Private A Deal With the Devil

[Veradun Sharr]

Darth Vanitas, or just simply Veradun, sat in a seat outside a small eatery within the bustling heart of the Sith Empire, Jutrand. He wasn’t here on business, not exactly anyway. He wasn’t here on orders of his master, Darth Nefaron. He wasn’t here for any other reason, other than for sustenance…and perhaps indulgence.

Pale eyes watched people come and go, walking past him to their various destinations, most oblivious to the fact that Death watched them go on their way. He was sitting in waiting, like a panther waiting for the antelope to come just a little too close.

One particular individual caught his eye, a young man who seemed to be nervous being surrounded by people. His eyes were shifty, his posture alert and jumpy. Veradun’s head tilted to one side as he observed the individual in silence.

A gentle probe with the Force alerted the figure some feet away, and Veradun felt the faintest of smiles curl at the corners of his mouth. A Force sensitive. But there was something else there too, a faint glimmer of Light. Was this…a Jedi, perhaps? Their presence was smothered, hidden, but not very well.

The figure started to walk away, his steps hurried, and Veradun calmly rose from his seat and slipped into the crowd. Above his head, above the skyline and the tall skyscrapers, was an iron gray sky - clouds boiling with the promise of an oncoming storm. It added to the dreary, oppressive sensation that weighed over the city - a place gripped by the iron fist of Sith supremacy and rule.

Veradun stalked his prey casually, falling into the motions of the Hunt like it was second nature. The Lowblood enjoyed this more than the rush of combat, sometimes. The lead up to what would amount to a delectable feast, and the (temporary) soothing of the burn in his veins.

The slow chase carried on through several city blocks, the prey not truly realizing they were being Hunted, but sensing enough that someone was following him. He stayed with the crowd, smart, but Darth Vanitas was not deterred by this. He was waiting, patiently, for him to make a mistake.

And he did, when he decided to slip down a side street, crowded by boxes and other items left out by the businesses in the area. Perhaps he had done this in a bid to see just who was following him, to put a face to the presence that had been lingering at the edges of his awareness.

Veradun was no fresh acolyte, however. By the time he turned down the same alleyway - his presence and form were gone. He was still there, but he had minimized his very presence and bent the Force around him in such a way that he was invisible to those around him. The young man who held a glimmer of the Lights side ahead of him had no idea he was there.

…Until it was much too late.

Cruel things happened in Jutrand all the time; the lower streets were rife with crime. Death was not uncommon in these parts. No one dared to intercept or interfere, choosing to go about their way and the wise kept their heads down, lest they find themselves in a similar situation. So no one seemed to notice, or care about, the scuffle in the alleyway as the young man initially fought with his shadowy attacker and was subdued in a vicelike embrace. Veradun was still relatively fresh as a Sangnir, though educated in the ways of the Hunt and the kill. His Sire had made sure of that. But Veradun loved to experiment and try different ways of hunting and feeding.

This particular hunt was more…primal. He allowed his bloodlust to control him, to some degree. His victim’s throat was savaged, muscle and tendon torn to the bone. The dying man slumped in his grasp with each thirsty pull, until life was extinguished completely. Veradun drained him of every last drop he could take, before dropping the body to the ground at his feet. He took a deep breath into his lungs, feeling his ribcage expand as life and energy flowed through him once more.

​

Allan Alhune ​

 

[Allan Alhune]

Allan watched the young blood from across the street, his eyes sharpening into predatory slits.

This was the one with promise.

He was there, watching from the background when this lowblood met with Varin some time ago. He watched the boys interactions, his blood lust and his trickery. Like a hunter watching nature and its game of life, a smile crept on his face as he noticed the Lowblood eye his next prey.

The hunt had begun, and he would observe this young blood closely. He would critique him.

It did not take long for the hunt to take the streets. A passing crowd stepped in front of Allan from across the street, like a breath of wind he was gone.

