Private Into the Dark

[Darth Nefaron]

This is a momentous day.​

Darth Nefaron had long been a Sith that enjoyed solitude, confined to decrepit tombs and ramshackle laboratories. Rarely did he venture out and engage with the political machinations of other Lords, only those who could serve some hidden purpose were contacted, and those had become few and far between as the infighting and divided loyalties slowly killed the Sith from within, as was tradition of course. There was a time when Nefaron believed he would never need to bring others into his grand conspiracy, but with solitude came the time to take a step back and admire the grander picture, the idea that anyone Sith could accomplish such horrid dreams was laughable, especially a Sith of Nefaron's verity. He was sickly, and yet the pain and ache that came with his disfigurement continued to fuel him, driving him ever onward toward a dark future of his own design. But raw power was not enough, it will never be enough. For the Dark Side to at last triumph over the light, there must be a great shift in the galaxy, a shift that can only be carried out by one who could truly command the unenlightened masses and lead them as a great tide of darkness toward the very heart of the galaxy, to forever poison it and snuff out the perfidious light.

The question remained. Was this boy that being?
​

The Corpse Lord certainly believed so, or at least he saw the makings of one who might be molded into this envisioned being. But that was to come, much needed to be done for the boy to evolve into what Nefaron wanted him to be, and the first step was to take him out of that retched Academy and give him a proper education. There would be no grand ceremony for such a thing of course, it would done in the night as other Acolytes slept and dreamt of catching the eye of their betters. The landing platform that was chosen was quiet, only simple cargo droids moved about, playing little bother to the Sith Lord and his entourage of mutilated servants. They knelt, paying homage to the man who had broken their minds and would happily send them to die to achieve his goals. The darkness brought a cool breeze, and then again the notion of temperature lost meaning as one delved deeper and deeper into darkness. The cold within one's self would be the only constant companion for a true Sith, and that certainly took some time to get accustomed to.

When the boy at last appeared, Nefaron opened his arms as if to invite the Nagai into an embrace, the thought of such an absurd gesture nearly made the Corpse Lord chuckle, but in truth, he was rather joyful. At last, he would have a student who may just prove to be exactly what Nefaron was looking for, or at the very least he would serve as a proper test should he fail and Nefaron need to seek out another to carry out his will.

"As I thought, my offer was too tempting to ignore."

The sickly grin on the Sith's face remained, even as his arms fell back to his sides and he approached the former Acolyte. Nefaron had to look down to see his apprentice, their difference in stature would not always remain for Nefaron would grow shorter with age while young Veradun would only continue to grow over time. That mattered little, but for the time being, it was but one small reminder of the roles they would serve in the coming years.

"We will accomplish much together. You have already proven that you have the strength of will by agreeing to come with me, and that already sets you above the other Acolytes."

Nefaron paused for a moment before a hand rose and fell on the boy's shoulder, surprisingly gentle for a man who seemed to leap out of a child's nightmare.

"Allow me to correct myself. You are no longer an Acolyte, such a title is now beneath you. Let us leave this place, Apprentice."

TAGS: Veradun Sharr​

 

[Veradun Sharr]

TAG: Darth Nefaron​

Veradun had pondered over this decision, this choice that had been laid out before him, for some weeks now. He had weighed his options carefully; he had even gone and sought out the council of his High Priest, who happened to be one of his Sponsors to the Jutrand Academy. Darth Strosius had given the boy much to think and ponder on but ultimately this decision was his to make and his alone.

He had been told that being offered an apprenticeship by a Sith Lord was an honor, and he did indeed feel honored that he would be selected from among the other Acolytes that the Academy had within its walls. Truthfully, the young Nagai didn’t really believe he had proven his worth; he had passed his initial tests, sure. He had proven himself capable of using the Force, but not to the extent that others had - but that had been by design on his part. He hadn’t wished to be at the very top, nor had he desired to be at the very bottom. He did just enough, perhaps a little more, to place him directly in the middle of the pack and hoped that no one really noticed.

But it seemed he had caught someone’s eye - enough that they saw something they liked within him, hidden potential to be untapped, maybe? It had been enough for them to give him the offer of apprenticeship. It still mystified him that he had been selected over others. Perhaps he could ask his new master why?

He had been anxious to make contact with the Stranger, to announce his desire to accept the offer. And he had been even more nervous to tell his overseers that he had accepted an apprenticeship, and would more than likely be removed from the Academy before he had truly begun his formal instruction. That had been met with some disdain from the Academy overseers; they tried to convince Veradun that he would only receive the best education through the Academy, that having a Sith master was simply an added bonus to his lessons, and not meant to be his only education.

They told him he would be limited by his new master, and they alone could shape him into being the best Sith the Order needed.

Sure, there might have been some truth to their words; but Veradun had seen the relationship between his sister and her Master, his High Priest.

That one on one instruction, that attention…he desired it too, craved it almost. He didn’t get that at the Academy. He was one of many; he wasn’t special.

He felt the Academy would limit his growth and potential; at least, under the guidance of a single teacher - he could have more direct instruction, perhaps something more suited to who he was as an up and coming Sith. More than that, he would have stability should everything else fall apart. He wouldn’t be such a target, should the Alliance truly attack. He had a feeling the Acolytes would be sent into the front lines; perhaps he could avoid that for now by gaining a Master.

Truthfully, Veradun really didn’t know the plans his new teacher had in mind for him. This was all new, all unknown. And that brought forth a new fear in the boy he hadn’t expected: the fear of the unknown.

Beyond this though, the Nagai was afraid for other things: Would his new Master still allow him to see his High Priest? Would he get to visit with his new companion, Kasir? Would he get to see his sister Revna again?

…would he have help finding his missing family, or at least learn of their whereabouts?

What would be expected of him? Would he be nothing but a tool? Or would he have the same kind of relationship that Strosius had with Revna, where his Master taught him those necessary skills that would in turn allow him to better do what he was tasked with?

So many questions…so many unknowns. And as his final night at the Academy came, Veradun hoped that some of those questions would receive answers.

It was agreed that it would be best for the boy to leave in the dead of night…as if he had never been at the Academy at all. Dawn would come, the other Acolytes would awaken to their day, and no one would notice he was gone. And for those who did, they would soon find themselves occupied by other more concerning matters.

Those in command tried to shame him for his decision, but Veradun stood fast in his choice - as scary as it was for him. The more they ridiculed him, the more he began to truly feel he had made the right choice. His High Priest had never been too happy he had gone to the Academy anyway; perhaps this was for the best.

He was escorted without fanfare, quietly, by a group of Academy guardsmen. His entourage left him at the very edge of the landing platform; he paused, briefly, and glanced back at them. No one said a word to him, but he could almost feel their thoughts: there would be no going back now. He turned his gaze back to the ship, and saw a dark cloaked figure emerge. A chill danced across his pale flesh, and his young heart quickened its pace beneath his breastbone.

He was stepping into the unknown now, away from everything he had ever truly known. His sister couldn’t guide him now, and he knew in his heart that neither could his High Priest. He couldn’t see beyond this point, didn’t know that lay ahead. But he took those first steps towards his new future anyway, despite the nervous anxiety that dug its claws into him.

Each step towards the Sith Lord that was before him, was weighted as if his feet were made of duracrete. His pale eyes flickered over the sight before him, taking in everything he saw. He noticed figures in the shadows and the low light conditions kneeling before the Stranger. It raised a curious question in the back of his mind if he was going to be expected to do the same; he had been taught to bow respectfully at the waist to the overseers and the various Masters in the Academy, but he didn’t know if he was expected to do something different in this situation. So he instead chose to do nothing, unless directed otherwise. He truly wasn’t accustomed to doing such things anyway; his High Priest had rejected such shows of homage, and now that he thought about it, he had never seen his sister bow or kneel to her master.

He swallowed hard as his blue eyes traveled back to the dark robed Sith. A chilling breeze drifted across the landing platform, ruffling the boy’s raven black locks and fluttering his black cloak about his frame. He had left his Academy uniform behind, for he was no longer ‘worthy’ of it. He had been given simple clothes to cover himself, dark shoes for his feet, and a simple cloak to wear…nothing more, and nothing less. He shivered from the chill, despite the warm blood that coursed through his veins with each rapid pulse of his heart.

When he had drawn near, the Sith spread his arms wide in a gesture of welcome; it was a strange thing, truly. Something about that gesture felt almost…off to the boy. He regarded the man with a bit of wariness as the distance became shorter.

Veradun dipped his head in acknowledgement to the Sith Lord’s words. “Yes; I…I felt perhaps your offer was the best option available to me at this time. Though I will admit, I was told I was making a grave mistake in leaving.” The boy responded, albeit quietly, as he came to a stop before the taller Sith. He remained silent as he was told that together, they would accomplish much, and that he had already proven he had a strong will - above those of the other Acolytes, by taking the offer presented.

Veradun visibly jumped when a hand landed on his shoulder, tension coiling through him briefly, though the touch was surprisingly gentle. His gaze traveled to the hand for a moment, before he lifted his gaze back to the Sith upon hearing the correction:

No longer was he an acolyte of the Academy.

He was an Apprentice now.

Veradun swallowed hard as the weight of that settled on his shoulders and he nodded in assent to leaving the Academy behind. He would have spoken, but there was now a curious hard lump in his throat, which prevented him from saying anything at all.

 

[Darth Nefaron]

A Grave Mistake?

Of course, they might tell them that. Perish the thought a Sith could be forged outside the walls of the Academy.

One day, they would rip those walls down together.
​

But there was much to be done. The boy was far from the horror that Nefaron one day envisioned, his own fear palpable even as they sat in a brief silence, the hum of the shuttle's engines reminding the Corpse Lord that they were soon to depart, there was little time in letting the boy reminisce on what memories he might have made in this place. The hand that had rested on the boy's shoulder now gave him a gentle nudge forward, to stir him from whatever thoughts he might have found himself considering. As the pair walked, side by side, the Legionnaires that had come as a sort of honor guard rose to their feet and fell in behind the two Sith as they made their way aboard the shuttle. As the warriors took their seats in the main cargo bay, Nefaron led Veradun into a separate chamber, the door sealing behind them as the ship lurched, lifting off the platform as it made for space.

