- Joined
- Jan 24, 2013
- Messages
- 1,554
- Reaction score
- 8
Darkness. It consumed. Two weeks since it had happened. Their ship drifted on the edge of Hutt Space. No one spoke. Younger men cried, silently letting their tears stain their upturned faces. The tired Protector felt a wave of inexplicable loss overpower him as his thoughts fell to his wife and son. They were gone. His fists clenched as he leaned against the wall, hands holding him against it back to everyone else. They were gone. They would not come back to be with him.
He would never hold his son in his arms again. He would never lift him to the sky with joy while the room filled with laughter. He would never lean into his wife after a long day. He would never smell her hair as it brushed across his face. He would never see their glowing faces as they mocked him from across the room. Elias would have traded anything to have been with them. Yet he hadn't. Across the sector, on a mission that had gotten nowhere. Someone choked and let out a long moan of sorrow behind him.
No one could cope with such a great loss.
Yet they would. Elias let the first tear fall, then another, slipping down his face from terribly dead eyes.
Sisk was gone. They were alone. One of the Shukula had made it away from the combat. The others had gone down in brilliant glory. Yet the taste of such a glory was dulled to those who had witnessed it. It could have been avoided. It should have been avoided.
"Sir."
The voice was so far away.
"Sir."
Why did it call?
"Sir."
A hand landed on his shoulder. It tugged at his armor plate. The warrior, on the brink of giving up, pulled away, moving from the wall and turning about. It was his pilot. The young man who had saved them all. The young man who had lost everything. His face was a mask of a wall. Emotionless and uncaring. Eyes were hard as he stared into Elias own dark eyes. Their posture was quiet different. The other stood, back straight, arms at his sides, and jaw set. He looked ready for something, ready for a fight. He looked as if he thirsted for one. Something primal rose within Elias chest as he stared into a mirror that showed him his past. Something that thirsted for blood and brutality. In that second his tears were forgotten. His feelings that incapacitated him were cast off.
In that moment his want for vengeance was renewed ten fold.
The Leader of the Netra Gaan straightened, looking about at his crew, all sitting quietly, barely paying attention to the world around them. He understood their plight. He felt it within himself. Yet something was quickly taking it's place a his shoulders shook one last time. One last time a tear fell. One last time he took a shaky breath. Then the beast was upon him. The beast called for fire. The beast called for murder. He would obey his new self. Rage built within the Protector and he let it. He let himself be consumed by the will to have his revenge.
"Get up." He murmured, loud enough for everyone to hear in the silence, and dangerously quiet. Elias let his eyes stroke across each and every person as they ignored him, barely glancing in his direction. His anger trembled in his voice as he repeated himself. No reactions. They weren't ready. But they had to be. They had to be and he would make them. He gathered himself up, and set his face into the mask that he had worn for so many years, then discarded for so many more. The mask he had worn as his Father had left him to die.
The mask he would show the Sith.
The time for the 'play' at war Sisk Renelo had brought such a great people to was over. For a game was what it was compared to the Hell that would be raised.
"Signal all our ships. We've been mourning long enough." He hissed to his pilot, eyes bright with bloodlust.
'If we must burn, let us burn bright.'
Last edited by a moderator: