Bloodletting

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Gratos could barely support life as of late. The Republic's bombardment of the Graug world had effectively seen to that. Yet still, the Priests reined.

Cyril, now Mephirium having reclaimed his old title, had returned to the world of his birth to reclaim the loyalty of the Graug Hordes. In the past, they had sworn their allegiance to him. He was confident they would do so again. Being the successor to their greatest overlord certainly helped.

The old temple was naught but a hallowed corpse as of late. A proton torpedo had gone off not far from the sacred building, reducing half the structure to rubble. The other half was lovingly tended by the servants of the Graug Priests. Though many died due to the planet's now rather toxic atmosphere, many others were eager to take their place.

That had always been the way of things. The Graug were a personification of the Sith's capacity for cruelty; their society revolved around the ascension of the strong. It was why they had served the Sith so well in the past. It was why they would do so again in the coming war.

Mephirium had called the warrior clans to the old temple. All had come. Some to jeer, others to lend their support. The naysayers would soon change their tune, or so the Sith Lord thought.

He stood at the top of the temple's steps, Shluurk by his side. The aging Graug was clad in his dueling leathers, and his beady orange eyes peered out over the crowds with contempt.

"Some remember your deeds. Others recall the great defeat," the reptilian warrior parted scaly lips, "Six thousand have pledged their service. Another five are wary. The priests have lent their support."

Mephirium pressed his lips into a thin line. The five thousand were crucial.

"Tell the chieftains to send their chosen warriors. I will show them our supremacy with blood if need be," he shook his head. "We're close Shluurk. I won't be stalled by the chieftains' cold feet."

The elder Graug bowed his head. "I understand."

Without another word, the warrior marched down toward the gathering legions. Mephirium breathed a quiet sigh of disdain.

​Anything to expedite things.

[member="Darth Ferus"]

 

[Darth Ferus]

"You're not stalled because of their cold feet. Rather, they're not sure who to follow. Can't blame them, you left for oh so many years. At least I returned to try and help them, you didn't. Not soon enough." His voice rang clear as day in the desolate temple. The cloaked man stepped right into view, a wide smile plastered on his pale skin. Red eyes glowed from under his hood, watching. Darth Ferus had returned to this desolate planet years ago to find the broken people, and made his own attempt to return them to glory. It was boring however, and the Sith had left them. The Graug and their mindset didn't hold that against him though. The weak were left behind, and they were weak.

They had changed that though, and it was why this Sith Lord had come. That, and he heard about the return of [member="Darth Mephirium"] . He couldn't help but see that himself. And he couldn't be more pleased. "It's been a long time Graxon. If you want to prove your power, fight me. Of course, I am curious as to why you'd want such a large army. Are you planning something, hmm?" Ever curious, ever interested. This was going to be good.

 

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Ferus.

In his youth, the Sith Lord has served as one of Vulcanus' lackeys, though a formidable one at that. Mephirium turned to face the man he might have once called an ally and frowned. He had not expected much by the way of competition here.

But then, things could never be so easy.

"That is a slave name, I do not use it," the newly-minted Sith Lord spat, his words dripping with ire. Graxin was a man long since dead, a man who had allowed himself to be seduced by the promise of redemption. Graxin's mistakes had allowed the inner rim to burn.

Mephirium was not like him.

"I plan to kill the Dark Lord and take his place." He was not afraid of repercussions. The Sith that knew of his plan had either pledged their loyalty to his cause, or ended up disappearing. Mephirium's supporters, while not as well known as his rivals, were effective enough, and the Sith Lord himself would not allow himself to shy away from a challenge.

"The warriors cry out for blood, and if you have a problem with my goal, then they will have it."

He drew his cowl back and enjoyed the warmth of the ceremonial torches' glow upon his skin. It had been too long since he'd returned to Gratos. The cries of the Graug hordes fueled him. If Ferus chose to stand against him here, then he, like the others, would fall.

His lightsaber roared as it came to life, casting the duo in a ghostly blue glow. The clans parted to provide enough space for combat, cheering and spitting insults with every step.

"Draw your sword."