The private chamber reflected its owner, even aboard this small shuttle a laboratory of sorts had been prepared as if the Sith continued his blasphemous studies even in the quiet moments of travel between worlds. It was not a long flight to their destination, a few standard hours at most, but Nefaron would waste little time. His apprentice had much to learn and it was Nefarons intention to ensure he learned as quickly as possible,

"Tell me, Apprentice, does the sight of blood frighten you?"

This is an odd question considering the Sith spilt so much in their wars of domination. But some Sith simply lacked the stomach for what needed to be done, while others longed for nothing more than to spill as much blood as they possibly could. This was but the first test of the young Sith's willingness to obey the commands of his master, even if it was as simple as looking on as he experimented.

"Come closer, you can see the latest product of my labors."

Several small cages were fixed to the Sith's workbench, within lay simple rats. These creatures were pets that had found their way to every corner of the galaxy, driven by little more than their need to consume and spread themselves.

"Marvelous little things, aren't they? Their ability to worm their way into every little nook and cranny and their willingness to survive has always made me rather fond of them. But these unfortunate souls have a grander purpose"

Opening the lid to one of the cages, Nefaron retrieved a vial from his belt and poured just a few drops of orange liquid onto the cage floor before sealing it again. Naturally, the creatures within sought to taste this new liquid and they rushed for it, licking it up as fast as they could. The shift in behavior was almost instantaneous, the rats began to scurry and burrow themselves into whatever corner of the cage they could, seemingly running from a hunter that did not exist. Soon enough the desire to run and hide turned into murderous rage as the creatures began to devour each other, turning tooth and claw to rage. Blood and viscera coated the cage, soon it was hard to tell if any of the poor creatures had even survived.

"How quickly a community can be turned from cooperation to oblivion. In the end, this would have happened regardless, I haven't fed them in days."

That last confession was accompanied by a dry chuckle before Nefaron turned to look at his apprentice.

"You see, we Sith are like these rats. Caged, we will take any opportunity to consume, even if that means destroying ourselves in the process. Too many mouths to feed, and make no mistake we continue to find ourselves in an ever-shrinking cage."

A first lesson, arguably the most important he will ever learn. But for now, it was time to gauge his thoughts and see just what was running through his young mind.

"You have killed, have you not? What did you feel as you snuffed out another life?"

Tags: Veradun Sharr ​

 

[Veradun Sharr]

TAG: Darth Nefaron​

The nudge on his shoulder was not rough, but it was nonetheless a silent command that said ‘Let’s go’. Veradun willed himself to take those steps, still feeling like he had blocks of duracrete attached to his feet, and he swallowed again in an attempt to clear the lump in his throat.

Was he nervous? Yes - yes he was. This Sith Lord was still very much a stranger to him, he hadn’t had the time to truly get to know the…being…underneath the robes, not like he had with his family or his High Priest. He mused to himself that he would have plenty of time now to truly get to know and learn about this new authority figure in his life. He wondered if his older sister would be proud of him, in taking this step in his journey to become a proper Sith.

The two walked side by side, and the boy’s pale eyes settled on the kneeling figures and watched as they rose up on their feet in silence and fell in behind the two of them. His gate stuttered for a moment when he got a closer look at the silent figures, and saw that they were disfigured and near corpse-like and for a moment Veradun actually thought they might have been real corpses, animated by some kind of dark magic that he knew nothing about. None of them spoke, and they all moved in a manner that could only be described as mindless obedience. It was an unnerving sight for the young Sith.

His alarm was clear on his face as he hurried to resume his pace beside the Dark Lord, and glanced up briefly at the man in silence before turning his attention to the ramp before them as they finally ascended into the belly of the awaiting shuttle. Veradun was guided beyond the cargo hold and into a separate compartment within the ship itself, the door opening and sealing shut behind them, even as the ship itself lifted off.

It truly hit the young Nagai then that he was leaving everything he’d ever known behind him, and a sensation akin to being splashed with ice water flashed over his skin. He inhaled deeply in an attempt to settle his nerves, cautious eyes looking over everything around him in a quick, but studious, fashion.

This room appeared to be some sort of laboratory; various items and instruments that the Sith Lord utilized could be seen about the chamber. There was a work bench nearby, and the boy spied several small cages with some kind of small creature within each. As he took in his new surroundings - noticing things by sight, sound, and smell - he heard the Sith Lord speak, asking him if he was afraid of blood.

Pale eyes slid towards the Sith Lord, and a few moments passed before he answered as a memory of warm blood spilling over his hand returned to him, before he blinked it away.

“No. Blood does not frighten me.” he replied after a moment of silence, the slightest hint of a scoff laced into his words, before he stepped towards the collection of small cages - his growing curiosity compelling the boy to do as he was told. He cast another wary glance at the Sith Lord, before his attention shifted to whatever creatures were inside them.

One look within told the boy what the creatures were: rats. The barest hint of a smile touched his lips as he listened to the Sith’s remarks about the little creatures.

“I am quite familiar with them myself. Sometimes rat was the only meat I had to eat when I lived on the streets of Tund.” the boy said quietly as he continued to observe the Sith Lord. His glacial blue eyes locked onto the small vial the Sith produced from his belt, and a curious frown appeared on his brow as he watched the unknown, orange colored substance be dripped into the cage and the door quickly sealed back over the top.

The two watched on as the rats quickly rushed to the liquid and consumed it, desiring only to fulfill their base survival instincts and needs. What happened next both horrified and fascinated Veradun - a fascination that quickly overcame him as he unconsciously moved closer to observe the rather grotesque scene that unfolded. The Sith Lord would notice a shift come over his new Apprentice: the glint of sadistic captivation in his gaze, and an aura of what could only be described as excitement. The sight of blood and gore certainly did not bother this young Sith, though he wrinkled his nose slightly and pulled back as the scent of torn internal organs reached his senses; it was a rather unpleasant smell that reminded him of a time in his life he did not wish to remember.

Veradun blinked a couple times as his expression shifted back to its former wary mask, and he looked from the dead and dying rats to the man who was speaking to him again, imparting his first lesson to the youth. The boy contemplated the statement, trying to understand and grasp the meaning behind the lesson. In a way, it mirrored a bit of what he’d heard Darth Strosius say in the past, and he found that to be interesting. It was certainly something he was going to think more on, whenever he was alone with his own thoughts.

The next probing question made the Nagai boy pause, as thoughts of his first kill returned to him, and the sensations that had washed over him in those moments. For a moment, he felt like he was reliving the fight all over again, before he returned to the present.

“Yes…I have killed before.” he replied, oddly feeling no shame in admitting such a thing. Every single life he’d taken thus far had been warranted. Those that attacked him, like the pirates, deserved the death that had come upon them. Even his most recent killings he fully believed to be justified.

But did he dare admit how killing made him feel to his new Master? So far, it was only Kasir Dorran who knew the truth of what taking a life did to the young teen, the emotions and feelings such an act brought the boy. It felt almost wrong to admit the truth to someone else, even if it was one who had authority over him.

“I felt…many things, all at once.” The boy murmured evasively. He contemplated saying more, but seemed to think better of it and fell silent, regarding the Sith Lord before him more guardedly; indeed, there was something more for him to add, but he wasn’t so willing to share it. Not without some coaxing, for he still considered it his dark, little secret.

 

[Darth Nefaron]

There it is

The Cruelty. The Malice.

He can hide behind half-truths all he likes, the monster is already starting to free itself.
​

Nefaron would normally probe the boy's mind more forcefully if he truly desired to know exactly what he was feeling, but he played along and pretended to be satisfied by the answer provided. He had killed, taken the first step on a dark path that few could return from, and now all that Nefaron needed to do was shepherd him along that path until he was made perfect, at least to the Corpse Lord.

"These feelings seem to... trouble you. That is natural for one so young, one who has just found the path to true power. But we must confront these feelings head-on, for it is not the way of the Sith to cower in the face of emotion. We take hold of emotion and make it our weapon, and I sense in you a potential to unleash something magnificent. But that will come soon enough."

The Sith Lord turned away then, abandoning his makeshift laboratory to stand near the center of the chamber. With a flick of his wrist, a holoprojector nestled in the ceiling flickered to life, the known galaxy filled the chamber as Nefaron stood near the galactic core, carefully positioned of course as the Sith Lord prepared to offer up a bit of his own past to his apprentice.

"Right here-" he began, a finger pointing to a world at the heart of the galaxy "My homeworld. Coruscant."

Sith came from every sector of the galaxy, but to have one rise from the depths of the most populated planet in the galaxy in the heart of the Galatic Alliance go unnoticed by the Jedi? That was a rather miraculous tale, but it was indeed the truth.

"I harbor no love for the planet, but it was there I met my first true teacher. He was no Sith, in fact, he lacked any real connection to the force to speak of. But he taught me many lessons in his own way."

It was then that Nefaron lowered his hood, revealing the true extent of the damage done to his body. Flesh barely clung to his bald head, old scars were scattered about in seemingly meaningless patterns. His lips were well and truly gone, only his gaping jaw and the remnants of flesh that surrounded it gave him the appearance of once being human.

"Do I frighten you, Apprentice? Like some beast from a story told to children? In truth, I nearly cast myself into the depths of Coruscant when I saw what had been done to me, but soon I came to understand this was but my first lesson."

Without raising his hood, the Sith approached the boy, leaning in so that he was uncomfortably close

"Pain. Physical and Psychological. From that pain, fear was born."

For a moment, Nefaron simply stood and took in the look on the boy's face before finally raising his hood back over his head, hiding himself away in blessed darkness once more.

"Do not worry, I will not carve you to bits as my first teacher did. You will come to know pain in your own way soon enough, for if you are to cause others to suffer you must first understand suffering."

