assistance. Submit to me, and I will bring you a better life than the one you are trying to leave behind. Then whoever wrecked this havoc on you can pay for what they have done."
There wasn’t really a choice ahead for Emre, no two paths he could take and one he had to pick. He knew what the choice was the moment the older man spoke. There was no other option, either he would follow him or rot on this unknown Sith planet. Emre wanted to learn everything from this man, he wanted to shine with real confidence, and the type of confidence this man clearly had. More importantly he wanted to lead a better life, and make sure that what his life was before, would never be again. He had to be stronger and smarter.
As his gloved hand stretched out to assist him, excitement grew deep within his heart. Emre reached out to meet his grasp, grabbing his forearm and catching his gaze. For once in his life, he was excited to follow a man he knew he truly wanted to become just like.
His approach seemed to not go over so well with the very large man, he only seemed to be agitated more. Emre had no idea what the man had called him though; it was of a language he had never heard before, but he was fascinated by it. Emre always strived to be an active learner. He figured the more he knew the more he would be able to handle any situation thrown at him. The older man had his attention, and at that moment he wanted to know the things that he knew.
As the man stared him down, it was concerning why he was so interested in confronting him. Emre had no clue what he could possibly have to offer to the dark haired man. Yet it seemed as though the older man was staring into his soul as his gaze did not move.
Emre quivered as his gaze shifted and he began to speak.
"Despite your coy words, I know what you are, and what you are destined to be. And instead of outright killing you, or even worstly letting you leave, I'm going to offer you a choice. A choice most would kiss my ring, for."
The smirked looked on Emre’s face quickly turned into one of concern. He took a step back in confusion. What was it that he was destined to be? As intelligent as he might have been on his own planet, Emre didn’t concern himself to be extraordinary. Surely this powerful man had the wrong guy. What choice would he have to make? All he wanted to do was escape from his past, what could this man offer him?
"Take my guidance, and accept my assistance. Submit to me, and I will bring you a better life than the one you are trying to leave behind. Then whoever wrecked this havoc on you can pay for what they have done."
There wasn’t really a choice ahead for Emre, no two paths he could take and one he had to pick. He knew what the choice was the moment the older man spoke. There was no other option, either he would follow him or rot on this unknown Sith planet. Emre wanted to learn everything from this man, he wanted to shine with real confidence, and the type of confidence this man clearly had. More importantly he wanted to lead a better life, and make sure that what his life was before, would never be again. He had to be stronger and smarter.
As his gloved hand stretched out to assist him, excitement grew deep within his heart. Emre reached out to meet his grasp, grabbing his forearm and catching his gaze. For once in his life, he was excited to follow a man he knew he truly wanted to become just like.
“You can’t stop the change, any more than you can stop the suns from setting.”
-
Slade Xandir
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Re: Repressed Memories
Once the final pocket of venom set into the man, the evidence of how hard reality was set in rather swiftly, the poison coursing through the man through obvious lack of faux comfortability in the situation. The cocky smile vanished, and something no less than seriousness was placed on the lips of the smaller man. Now, they were on the same page.
Blood saw a sprout of emotion well deep within the chest of the man before him at the offer, at the last sentence the flower blossomed and bloomed into something marvelous. It was a wild rose, one in need of trimming, pruning to be perfect. A hand from the younger man before him was out, cupping his own in an oath, a pledge. He would be followed and served by this newcomer man, and in turn, Blood would see what his current taste in the Force was, and teach him to grow that rose into the most dangerous wildflower out there. It would be a majestic relationship between this new pair, his own sun-hued gems meeting the dark orbs of his company. And this relationship would soon bring terror in any who rose against it.
If this man stayed with him, he would surely prosper.
As the bonding commenced and subsided, Blood immediately wove a thin thread of his own Force energy to this new man and connected it to his own Force. He would be tethered lightly to Blood, as Blood would be to him. Primarily for alerting the other if need be, but just for unseen connection between the two souls.
Blood had to atleast know where to track him down in case he had to kill him.
As the spider finished its last knot, the Sith Lord turned on a heel and began his trek back to his ship, already expecting the Kitok Kraujas to follow. Just in front of his feet, the ramp began to lower and stopped just before his feet. Boarding it, Blood took himself to the seating arrangement in the dining front of the Infiltrator. Valkyr began to start the ship, flicking the 3 levers for engines, thrusters and drive. The matte black and burgundy trimmed stealth ship purred to life as the Cathar cyborg expertly brought it to life. As he sat, Blood asked aloud, "What is your story, New Blood?"
