Fat Possum
SWRP Writer
- Joined
- Nov 17, 2013
- Messages
- 1,154
- Reaction score
- 42
ZIOST, ESSTRAN SECTOR ANCIENT FORTRESS | EARLY MORNING |
Veles stood rigidly at the precipice of the ancient Sith citadel, staring out across the harsh terrain at nothing in particular. He had already memorized what little distinguishing features made up the barren landscape—including the remnants of his footsteps from the previous day—and had stopped tracking the movements of a lone figure that had disappeared near the base of the fortress some time ago. The glare of the white landscape would have likely been blinding to many species, but his ability to see through the brightness just exposed him to a boring nothingness. The dullness of it had his mind wandering, and left him vulnerable to the refocused efforts of the foreign madness slowly consuming his mind. On some level, he was dimly aware of Darth Medus’ lingering presence, but no longer felt a compulsion to fight her for primacy in his own thoughts. Her influence was now more subtle, more aligned with his own desires, and undeniably powerful. It was seductive rather than combative, and her quiet temptation took the relative peace of the moment to make all manner of suggestions. Take on more apprentices. Build stronger bonds. Increase your relevance. Take Hapes. He blinked at that, shifted his shoulders uneasily and moved his hands to clasp the opposite beneath the voluminous sleeves of the black robes he wore. Lifting his chin in a confused combination of pride and defiance, he set his teeth firmly together and forced his thoughts to the more immediate issue. He had invited a promising young acolyte—a male, of course—to the fortress on the culturally significant planet, for private instruction. Accustomed to the sharp chill, Veles slowly turned to look back over a shoulder when he sensed the approach of another. Unlike the stronghold, whose owner was undoubtedly strong but unsung in the chronicles of history, Veles knew the name of this acolyte: Draku Liro. He did not know much more about the man: he was an Anzat, a rare and secretive species that for a considerable period of time were seen largely as little more than legend. The Hapans, like presumably many cultures, had a great deal of mythology surrounding the Anzati, and Veles found the premise of mentoring a literal bogeyman amusing. The delight did not show. His expression was as bleak as their surroundings, and Veles had only a simple question for the acolyte when he approached close enough to hear the soft-spoken words. “Are you ready?” |