This itself was a test, to see how the boy reacted to the knowledge that he would not always be the one dealing pain to others. But that would come later, for he would need to be introduced to his new home.

"We travel to Anoat. I have taken this world as my own, a place where I might perform my experiments without outsiders interfering. The world is toxic, a place where the strong survive and the weak perish. I have made it so."

Without looking back, Nefaron continued on with another question

"Tell me, what would a world under your rule look like?"

Tags: Veradun Sharr ​

 

[Veradun Sharr]

TAG: Darth Nefaron
​

Trouble him?

Veradun huffed softly in amusement before he could truly stop himself, and he dipped his head to quickly compose himself before lifting his gaze back to the hooded Sith to listen to the rest of what he was being told, and nodded in his understanding. The boy’s eyes brightened a bit upon hearing his new master say that he could sense potential within Veradun, the potential to become a weapon forged from his own emotions.

He didn’t know what that looked like, yet. But he had a feeling he would soon figure that out.

Veradun followed the form of his master as the older Sith turned away and brought forth a projection of the known galaxy. The boy had seen such displays before, but the light of awe still gleamed within his eyes. He paid closer attention at this point, certain that the Dark Lord was going to reveal knowledge and information to him.

What he didn’t expect to hear was a bit of the Sith Lord’s life story. The fact that he had come from the very heart of the Galactic Alliance, the ancient world of Coruscant, and that his first teacher had been from there as well. Veradun watched the dark robed figure intently as he was told that his master’s teacher had taught him many important lessons - even though he hadn’t been a Sith, or even a Force sensitive.

Then, the Dark Lord lowered his hood, and exposed his face for the first time to his young Apprentice. Or rather, what was left of a face.

The young Nagai had seen glimpses of that ruined visage, but never the full extent of it - until now. Of course, he’d been taught by his parents not to stare or gawk at others who looked different or disfigured, but even now the boy could not suppress the small gasp that escaped him.

Pale blue eyes that flickered with reservation, with disgust, even dread - looked over the scars that criss-crossed the Dark Lord’s face. He had no lips that Veradun could see; indeed, where his mouth should have been was a gaping jaw with a patchwork of flesh that could have given the impression of being human once upon a time, and his eyes were white and flat, appearing blind. The thoughts passed through the boy’s mind:

…was the man before him living, or dead? Was his master some reanimated corpse? Was someone else puppeteering this…creature? How did he eat, if he even did so? How did he see, if his eyes appeared blind and sightless? Could he hear like everyone else could?

The voice of the Dark Lord draped over the boy’s ears. Did he frighten Veradun? Was he some nightmare that had crawled out of a children’s horror story?

The scarred Sith Lord confessing that he had nearly ended his own life when he had seen what had become of him; Veradun couldn’t blame him, either.

“I probably would have leapt to my death too if I looked like that.” the boy muttered quietly in response, speaking before truly thinking, perhaps unwisely.

The Sith Lord approached Veradun then, who stood rooted to his place by discomfort and perhaps some fear even as the other leaned in close, and told the boy the lesson he had learned from being so disfigured: a lesson on pain. And from his pain, fear was born. He stood there for a moment, studying the boy, before he finally lifted his hood back over his ruined face and hid it away again, much to Veradun’s relief.

But that relief quickly died away when he heard that he would be subjected to pain and suffering himself, and while he understood his master’s reasoning for putting him through such - he was not thrilled in the slightest.

“I’m no stranger to pain or suffering…so is it really necessary for me? I already know what it’s like.” Veradun muttered, trying to worm his way out of a future situation he really didn’t want to experience, even as the Sith Lord announced that they were traveling to another location, a planet called Anoat.

The boy was quiet and reflective as he heard that the whole planet, albeit a toxic and dangerous one, belonged to this Dark Lord. He figured only the powerful within the Sith Order controlled their own planets, and it made him really begin to wonder about the true depths of power and authority his master possessed.

Who was this man, this Sith?

With his back still turned to Veradun, he asked the boy what a world might look like under the young Nagai’s rule. It made him think and ponder on such a thing. Truthfully, the only knowledge on how to rule came from watching how his High Priest directed the affairs of the Order of Wonosa and the Formos settlement.

“I…I don’t know. I’ve never really thought I’d rule anything. Just…be a Sith, I suppose.” the boy said with a shrug. “The only examples I have with ruling come from watching my High Priest lead our people…and from living with a gang and watching how others interacted with each other while on the streets of Tund."

 

[Darth Nefaron]

"Be a Sith? And what would you know of the Sith?"
​

Nefaron left little time for the boy to respond before a hand was raised in fury, a powerful blast sending the boy backward toward the wall of the shuttle. He was not to be injured, but he was to understand that pain would be his teacher. The impact of the durasteel would be a good start to the Nagai's education.

​

"It was in the ancient days, when Jedi and Sith were one, that our precursors first found the darkness. They understood that their rage and fury could grant them limitless power. For 10,000 years we have waged our war, countless plans and billions of deaths have led us here. We must decide what kind of Sith we will be, and you will submit to my vision of the future."

Nefaron approached the boy as he remained pressed against the wall. The Sith Lord, gauntlet in his free hand, readied a dose of his toxin. He allowed the needle tips to scrape against his Apprentice's neck, just hard enough to draw a bit of blood but no more than that. He allowed Veradun to once again look upon the face he found so abhorrent, to see that his creature was his better. Nefaron smiled then, a cruel, wicked smile as he relished even this slightest bit of torture.

"I will remake you. I will show you what it means to be Sith, to desire conquest and power. You will seek to remold the universe in your own image, or you will perish. Better yet, I will snuff out your mind and add you to my legion. So many possibilities, and yet we will just have to see how far you are willing to go to become who you are meant to be."

The Corpse Lord released the boy, allowing him to fall to the floor before him as if he were little more than a slave worshiping his Dark God. Perhaps that is what Nefaron desired in the end, a servant who could think for themselves but be utterly enthralled by one who directed their every move.

Time will tell.

"Rise. We will continue this discussion later. But first, we must get you acquainted with your new home."

Nefaron did not bother helping his Apprentice, he simply went to the viewport of the shuttle, a world cloaked in toxic clouds grew ever closer as they neared their destination.

"I suggest you breathe deeply, Apprentice. It will be the last easy breath you will take for some time. But you will adjust, you will become... Stronger."

Tags: Veradun Sharr

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[Veradun Sharr]

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TAG: Darth Nefaron ​

Something in the tone of his new master’s voice, sent a prickle of warning over the back of Veradun’s neck, but before he could truly make any move or even answer back to the question directed at him - the boy was struck by a powerful blast that slammed him back against the durasteel hull of the ship. The blow knocked the wind from his lungs and though it wasn’t severe enough to break bones, it was hard enough to leave a bruise behind. Pain ripped through the young teen’s body, and he almost missed the words the Sith said next over the thundering of his own heart, but he didn’t miss the clear expectation that he was to comply with his Master’s vision he sought for the future.

The Dark Lord made a slow approach towards him, keeping him pinned against the hull through the invisible grip of the Force. Icy cold dread flooded the boy’s veins as he watched the Sith lift some sort of gauntlet in his hand towards the boy, the razor sharp tips of the injector needles being lightly pressed and scraped along the pale flesh of the Nagai’s exposed neck - just hard enough to draw blood. The stinging pain, and the sensation of a weapon against his throat, was a harsh reminder that he was not in control here.

Veradun went very still, the fear he felt throughout his entire being reflected in his blue eyes as he stared back at the ruined face of his Master, and the wicked smile he received told him more about this Sith Lord than words could ever do. He didn’t dare to speak or object as he was told that he would be remade, shown what it meant to be a Sith, and he would seek to remold the universe in his own image - and if he didn’t, then he would be disposed of. Veradun was no fool; he clearly understood that whatever image he would have for the universe…wouldn’t be his at all.

It would be that of the Dark Lord who currently held his life in his very grasp.

The boy was released and he collapsed back to the ground on his hands and knees before his Master. He was too frozen by fear to move in that moment, despite the humiliation that coursed through him in being in such a position. He had a sinking feeling that he was going to end up like this far more often than he’d like to, and the sardonic side of his mind told him that he should start getting used to it.

Veradun rose to his feet when he was ordered to, and he kept his gaze lowered. Who he was now was quite the contrast to who he’d been just moments prior; the arrogant young Sith was now hidden away behind a frightened boy. He was no stranger to punishment - there had been plenty of times where he had felt the lash of the belt from his own father for stepping out of line. But this…this was different.

This man was not his father. He was not his High Priest. The expectations were different now, the stakes much higher. And clearly how he interacted with this Sith would be vastly different from how he was with people he knew.

“Forgive me, my Lord…if I stepped out of line.” Veradun offered in a quiet, shaking voice. He was quiet as he received the ominous warning that he should breathe deeply, for it would be the last time he would be able to for a time. Worry etched itself across the boy’s face as he processed this information.

“Am…am I not going to have proper equipment to filter the toxins? What do you mean by that? That I will become stronger?” he questioned hesitatingly, his concern and wariness evident in his voice - as he was now unsure if questioning this Sith Lord would bring further fury or not.

 

[Darth Nefaron]

The Child Reveals Himself
​

There was little more to be said of the matter. The boy had been punished and learned a very valuable lesson for the future, though Nefaron knew all too well that this lesson would have to be repeated countless times, for no true Sith would ever be content with their place. But for a precious few years, Nefaron would hold ultimate power over his Apprentice for his lack of experience and failure to properly master his emotions would always lead to pain. The Corpse Lord did not appreciate the boy's witty commentary, for it implied a certain disrespect that would have him killed by any other Lord. Luckily for young Veradun, his master was a patient man, though he just witnessed how quickly that patience could run out. The apology was ignored, for that sort of weakness was to be cast aside if one was to be a true Sith. Instead, Nefaron turned to the matter of his domains rather unique atmospheric properties.

"Child, there is more to being a Sith than simply crushing one's enemies with the force. The body and mind must be molded if they are to wield such immense powers and the means to endure hardship until your own body is under your full control."