[member="Darth Ferus"]

 

[Darth Ferus]

"The only problem I would have, is you not being strong enough to challenge him and win. So this works out at the end of the day, I suppose. You prove yourself a worthy successor of the title of Dark Lord, and the Graug get their fight. Win, and you'll have me to follow you. Everything I am, all who follow me, the like. Should you plan to assault Coruscant, you'll want my knowledge on all its defenses, right?" Ferus calmly stepped before [member="Darth Mephirium"] , matching him stride for stride. The second of Vulcanus. His Dark Enforcer. His Fist. Even with the Dark Lord dead and gone this Sith Lord still commanded some respect. There were no boos, no cheers, just silence as the Graug stepped aside from Ferus. They knew better.

As he stepped close he made no movement for his lightsaber. In fact, he simply kept his hands down at his sides. A brow raised at the blue glow. "Still carrying the glow of the Jedi? Come now. You haven't told me your name, nor have you adopted the color of the Sith. So far you've shown nothing proving yourself Sith, Graxon." Lightning began to crackled across the tips of his fingers. He wasn't going to use his saber. No, he was going to prove what it was to be Sith, not someone just claiming to be it.

Prove me wrong, boy.

 

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Ferus' words fell upon deaf ears. Mephirium was not the type to be goaded. He had given his warning about the name; Ferus had stepped right over it. He had given a curtesy many other Sith would not, and it had been ignored. It seemed Ferus was keen to anger the would-be Dark Lord. Fine then.

He held his lightsaber forward, as if he were bout to lunge out toward Ferus. That was, of course, not what he did. The force gathered within his palm within a moment's thought, and was then unleashed. It flew like an invisible wall toward the former leader of the Sith Assassins. That was when Mephirium stalked forward, his blade raised to deliver slow, crushing, powerful blows that would leave even the most dedicated Soresu masters defenseless if they did not glance off the blow.

All the while, his was a visage of dispassion. The fires within him were stoked, but he did not yet bother to unleash them. So long as he could retain a cool head, he felt he could control the fight.

If Ferus managed to truly draw him into the depths of rage, then all the heavens would not save him.

[member="Darth Ferus"]

 

[Darth Ferus]

Perhaps more was instilled into [member="Darth Mephirium"] than he had initially thought. No answer, no hint of aggravation. Just control. A mark of any Jedi, or a very powerful Sith. Let's see which you are. There was a vast difference between this would be Dark Lord and this Sith Lord, at least in Ferus's mind. Unlike Mephirium, Ferus had immersed himself into the dark and its teaching while his foe went into the light. To Ferus, this made him weaker in the aspect of Sith. Truthfully he wanted to be wrong though. The lightning that had begun to crack down the arms of this Epicanthix took hold, and unleashed. One hand raised to unleash a single lightning blast, meant wall to counter it's momentum, to dissipate the energy. It struck hard, cracking through in a bright light. Nothing was left of either blast, each canceling the other out. Good.

The hum of a blue blade caught the Lords attention next. A single, crushing blow. Djem So, Falling Avalanche. At least he was a practitioner of the classics. A quick step to the left, and both hands shot up to catch the blade, though not literally. Another blast of that blue electricity shot from his fingertips, ripping through the air to counter the downward strike. Trained enough, lightning blasts could unleash a strike like getting hit by a speeder, and Ferus was sure to get to this point. That's why he never went for his saber, and why he had a confident smile on his face.

 

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Mephirium did not hesitate to counter the power of Ferus' lightning. He drew upon his opponent's own power: his lust for this battle, his desire to test the would-be usurper, his smug affirmations - all served as strength with which Mephirium drew upon. Vapaad was not just a form of lightsaber combat; it was a lifestyle. Fueled by his own steady countenance and twisting Ferus' own strength against him, Mephirium withstood the power of the lightning strike, though only just.

"You've grown in your abilities," he opined dispassionately. He would not give Ferus the satisfaction of driving him over the edge. Not yet. He withstood the strike, flecks of lightning falling from his shoulders like snow.

His gaze fell past Ferus for a moment. There stood the twin statues that paid tribute to the Graug Priests. Ferus was not particularly far. An idea began to form.

