Enslaved. Tortured. Beaten.
Betrayed.
Darth Vulcanus had disappeared. Perhaps he had died, or perhaps he had simply went off into seclusion. Either way things hadn't turned out the way Graxin had expected. Not at all. When the Mephirium last landed, the Sith had been waiting. His skill with the lightsaber was almost masterful, yes, but it could not overcome two Sith Lords. Not alone, anyway.
He was incapacitated and dragged away from his unknowing crew at the time. The Sith--Inquisitors, that's what they were-- told him that his services, and his freedom were no longer needed by the New Order. Any possibility of finding his siblings had been lost in that very moment, and the Knight had offered no resistance.
What had been the point, anyway? Everything he fought for amounted to nothing. The evils he had caused had no justification. No good had come about in the end. As such, Graxin had resigned to his life in the Sith prison on the unpopulated side of Mytus. He was held in what used to be a temple, guarded by handful of Graug and otherwise left alone. The tribe that watched over him paid him little heed other than to beat him for their own sick pleasures.
There was nothing he could do to resist, and after a time, Graxin simply grew fed up from the treatment. Hanging up high in energy shackles, the former hand of the Emperor called out desperately in the force. For something, someone, anything to rescue him from the torment he now endured.
Considering his luck up to this point; it would only be Krag himself come to end the boy's short life.
[member="Nima Ven"]
Betrayed.
Darth Vulcanus had disappeared. Perhaps he had died, or perhaps he had simply went off into seclusion. Either way things hadn't turned out the way Graxin had expected. Not at all. When the Mephirium last landed, the Sith had been waiting. His skill with the lightsaber was almost masterful, yes, but it could not overcome two Sith Lords. Not alone, anyway.
He was incapacitated and dragged away from his unknowing crew at the time. The Sith--Inquisitors, that's what they were-- told him that his services, and his freedom were no longer needed by the New Order. Any possibility of finding his siblings had been lost in that very moment, and the Knight had offered no resistance.
What had been the point, anyway? Everything he fought for amounted to nothing. The evils he had caused had no justification. No good had come about in the end. As such, Graxin had resigned to his life in the Sith prison on the unpopulated side of Mytus. He was held in what used to be a temple, guarded by handful of Graug and otherwise left alone. The tribe that watched over him paid him little heed other than to beat him for their own sick pleasures.
There was nothing he could do to resist, and after a time, Graxin simply grew fed up from the treatment. Hanging up high in energy shackles, the former hand of the Emperor called out desperately in the force. For something, someone, anything to rescue him from the torment he now endured.
Considering his luck up to this point; it would only be Krag himself come to end the boy's short life.
[member="Nima Ven"]