The shuttle broke through the raging atmosphere, thick with a vicious cocktail of gases that eventually gave way to barren planes and various ruins of long-dead cities relics of past wars. Various tribal gatherings were present, countless petty kingdoms that waged constant war until called to slaughter by their Corpse Lord.

"Years before I took this world for my own, efforts were made to cleanse the planet. I halted that process, though I ensured that conditions were at least somewhat favorable for my test subjects. You will survive, but soon your lungs will begin to struggle to process the unique concoction that makes up the air you breathe. It will make each test I assign you increasingly more difficult, but it will force you to learn to control every aspect of your being. Soon enough, you will come to relish this world as I do."

Though he would not admit it, Nefaron himself struggled for many months when he first chose Anoat as his home. But his endless ours of labor in the laboratory had kept his mind focused and soon enough his lungs found Anoat's atmosphere rather pleasant, at least in the sense that Nefaron felt secure in his fortress, free from prying eyes and a knife in the back. As the pair looked out on their Kingdom, a great bastion came into view, a fortress of pain and hate that had been raised to tower over those who fear its shadow. Its battlements were manned by the most devoted of Nefaron's legionnaires and various beasts of his own making, all cowered and knelt as their master's shuttle flew overhead and slipped into an internal hangar bay.

"Ah, home at last. We will not linger here for long, as we have another engagement to attend soon. But you must see your new home firsthand before we can move on to more pressing matters."

Without another word, Nefaron turned away from the viewport and made for the exit, the legionnaires in the forward compartment had already debarked and took up positions on either side of the shuttle's landing ramp. The hangar was hardly impressive, the poorly lit and rather grotesque assortment of slaves and various old fighter craft littered the surroundings, but all who still lived knew when to slink away when their master returned.

Soon enough, they would have another to fear.

TAG: Veradun Sharr ​

 

[Veradun Sharr]

TAG: Darth Nefaron ​

There was no response from the robed Sith to Veradun’s apology, and he didn’t press on it. Either it was accepted or it wasn’t.

But he did learn a valuable lesson from that exchange; his Master was not a fan of his type of humor. And, thinking back on what he had said - he could understand why he’d been punished. He probably would have done the same thing to someone else had they made those remarks to him. No doubt, his own father would have cuffed his ear, and his High Priest would have rebuked him, had they heard such words come out of his mouth.

Veradun was still and silent as a statue as the Dark Lord touched on his questions he had asked out of concern for the toxic environment he was about to enter, and he pondered grimly on what he heard. Whatever he was about to face on this planet, was surely going to test him in a way he’d never been tested before.

The weight of his decision on becoming this man’s apprentice weighed more heavily upon him as he watched the shuttle break through the atmosphere from a nearby viewport, and he saw the barren landscape of Anoat appear beneath them. Veradun beheld the ruins of long dead cities, though he noticed the world was not completely barren and desolate. Life did exist here, in a way. A twisted form of life that he would have to struggle against - of that he was sure.

His Master continued speaking, and once more the boy made sure to give the Sith his due attention. He hardly felt any relief hearing that he would undoubtedly survive the harsh environment of his to-be new home, especially when he learned that it would make whatever challenges his Master put him through all the more difficult.

“I understand why now, when you said that I would become stronger. Either I adapt and learn how to live with it, or I perish.” Veradun said in a low voice that was carefully schooled to be respectful.

The ship drew closer and lined up on a dark and ominous structure beyond, a fortress that rose above the surrounding landscape and seemed to dominate everything around it. He flickered a cautious and wary gaze over to his Master when the other stated that they had arrived home, but that they would not linger for too long. Just long enough for him to see his new home firsthand, and no doubt to let the toxic atmosphere begin to test him. The young Nagai swallowed hard and took a deep but almost silent breath, his anxieties once again crawling through him.

“Another engagement to attend? I don’t want to assume but, am I going somewhere with you after I’ve been shown around this place? You said you took this world…are you like a king or something here? The governor? Is this your base of command?” the boy asked, his curious questions pouring out due to the rise of his anxiety as the shuttle touched down and the Sith Lord turned from the viewport and headed for the exit. The gaunt boy hesitated to follow in the wake of his Master, but eventually took those steps that would lead him towards the lowered ramp.

He stopped at the very top, still aboard the ship, as his eyes fell upon the kneeled forms of those who had accompanied the Dark Lord. He felt the press of destiny upon his shoulders; once he stepped foot upon this new world, this place that belonged to his new Master - then he knew in his heart it would signify the beginning of the end of everything he had come to know. Veradun took another deep breath before heading down the ramp; he didn’t want to keep the man waiting on him for too long. He had already tried the Sith Lord's patience; there was no need to push his luck any further right now.

The next breath he took, filled his lungs with the new and toxic air of Anoat. At first…he didn’t feel anything different, other than a slight heaviness that seemed to weigh upon his chest. He had expected the air to be caustic and searing to his lungs, but that seemed to not be the case, at least...not yet. He looked around himself, eyes bright and alert as he observed the hangar. The lightning was poor and dim, but he could make out what appeared to be older ships and various other individuals - some of whom he watched slip away into the shadows as if to hide from the sight of the two Sith. Or more correctly, from the sight of the Dark Lord.

He could understand why they might fear his Master - he certainly held a measure of fear for the older Sith now.

Veradun frowned suddenly when he realized that he didn’t actually know the name of his Master, and he’d been too distracted by other things to think about asking for it until now.

“I just realized I…I don’t actually know your name, my Lord. How should I refer to you, or call you?”

 

[Darth Nefaron]

The Boy is Learning.

Good.
​

Veradun would be strong. Even now he was worth a thousand slaves, but in the end, he was little more than a slave himself. He would have to learn what it took to rise above the masses and achieve true greatness, or he would learn to look down as his master strode past him. But that time had yet to come, for this place would eat him alive if he was not given a chance to adjust. While not ideal, they would have to depart Anoat for the Kaggath, the great spectacle that would capture the Empire's attention while enemies, both at home and abroad, made their moves. Nefaron had not determined whether or not he would tell his Apprentice just who was fighting in this battle, perhaps that could wait until they were back in orbit. Oh, he would be told of his High Preist and the battle that awaited him, but that was of little consequence at the moment.

"Oh yes, we will return to Jutrand for an event that the entire Empire will be eager to see. But we have time, time I will spend introducing you to your new home."

Nefaron had not answered the rest of his question, as he wasn't quite sure what answer to provide. Was he a King? A Warlord? A God even? All would suffice as answers, but in truth, there was only one the Corpse Lord would accept.

"I am the Master here. Titles are irrelevant, for all know they are my lesser and obey without question. You could learn much from them, at least until you believe yourself ready to become more than what you are."

Though he did not openly say it, he had declared his Apprentice to be little more than a slave. All Apprentices must bow to their Master's commands if they wish to continue breathing, but there must come a time when they prove they are capable of more than simply following orders, and Veradun was far from capable of carrying out his own independent actions. He was still a child, one fresh from the Academy's brainwashing and loyal to the tenants of his High Priest, something the Sith Lord would have to strip away if he wanted to see the boy thrive as a true Sith Lord. That was the tricky thing with Apprentices, the best ones came with concrete beliefs and ideals that must be smashed and cast aside before any real progress can be made.

"As for how I acquired this world, that is a story for another time. One day you will be worthy to hear it."

So many questions, so little time. That childlike curiosity was only natural, but soon enough he would no longer ask such things. He would only know suffering, strife, and the cold rage that came only when one truly embraced the darkest part of themselves. Nefaron had begun walking toward the hangers exit when the request for a name came from the boy's mouth, and the Corpse Lord only smiled as he turned back to see his Apprentice ponce again. He could answer this, for one day he would receive a title of his own that would entirely replace who he was before.

"I am Darth Nefaron. My Lord or My Master will suffice should you address me. But know this boy, my name will be one you come to curse in the coming weeks, should you be strong enough to survive them."

A dire warning, but also a great kindness. Few Sith receive warning when they are about to undergo a great hardship, but Veradun would have a very long road ahead of him and it was worth offering this small gift of foresight. Without another word, Nefaron continued to walk, hands folded behind his back as he made his way out of the hanger into a dark hallway, barely illuminated by weak red lights. More slaves scurried into hidden corners and side passages as the two Sith passed by, the silence only broken by the quiet hum of distant machinery or the occasional cry of pain. Many chambers of the fortress were occupied by the slaves who maintained its vast halls but also garrisoned the Legionaries that carried out Nefarons will. Many of these horrid-looking soldiers watched the boy that followed their master with great interest, or perhaps it was better to say they were sizing up potential prey.

"My Legionnaires are hardly professional soldiers, but the Sith have little need for that. They are stripped of the foolish ideals that drive our ancient enemy, the Jedi. They desire war, suffering, and the endless slaughter that comes when they drive a world to madness. They are endlessly ambitious, and they will seek every opportunity to earn my favor. They see you as little more than a child, one day you will lead them into battle. That is if you can make them fear you."

Nefaron still did not look at the boy, it was as if he was simply speaking out loud to no one in particular. He trusted that Veradun was a keen listener, and would take the advice provided by his master to heart. The pair reached the end of the long hallway and arrived at a turbo-lift, the doors sliding open as the Sith Lord entered, leaving enough space for his Apprentice to follow after him. Once the doors shut and the lift began to move, Nefaron withdrew a blade from one of the many pouches on his waste and presented it to his Apprentice.

"We are to inspect recently arrived specimens. One of these specimens has been promised his family's freedom should he manage to kill you. Cut his throat, and you shall be rewarded."

A simple challenge really, at least for one to be in tune with their senses. This was the first of many tests, a benchmark that Nefaron would build from going forward. When the lift doors opened again, a vast room with seemingly endless rows of cages appeared. When the Sith appeared, the slavers in charge of the recent captures opened the cells and allowed the desperate beings, ranging from humans to ithorians, to roam free.

"Find your assassin. We will see just what you are capable of."