He walked along the walls of buildings, just out of his sight and the prey. His eyes were sharp, sharp enough to pick up the droplets of moisture building in the air before a mist of rain began to fall.

He stalked them both from a distance, taking note of every step and every breath.

Finally, the prey made a mistake. Slipping into the alley Allan shifted his stance so he slowly fell and stood silently on the scaffolding above them.

He watched the youngblood unfurl, release and drain. He could hear the rush within his veins as the heart from his prey slowed to silence, along with his breath. A forever sleep in the drifting silence of death's cold embrace.

He was almost impressed. The way the young blood stayed with his prey, and found a way relatively out of sight.

Allan stepped forward, his boots walking down the vertical wall, slowly towards Veradun, like a lion stalking an unsuspecting smaller predator gorging itself.

He stopped just above him.

“...sloppy.”

Veradun Sharr​

 

[Veradun Sharr]

“...sloppy.”

Veradun’s head snapped in the direction of the voice above him, inhumanely fast. Bright icy eyes locked onto the figure above him, assessed him in the blink of an eye. Whoever this was, had far more experience and power than Veradun did. He had snuck up on the young Darth without the Lowblood sensing his presence at all.

But there was something else about this being above him that made his pale eyes narrow. Besides the ash white hair, the dark skin, the bright luminous purple eyes, and the mechanical arm. There was something strangely familiar about this figure - in a way that only another Sangnir would recognize.

He huffed once, an exhale of breath that was done so in sarcastic mirth. “As if I care if I was sloppy or not. Maybe I like it.”

Veradun eyed the stranger more cautiously, not in fear, but in recognition of another predator.

“You’ve been following me.” It was stated as a fact, an observation by the former Nagai. "What do you want?"

Allan Alhune ​

 

[Allan Alhune]

The boy's gaze snapped towards him. A look of warning and surprise. Like prey that had been snatched from its grazing grounds.

“It is no wonder why the Sangnir blood has been diluting. Improper diets.”

He slowly stepped down the wall touching ground, righting himself up as he stood before the Lowblood.

“Following you?”

His eyes narrowed as he studied the New Blood.

“Heavens no.”

With a blur of motion Allan's hand gripped the boy's chin, tilting his head from side to side as the claw of his thumb dug into his cheek, a trickle of blood dripping down his hand.

“Not follow, child.”

His mouth grinned as his fangs slowly pushed through his gums, pushing out his normal rounded teeth and molars.

“I've been hunting you.”

He tilted the boy's chin up, studying his throat.

“You are diluted. Not even a shell of former Sangnirs. Yet you think of yourself as an apex predator.”

He hummed in his throat as the noise of the streets began to silence around them, a dark mass forming around the two of them blotting out the light and swallowing the noise.

“But I'm not hunting you to kill you, no.”

His grin relaxed.

Veradun Sharr​

 

[Veradun Sharr]

Veradun regarded the stranger as words were spoken; clearly, whoever this was, was no stranger to what Veradun was, and thus his words momentarily befuddled the former Nagai.

Diluted blood? Improper diets?! Was this man daft? Did he not understand how Sangnir biology worked?!

He came down to the pale youth’s level, who had now turned to face him directly to prevent him from flanking or being at Veradun’s back. The man before him narrowed those luminous purple eyes, before a hand tipped in claws snagged the younger Sangnir’s chin, drawing thin lines of dark crimson Anima to the surface - scratches that healed within moments. A testament to how well Veradun fed. The healing factor was only augmented by being energized and having a steady supply of available blood. He let the figure before him tilt his head to the side, as if to study him - icy blue eyes never leaving the strangers’ even as fangs made their appearance, confirming Veradun’s suspicions that this, too, was another Sangnir.

His presence, his aura, was similar to that of Kasir’s - albeit much, much older.

“I follow my prey when I’m hunting them too.” Veradun murmured with no small amount of humor to his voice as his head was tilted upward to expose his throat for a moment.

