They Called Me a Madman

[Darth Parox]

Korriban, 1725 local time​

The interrogation had went well enough, but the hunt was far from over. Parox was not one for archeology—not like Tagus, who seemed to have dedicated the past few months to it—but he was willing to make an exception for this gauntlet. The shaman has remarked something about worthiness and trial by blood, but the Sith Lord knew that may just be the ramblings of a Pureblood. He was ready to fight for it, but it wouldn't be a fair fight for his opponents. Villagers—while strong—were weak minded and basically barbaric, lacking any form of organization or discipline. They were just meat bags running around with spears. Hardly a match for a Sith Lord.

He was back on the horse, a different companion this time, also on a horse. They were the color of the red sand around them, which ensured the steeds would blend in. Parox was clad in all black—with hints of maroon—but he had no need to hide or try to camouflage with the environment. His lightsaber was at his side, as were all his weapons. In case that wasn't enough, he had backup.

Again, Eaerys roared as if to remind him she was still there, flying behind the two Sith so that she didn't get too ahead—the dragon flew fast and covered a lot of ground with one swing of her wings. She stood out harshly from the red landscape, her albino scales shining in the sunlight, but that just made things better. If they were to fight someone today, they would have a dragon on their side.