TAGS: Veradun Sharr ​

 

[Veradun Sharr]

TAG: Darth Nefaron ​

Veradun was more curious than anything to hear about some event taking place on Jutrand, and for a moment he felt a sort of excitement that a child might have upon hearing that they were going to go on some adventure, but he quickly tamed that. Just based on the brief but fear-inducing interaction on the ship a little bit ago, the boy doubted he would enjoy said outing with the Sith Lord.

There was a crawling, uneasy thought in the back of his mind that was telling him that he just might soon fear any interaction with the corpse-like Sith - and that was an altogether foreign concept for him to wrap his mind around. He hadn’t feared his High Priest, or his parents, or even the masters at the Jutrand Academy. But this felt... different.

The boy’s curious questions in regards to what the Sith Lord’s official position over the world was, was answered in a way that made the young Nagai frown slightly. The Sith Lord made it clear that all others were his lessers and obeyed him without question, and that titles did not mean anything here. He even suggested to the boy that he learn to do the same…until he felt like he could rise above such a thing.

He sounds like a slaver… the boy thought to himself darkly. That thought alone brought the boy a great deal of uncertainty with his decision to become this Lord’s apprentice. If this proved true then how would his High Priest feel if he learned that Veradun had aligned with a slaver? Or his sister for that matter? Would that make him their enemy?

Veradun swallowed hard; he’d been raised by former slaves himself, and he loathed the idea of it. He just hoped that this wouldn’t prove true. But if it did…what would he do with that? He couldn’t leave his apprenticeship; it was a contract bound by oath.

He glanced at the Lord when he was denied the story of how he had claimed this toxic world, and he dipped his gaze for a moment. “Of course; I know that it is your right to decide what I am worthy of hearing or not.” Veradun replied, hoping that his statement would somewhat appease the Sith Lord as he followed the man across the hangar.

To his question on the Sith’s name, he received a “smile” from that scarred face. Definitely going to take some getting used to, Veradun thought to himself as he waited to see if he would be worthy enough to hear the Sith’s name. It seemed that this would be granted to him, however, and he finally solidified the truth of who this Dark Lord was.

Darth Nefaron.

Once more, the boy dipped his gaze in understanding that he was to refer to the man as my Lord, or my Master. No doubt, failure to adhere to this would be seen as a slight or disrespect. The warning he received rang in his skull; it was a dark omen that told him that his future was going to be unlike anything he’d ever experienced. To the point that he may not even survive what may lay ahead of him.

Cursing the name of his Master was not something he could truly wrap his mind around.

He felt another chill of foreboding race over his skin as he more seriously considered the fact that he had made a terrible mistake. But…should he survive, he had little doubt that this Dark Lord would help him rise to strength and power untold.

And that was something the young Nagai wanted. Power. Control. Strength. Dominion over those who would dare to bring him low.

He pondered these things in his mind as he was guided into a dark hallway, and he cleared his throat as he started to feel a curious itching burn that seeped its way into his chest; no doubt, the beginnings of his struggle with the toxic atmosphere of his Master’s world. Maybe one day I could be powerful enough to own my own planet…or maybe more? Preferably without the toxic air though…

Veradun’s eyes spied figures that scurried into the shadows and away from the two Sith as they approached and passed by, and once more the boy frowned. Truthfully, he’d been too young to go with the other Squires on slave rescue excursions with the Order of Wonosa, so he had little idea of just how a slave might react around their master. The freed slaves he’d seen on Formos had all been scared or wide eyed, quiet and overwhelmed with everything that had happened to them…but he never got tired of seeing the joy in their eyes and on their face when they realized that they were truly free, and that the galaxy was open to them.

It was in stark contrast to what he was seeing now with the beings that cowered away from their presence; no, not his presence. They were fearful of Darth Nefaron.

The sounds of the fortress he was guided further into, chilled the teen to his bones. The low lighting also provided a certain atmosphere that reminded him quite strongly of a slaughterhouse for beasts. The dark soul that had briefly revealed itself on the ship was now buried underneath the layers of a frightened young teenager, who was entering a world filled with danger, stepping into a new life that could very well destroy him. He was reminded of his dangerous new path as they passed by the members of his Master’s Corpse Legion. They eyed the boy with interest, and his skin crawled under their gaze. They looked at him as if he were a delicious meal, and he couldn’t shake the feeling that they would rip him limb from limb if he strayed from his Master’s side…or if the Sith Lord commanded them too. As if sensing his thoughts, the Dark Lord spoke to Veradun about his Legionnaires; how they were stripped of their humanity, their only desire to please their dark overlord and earn his favor. The boy’s pale blue eyes narrowed slightly as his quick mind caught on to a subtle revelation given to him by the Sith: if he wished to earn his Master’s favor, then he would need to be like these Legionnaires; ruthless and ambitious.

He eyed the horrid looking soldiers as they passed by, daring to even hold the hungry gazes of a few of them. If they were hardly professional soldiers…then he might possibly be able to kill them, should he have to. There could be no hesitation, should they come to do him harm.

“I should tell you, my Lord…if they try to hurt me, I will kill them.” he dared to say aloud, risking the wrath of the Sith Lord just ahead of him for speaking violence against his own troops. But maybe such a statement would earn him some favor.

Eventually they reached a turbolift that was at the end of the long, dark hallway and nervously the boy stepped inside with his Master. He still felt some fear from the incident that had happened on the ship, and absentmindedly one of his hands rose to his neck to feel the dried scabs of blood there. He felt the urge to clear his throat again, and as he did so, he coughed…a slight wheeze on the back end of his inhale as he tried to pull air into his lungs. Already he was breathing more, just to provide enough oxygen to his body. He felt like there was a band around his chest, tightening to constrict him ever so slowly. And he knew it was only going to get worse.

His icy eyes were drawn to movement and he watched as Darth Nefaron produced a blade from a pouch that was on his waist. He eyed it for a moment with fear, before lifting his gaze to the shadowed cowl of the Dark Lord as he was told that they were on their way to inspect some fresh specimens, and that one of them had been promised the freedom of his family if he managed to slay the Nagai boy. He was then ordered to kill the man, and if he did so, he would be rewarded.

Many things raced through his mind as he hesitatingly reaching up to take the blade from his Master.

A moment later, the lift halted and the doors opened, and the boy watched in growing horror as cells were opened and individuals, sentients, were released into the chamber.

He called them specimens; they are caged and controlled. These beings are little more than mere slaves… and he wants me to kill one of them? What will my sister or my High Priest think of me if I do this? I should be setting them all free…

Darth Nefaron’s order was clear, and despite his sudden and deep misgivings, Veradun knew it was not an order he could disobey. This was a test for him; if he failed this…

Perhaps choosing to die would be better than going against what I’ve been taught. But…I want to live! There is a way around this, a way to keep my honor intact… I’ll wait for my attacker to come at me first, and give me no choice but to kill him.

As he stepped further into the chamber that was filled with the desperate, fearful, and filthy individuals of various races and types, he began to peer at each. He knew his potential assailant would be male, just based on what his Master had told him and so his pale gaze drifted over any females he saw present. The blade in his hand was concealed, for the moment. He expected to be attacked almost right away but as the moments ticked by and turned into minutes and nothing happened, the Nagai knew that something else would need to be done. He stepped further and further into the chamber to study those within more closely. Twi’leks, humans, Dathomirians, near-humans and certainly some hybrids, blue skinned Chiss, Togrutas, Rodians, Weequays, Biths, and even a couple of Ithorians - could all be seen amongst the loose captives. His sharp gaze noticed that just under half were males that he could tell or see. Nearly all of them displayed fear towards their captors, towards the Sith…towards him.

It gave him mixed feelings, to see slaves afraid of him. As he moved further in, the beings shuffled away from him, cowering in their uncertainty and fear. He wanted to reassure them that they would be okay - but he knew his words would fall on deaf ears, and knew such words would be a lie. Seeing nothing that stood out to him immediately, the Nagai teen paused in his step and looked down at the ground at his feet. He was still new to sensing and using the Force, but he had gained some strength in it over the last while.

Perhaps he could use it to feel out his supposed assassin?

He closed his eyes, blocking out the sights around him so that he could focus more clearly, and he reached out his senses as he’d been taught. He was assaulted immediately by the sheer overwhelming amount of raw emotion that poured into the Force around him. Fear was the single most emotion that battered against him; desperation, sorrow, hopelessness.

And something far deeper, darker… Hatred. Rage. Dominance. Cruelty. Amusement. Power...so much power.

He felt a hungry stir within his soul as his eyes snapped open and he found himself looking at his Master who was a dozen or so feet away. Had he just felt the Dark Lord through the Force? He must have… could he one day feel that way too?

Veradun’s senses picked up something else as he stared at the Sith Lord, and from the corner of his eye he noticed someone trying to slip through bodies in a slightly suspicious manner. The boy’s instincts came to life, and he momentarily forgot that he was in a chamber filled with hapless souls. His head twitched ever so slightly in the direction from where he spied the movement, and a pale blue eye noticed a green skinned rodian who seemed…more nervous than the others. Like he was trying to hide from Veradun.

No, not hide. Sneak up on him.

The Nagai’s gaze landed back on his Master as a subtle shift came over the boy. His body shifted ever so slightly, poised for instant action, and he felt the handle of the blade in his hand more acutely than before. Still, he kept his eyes on the Sith Lord beyond him, even as the rodian slipped behind the boy and paused, as if contemplating his next move.

The young Sith’s would be assassin lunged forward, hands outstretched as if to wrap them around the boy’s scrawny neck, but Veradun moved quickly, stepping to the side and pivoting on his feet so that he was now facing his assailant. The rodian realized too late that his attack had been foiled and with well practiced ease that suggested martial training, Veradun had reached out and snagged the male rodian and with a swift movement of a foot, had brought the creature down to its knees, an arm pinned while the blade in the boy’s other hand quickly and cleanly severed the tendons in the other arm…rendering it useless. And it had all been done without much thought from the boy. Just pure action and trained instinct.