“You are diluted. Not even a shell of former Sangnirs. Yet you think of yourself as an apex predator.”

At this moment, Darth Vanitas moved with swiftness and broke the other Sangnir’s hold on his chin with a deflecting strike against the offending arm. Lips lifted in a slight snarl as he put a step of distance between him and the other.

“Diluted? I am no thrall or ghoul. One such as yourself Turned me.” Veradan spat, insulted more for his Sire, Kasir Dorran , than he was for himself. Around them, the noise of the streets seemed to fade as a dark mass seemed to form around the two Sangnirs.

“But I'm not hunting you to kill you, no.”

“Oh that’s a relief.” Veradun drawled, before giving the Sangnir in front of him another careful look over, before meeting his gaze once more. “So then why were you hunting me? What can one of diluted blood do for you?”

Allan Alhune ​

 

[Allan Alhune]

“There is a difference between following and hunting. Sheep and cubs follow. Are you but just another sheep or cub?”

His gaze sharpened once more as a cold linger drifted into the air that would pierce even the marrow, Veradun had acted quickly as Allan expected. Smart prey never stayed in the jaws of a trap. They would gnaw at their own legs to free themselves. This one was smart enough to get out of it before the jaws set.

“I can assure you, Lowblood, there is no other Sangnir like me.”

His hand slowly dropped to his side as the left over anima from Veradun’s cheek dripped to the ground.

“You have been feeding well. But what you feed on are but scraps compared to what you could be hunting.”

He slowly approached, one step at a time.

“But I suppose you do not feed only for sustenance, do you?”

He stopped just in front of him.

“I saw the look in your eyes. The rush, the drive to catch your prey. But when you capture your prey, when you feed and they fall lifeless to the ground…What do you feel?”

His hand flexed, the joints popping within his fingers.

“Full, yet hollow.”

The sharpness in his eyes dulled ever so slightly as he smiled.

“Veradun Sharr. The Pale Death. Such a title, such a name is not befitting of someone who feeds in dirty allies. The gift you have been given, I called diluted. Sure your bonded may be a Highblood, but Highbloods have been becoming exceedingly rare these days, more so than ever. So much anima is passed down from being to being, it can lose its potency, much like DNA.”

His hands folded behind his back.

“I offer you something more. Right now you a merely a cub, feeding on insects. I could make you so much more. The Pale Death title that you so desire.”

He breathed.

“Strength, power over influence…”

In an instant Veradun would feel a rack of pain in his head, a dull pulsing vibration as what felt like claws digging into his memories, his hopes, his desires and his nightmares. He sifted through each piece of material like tangled threads being separated into neat little bundles.

“The power to shatter your cage perhaps? The power to kill someone powerful that holds great influence over you. How fulfilling it would be for you to go from a caged beast to one who liberated himself?”

Veradun Sharr​

 

[Veradun Sharr]

Veradun hardly listened to the prattle of this other Sangnir, who clearly thought themselves better than everyone else - his own kind, even. That was either blatant arrogance, which was likely, or confidence that came with age…which was also likely.

The stranger commented that Veradun had been feeding well (which he had been), but he was feeding on “scraps” compared to what he could be hunting. As if the young Darth didn’t already know this.

The white haired, dark skinned Sangnir approached him once more, one slow step at a time, and Veradun kept him within view at all times.

“But I suppose you do not feed only for sustenance, do you?”

The other man stopped just in front of Veradun, who curled his lip in a mocking manner, as if to say What gave it away?

“I saw the look in your eyes. The rush, the drive to catch your prey. But when you capture your prey, when you feed and they fall lifeless to the ground…What do you feel?”

