Hi Dad

[Vaulkhar]

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Panatha​

The Iron Mountains, North of Cantha​

Vain Hollow Citadel​

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Vaulkhar moved through the gloomily lit halls in utter silence, moving in the direction of his father's throne room. This day he finally garnered his father's attention enough for an audience. Why he finally noted his son, he was unsure. Whether it be the various Raids he has embarked upon to aid in the destruction of the One Sith, or possibly the recent attack against the Knight-Priests of Lannai, he could not be sure. But finally his father had called upon the young man. Yes, he had asked for an audience with the God-King shortly after returning from exile and joining his family's rule of Pantha, but that was some time ago. Now, many weeks after his return, after various battles fought in the name of the Black Empire, after dozens slain in his father's name, the Dark Lord of the Sith, Kaine Zambrano has looked to his son and summoned him to his throne room.

He was unsure what it is he would even tell his father. He doubted his father even considered him a legitimate member of his family. Vaulkhar's mind raced in circles as he considered all the recent events that had come to light and decided simply to report on his activities in the name of the Black Empire. A smile came to his pale face as he once remembered when he and his father once served the One Sith. When their actions were for a nameless and faceless Dark Lord whom cowardly hid within a tower, slipping into insanity. Vaulkhar could vividly remember standing side by side with his father as they watched over the Balmorra Arms Factory, awaiting the attack of the Galactic Republic years before. He could remember watching Kaine defeat the Jedi Grandmaster in a dramatic display of superiority that none others likely could of matched. Though it was years ago, the memory was burned into his mind.

Vaulkhar could remember the day he first met his father. Though Kaine likely did not even know he existed, he remembered when he first arrived to Coruscant seeking to join the Sith. The day he wandered out of a large hangar directly into the Sith Academy upon the planet. The meeting was brief, if not a meeting at all. But it too was seared into his brain. As Vaulkhar, at the time a mere fifteen years old, walked through the halls of Coruscant's temple where he passed by his father. Looking into the baleful gaze of the man shook Vaulkhar to the core. It was what drove him to the Dark Side.

And here he was now. Six years later the Emperor called upon him. His father called upon him and he would not miss the opportunity to share a real conversation with the man. When he was notified of the summons a mere two days earlier, he immediately went to the palaces tailor and blacksmith. There he convinced the blacksmith to craft him a durasteel breastplate with the symbol of the Black Empire emblazoned upon it's chest. The wrist guards and lower regions of the breastplate were worked to show the visual of a bloody battle, with what appeared to be many falling to what could only be described at the Zambrano Monarchy. Sitting around his head, a simple circlet reflecting the light of the torches as he went by. There was nothing unique about it, it simply revealed his position as linked to his father, a minor noble if anything, a prince soon to be. And around his shoulders draped a midnight black cloak, trimmed with crimson.

As he finally stepped up to the large double doors, inlaid with metals and the carvings of death and doom etched into the heavy surface, he nodded to the guards. His gaze this day was the molten orange color of the dark side. The guards returned the nod and the double doors were pushed open, allowing for Vaulkhar to stride in. He moved down the long, crimson carpet that lead to the throne of his father, where he sat comfortably, the green gaze looking everywhere and nowhere simultaneously. Vaulkhar met his father's eyes as he strode forward until he stood at the foot of the altar. He then lowered himself into a kneeling position, his right knee upon the floor, left hand pressed into the stone beneath it. His head was lowered in respect to the godlike being before him.

"Greetings father."

[member="Darth Carnifex"]

 

[Darth Carnifex]

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Royal Throne Room
Vain Hollow Citadel

An agonized wail erupted from the prisoner's bloody mouth as the electrical crack of the whip bit again into his back, a deep gash instantly splitting open at the instrument's touch. His arms had been bound behind his back and raised up on a wench until they dislocated completely at the shoulder, but that pain had long since run out of his system. Now he suffered new agony as the brutish ugly Graug behind him periodically carved away at his back's flesh with a barbed electrical whip of cruel design, each strike drawing forth rivers of blood that pooled on the polished marble floor followed shortly by his screams of pure agony.