Now he stood behind the rodian, knife blade in his hand, as the captured specimens around him scattered away with cries of fear. For a few heartbeats, all Veradun did was stare at his victim, and all he could feel was the abject fear and terror from the being. The rodian struggled against him feebly as the boy hesitated on carrying through with the final act.

He was going to kill you. He’d probably still try to kill you unless you finish him off. Maybe others have been told to kill you too. Doing this will ease his suffering, and will make sure the others don’t attack you. Don’t see this as cruelty…but a mercy.

“I’m sorry…” The boy murmured ever so softly to the alien in his grip, before he brought the blade up and made a quick slash across the exposed throat.

 

[Darth Nefaron]

Murder was simple. Honest. The desire to take a life took many forms, but in the end, the result was always the same. One being lay dead, while the other was left to contemplate the enormity of their actions. Nefaron had studied his new Apprentice for some time, even prior to their first meeting, and he had come to a few different conclusions that led to the current theatrics unfolding before him.

He was ambitious.

He was self-serving.

He was full of wrath.​

All were very positive qualities for a prospective Sith, but the issue lay in his upbringing. Even now, Nefaron had his own agents investigating the boy's past, but a few unfortunate matters had already arisen.

He abhorred slavery.

He reveled in freedom.

He clung to his honor.​

These would be difficult to rip from the Nagai's heart, but not impossible. Already work had begun to ensure he would see no path forward but to fully accept the Dark Side, not the half-hearted version he attempted to practice now. A difficult choice had been presented, to claim the life of a man who only sought to save his family from certain doom, but at the cost of another. If the boy truly had any honor he would have turned that blade on his Master the moment it was offered, despite the painful death that would have come with such a brazen attempt. But no, he chose to wander the crowd and seek out his assassin, perhaps he sought to disarm his assailant before he could strike. Perhaps he thought simply incapacitating the assassin and presenting him before his Master might win him some great boon. Nefaron considered such an outcome, but in the end, he believed he knew Veradun, when faced with death, would choose to unleash his rage on his foe. The Corpse Lord hardly moved as he watched his Apprentice, the slight grin that graced his face only grew as the assassin came into view, though Nefaron offered no clue to the boy that his target was near at hand.

The attack was quick. In a few short moments, the Apprentice arose triumphant as his would-be killer fell to the floor, his throat split open and his precious life-blood added to the multitude of stains that littered the chamber. It was only then that Nefaron approached, the crowd parting before their captor, leaving Master and Apprentice to share a few private words.

"With the spilling of blood, you continue your journey down the dark path."

Nefaron sank down to one knee before the dying Rodian, the SIth raised his hand and used his power to apply just the slightest bit of pressure to halt the flow of blood from the alien's exposed wound. The creature was near death, gasping for air but only to find he was no longer capable of filling his lungs.

"You have served well, but in the end you failed. For your selfless sacrifice, I shall ensure your family lives, though only for as long as can be expected of slaves. They will do well in the beast pits, oh how my pets do enjoy guests."

Then it happened. A true, genuine, horrifying laugh from the Corpse Lord. He reveled in this final act of cruelty, his hand withdrawing and the flow of blood continuing from the Rodian throat as he finally expired. When he returned to his full height, the slave masters began their bloody work, great gates opening to vast halls, all paths leading to a Hell that seemed unimaginable. Legionaries used shock batons and cruel clubs to drive the slaves on, reveling in the suffering as did their Master. As the slaves moved on, Nefaron moved his gaze to his Apprentice, dark glee still apparent in his dead eyes.

"A generation condemned to servitude. Truly Apprentice, you will become my greatest creation in time. Oh and that apology you offered to your dying victim? That was a true stroke of genius."

Nefaron approached then, uncomfortably close to the boy as if asking for him to react, to force his Master back by any means though he knew full well what might happen should he act on that feeling.

"After all, you did know what you were doing by letting him die? A wife and two little children sentenced to languish under the cruelty of the lash? Perhaps I should have them made into your personal attendants, so as to remind you of this glorious day."

Nefaron lingered for a moment, his smile still present, before he turned his back on the boy and made for the turbolift once more.

"Come Apprentice, we have one last stop to make before we attend to our business on Jutrand."

Tags: Veradun Sharr ​

 

[Veradun Sharr]

TAG: Darth Nefaron ​

Veradun stared, transfixed on the growing pool of green blood that splattered from the gaping wound the in rodian’s neck. He hardly registered the approach of the Sith Lord, though his spoken words to the boy seemed to have some sort of reaction - a head twitch and an acceleration in his breathing.

The boy’s pale blue eyes, glinting with dark fascination, flickered to the robed Sith as he knelt down and momentarily stemmed the flow of the blood from the dying alien.

The next words he heard along with the horrific laugh, made the blood drain from his already pale face, and it confirmed his fears. They were slaves.

The boy’s stomach clenched painfully tight, and he felt a coldness drape over him as he watched his Master let the rodian man die with his last thoughts and memories being that his wife and two children would suffer. Veradun felt like he was going to be sick; he had a part to play in that. It never crossed his mind that the family might be here, and that he had just sentenced them to servitude until death.

The Dark Lord rose to his full height, towering over the boy as the slave drivers set about their work, pushing the throng towards gates that had opened and towards an unknown fate, and all Veradun could do was stare in mute horror at what had happened, and he couldn’t bring himself to look at Darth Nefaron as the Sith cruelly confirmed to his apprentice what his actions had done. Fear flickered in his eyes when he heard that his whispered apology to the dead alien at his feet had been heard by the Sith Lord.

A stroke of genius? The boy thought to himself… No…He hadn’t meant it that way…

What have I done?

The fear, and now the beginnings of shame he felt, rooted him in place as his Master stepped very close to him. The boy’s hand holding the blood stained blade twitched ever so lightly, as the fleeting thought of moving away or striking the Sith before him flashed through his mind. But he couldn’t bring himself to lash out; not after what had happened on the ship. The Dark Lord continued speaking to the boy before him, cutting words that sank deep into his guilty conscience. His Master made the comment of making the surviving rodians the boy’s personal attendants…a reminder of what he had done. What he had sentenced them to.

Veradun remained where he stood, unmoving and unspeaking, as the Dark Lord turned and began to walk towards the lift, turning his back to the boy. Another brief thought of putting that blade into the monster’s back flashed through his mind, but he suppressed it. All he could think about was that family…

Wait a second. I…I can fix this!

“My-My Lord…I-” The boy stuttered, finally animating himself. He paused, blinked, and shook his head briefly, before looking to the retreating back of his Master. “If it is agreeable to you, my Lord - I would like them to be my personal attendants. I’d…like to know what it is like to have slaves of my own. To have that…power.” He kept his voice as neutral as possible - though the words he spoke sickened him to the core of his being. He needed to play this situation very carefully. For their sake.

No.

For his.

 

[Darth Nefaron]

Nefaron paused when his Apprentice finally spoke up, though he refrained from facing the Nagai as he spoke. Though he had his hopes, Nefaron had wondered how the boy would react to his own actions, especially when pressed to a breaking point. To be honest, the Corpse Lord was actually rather disappointed that Veradun did not attempt to turn the blade against his Master, but there would be time for that soon enough. In truth, the suggestion he offered was an intriguing one, even if the reasoning behind it simply didn't line up. Nefaron was studying his Apprentice as he would any of his test subjects, but this study was simply to pinpoint just what was going on in the would-be Sith's head.

He could simply force his way into the boy's mind, but what fun was that? Better to watch whatever scheme the Nagai was concocting unfold. Perhaps he spoke the truth, he sought to take on the poor Rodian's family to experience a fraction of the power he might one day wield.

Or perhaps he sought something else entirely.

A dark chuckle escaped the Corpse Lords cloak, only then did he turn to face his Apprentice.

"An Interesting proposal, Apprentice. I will take it into consideration, but we must complete our business on Jutrand first. Before we leave, I would be a poor host if I did not show you your new quarters. I think you will find them far better than the Academy dormitories."

Nefaron said nothing more, simply turning back and continuing on toward the turbolift, again expecting his Apprentice to follow along. But before he entered the lift, he paused once more and began to speak, but he chose not to turn back to the boy.

"Oh, and I think it best that you keep that little blade. In time, you will come to cherish it as a beloved relic. But I would keep it close, you will come to learn that being a Sith means safety is far from guaranteed."

No truer words have ever been spoken, but young Veradun would come to learn that he would need to carefully consider his every step within the walls of the fortress. If he was to grow content this early on in his training he would make for a poor Sith in the future. Before one can master fear, he must know what it is to experience it constantly, as if it were a part of him. Nefaron had learned that lesson long ago, and he felt as if the Sith had forgotten what it meant to wield fear as a weapon.

This would be a lesson Veradun would take to heart. Or he will be consumed by it. ​

With another key lesson delivered, Nefaron again entered the lift and once his Apprentice followed, the doors closed behind them and they once again began to ascend. The central spire of the fortress was the heart of Nefaron's operations, the peak being his main laboratory. But the lift they were in stopped a few floors below the laboratory, the doors opening to reveal a chamber that was large and open, but rather sparse when it came to decorations. Nefaron stepped out first, pacing to the large window that overlooked the vast plains that surrounded the fortress. In the distance, vast fires raged as the tribes of lost and damned gathered under their warlords, warring with each other for territory and resources, awaiting their master's call to slaughter.

But from this distance, in this chamber, there was silence. It was strangely claiming, but also rather unnerving considering the suffering and death that was going on several floors below their feet.

"Long have I sought a being who could be molded into a being of supreme power. This chamber is yours so long as you continue to prove yourself, do with it as you see fit. When we return from Jutrand, I will allow you to rest and contemplate your new position."

Nefaron folded his arms behind his back as he looked out onto his little Empire. Though storms were frequent on Anoat, they had only grown more powerful after the Corpse Lord took this world as his own. He found them rather peaceful, a sign that the Dark Side would mold every world in its own image given enough time.

"This is only the beginning Apprentice. From this world, we shall make the galaxy ours."