Mephirium went for the strike again, though this time he anticipated Ferus' chosen form of attack. He thrust out a hand once more, but rather than a telekinetic blow, lightning of his own brushed forth from his fingertips. The cyan veins rushed toward Ferus, and Mephirium chased them, his blade a blur as it carved aft toward Ferus' right arm.

He would not give the Sith Lord a any chance at getting onto the offensive.

[member="Darth Ferus"]

 

[Darth Ferus]

Ferus had taken the body of an Epicanthix for many reasons. White Current couldn't affect his mind. No mind reader could get into his thoughts. He was stronger and faster. And, Vapaad couldn't take anything from his emotions. His mind was locked away, keeping any chain for the form to work, his intentions and goals all gone and locked away. [member="Darth Mephirium"] would not gain the Sith Lords power as his own this day.

He smiled to his advisory as he spoke. Of course he grew, he had to. Every day was a constant struggle to advance and propel yourself forward. That was the point of being a Sith, to advance and simply become better. Though his smile flickered for a moment as Mephirium glanced behind him. He was looking for something, not that Ferus was going to give him an chance. With the gaze falling away from Ferus the Sith Lord acted, bringing up his hands and unleashing another bolt of lightning.

A bolt that zipped by the cyan as he charged forward. A brow raised on the hooded mans face as both hands came up, lightning crackling around them once again. No room for offence then? Very well, Ferus could play this game. How long? Well, no need to worry about that now. His hands flashed again as the blue lightning closed in, releasing another blast of lightning from his left hand, though this one formed into a more disk like shape. A quick shield, absorbing the lightning and canceling out. Lightning was different, but that was good. This was good. A sign of something different, better. Sith. The grin once more returned as his right hand came around to do the same thing, creating a disk like shield of lightning, though as he caught the blade he found himself staggering to the side. Huh, now he was finding himself underestimating his opponent.

 

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The powers that Mephirium might have called upon via Vaapad's strengths were lost to him. [member="Darth Ferus"] had found a way to shut himself off from the force, per se, and thus limited his opponent's ability to draw upon him. No matter. Mephirium would defeat Ferus with his natural power alone.


He bit back a curse as his blade crashed against a shield of physical lightning. He did not pause to wonder how such a feat was possible, and instead searched for an opening. Ferus had been staggered by the blow, and his opponent had absolutely no intention of letting him regain his bearings. His blade fell like a hammer every few seconds; all the strength in his limbs driving him forward.


There was no room to be reserved. There was no reason to hold himself back. He called upon the Dark Side, allowed himself to sink deep within its depths. The force took him. He did not guide his blade any longer, it moved on its own. The power of the Bogan thrummed in his heart and flooded his veins. Its intoxicating power gave him strength no man should ever naturally hold in battle.


Blue eyes affixed Ferus with a predatory glare. His lips pulled back in a tight scowl.


And still the hammering blows fell.

[member="Darth Ferus"]

 

[Darth Ferus]

There it was. The Dark Ferus had so hoped [member="Darth Mephirium"] had not lost his touch with. The Sith could still remember the days when his foe was still a boy, trying to change the Sith under Vulcanus. He could remember when the boy had become a Jedi, fighting against the One Sith. All the while this darkness crept just under the surface, waiting to be freed. To be used. For the first time in a long time Graxon to this Epicanthix stopped being a pretender.

Similarly to the Cyan Ferus let himself into the Dark. Pale skin turned to the blackest of night, more of a side effect of his Dark Mark than a show of power. Red eyes glinted with that primal bloodlust Vulcanus had once beaten into him, but there was far more control. He was still thinking, still processing. His hand moved again and again to catch the blade, lightning surging out to defend, and each time Ferus found himself beaten back, stumbling, though still in control of his footing. Even though he seemed to be doing fine to most, he wasn't. Again and again his foe came, unrelenting, unstopping. Bolts of the lightning began to sink into the ground from the clashes, leaving a blue hue where they had fallen. So far he had only been using one hand, and the strain was becoming clear. His other hand remained down at his side, clenched in a tight fist as if he was waiting for something.