The Graug wasn't the only individual present in the chamber, there were several others. Hooded men with masks resembling the beaks of birds watched inquisitively from the gloom, the light of the lit braziers glinting in the reflective glass of their goggles. But none compared to the horror that sat upon a throne wrought from jagged black iron, a being drenched in evil that relished in the prisoner's pain, literally feeding off every blow, every scream that uncontrollably spilled past his cracked lips. Dark sulfuric eyes watched him carefully while another individual, a boorish official dressed in Imperial Army fatigues armed with a holopad and a stylus, continued to drone on with questions and accusations concerning the Adherents of Lannai, the latest in a series of heretical sects that denied the divinity of the God-King of the Epicanthix, and sought to supplant his rule.

Ever since the Adherents of Lannai announced their heresy, religious intolerance had skyrocketed throughout the Pacanth Reach as temples dedicated to non-Epicanthix deities were torn down and burned by fanatics loyal to the God-King's regime. Anything considered profoundly non-Epicanthix were outlawed and destroyed, and thousands of people were detained and put to the sword in public executions so that all would never question the God-King's divinity ever again. Those who survived such brutality fled into hiding, their voices momentarily silenced, but with the discovery of a rogue sect of Jedi on Zaadja emboldened the quelled heretics. Thus an Inquisition was founded to counter the heretic's growing power and influence, and this wretched that had been strung up like a hog for slaughter had been accused of leading a local heretical organization right in the capital city under the City Guard's noses.

Such disobedience could not be tolerated.

He was already guilty, the Inquisitors sent to capture him had already pilfered his mind and found the accusations to be true, but why continue to torture him and berate him with redundant questions? Perhaps it was to alleviate frustrations on behalf of the God-King, who had long since grown weary of these heretics threatening his hold on the theocratic institutions of his people. If his rule was to be truly solidified, they would have to be cut out of his holdings root and stem, their members scattered like ash in the wind and their existence wiped from all record so that none could be inspired by their insolence.

By the time [member="Vaulkhar"] entered the room, heeding the God-King's summons, the prisoner had already lost consciousness on two occasions and had been revived by the attendants. His back was a ragged mess of flesh and bone, the spine visible through the fore, and his skin was unnaturally pale and sweaty as death longed to caress his soul. The God-King had fed all he could on this man's suffering, and there was nothing more to be squeezed from his broken body. "We're done here, throw him in the kennels. Let the hounds ensure nothing of him remains." The Graug, being the brute that he was, wrapped his arm around the prisoner's waist and yanked him down from here he had been hanged by the arms. In doing so he tore the ligaments in the prisoner's arms, practically ripping one of them right off as the manacles tore at the flesh before slipping off his now broken wrist and hands.

As they departed Kaine allowed Vaulkhar to approach him truly, but he didn't rise from his throne. His eyes fell upon his errant son, those orbs of malice digging into his soul as if he were judging his worth and found it perpetually wanting. "I have sensed your eagerness, my child. An eagerness to serve, to fight, and to murder... Tell me, why do you hunger so?"

 

[Vaulkhar]

The scene before him was truly terrifying. As he awaited for his fathers approval to enter, his gaze drifted towards the prisoner who was undergoing rather rough and gruesome torture. He had heard his father had made an art form of torture, had past it on to those around him, and would even sometimes utilize it for his own entertainment. The very idea sent Vaulkhar's stomach turning as he himself couldn't believe the truth behind the rumors. The man was physically and mentally broken, his very screams seemed hollow and devoid of true meaning. It was as if he had already resigned himself to death and was merely begging for the coming end. Unlike his father, Vaulkhar brought a swift end to his foes but he was still young and growing. He had no idea what the man had been like at his age, if he had or had not tortured others for sport when he was a younger man. The actions before him brought questions to his mind he likely would not ask.

When he was finally motioned forward by his father, Vaulkhar strode towards him, circumventing the bloody mess and the man being dragged away. As before, he lowered himself into a kneeling position, right knee pressed into the floor, left hand the same. With his head lowered in a respectful bow, he awaited his father's words. And when they came, they sent shivers down his spine. During his speech it was different. There the malice and evil of Kaine Zambrano was aimed at an entire theater full of other people. Hundreds, borderline thousands were in his presence, all being spoken to simultaneously. But being the center of the man's attention was damn near destructive. For a moment he considered standing and departing, to return to exile and never return.