Veradun heard the popping of joints as the other flexed his hand. “Full, yet hollow.” the stranger was silent for a moment, sharp eyes dulling as he smiled. “Veradun Sharr. The Pale Death. Such a title, such a name is not befitting of someone who feeds in dirty alleys. The gift you have been given, I called diluted. Sure your bonded may be a Highblood, but Highbloods have been becoming exceedingly rare these days, more so than ever. So much anima is passed down from being to being, it can lose its potency, much like DNA.”

Once upon a time, the former Nagai might have felt unnerved that someone else beside his Sith Master knew so much about him. But now, it was just…amusing to the Lowblood. He huffed, his own cruel smile forming on his lips, the dark mirth shining in bright blue eyes. This stranger was trying to use his title of Pale Death against him, but he clearly had no idea how Veradun came about that title in the first place.

He hadn’t been the one to give it to himself…the slaves of Anoat did, long before he was Embraced.

As for being diluted - Veradun knew for a fact that was not true. This was simply a belief that this Sangnir told himself to make himself feel more superior over his own kind.

“If that is what helps you sleep at night, then who am I to argue against it.”

“I offer you something more. Right now you are merely a cub, feeding on insects. I could make you so much more. The Pale Death title that you so desire.”

Veradun’s eyes narrowed, absorbing the words and the offer that was teased in front of him. Strength, power, influence. More than what he had now, perhaps?

In the next moment, however, all of Veradun’s thoughts ceased as a terrible pain pierced through his mind. He felt as if claws were raking through his brain, ripping through memories and thoughts, hopes and desires and whatever else. Against the onslaught into his mind, Veradun heard the stranger’s voice once more, slipping into his ears like velvet:

“The power to shatter your cage perhaps? The power to kill someone powerful that holds great influence over you. How fulfilling would it be for you to go from a caged beast to one who liberated himself?”

With effort, Darth Vanitas practically threw out the presence clawing into his mind and blocked his mind from further intrusion - but it was much too late. The stranger had already had a peek into his innermost desires, his secrets, his memories and thoughts. Cold fury glinted in the Lowblood’s eyes as he snarled, revealing sharper fangs still stained with the blood of his victim.

It was clear that, whoever this was, had incredible strength and power - more than what Veradun did. And despite his fury over having his mind torn into, the Lowblood was still curious about this “offer” that had been teased.

After composing himself, Veradun drew himself back up to his full height and exhaled a deep breath before staring holes into the other Sangnir. “....you have my interest. Go on.”

Allan Alhune ​

 

[Allan Alhune]

Allan revealed a toothy grin, one that most would see as, unpleasant or unnatural.

“I offer my blood, Veradun of Sharr.”

He opened his robe to reveal a dagger of black obsidian jagged stone, razor sharp and full of whispers of promise.

“But with such power, I require two responsibilities from you.”

The dagger slowly summoned into his hand from the hook of his belt, his mechanical fingers slowly and tenderly wrapping around the hilt in a loose relaxed grip. He then pointed it to the Youngblood.

“Your master has a toxin that I require. One capable of releasing ones deepest nightmares and fears to any who would ingest it, willingly or otherwise. It would be crucial for my plans. Retrieve that, and you will earn your place among Highbloods.”

He paused, as his gaze looked into and through Veradun, the faultlines of his body revealing a highway of weakness structures within his bones and musculatory system, down to his very nerves.

“The second half of the deal however, is more of an ongoing process, but it’s only as difficult as you make it.”

He reached into the robe with his other hand and presented a small holopuck.

“On that puck is the name and the face of someone that needs full attention. You have met him before, almost clashed blades…I was there, watching the whole thing.”

A coldness to his eyes, one reflecting a hint of anger and fury, a primal rage that seemed only tamed by a physical visage of control within the structure of his body.

“Varin Mortifer. Apprentice to a Revna Marr, perhaps you know of her, perhaps not. It is no business of mine, I want names of anyone he interacts with and possible living locations. You are not to engage them.. Do this job well, and maintain it and I will continue to bless you with gifts of power Veradun. I will bring you one step closer to domination.”