Blood saw a sprout of emotion well deep within the chest of the man before him at the offer, at the last sentence the flower blossomed and bloomed into something marvelous. It was a wild rose, one in need of trimming, pruning to be perfect. A hand from the younger man before him was out, cupping his own in an oath, a pledge. He would be followed and served by this newcomer man, and in turn, Blood would see what his current taste in the Force was, and teach him to grow that rose into the most dangerous wildflower out there. It would be a majestic relationship between this new pair, his own sun-hued gems meeting the dark orbs of his company. And this relationship would soon bring terror in any who rose against it.
If this man stayed with him, he would surely prosper.
As the bonding commenced and subsided, Blood immediately wove a thin thread of his own Force energy to this new man and connected it to his own Force. He would be tethered lightly to Blood, as Blood would be to him. Primarily for alerting the other if need be, but just for unseen connection between the two souls.
Blood had to atleast know where to track him down in case he had to kill him.
As the spider finished its last knot, the Sith Lord turned on a heel and began his trek back to his ship, already expecting the Kitok Kraujas to follow. Just in front of his feet, the ramp began to lower and stopped just before his feet. Boarding it, Blood took himself to the seating arrangement in the dining front of the Infiltrator. Valkyr began to start the ship, flicking the 3 levers for engines, thrusters and drive. The matte black and burgundy trimmed stealth ship purred to life as the Cathar cyborg expertly brought it to life. As he sat, Blood asked aloud, "What is your story, New Blood?"
"𝒯𝒽𝑒𝓇𝑒𝒻𝑜𝓇𝑒, 𝐼 𝒶𝓂."
Re: Repressed Memories
As the man stood there gazing into young Emre, he felt something different. Emre could not comprehend was going on but he knew something within him was changing. He felt a deep loyalty to this, but he could not explain why. For once in his life, he was excited for where he was going and who he could become.
Once the older man released his grip and turned to walk away, Emre scrambled to follow. He walked casually behind the man, trying to walk tall like him so he could show that he belongs. Looking around the docking bay, eyes could be seen averted from the two. The people in this docking bay did not know this man, but they respected him enough that they feared him. Emre wanted that type of respect.
The pair walked up the ramp of a marvelous ship, one he had never seen before. As they walked the incline into the ship, Emre’s hand reached out. His touch would glide across the metal as he walked up. This was ship was spectacular. He sat down next to the older man in the seating area. The magnificent vessel began to stir as they began to leave. Emre grabbed his medallion on his chest through his shirt, again tracing its emblem as he examined the body of the ship.
"What is your story, New Blood?"
Emre immediately let go of his medallion, swinging his eyes back around to meet the older man. He knew exactly who he was and where he was from, but he left that. He was trying to forget his past and move forward. But he would give this new companion an honest answer.
“My name is Emre. I’m really no one special. I’m from Corelia, but I want to forget that place.”
He paused looking the older man over.
“What do they call you?”
Once the older man released his grip and turned to walk away, Emre scrambled to follow. He walked casually behind the man, trying to walk tall like him so he could show that he belongs. Looking around the docking bay, eyes could be seen averted from the two. The people in this docking bay did not know this man, but they respected him enough that they feared him. Emre wanted that type of respect.
The pair walked up the ramp of a marvelous ship, one he had never seen before. As they walked the incline into the ship, Emre’s hand reached out. His touch would glide across the metal as he walked up. This was ship was spectacular. He sat down next to the older man in the seating area. The magnificent vessel began to stir as they began to leave. Emre grabbed his medallion on his chest through his shirt, again tracing its emblem as he examined the body of the ship.
"What is your story, New Blood?"
Emre immediately let go of his medallion, swinging his eyes back around to meet the older man. He knew exactly who he was and where he was from, but he left that. He was trying to forget his past and move forward. But he would give this new companion an honest answer.
“My name is Emre. I’m really no one special. I’m from Corelia, but I want to forget that place.”
He paused looking the older man over.
“What do they call you?”
“You can’t stop the change, any more than you can stop the suns from setting.”
-
Slade Xandir
- Full Member
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- Joined: Thu Sep 14, 2017 4:16 pm
- Location: Right behind you.
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Re: Repressed Memories
It was as effective as any, if not more, the bond he formed with this man. It was a pleasant thing to share his presence with someone other than his usual two Apprentices, but the Sithian stayed focused. He had to induct this man into registration and be sure he was trialed. He would see to the matter personally, and if the man proved applicable, his training would commence.
"My name is Emre. I’m really no one special. I’m from Corelia, but I want to forget that place."
Emre...