Something else came first. One of the blows of Mephirium finally broke through. Not only did this lightning barrier shatter, his right hand that he had been using to defend himself was thrown back, leaving his chest wide open. But something was wrong. A smile still remained on the Sith Lords face, and the closed fist of his left was now open. The blue hue to the ground had faded as well, leaving only the blue lightsaber and the Graugs fires to keep this arena lit up. Dark intent was all that was left in the eyes of Ferus. Something was up.

 

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Vaapad could control you as much as you controlled it.

Mephirium's triumph seemed certain as Ferus' arm was sent back. All he would need to do was make a lunch for the Sith Lord's chest, and the battle, with Ferus' life, would be over. Yet, something else dawned in the would-be usurper's mind. He reached out with his cybernetic hand and struck forward with invisible tendrils. He attempted to use Ferus' momentary stumbling to end the battle here and there, and avoid making a mess while doing to.

The tendrils would seek out Ferus' black heart and trap it beneath their weight. They would crush downward, enough to keep the heart from beating for just a moment or so. Something to show Ferus that Mephirium, for all intents and purposes, might have held his life in his.

"Submit, and you may live." Mephirium growled. The silence of the makeshift arena made his softly spoken words seem like screams. He was tired, and while he did enjoy a good bout, he craved victory ever-more-so. The Dark Side thrummed in his veins, but its intoxicating aura over his mind was beginning to lessen. He could not afford to dilly dally.

[member="Darth Ferus"]

 

[Darth Ferus]

A brow raised on the face of Ferus as he watched [member="Darth Mephirium"] . What was he trying to d- Oh. He could feel it now. The Dark trying to get into his chest, to squeeze that most precious of organs. And his smile continued. Such a dark turn of events, and so the man simply raised his hands. "Very well. You got me." The Epicanthix wasn't here to die, rather test this would be Dark Lord and commander of the Graug Hordes. And it had been proven. From around Ferus however the lightning he had been storing in the ground erupted upwards, lashing against the surface of the temple in a spectacle of blue and white.

Mephirium won, but not by as much as he would have thought. Good thing he didn't choose to attack with his saber.

"What is your name now? So I know what to call you other than that slave name."

 

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It took a long time for Mephirium to let go of Ferus' heart. It would have been such an easy thing, to squeeze and crush into the dark little organ was nothing but a pulpy mess. But then, what would that serve? Ferus would be of no further use. Biting back a curse, Mephirium released his grip on his opponent's heart. After a few moments, his breathing began to grow steady, the blood haze lifting from his vision.

"I am Darth Mephirium, and I lay claim to the Dark Lord's throne." Blue eyes stared intensely into the hooded man's own. Mephirium held that look for a moment, letting his words sink in, before turning to the greater Graug Hordes. Exhausted and battered, Darth Mephirium held his burning lightsaber up toward the night sky. The force carried his voice across the massive clearing.

"I say again, I am Darth Mephirium, slayer of Darth Vulkanus, ruler of Ession, heir to the Graug Hordes, and claimant to the Dark Lord's throne. I will lead the people of Gratos to victories unspoiled by politics! You will have blood, you will have glory! The Dark Lord and his allies will fall beneath our feet!"

The ground shook with the stamping of feet and the roars of approval.

When the show had finally died down, Mephirium doused his weapon and turned to Ferus. His voice fell to a breathy cantor, his words sharp and to the point. "Do not challenge me again Ferus."

[member="Darth Ferus"]

 

[Darth Ferus]

"Prove yourself a true Dark Lord and I won't. Take the throne, and make sure none can ever overpower you." A chuckle escaped the lips of the Sith Lord as he turned to leave then. "Should you ever need me, feel free to call. I'll be around, watching from the sidelines as I always do. Be careful of what hides there though, for the shadows are teeming with unseen threats. I may or may not stop them. The Dark Lord should be the strongest and the most capable of the Sith after all." All the while he began to sink into the shadows themselves. Not literally of course, but he may as well have done so. He wasn't the Dark Lords Shadow for nothing, well. Ex Shadow, after his sudden disappearance to the One Sith. He left [member="Darth Mephirium"] to the Hordes, fading from both the Force and view. How interesting things had just gotten.