TAG: Veradun Sharr ​

 

[Veradun Sharr]

TAG: Darth Nefaron​

For a heartbeat, Veradun felt a tremor of uncertainty when his master paused upon hearing his statement; that uncertainty only deepened to a spark of fear when the Dark Lord chuckled ominously, before finally turning around to face the boy. The young teenager swallowed hard once more, though he held his ground and stared almost defiantly into the shadows of the hood.

What a strange emotional battle the boy waged: on one hand, he was indeed frightened of this powerful being that now held possession of him, but on the other hand…he didn’t want to show too much fear towards his master. It was a truly fine line to walk.

He kept a straight face, or so he hoped, when Darth Nefaron said he would take into consideration the boy’s ‘proposal’ - though he did feel a flicker of disappointment that they were not being given to him right now. Disappointed that he wouldn’t be able to fix his mistake…

But there was still hope; maybe they would be given to him after this business was done on Jutrand. In the meantime, he would be shown his quarters…his new home. He dipped his eyes in a subtle gesture of acceptance of the next course of actions, and moved to follow behind his master obediently. He almost ran directly into the Sith Lord when the man paused once more, forcing the Nagai into a harsh stop.

Veradun looked down at the blood stained knife in his hand still, when he heard that he was to keep it in his possession, and that it very well could become the only source of true safety. That warning struck the boy deep as his pale eyes traversed the length of the blade. How many more lives would be ended by this dagger? By my own hands?

Does it really matter?

The Sith Lord continued into the lift, and Veradun stepped in with him. The boy was silent the entire ride, his mind going over all the recent events that had taken place in such a short period of time. Perhaps the harshest fact, or rather truth, that the boy was beginning to face and realize - was that not all Sith were like his High Priest, or his sister. Or like the Sith in the Academy. But, he had accepted this. This had been his choice, his decision. Only he was responsible for it…and everything else that came with that decision. It would take some time to get used to this, he knew. But he would have to adjust quickly if he was going to survive.

And he was determined to do so.

The lift stopped and opened to reveal a chamber beyond, sparsely filled but certainly livable. Veradun followed behind the fluttering robes of his master as he was guided into the chamber and towards a large window that gave an excellent view of the plains beyond. Cautiously, the boy stepped around and stopped beside the Dark Lord, glancing at his master to see if his actions would bring a reprimand or not, before he looked out over the harsh landscape. Far beyond, smoke from raging fires could be seen rising into the air from burned villages as the tribes of Anoat waged war against one another, and though silence reigned in the chamber, Veradun could only imagine the sounds that filled the air beyond him.

This domain of violence and death and desperation…it belonged to Darth Nefaron.

And now it also belonged to him...if he proved worthy of it.

Veradun shifted his gaze towards the Dark Lord when the man started speaking once more, listening as Nefaron explained to him that he had sought after a being who could be molded into someone of supreme power, and he told the boy at his side that the chamber was indeed his…but only if he continued to prove himself worthy of it. It was explained that after their business on Jutrand had concluded, Veradun would come back here to ‘rest’ and ‘contemplate’ his new position. Though he was almost certain there would be no such thing as resting while he had this Sith Lord as his master.

Veradun returned his gaze to the raging storms beyond and the desperate souls that fought for dominion over one another as his master declared that this was only the beginning for him, and that they would make the galaxy theirs. The Nagai wondered silently then…How would they bring the galaxy into their possession? Was it even possible?

And what would he do with the galaxy if he possessed it?

There was only one way to find out if those questions could be answered, and that was by doing what was necessary, and following the directives of his master. Clearly, the Dark Lord had a plan in mind - and he was giving Veradun the chance to prove himself worthy of sharing in that plan.

One thing was for certain though: Veradun’s life was never going to be the same as it was before. And the sooner he accepted that fact and embraced this new, darker path he’d set upon - the better off he would be.

"I...will strive to be worthy of such a thing, my Lord." Veradun said carefully, before turning his pale, cunning gaze towards the Sith Lord. "And should your guidance and training prove good enough...then I have no doubts that we shall ascend to the heights of power you seek after."

 

[Darth Nefaron]

So Arrogant. So Hungry for Power.

He must be humbled. He must crawl through the mud.

Only then will he achieve apotheosis. The one being who might tame the galaxy.
​

Yet he was a boy. While he had tasted blood and seemed eager to spill more, he remained conflicted. Make no mistake, darkness has taken root in the boy's heart, but it might be snuffed out if he allows the constraints of morality to hold him back. The force swirled with emotion as the pair looked out over their world, and yet the ever-present chill of the darkside remained, like a cloak that always sat heavily on one's shoulders. In truth, Veradun should be punished for his insolence, he should hurled out of the viewport and allowed to taste death at the hands of gravity again, but Nefaron held his wrath at bay for the sake of another lesson, another chance to build the boy up before inevitably cutting him down again. Would he one day learn to hold his tongue? Perhaps, but he will suffer ever so greatly until that day comes. This is the only way to power, the only true one in any case.

"Good enough?" the Corpse Lord chuckled "You speak as though you are already a Dark Lord. Make no mistake, I will drag you toward your destined place if needs be, but should you ever fail me..."

Nefaron said nothing more, allowing his Apprentice's imagination to fill in the rest. There are more pressing matters to attend to than to delve into the vast reservoir of suffering the Dark Lord could unleash. Instead, Nefaron withdrew from the viewport and turned to a holotable near the center of ther room. Swiftly, it was activated to reveal a map of the known galaxy, and with a few taps of the control panel, the galaxy was divided up into the various factions that claimed dominion over every world and sentient being.

"This galaxy is broken. Again we find ourselves in the position of our forebears, a corrupt and weak government backed by the the Jedi dominating the core and uncountable Sith fighting for scraps in the mid and outer rim. That's not even mentioning the Sith pretenders and Imperials who cling to the ideals of Palpatine’s long-dead Empire. In the end, all beings are mere pawns in our game, but it will be some time before I unravel the grand scheme that will propel us to dominion. What I can tell you is that we must first eliminate certain... obstacles that will impede us within Sith space."

Nefaron used the controls to change the zoom level, focusing on the capital of the reborn Sith Empire, Jutrand. This would be the first test for the boy.

"Our time here draws to an end. We will return to Jutrand in a few hours to attend a grand spectacle. One that involves your precious High Prophet."

Nefaron did not elaborate on the coming contest. But he did add a rather cryptic warning.

"We shall see how you return to this fortress. A true apprentice or a humble slave in need of correction."

TAGS: Veradun Sharr ​

 

[Veradun Sharr]

TAG: Darth Nefaron ​

The moment his master repeated what he had uttered, the gaunt boy knew he had said something he shouldn’t have. The chuckle he heard from Darth Nefaron was not one that brought him mirth or joy…but the pricklings of fear. Tension coiled tighter within the boy, and he swallowed hard as he kept his eyes glued to the toxic wasteland that lay beyond the window in front of him.

The Dark Lord told him he would be dragged into whatever destiny awaited him, if it was needed, and the boy’s body was chilled when his master left his sentence unfinished.

Should he ever fail his master… he didn’t want to imagine what might happen to him should that occur. Dread crept up his spine because the boy knew that failure…was inevitable. Even if he did everything perfectly…his master still had the power to declare his efforts a failure.

Veradun tore his gaze away from the viewing port and dipped his head slightly, his eyes lowered as he stared at the floor underneath him, his mind already swirling with panicked thoughts. He jolted slightly when the dark robed figure beside him moved, but he was not struck nor otherwise accosted. Instead, his master moved to the center of the room, to a holotable that was activated to reveal the galaxy in its enormity. Veradun’s pale blue eyes flickered from Nefaron, to the many pinpricks that marked stars and their planetary systems. With a few taps, the galaxy was divided between its known factions, each labeled for the boy to see.

Of course, the most noticeable factions were the Sith Order and the Galactic Alliance with their Jedi.

Dutifully, Veradun was silent as his master spoke, explaining that the galaxy was broken, and they were once again locked in the cycle of corrupt and weak governments, either backed by the Jedi or fractured by Sith infighting. The Sith Lord mentioned others that still clung to the long dead emperor Palpatine’s ideas along the fringes of the Outer Rim and elsewhere, and the boy took note of these factions. He must be referring to this Empire of the Lost and the Dark Empire… the boy thought to himself before he pulled his focus back to the words that his master was saying. They were all pawns to whatever schemes this Dark Lord was planning, but it would take time for it to be unraveled.

But before that could happen, certain obstacles needed to be eliminated within Sith space. The boy was smart enough to understand that these obstacles were people, individuals whom Darth Nefaron wanted out of the picture. Veradun continued to watch in his subdued silence as the holoprojector was zoomed into towards the Sith Empire, to the capital Jutrand. The Dark Lord once again told the boy that they were going to witness some ‘grand spectacle’, one that would be involving his High Priest? The…disdain his master carried for the boy’s mentor stirred a hint of disquiet within him. A frown creased the Nagai’s pale forehead, as his gaze flickered briefly to the hooded visage of his master before looking away again. But he said he was allied to my High Priest….

He lied.

The final statement that the Sith Lord shared to Veradun, sounded more like a warning than anything else, and the boy once more felt coldness fall over him - the chill of fear. But something else stirred the boy’s spirit - indignation.

“I guess I will return here with you as your apprentice then, because I’m not some slave.” he replied back, an edge to his voice but he kept his gaze averted - hoping to avoid a reprimand for his…boldness.

 

[Darth Nefaron]

Following the Events of the Kaggath
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

He would learn. Obedience was his only path to power.

But now pain must come first.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
​

The return trip from Jutrand was silent, the rouge apprentice now forced to his knees by the slave-soldiers of his master. After the boy's outburst on the platform, Nefaron had been largely silent, focusing on his work in his ship's laboratory. He felt it right that he make his apprentice consider his actions, or at the very least he should think about why he was so loyal to a dead man. Honor? Respect? A dead Sith is worth nothing, for they have failed to achieve the destined immortality that all seek. The moment a Sith dies, any respect they may have earned in life is tossed into the trash bin of history. Even the vaunted lords Nefaron often drew knowledge from were little more than footnotes as at the end of the day they had failed to destroy the Jedi and snuff out the light.