"Interesting. Corellia was a place that I used to visit for wine and fruit, a place that was a delight to those who valued political refine in a more 'peaceful' sense."
Blood thought to when, as Slade, he had made a snatch of Corellian Panthers, giving the Albino one to his little Twi'lek friend, Siya. Golden girl with an all white cat, poisonous claws and blood red eyes. A gorgeous pair of creatures.
But that was then, and this was now.
"That was a life that didn't deserve you, Emre. And now you can work on making a new one."
Turning to the newest potential, his golden gaze met the darker contrast of Emre's, and with a slash more pride than initially intended, he release his calling through his graveled baritones.
"I am Lord Blood. I've trained under my own Master, Darth Tormentous, a man who hit godly status as he crafted stars and destroyed both cities and planets, alike."
He was proud of his Side, a man of wisdom, of a simplicity they both shared, but he missed the mountainous leader. His absence alone spurned a vast degree of change, and Blood had yet to tell whether it was for the best or not. In the time he could have to himself, he would collect, and build his own might.
And all of it would be in the name of Tormentous.
The ship didn't have that much farther to go, Valkyr steering the sleek vessel with no issue whatsoever. It was only a matter of minutes before they arrived at Moraban, or Korriban as most would know it to be. In the landing pad, they flew, and into they docking bay, they rested.
Valkyr released the pressurized hatch and equalized the gravity as they returned properly. Air hissed from the hatch and the door began to open as they arrived at the headquarters of the Sith Emperor. However, they were not here for him. The Emperor wasn't here, anyways.
No matter how much Blood prayed for the Dark Side to give him a sign on where his Alpha was, it was silent. And the Sith Lord was left to teach himself, on his own.
Standing and making his way down the stable ramp, Blood expected his newest potential to follow him through the spotless terminal and into the outside of the world. Outside, Korriban was a planet of ash and sand, primarily tinged a dark mahagony with occasional gusts of wind blowing the dunes, testifying them into more dunes and repeating the process. Several old temples and ruins had been buried underneath the sands of time here, skeletons of both humanoid and animalian creatures being what you felt just under the layer of sand you walked on. The planet itself was a haven for the Dark Side, and it's influence was deathly potent here.
The very place of Emre's first trial.
Wrath, Bloods personal mount, a Cursed Arkanian Dragon, hung high in the sky, echoing a vicious roar throughout the hellos heavens. Coated in onyx scales, spiked and regal, the winged beast awaited any signal from his master to swoop and either pick him up, or eat his company.
If not both.
Instead, Lord Blood walked through the sands, his mount aerialistically escorting him, as he walked Emre to the Emperor's Palace. It took quite the time, sand rushing to devour them just as it had so many others before them, but through the turmoil, they emerged at the castles steps. Magna Guards, Sith Warbots from an ancient time, guarded the front steps and rose, pointed and ignited their staffs at their appearance, but upon recognizing Blood, they returned to a neutral position, and opened the doors for both he and his escorted man.
Through the lavish and macabre throne room, empty with an old gothic detail of intimidating windows and drapes, candlabras and menacing protection droids at every corner, this place was indeed fit for the Emperor.
However, behind the throne room were 3 passages, one for the Shield, one of the Spear, and one for the Arrow. Each hall was dedicated to the loyal Lord's of the Emperor, and Blood walked where the he knew his own hall was. Down the hallway, a magnificent statue of himself stood, and entire plate coded in Sith language beneath his piece. He did not stop to admire it though, and kept walking to the quarters beyond it.
Blood had never had the opportunity to personally decorate his level of the palace, and as a result, it was primarily bare.
In the middle of what would be his own throne room, he stood.
And waited.
"My name is Emre. I’m really no one special. I’m from Corelia, but I want to forget that place."
Emre...
"Interesting. Corellia was a place that I used to visit for wine and fruit, a place that was a delight to those who valued political refine in a more 'peaceful' sense."
Blood thought to when, as Slade, he had made a snatch of Corellian Panthers, giving the Albino one to his little Twi'lek friend, Siya. Golden girl with an all white cat, poisonous claws and blood red eyes. A gorgeous pair of creatures.
But that was then, and this was now.
"That was a life that didn't deserve you, Emre. And now you can work on making a new one."
Turning to the newest potential, his golden gaze met the darker contrast of Emre's, and with a slash more pride than initially intended, he release his calling through his graveled baritones.
"I am Lord Blood. I've trained under my own Master, Darth Tormentous, a man who hit godly status as he crafted stars and destroyed both cities and planets, alike."
