My Lord...

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https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_azNOrE2nSM​

He was called to speak with one of the One Sith's most powerful warlords. There was no greater honor, and Anderit suspected why he was brought forth. One of the agents that served [member="Darth Arcis"] had sought him out in the academy. He'd been escorted by a squad of Stormtroopers through the grounds, and left aboard one of shuttles used to transport people up to ships in orbit.

He'd had no time to prepare. The acolyte was clad in a simple sleeveless tunic that revealed the many inky splotches coating his arms. Scars from his previous occupation within the Undercity. A life he'd since cast aside. No longer was he a slave to a money-grabbing overlord. He was his own man - more than a man; a Sith! Soon, a Lord, and then...something more.

The very thought sent a shiver down the acolyte's spine. His own hubris was intoxicating. It was only through sheer will that he managed to calm himself as the shuttle docked in the hanger of the Sith Lord's massive Star Destroyed. Without a word, Anderit pushed up to his feet, and followed after the Stormtrooper escort he was provided.

He tried to focus on the Dark Side. His teachers at the academy had explained that the Dark Side of the force was a power none could ever hope to match. It would help him crush his opponents in combat. It would give him thought when he would otherwise be ignorant. Now, it served to curb his anxiety; to ready himself for what was to come. Its power welled deep within his chest; the fires of his ambition crackled within him. He would impress this master of the Dark Side, and one day, he would take his place.

Such was the way things should be.

The Stormtroopers left him as he arrived at the entrance of the Dark Lord's chambers. They did not bother to remove the vibrosword that was slung across his back. Why would they? Anderit was no match against a Sith Lord - one who had once claimed the title of Emperor as well! This man was his better, and one day, his equal.

The doors slid open.

Anderit stepped forward, and fell to one knee.

"You called for me, my lord?"

 

[Darth Arcis]

Dranok Lussk sat alone in the meditation chamber of the Chimaera. This great vessel was once the jewel of Thrawn's battlefleets, home to a crew of the best men and women in the galaxy and one of the greatest military minds to ever grace this side of existence. It was a butterfly effect and Darth Arcis knew one day he would come to claim such a righteous thing as his own - and he did. One military mind's trash was another's treasure.

The dark cowled Sith pleaded for the darkest tendrils of the Force. Their insatiable cravings pestered him, to unleash his whole might and consume everything he possibly could before eventually turning to feed on himself. It would most definitely be the end of him, but it was a nice little plotline to end everything with a bang. Especially considering the state of the current Sith regime. Of course they had progressed almost as fast as the old Sith Empire, back when a long line of hallowed Lords and Ladies ruled with an iron fist.

Not some Dark Lord who barely anyone had a chance to personally meet.

No internal strife, no constant struggle. It was all stagnation from the inside out - and Dranok hated every bit of it.

He'd watched acolytes who were weaker than the very souls he preyed upon claim to be true Sith and charge forward onto the battlefield. Of course their pride and courageousness was commendable, but they were no Sith. No hatred, pain, fear, or suffering lingered within their measly little bodies.

The Lord broke from his concentration and heaved a sickly sweet cough into the crook of his elbow. He cleared his throat just as a new presence made itself known in the back of his mind.

"Enter," he called when he felt it approach the reinforced doors.

Sun-hued eyes peered forth from underneath a black hood.

"Tell me your story."

[member="Anderit Rinaren"]

 

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A Pureblood?! Anderit was temporarily taken aback. Never before had he made contact with the Sith's origin race - he'd though them all to be extinct. Sure, there was word of them thriving far in the outer rim on some colony world, but spacers had silver tongues, and anything beyond your current workstation was of no concern in the Undercity. For but a moment, the young man faltered. Before him stood a Sith Lord. A paragon of the Dark side. A servant to its will. His presence in the force was an overwhelming tide that washed over Anderit and threatened to drown him in its depths.

He drew in a deep breath. Hesitation could very well mean death. He needed to be direct. His head lifted as the old demon spoke. If Arcis wished to know of him, then Anderit would gladly tell him.

"My name is Anderit Rinarin my lord. I hail from the lower levels of Coruscant. My mother was a business woman fallen from grace, my father an Imperial Moff." He gave a moment's pause; eyes narrowed as he tried to gauge the Dark Lord's interest.

"He abandoned us. We were forced to the lower levels. My mother and I worked in the factories for many years. It was hard, dangerous labor. Many of our cohorts died. My mother fell sick, we had no credits to pay for treatment. She died. I took what remained of our funds and made my way to the Sith Academy. I have been training there since."

His lips pressed into a thin line. It was not a particularly unique backstory. Many young men and women suffered through hard lives in the innards of the galactic center. He needed to explain what set him apart.

"I always knew I was something more. I was smarter than the others, quicker, articulate. I joined the Academy to be more than a lowly worker." He stared up at the Sith Lord. Blue eyes flickered down to his face; then down to the floor, awaiting judgement.

His anxiety began to return. What if Arcis did not approve? Would he be killed? Would the Sith Lord turn him into some form of Sithspawn wretch? His stomach turned.

No. I survived the factory. I stood above the other acolytes. I am more. I am Sith.

He expelled a deep breath. The young man would be ready for whatever Darth Arcis decided to do with him.

[member="Darth Arcis"]

 

[Darth Arcis]

This little man was exactly as those words described him. He'd straggled his way up a few rungs on the ladder and had dirtied his hands to gain what little strength his young muscles bore. Although it was a sad, soppy story that could make numerous liberals and hippies mourn for the loss of his mother and condone the actions of his father - Dranok saw something else.

This fellow had done more than merely survive. He'd excelled, turned his misfortune into something he could mold and create with his very hands. To seep himself in the hatred and anguish, hoping to stand among the darkest of the Lords and the Sithiest of the Sith. Anderit craved for something much more than himself, more than the universe itself.

Dranok craned his head down to peer at the man. "And what do you want from me, acolyte? What can I, an old dog, do for such a man like yourself?" He flashed a crooked smile. "How do you expect to pay for my efforts?"

[member="Anderit Rinaren"]