Barriers To Conquer

[Xevek Nekonis]

Plains of Iridonia​

The harsh winds of Iridonia howled across the barren and empty stretch of sand that formed the entirety of the plains of Iridonia, the lands where no settlement had formed and where the cruel nature of the desert planet still ruled over all beings that dared to brave the sands. The plains did not, however, belay their cruel nature through appearance, instead they appeared nothing more than uniform and boring, an endless sight of burnt orange dust, coloured by the harsh rays of the dual suns that hung above., the monotony of the sight only broken by the odd towering mass of rock that jutted out from the sand as if they were the giant ribs of some great beast that had lost its life to the desert.

There was no order within the plains, the stretch of land that formed the majority of Iridonia's surface was ruled by chaos in all its forms. Plants and animals that should have withered away to join the dust that cut through the air instead thrived beyond all expectations, weathering the harsh existence that the Creator and All Mother, Amina, had bestowed upon them. The weather could and would change within one second and the next. At one moment winds of such strength that they seem like they could crush the strongest of structures would rise up, their crescendo howling through the land, in the next moment the winds could settle, dying and reducing to nothing more than a gentle breeze. In one moment the binary suns would bake the sand, raising the temperature to an unforgivable heat, in the next a freezing breathe would sweep the plains as soon as the suns dipped beneath the horizon.

Yet, despite the harsh chaos that reigned supreme over the sands, sentient lived, proving their strength through their defiance of nature. The Iridonian Zabraks, those that remained as Nomad Clans that refused to plant roots within the sparse but orderly and protected cities, lived within the sands, living their lives as they had done so for generations upon generations. The evidence of their perseverance was etched into the planet in the form of shelters and temples honouring the Dieties that were carved into the rock faces that littered the plains.

Within one such temple rested one of the Nomad Iridonians (formerly of Clan Duquo - even as he continued to bear the name, now of Clan Rakama), his legs folded beneath him as he knelt before an alter dedicated to Nath; Sheppard and Guardian of the Dead as the towering figure of a black robed statue cast the Zabrak within its shadow.

With the hood of the black robes that the Zabrak wore drawn back, his face was fully illuminated by the flickering light of the fires that lined the walls, fire that shuddered as the strength of the sandstorm raging outside of the shelter reached across the threshold. A mess of deep scars wove their way across tanned skin and cut across dark tattoos, the deepest of scars forming thick, shadow filled imperfections. Only a single eye remained, its sharp orange colour contrasting to the pit of darkness that was the Zabrak's right eye socket. Thick, dark grey hair was pulled into long dreadlocks, the close proximity of the strands forming a navy hue, that disappeared beneath the robes that he wore. The dreadlocks were woven around the sharp Orat that stood from the top of the Zabrak's skull, the dull while bone jagged and stained by blood.

Laying across the Zabrak's lap was a polished, wooden cane. Unlike the one that he had previously wielding in his past, the cane the Zabrak held concealed no hidden blade and did not serve as a weapon in any form. Instead, it served as a reminder, as punishment, for a mistake and oversight of the Zabrak's part that had come close to robbing him of his life before he was ready, before he had lived ample time doing his duty and existing alongside his beloved Mate. He had overestimate himself and underestimated his target and, in doing so, he had been gravely injured, his physical body a broken mess while his consciousness retreated from horrors that a mental attack had inflicted upon it by fleeing to a comatose state. While his mind had recovered well enough, every step that he took racked his body with white hot pain, even with the assistance of the cane. Instead of seeking to escape the pain, he instead embraced it, welcoming it and using it to fuel his drive to improve, using it to empower himself.

A feeble sputter rang out within the room as a line of fires were extinguished as the volume of the roaring storm reach a new height, casting the back half of the temple into a darkness that consumed the majority of roughly carved pews. Despite the change in illumination, the Zabrak didn't move a muscle, his gaze locked with the hidden face of the statue that represented the Lord of Death.

As the storm raged against the centuries old shelter and the sharp tang of sand assaulted his nose, as the flames before his burnt harshly at his sole eye, the Zabrak remained still, waiting for a certain man he held in high esteem to appear. Xavka Duquo sat waiting for his fellow Zabrak - in spirit, no longer in in flesh, one that had earned his respect and loyalty; Darth Ferus.


[member="Darth Ferus"]

 

[Darth Ferus]

Ferus was quick to show up, letting out a cough from behind [member="Xavka Duquo"] as he stepped over. As per normal the Sith was dressed in his black red cloak, hiding his features, his face. Just his smile and his red eyes showed up as he came into view. "Hello, Xavka, it has been some time. Do you know why I'm here today?" Right to the point as always. It had been a long time, too long, since he last talked to this boy. Well, a boy no more. He was a man now, had been for some time.

"Lets begin."

 

[Xevek Nekonis]

The sudden appearance of Darth Ferus roused no reaction from the kneeling form of Xavka Duquo, not even when the Sith Lord spoke, his voice echoing off of the walls of the long since empty chapel, giving it an ominous impression that spoke of the controlled power that Darth Ferus wielded. A silence stretched between the two Sith with the howling wind carrying the biting sand in it grasps as the storm began to grow fiercer and fiercer, enough so that sand began to pile and spill in through the large stone archway with carvings of sacred nature engraved deeply into its surface. With the sand came the scent of burnt sand, whipped up by the storm and carried on the breeze.

After a minuet, Xavka took his first physical action within the hours that he had been kneeling within the shadow of the large, towering statue. His voice, gruff and coarse from the damage to his vocal fold from the numerous scars that ran across his face and neck, echoed out into the shadow filled room, the darkness being beaten back by only a few sputtering and flickering candles. Between barely parted lips, he spoke. "Nath, yetu amira." Lowing himself onto his forearms, Xavka touched his forehead to the ground beneath him in a bow to the statue of the God of Death.

Xavka held the position for a few seconds before he pushed himself to his feet and only then did he turn to address Ferus. Reaching up with his biological right hand, Xavka pulled down the cowl of his robes to expose his face to the man he gave his loyalty to. A mess of scars ran across the entirety of the face, making it seems as if a blind man had attempted to carve a face out of wood but had instead created a mockery of one covered in the slips of the knife, however the majority of them were gathered around the right side of his face, particularly the empty right eye socket. Two black tattoos wound their way up from underneath the chin, following the arc of the cheekbones. Six tattoos crawled their way from the bridge of the nose, three on either side, one stopped bellow the eye sockets while the other two wove their way toward the temple. The top tattoo had a branch reach from it across the forehead, following the hair line. In the middle of the forehead, two tattoos formed an inverted triangle.

Bowing at the waist, Xavka spoke once more. However, this time his voice, while still holding respect, did not hold the unending amount of awe and worship as it did when he spoke the last line of his prayer. "Volks, Ay'edar Ferus. Of course I know why we are here, I would not have come so quickly if I did not. Simple security, you understand."

After only a few seconds of silence, Xavka stepped forwards so as to close the gap of the meters between him and the man he considered his elder, a position of authority over one of age, slightly. As he did so, the sound of his bared feet and curved, sharpened claws tapping against the stone flags that made up the flooring rang out. "Where do we begin, I'Ay'edar?"


[member="Darth Ferus"]