He was proud of his Side, a man of wisdom, of a simplicity they both shared, but he missed the mountainous leader. His absence alone spurned a vast degree of change, and Blood had yet to tell whether it was for the best or not. In the time he could have to himself, he would collect, and build his own might.
And all of it would be in the name of Tormentous.
The ship didn't have that much farther to go, Valkyr steering the sleek vessel with no issue whatsoever. It was only a matter of minutes before they arrived at Moraban, or Korriban as most would know it to be. In the landing pad, they flew, and into they docking bay, they rested.
Valkyr released the pressurized hatch and equalized the gravity as they returned properly. Air hissed from the hatch and the door began to open as they arrived at the headquarters of the Sith Emperor. However, they were not here for him. The Emperor wasn't here, anyways.
No matter how much Blood prayed for the Dark Side to give him a sign on where his Alpha was, it was silent. And the Sith Lord was left to teach himself, on his own.
Standing and making his way down the stable ramp, Blood expected his newest potential to follow him through the spotless terminal and into the outside of the world. Outside, Korriban was a planet of ash and sand, primarily tinged a dark mahagony with occasional gusts of wind blowing the dunes, testifying them into more dunes and repeating the process. Several old temples and ruins had been buried underneath the sands of time here, skeletons of both humanoid and animalian creatures being what you felt just under the layer of sand you walked on. The planet itself was a haven for the Dark Side, and it's influence was deathly potent here.
The very place of Emre's first trial.
Wrath, Bloods personal mount, a Cursed Arkanian Dragon, hung high in the sky, echoing a vicious roar throughout the hellos heavens. Coated in onyx scales, spiked and regal, the winged beast awaited any signal from his master to swoop and either pick him up, or eat his company.
If not both.
Instead, Lord Blood walked through the sands, his mount aerialistically escorting him, as he walked Emre to the Emperor's Palace. It took quite the time, sand rushing to devour them just as it had so many others before them, but through the turmoil, they emerged at the castles steps. Magna Guards, Sith Warbots from an ancient time, guarded the front steps and rose, pointed and ignited their staffs at their appearance, but upon recognizing Blood, they returned to a neutral position, and opened the doors for both he and his escorted man.
Through the lavish and macabre throne room, empty with an old gothic detail of intimidating windows and drapes, candlabras and menacing protection droids at every corner, this place was indeed fit for the Emperor.
However, behind the throne room were 3 passages, one for the Shield, one of the Spear, and one for the Arrow. Each hall was dedicated to the loyal Lord's of the Emperor, and Blood walked where the he knew his own hall was. Down the hallway, a magnificent statue of himself stood, and entire plate coded in Sith language beneath his piece. He did not stop to admire it though, and kept walking to the quarters beyond it.
Blood had never had the opportunity to personally decorate his level of the palace, and as a result, it was primarily bare.
In the middle of what would be his own throne room, he stood.
And waited.
"𝒯𝒽𝑒𝓇𝑒𝒻𝑜𝓇𝑒, 𝐼 𝒶𝓂."
Re: Repressed Memories
"Interesting. Corellia was a place that I used to visit for wine and fruit, a place that was a delight to those who valued political refine in a more 'peaceful' sense."
What the older man was referring to was a life Emre was far to familiar with. A life where everyone got what they wanted and no one questioned them. He was used to the parties and the wine. But what he really remembers was a portrait, one he had to paint all the time, one of a happy young man living in the perfect family. It took so much to put on a face and deceive everyone. It was a perfect planet for visitors, but for some who were raised there, it was torture.
"That was a life that didn't deserve you, Emre. And now you can work on making a new one."
“No…we didn’t deserve that.” He thought to himself, a blank expression on his face. He was excited that the man was offering him a new start, yet was worried his past would follow him.
"I am Lord Blood. I've trained under my own Master, Darth Tormentous, a man who hit godly status as he crafted stars and destroyed both cities and planets, alike."
Emre’s eyes moved from the floor to Lord Blood. He was amazed, amazed at the fact that he studied under a man considered to be able to create stars and cause so much destruction. It made him wonder what this so called “Lord Blood” was capable as well. At this point all he knew was that he didn’t want to be on the wrong side of any conflict with Lord Blood.
The ship began to stir around less and it seemed they were arriving at their final destination. The ship began to rest and the hatch began to open releasing lights from the outside environment to shine through the vessel. As Blood rose from his seat and stepped out of the hatch, Emre quickly followed behind. His eyes wandered as they reached the outside of the terminal, stepping onto the grains of sand that covered this world. With each step sand kicked up from his heels and somehow ended up inside his boots. He could feel the individual grains between his toes as he moved through the desert, often feeling subtle crunches as he took steps.