He held out his hand to Veradun.

“What say you, Pale Death?”

Veradun Sharr​

 

[Veradun Sharr]

An offer of blood was made - one that made Veradun both deeply intrigued, and instantly suspicious. The white haired Sangnir reached into his robes and pulled out a wickedly sharp obsidian dagger. Veradun’s icy eyes lingered on it for a moment, before drifting back to the figure’s face.

With the promise of blood, came the price. Two responsibilities, and this words made the Lowblood tilt his head to one side with predatory curiosity, even as the dagger was lifted and pointed at him by a mechanical arm.

“Your master has a toxin that I require. One capable of releasing one's deepest nightmares and fears to any who would ingest it, willingly or otherwise. It would be crucial for my plans. Retrieve that, and you will earn your place among Highbloods.”

A slow and wicked smirk curled on the Lowblood’s face, as eyes brightened further. He knew exactly what this other Sangnir was referring to. And in exchange for some of his Master’s toxin…he would have the ability to ascend to Highblood??

Darth Vanitas almost jumped at that - but he remembered that this Sangnir had said he had two responsibilities for the Lowblood…and so far he’d only mentioned one. There was a pause, and the pale young Darth could feel how this other Sangnir’s gaze pierced through him, as if seeing parts of him he didn’t even know existed within himself. He didn’t block nor deny the other, waiting with the patience of an eternal hunter for the second task to be revealed to him.

The dark skinned Sangnir reached into his robes again and produced a holopuck, and with it the revelation of what was on it. “On that puck is the name and the face of someone that needs full attention. You have met him before, almost clashed blades…I was there, watching the whole thing.”

There was a glimmer of primal rage, hidden within luminous amethyst eyes, but well controlled. Darth Vanitas already had an idea of who this individual was, before the other Sangnir revealed the truth:

“Varin Mortifer. Apprentice to a Revna Marr, perhaps you know of her, perhaps not. It is no business of mine, I want names of anyone he interacts with and possible living locations. You are not to engage them.. Do this job well, and maintain it and I will continue to bless you with gifts of power Veradun. I will bring you one step closer to domination.”

Did he know of Revna Marr? Oh yes. Veradun didn’t feel guilt or remorse for much, if anything - but turning his back on his adopted sister did bring a ghost of sorrow to him. But it vanished beneath the turbulent darkness of his soul; what had been done could not be undone. And he knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that if his dear sister ever saw him face to face again, she would kill him. Or attempt to, anyway. She did not handle betrayal very well. And a betrayed Sith was a dangerous one. Now he hadn’t known Varin was her apprentice; that was news to Veradun. But it didn’t matter; in the end, what was offered outweighed any attachment that might have remained for his former sister and her associates.

A hand was held out to him, one that gave a promise of further power. “What say you, Pale Death?”

Veradun grinned and reached out a pale, icy cold hand and grasped the other’s. “It is a deal. And I can supply you with my Master’s toxin now, if you wish.”
​

Allan Alhune ​

 

[Allan Alhune]

Their hands clasped over one another, the grip of Allan was like an iron vice holding down stubborn metals. His grin only widened when Veradun offered the toxins sooner rather than later.

“Oh you are quite quick on the draw aren't you, boy.”

His hand slowly released, the knife held firm in his other hand, the blade seeming to whisper dark promises of power. An ancient blade decorated with carvings of ancient runes.

Within the stone-like blade, Veradun could promise he would see that the blade was not black from the rock, but from a liquid inside.

Thick and viscous, it seemed to writhe rather than flow within the blade.

“Please, do show me this vial. I am quite curious to see it.”

Allan waited patiently, his violet eyes not once leaving Veradun, as if watching him like a statue. Unblinking, unbreathing and unmoving. A cold stare of something truly emotionless.

Once the vial had been shown to him Allan's grin died as his eyes dilated. He gently plucked the vial from the boy's fingers, admiring the color and its potency.