A smile formed on Vaulkhar's face at the sudden cowardice. It was not why he was here. He made his way to his feet and stood straight, squaring his shoulders as his blind gaze met his father's hateful glare. The question momentarily circled through his head as he considered how to answer. There were many answers to the question, but looking to his father he realized the straight and honest answer was likely the best of the bunch.

"I seek your favor, father. I seek to become a legitimate member of this family. I seek to become a Master of the Dark Side beneath your banner and spread your dark embrace outward into the galaxy." Vaulkhar's hand slipped behind his back, where his fingers interlocked and he spread his legs another few inches, bettering his balance and breaking the small shaking that began to occur. "I desire to slaughter in your name and bring your enemies to their knees, so much like the man who was dragged away, they could be broken beneath your might."

[member="Darth Carnifex"]

 

[Darth Carnifex]

"Ah" he replied, his tone somewhat derogatory as if the answer [member="Vaulkhar"] had given was trivial compared to the question asked. "Do you know how many people I have serving me, my son? Do you know how many warriors, soldiers, and half-crazed madmen prostrate themselves before me, promising to spread carnage in my name and slaughter any enemy that stands before me? How many pledge to be the sole champion of my will?" The Dark Lord had leaned forward in his throne, no longer did he assume the casual arrogant sprawl that he had displayed during the torment of the heretic just several moments prior. Now his eyes were blazing with focused purpose, those sulfuric orbs drilling directly into Vaulkhar with a gaze so uncomfortable it would be a wonder if the lad could keep his composure under such magnified scrutiny.

"Hundreds, Vaulkhar. Thousands maybe. If I had a credit for every time some full-of-themselves Sith or Dark Jedi or no-name Imperial waltzed up into this very chamber and said those exact same hollow words to me, I'd be able to buy out Iron Crown." Now he was standing, his posture authoritative and menacing as he descended one step on the dais upon which his throne was elevated above the floor Vaulkhar currently stood on. "I don't need another would-be champion ready to throw themselves on a sword in my name, I need someone more cunning than that, one with the ability to plan for the future. I don't need a soldier."

Now he fully descended the steps, and was standing face-to-face with Vaulkhar. If the Dark Lord was terrifying from a distance, then he was absolutely horrifying up close so powerful was the aura of darkness that permeated his being. He was forced to tilt his head down to look at his bastard son, who stood nearly an entire foot shorter than the Sith whose musculature caused the clothes he wore to stretch with each breath.

"I need a son, one who fully shares my vision and is willing to command. So many of my children squander their talents by trying to impress me by tossing themselves at the nearest Jedi, and so many just end up being cut down for their misguided attempts at attention. So I do not need you to throw away your life so pointlessly, I have a greater destiny in mind for you."

 

[Vaulkhar]

As the scene changed from a familiar, somewhat comfortable conversation into one of discomfort and formality, Vaulkhar could not hold his father's gaze. As the Sith Lord's met his own his gaze slipped to the man's chest rather than his face. His hands closed into fists as his body tightened. Part of him wanted to look away or once more flee from the room, but he knew he could not. He spent years running away from his father and the Zambrano legacy, hiding away in an attempt to be more than just another bastard. But things changed, as did Vaulkhar. No more was he wandering about in a state of curiosity, hate burned inside the man and he could think of no one else to turn to than the man striding towards him. He was ready to accept his fate, whatever it may be.

With each word spoke, Vaulkhar's heart began to pound louder within his chest. It reminded him of a drum beating during war time. With each loud, metallic thud of his father moving down the dais, his fists tightened, knuckles whitening. This could go either way and Vaulkhar was not going to simply lie down and die, sticking out his neck for the coming execution. But as his father stopped and stood before him, the heavily armored and menacing figure towering over him, he almost did. Unsure of what to do, Vaulkhar lifted his head, chin raised so his own magma-like, orange gaze would meet that of his father's sulfuric orbs.

"I have spent years running away from our family name, father. I've battled Jedi and Sith alike to find myself. Until now, I have never had a path to walk, but you I would stand beside and fight beside. Your Empire I would serve or lead, whatever it is you desired. I do not want to be a nameless Sith who dies at the end of a lightsaber. I want my name to be stamped within the galaxy's history. Whatever destiny you have in mind father, I would like to hear. And I will follow it."

[member="Darth Carnifex"]