Gazing around at the incredible ruins this planet had to offer, he caught an unfamiliar sight out of the corner of his eyes. A beast, flying high in the sky, was circling the two. This frightened Emre, but Lord Blood didn’t even flinch. Emre’s eyes would follow the beast until they reached the steps of some palace.
His medallion smacked his tan brown chest after each step he took into the palace. He almost fell back down those steps, as the guards of the palace seemed to move into an aggressive position, but was quickly reassured as the moved back for Lord Blood. Nothing seemed to phase this colossus of a man.
As they entered the doorway of the palace, Emre was somehow even more in awe. It seemed as though this place was built for a god. He had seen lavish and elegant in his life before, but nothing compared to this.
He watched as Blood chose to follow one of the passages laid out before him. He intended to follow the man but the other passaged peaked his interest. As Emre followed him down the hallway he noticed a statue of the man he was following. Somehow, even as magnificent as he is, he seemed to look grander on this statue. He stopped to trace the plate below the statue with his fingers. He could not make out the unknown language on it.
Emre shuffled into the throne room, noticeably more bare than the rest of the palace. He walked through the throne room and looked up at Blood, standing there waiting on him. In his eyes, Lord Blood now seemed as large as that statue that he had just seen in the other room.
Emre stretched his arms out as if he was asking his place in all of this.
“You have all of this, you have been destined for greatness. Surely, I am not the same. How am I special?”
His arms then again went to a resting position behind his back, awaiting an answer.
What the older man was referring to was a life Emre was far to familiar with. A life where everyone got what they wanted and no one questioned them. He was used to the parties and the wine. But what he really remembers was a portrait, one he had to paint all the time, one of a happy young man living in the perfect family. It took so much to put on a face and deceive everyone. It was a perfect planet for visitors, but for some who were raised there, it was torture.
"That was a life that didn't deserve you, Emre. And now you can work on making a new one."
“No…we didn’t deserve that.” He thought to himself, a blank expression on his face. He was excited that the man was offering him a new start, yet was worried his past would follow him.
"I am Lord Blood. I've trained under my own Master, Darth Tormentous, a man who hit godly status as he crafted stars and destroyed both cities and planets, alike."
Emre’s eyes moved from the floor to Lord Blood. He was amazed, amazed at the fact that he studied under a man considered to be able to create stars and cause so much destruction. It made him wonder what this so called “Lord Blood” was capable as well. At this point all he knew was that he didn’t want to be on the wrong side of any conflict with Lord Blood.
The ship began to stir around less and it seemed they were arriving at their final destination. The ship began to rest and the hatch began to open releasing lights from the outside environment to shine through the vessel. As Blood rose from his seat and stepped out of the hatch, Emre quickly followed behind. His eyes wandered as they reached the outside of the terminal, stepping onto the grains of sand that covered this world. With each step sand kicked up from his heels and somehow ended up inside his boots. He could feel the individual grains between his toes as he moved through the desert, often feeling subtle crunches as he took steps.
Gazing around at the incredible ruins this planet had to offer, he caught an unfamiliar sight out of the corner of his eyes. A beast, flying high in the sky, was circling the two. This frightened Emre, but Lord Blood didn’t even flinch. Emre’s eyes would follow the beast until they reached the steps of some palace.
His medallion smacked his tan brown chest after each step he took into the palace. He almost fell back down those steps, as the guards of the palace seemed to move into an aggressive position, but was quickly reassured as the moved back for Lord Blood. Nothing seemed to phase this colossus of a man.
As they entered the doorway of the palace, Emre was somehow even more in awe. It seemed as though this place was built for a god. He had seen lavish and elegant in his life before, but nothing compared to this.
He watched as Blood chose to follow one of the passages laid out before him. He intended to follow the man but the other passaged peaked his interest. As Emre followed him down the hallway he noticed a statue of the man he was following. Somehow, even as magnificent as he is, he seemed to look grander on this statue. He stopped to trace the plate below the statue with his fingers. He could not make out the unknown language on it.
Emre shuffled into the throne room, noticeably more bare than the rest of the palace. He walked through the throne room and looked up at Blood, standing there waiting on him. In his eyes, Lord Blood now seemed as large as that statue that he had just seen in the other room.
Emre stretched his arms out as if he was asking his place in all of this.
“You have all of this, you have been destined for greatness. Surely, I am not the same. How am I special?”
His arms then again went to a resting position behind his back, awaiting an answer.
“You can’t stop the change, any more than you can stop the suns from setting.”