The so called "Half-Sith", as the Stranger liked to tease, groaned at the thought of light and it's touch. He had been in the dark for so long now. For months he had wondered the sewage of Taris for food and sustenance, then his captor dragged him into the corner of a brig compartment where the only light that was shed was the dark red glare from the ray-shield.
He had been raised in the dark- born in it. Molded by it. Now Stranger wanted him to go out and be in the light, and Raksis refused. Stranger fought back, tugging on the chain that wrapped tightly around the "Sith's" neck and squeezed a little tighter as Stranger pulled. I'm no Sith...
The red and black Dathomarian howled with rage until the sense of peace overcame him, coming out of seemingly nowhere. He hated it. He despised it. It was so bright and raging with a calm wave of tranquility. So Raksis cut it out and fought back. That damn light followed him everywhere he went- haunting and taunting him since he was a child. Since he began training to uphold the title of "Sith". And even now, after months of dying and being dead...He was dead. There it was. Lingering. Spying. Watching.
Raksis opened his eyes and immediately shut them out of the pain of the bright light that he was dragged into. The "Half-Sith" was no loner inside his prison. He howled with rage mixed with agony as he brought himself up on all four of his grimy, scrap metal, "feet" Raksis attached to himself after his fall on Taris.
Taris...
Who killed him?
Vahn. Berand.
Who was he going to return the favor to?
Vahn. Berand.
Raksis fought the light, clawing at it and lashing his makeshift, scrap metal, "tail" out at a figure that had been waiting for Stranger and Raksis (@Wiley Winnz ).
"VAHN...BERRAAAAAAAAAAAAAAND!" He bellowed as he lunged at the figure who he thought had cut him in half, only to be choked by his chain noose once again and he fell flat on his back, gasping for air.
Anger, fear, and guilt all gripped the mind of the once sane "Sith"- I am no...Sith. He could hear Stranger talking to the man Raksis hallucinated to be Vahn Berand. That was right...he was being sold. Raksis was property now? Raksis was Lament. Not an object. He could not be bought. He could not be killed. He could not be Sith. He could not be Light. He was Revenge. He was Lament. He was Fury. He was Lament. He was...
L o s t.
And broken. Raksis could barely think at this point. He wanted to scream, to cry, to kill, to eat- anything to get his mind off of...well just to keep his mind off. Stranger was finishing up the deal with Wiley, no doubt talking about Raksis behind his back- WHY IS IT STILL HERE?! Raksis cowered in the back of his mind from that blasted light. If he couldn't quench it, then how was he supposed to carry out his Master's bidding? How was he supposed to bring about the Rule of Two and kill other "Sith" if he couldn't kill his weakness?
He needed healing. He needed fixing. He needed killing. He needed sustenance.
Dathomir, my Shadow. It is time to go home.
But Raksis had no home- he couldn't remember his time on Dathomir because as soon as he was born he was taken to rise up as a "Sith". He hated his "home" because it wasn't his "home". Raksis had no home. The prison Stranger kept him in was more of a home than that planet would ever be.
Now the challenge was for Raksis to carry out his Master's bidding in his broken state. He could barely speak without shrieking the name of the man who put him in this state- When was Stranger going to be finished so Raksis could go back to shadow?? Raksis snarled at Wiley and paced behind Stranger, keeping his eye locked on the other "Sith" Champion. He is no Sith...Why do we bring such shame to our people by waving that title around like a banner over out heads? Banners to be burned...Yes...Yes, I will burn them all in a purge...a great "Sith" Purge...Yes...Yeeess...
@Darasuum
He had been raised in the dark- born in it. Molded by it. Now Stranger wanted him to go out and be in the light, and Raksis refused. Stranger fought back, tugging on the chain that wrapped tightly around the "Sith's" neck and squeezed a little tighter as Stranger pulled. I'm no Sith...
The red and black Dathomarian howled with rage until the sense of peace overcame him, coming out of seemingly nowhere. He hated it. He despised it. It was so bright and raging with a calm wave of tranquility. So Raksis cut it out and fought back. That damn light followed him everywhere he went- haunting and taunting him since he was a child. Since he began training to uphold the title of "Sith". And even now, after months of dying and being dead...He was dead. There it was. Lingering. Spying. Watching.
Raksis opened his eyes and immediately shut them out of the pain of the bright light that he was dragged into. The "Half-Sith" was no loner inside his prison. He howled with rage mixed with agony as he brought himself up on all four of his grimy, scrap metal, "feet" Raksis attached to himself after his fall on Taris.
Taris...
Who killed him?
Vahn. Berand.
Who was he going to return the favor to?
Vahn. Berand.
Raksis fought the light, clawing at it and lashing his makeshift, scrap metal, "tail" out at a figure that had been waiting for Stranger and Raksis (@Wiley Winnz ).
"VAHN...BERRAAAAAAAAAAAAAAND!" He bellowed as he lunged at the figure who he thought had cut him in half, only to be choked by his chain noose once again and he fell flat on his back, gasping for air.
Anger, fear, and guilt all gripped the mind of the once sane "Sith"- I am no...Sith. He could hear Stranger talking to the man Raksis hallucinated to be Vahn Berand. That was right...he was being sold. Raksis was property now? Raksis was Lament. Not an object. He could not be bought. He could not be killed. He could not be Sith. He could not be Light. He was Revenge. He was Lament. He was Fury. He was Lament. He was...
L o s t.
And broken. Raksis could barely think at this point. He wanted to scream, to cry, to kill, to eat- anything to get his mind off of...well just to keep his mind off. Stranger was finishing up the deal with Wiley, no doubt talking about Raksis behind his back- WHY IS IT STILL HERE?! Raksis cowered in the back of his mind from that blasted light. If he couldn't quench it, then how was he supposed to carry out his Master's bidding? How was he supposed to bring about the Rule of Two and kill other "Sith" if he couldn't kill his weakness?
He needed healing. He needed fixing. He needed killing. He needed sustenance.
Dathomir, my Shadow. It is time to go home.
But Raksis had no home- he couldn't remember his time on Dathomir because as soon as he was born he was taken to rise up as a "Sith". He hated his "home" because it wasn't his "home". Raksis had no home. The prison Stranger kept him in was more of a home than that planet would ever be.
Now the challenge was for Raksis to carry out his Master's bidding in his broken state. He could barely speak without shrieking the name of the man who put him in this state- When was Stranger going to be finished so Raksis could go back to shadow?? Raksis snarled at Wiley and paced behind Stranger, keeping his eye locked on the other "Sith" Champion. He is no Sith...Why do we bring such shame to our people by waving that title around like a banner over out heads? Banners to be burned...Yes...Yes, I will burn them all in a purge...a great "Sith" Purge...Yes...Yeeess...
@Darasuum
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