“Beautiful. You have already shown such promise.”

His eyes fell back to Veradun the dilation sharpening back into slits within his eyes, his skin slowly taking on a paler color as the lights from nearby laminated signs and lamps reflected the eyeshine within his retinas.

He looked at the blade in his hand and lifted his sleeve. Slowly he ran the blade down his wrist, the blade pulling the thick viscous black ichor from his veins, suspended in thick strands that melded into a floating ball.

“A gift for you, Veradun of Sharr.”

In a quick blur of motion Veradun was slammed up against the duracrete wall behind him, without a split second to breath Allan's jaw unhinged larger fangs growing out of his jaws, before his head snapped forward latching onto the point his neck met his shoulder, the risen ball of highblood anima, slowly seeping into the fresh wound as Allan clamped down cutting off his air supply.

Veradun Sharr​

 

[Veradun Sharr]

The pale haired Sangnir’s grip was like a vice around Veradun’s icy hand, and his grin widened when Veradun mentioned being able to supply him with the toxin now. Veradun eyed the wicked dagger that the other Sangnir had produced earlier; the more he looked at it, the more he began to wonder if the blade was obsidian, or if it was something else entirely.

His hand released Veradun’s as he asked to see the toxin, and the Lowblood slipped his hand into the folds of his cloak and into a hidden pocket to produce a vial of his Master’s feared toxin, holding it up before the violet eyes of the other creature before him.

Veradun had experienced the toxin first hand himself, several times. He was well aware of its capabilities, and thus always kept some on his person, if the need for it ever arose while on a mission for his Master. And fortune would have it that he could trade it now for something he considered to be even greater than this toxin. The chance to achieve the status of a Highblood Sangnir himself.

Once the vial was produced, Veradun noticed a change come over the other Sangnir. The grin died, and those luminous eyes dilated. The Lowblood felt a trickle of warning creep down his spine, but he stood his ground.

“Beautiful. You have already shown such promise.”

The once-Nagai remained quiet, simply watching the other, noticing the emotionlessness, the stillness, come over him. He knew that all too well, and what it meant.

The amethyst eyes snapped back to him, pupils contracting back to slits, dark skin growing more pale underneath artificial light, as those haunting eyes took on a shine. Veradun stared back into the face, the eyes of death, fearless.

He inhaled a breath, slowly, calmly - sensing that their interaction was now building towards something. Pale blue eyes fell to the wrist and dagger, watching with growing hunger as a cut was made and dark blood was called forth. Flashes of when he first Turned came into his mind, and another prickle of exquisite dread tickled the back of his neck.

“A gift for you, Veradun of Sharr.”

Veradun knew what was coming, a breath before it happened. He didn’t resist or fight as the other Sangnir slammed him back against the duracrete wall behind him with enough force to crack it. He’d been through this before, with his own Sire - albeit not as violent as this.

A snarl escaped his lips as fangs pierced deep into the flesh at the junction of his neck and shoulder - pain rippling through him as he felt the all too familiar sensation of his Anima being pulled from him in deep, hungry swallows. A chill danced over his skin, eyelids partially closing until they were mere slits. He relaxed completely, allowing himself to be drained.

Veradun knew that for rebirth to come, one had to die.

It was just their way of being, their way of life. And he embraced it in full.

He was hardly aware of the floating black orb of the Highblood’s Anima seeping into the wound, as darkness began to claw its way up around the edges of his vision. His pulse stuttered, and agony burned through his veins as life was taken away from him. His hunger flared anew, more powerful than he had felt since those first few moments of his new life, as a fledgling under Kasir’s care.

He almost struggled then, the desperation of a dying creature trying to force its way up and through him. But he resisted, with every ounce of strength and will in his body.

Veradun’s body grew limp and sagged against the Highblood as darkness fully claimed him, and his awareness drifted away into nothingness.

​

Allan Alhune ​