But he did not understand this. Not yet.​

The only proper way for an apprentice to learn the truth is to see the unquestioning power of his master. The moment Veradun became Nefaron's apprentice all other sentient life became little more than insects. There was to be one master and one apprentice, the rest were of no interest unless they could be used to further the goals of the Sith. What the boy needed was to be broken, and Nefaron knew of just the place where that might be made possible.

Oh, how he would suffer.

But he would learn.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------​

When the ship returned to the hangar on Anoat, Nefaron finally appeared before his apprentice. With his arms folded behind his back he looked upon the wretched face of his apprentice.

"You have shown promise so far, but clearly you must learn what it means to be an apprentice. You exist to serve me until you become a true Lord of the Sith."

With a sudden motion, the Corpse Lord lashed out, one of his hands gripping the boy's jaw with unnatural strength as the two guards watched on with sadistic glee. The master leaned in, his ruined face on full display as he judged the boy.

"Slave. That is what you are and will be until I deem you fit to again strive these halls as an apprentice. You will serve my beastmaster, you will fight in the pits, and you WILL OBEY."

With this pronouncement, the Corpse Lord raised and clenched his fist, the injection gauntlet now loaded with a toxin that appeared different to the others he had demonstrated before. With one swift motion, the needles pierced the boy's flesh and the poison entered his bloodstream. Once the task was done, the Dark Lord backed away from the boy, allowing the toxin to take hold.

"Don't worry. You aren't dying, it will just feel like you are."

As Nefaron laughed with sadistic glee, the pain would set in, spreading to every nerve of the boy's body until he could feel nothing but utter suffering. A pain so great that his body would have no choice but to succumb and shut down to prevent the heart from falling. Only when Veradun fell to the floor, the pain having overwhelmed him, did Nefaron look to his legionnaires.

"Take him to Beastmaster Rushu. He is to serve until I have need of him."

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------


It might have been hours. It might have been seconds.

But in the end, time was meaningless in the dungeons below the fortress.

There was only darkness here.

​

"WAKE UP SCUM!"

The sting of an electro-whip was all the slave would feel as an overweight, one-eyed Zygerrian stood over his new charge. He knew nothing of the boy's power or his status as Nefaron's apprentice, that was none of his business. He was brought to this wretched place for the sole purpose of serving the Dark Lord. He was to crack his whip, deliver pain, and break those who thought themselves so high and mighty as to question the Corpse Lord.

"UP! GET UP!"

Another crack of the whip, the pain unspeakable but there was no lasting physical damage. That was the beauty of the electro-whip, pain without fear of causing true damage, endless suffering without having to worry about death. Truly a marvelous creation.

"Work. Feed the beasts."

The commands were simple, for a slave needed only orders not explanations. Containers of stinking, rotten meat awaited transport to the various cages that housed abominations and creatures born of nightmares.

"They eat the meat or eat you. Choose."

TAG: Veradun Sharr ​

 

[Veradun Sharr]

TAG: Darth Nefaron ​

Silence.


That was all that Veradun received, once he had been dragged back aboard his Master’s craft. His knees ached from being forced to kneel upon the cold, hard floor of the ship - held in place by two Legionnaires. Oh he had tried to force himself up, his pride stung, but he was no match for the strength of the obedient soldiers that served Darth Nefaron. His arms were held behind him in an armbar, a most uncomfortable position that put strain on his shoulders and he remained like that for the duration of the flight back to the accursed domain that his Master called home.

Veradun was in shock. He was numb, his earlier surge of fury having drained away to icy cold fear as the Sith Lord demonstrated just how foolish the boy had been with his outburst. The Nagai knew he had overstepped, but in the aftermath of what he had just witnessed, he hadn’t cared what he said or did.

He cared now, though. It was far too late to fix his mistake, and he was frozen with indecision. Would his new Sith master slit his throat if he begged for forgiveness? Or would he be released for owning up to his mistake? Veradun was too afraid to find out, and so he remained silent. But he had a cold and sick feeling that there would be hell to pay for what he had said and done.

The long and uncomfortable trip provided plenty of time for the young teen boy to consider the loss he had just suffered, the near death experience he had been given for his outburst, and the icy cold and poisonous words his Master had said to him before their departure.

His High Priest…was dead. Gone. The one person who could have possibly saved him from this mess had been killed. He wanted to cry, he wanted to mourn…but he didn’t dare do so in front of the Sith Lord who held his very life in his monstrous hands. Darth Nefaron’s warning had been very clear.

If he showed weakness again, he would be killed. And if the boy’s outburst back at the event location had been considered a weakness, then his tears certainly would be seen as such as well.

And so the boy continued to keep his silence, and forced his tears away for the time being.

The moment the ship broke the atmosphere of Anoat, Veradun’s heart began to beat heavier within his chest with the uncertainty of what might await him once they touched down. His gaze shifted around where he could see and as soon as he heard the approach of the Sith Lord, he averted his eyes to stare at the floor before him. His anxiety grew deeper as his heart raced faster in his chest, and a cold sweat began to form on the pale skin of his temples and brow. His Master came to a halt before him and told him that, while he showed promise…he needed to learn what it meant to be an apprentice to a Dark Lord. Veradun trembled slightly as he heard the words that he existed to serve his Master, until the day came when the boy himself was a Lord.

Those words offered the boy the faintest glimmer of hope that he at least wouldn’t be killed in the next few moments. But what came next was fear as the boy’s face was grabbed and he was forced to look upon the ruined visage of his Lord’s face. That dread would be blatant and obvious to the Sith Lord, as the boy in his grasp did nothing to hide it.

Veradun was reduced from a proud Sith apprentice to nothing more than a slave by the Dark Lord’s proclamation, and the boy’s pale blue eyes widened as he was told he would serve the beastmaster, fight in the pits. He tried to speak, to worm his way out of that sentence - but the grip on his jaw was too tight and prevented him from uttering a single word.

When his Master revealed the injection gauntlet on his wrist and primed a toxin, abject panic filled the boy’s face and eyes and he tried in earnest to pull away - but there was no escape from his situation. He was held tightly as the Sith Lord injected the concoction into the boy’s veins, and what came next made Veradun wish he had been dropped off the ledge back of the landing pad back at the arena of the Kaggath.

Agony, pure and unrelenting, burned through the Nagai’s body. There was nothing that the boy had suffered previously that he could compare to the hell that he now endured, and there was no stopping the ear piercing screams of pain that ripped from his throat as he doubled over. His vision turned white, then began to fade to black, and still the torment grew and grew.

Frantic thoughts of escape turned to a desperate need to be separated from his pain; had he not been so crippled by the suffering, he would have sought the nearest instrument of death and ended his life in that instant.

Mercifully, the darkness of unconsciousness finally rose up to wrap around him, and the boy crumbled to the cold deck at his Master’s feet, his body still twitching and contorting as the toxin continued to do its cruel work within him.

​

"WAKE UP SCUM!"

Veradun registered the sharp and commanding voice from the clouded darkness he floated in, and a moment later there came a loud cracking noise that was accompanied by a viciously painful sting that snapped the boy from his daze. Another sharp command was given to the pale boy, an order to get up, and when he didn’t immediately move he once again felt the biting pain of a lash. Almost instantly, panic and fear flooded his system as he remembered the pain his Master had inflicted upon him. That was enough to send the boy into overdrive, and he scrambled to his feet - much like a startled and cornered animal might. He cowered away from his tormentor, his mind still hazy and foggy from the remnants of the toxin he had been injected with, and he tried to gather his wits about him in the shadows he now found himself in.

Fearful blue eyes shifted around until he caught sight of who his new tormentor was: a Zygerrian, overweight and missing one eye. In his hand was an electro-whip, and Veradun surmised that the lashing pain he had felt had come from that cruel object. When the Zygerrian saw that he had the boy’s attention, he issued forth the next command and Veradun looked around his surroundings again quickly, noticing the containers filled with what appeared to be meat that he was ordered to feed to the beasts.

The Nagai was no stranger to work; he had worked hard with his parents on various projects around the Formos Dresuoti, but there he hadn’t been a slave.

Here, he was.

"They eat the meat or eat you. Choose."

That was all Veradun needed to hear to move towards the various carts of rotten and stinking meat. He was directed where to go, and was horrified to see the various monstrosities that eagerly and hungrily awaited their next meal. Disgust wrinkled the teen’s face when he had to handle the slimy and putrid chunks of flesh, and tried not to think too hard about where or from what the meat had come from.

As he set to work within the dungeons of his Master’s fortress, the boy’s mind began to wander from one dark thought to another. Memories of the recent events of the fight between his High Priest and Darth Malum flooded back into the boy’s mind, further deepening the grief the boy felt. He now felt so alone in his darkness; the very person he had looked up to for guidance had been cut down, turned to ash in front of his eyes.

And then there was his master. The man, no…the monster…he had consigned himself to. Resentment simmered within the boy as he recounted all the words his Master had said about Darth Strosius, such things that made the boy feel like his blood would boil. The fact that he had been tricked into murdering an innocent man, a slave like he was now…an act that had seen the boy violate everything he had been raised on. And then to watch the rodian’s family be sent off to their cruel fate…

Disgust rolled through the boy, and the cold realization of what he had done, of what had happened to him…of what he was touching, of what he was seeing…the smells, the sounds - everything overwhelmed him at once and he stopped in his tracks to retch upon the floor. Veradun heaved in gasps as the acidic bile burned his throat, and he suddenly wished he could have a mouthful of water to wash the taste away. He felt his misery acutely then, as all his emotions crashed down around him and within him: his fear, his sorrow, and his growing bitterness and anger, and something else he’d never truly felt before that was slowly beginning to take root within him. He felt the tears, hot and stinging, well up in his eyes and he squeezed them shut in an effort to stop them from flowing - but his efforts were in vain.