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[Isar Kislo]

Sacred Pools
Telos IV

It really was hot as shit. However, he was standing amidst an actively volcanic area. Unlike his father, Cadeyrn certainly had not mastered the ability to regulate his body temperature in any environment regardless of clothing. Also, unlike his father, Cadeyrn didn't traverse the galaxy without a shirt. His mother was generally more conservative, but he'd made the trip to Exocron shortly after turning thirteen. There was...no shortage of homages to the various Aesirs.

At any rate, Cadeyrn was wrapped in a simple, plain black cloak over top an equally unassuming jumpsuit. Having traveled straight from his father's homeworld of Corstris where he spent a great deal amount of time training and studying, the young Centurion cast his silver-blue gaze out over the horizon from beneath the hood of his cloak. A steam fissure erupted less than six inches from his body, but he remained motionless. His recollection of...ancient history registered this place as the burial ground of a former Jedi. A man that had thrown himself into a pool of acid rather than be defeated and/or captured by his opponents.

What was it like to have that type of...pride? Cadeyrn couldn't see himself surrendering to his fate like that. The real question was...did that make him a stronger or weaker individual altogether?

Time would undoubtedly tell.

[member="Cedric Dorn"]

 

[Cedric Dorn]

[member="Cadeyrn Centurion"]

Telos.

This waste of a forgotten rock. Once a thriving world of cities and culture, not just a barren ruin that held little more than a giant space station in its orbit. His face twitched in disgust as he looked down upon the corpse of a man that had only seconds ago spoken to him, bright burning yellow eyes searing into his flesh.

He heard the cowering whimpers of his family, huddled in one of the corners of the room.

Cedric turned slowly, his shoulders widening as his back stiffened. His lips, had they existed, would have turned down into a scowl as he saw one of the young boys step up to him holding a small folding knife.

Bravery.

It was most often rewarded in death.

The Sith Lord looked down at the young boy, a gnarled and flesh stripped finger reaching out toward him. The boys mother reached out to grasp him, yet found herself thrown against the far wall. The child froze, fear forcing him to hold his place on the ground. Cedric reached out, muscled finger stretching slightly as he touched the boys forehead.

Almost immediately the child jerked, his body going rigid and the blade falling from his hand. The veins within his eyes turned black, those within his face followed quickly, and before long the entirety of the boys skin became a deathly pale white.

The boy began to scream.

 

[Isar Kislo]

[member="Cedric Dorn"]

Cadeyrn's foray into the Sacred Pools had ended rather swiftly after his definitively useless moment of introspective mutterings. It was merely minutes before his cloaked form happened upon a village that called to him not because of the vibrant feeling of life...but of death. There were parts of his existence that he had embraced in recent years - genetic markers he either did not think were possible to overcome or simply chose not to care. His lust for blood from his mother's side of the family, he'd managed that as most of the Shamalains did for the vast majority of his early life. However, the first time he'd tasted blood from a living sentient...he had simply never gone back. It was not a habit that was exactly...smiled upon, but he had plenty of other habits that various members of his family had tried to stop.

Others had merely encouraged him.

His propensity towards manipulation and darkness was prevalent of both sides of his family. Though he'd yet to meet an individual as truly dark as how people portrayed his father. Those people didn't know the truth though...the reality of whom Cameron Centurion had become. Sure, he was plenty capable in Cadeyrn's eyes, but the man's love for Cadeyrn's mother tempered him ever so slightly. He'd never seen Cameron Centurion be the man others described as Lord Ashmedai ever... Cadeyrn knew Lord Ashmedai was, ultimately, dead.

A scream pierced the air and Cadeyrn snapped his head in the direction. Silver-blue eyes groped the night with ease, seeing clearly across the expanse of the village. Usually, Cadeyrn left his face uncovered in dark conditions, but he'd long since adopted a level of comfort to having the wrap concealing everything beneath his eyes. With speed and agility mostly indicative of his genetics, Cadeyrn silently crossed the village, closing in on the location of the screaming individual.

He was not rushing to help. He was rushing to eat.

 

[Cedric Dorn]

[member="Cadeyrn Centurion"]

The boy lay on the ground, writhing.

His skin had turned an almost translucent color, his eyes had all but turned white, and his sockets had begun to bleed. He screamed, screeched at the top of his lungs. Cedric watched for a time, then directed his attention to the boys family. They cowered within the corner. He stopped for a moment, his head turning.

Had he an ounce of compassion left he would have told them what was happening. He would have told them that their son was being brought into a better life, being forged into a new existence as a soldier, a warrior for a cause much greater than he could ever have found on this sad little rock.

Of course they wouldn't see it that way. They would simply say that he was making a monster.

Perhaps they were right, but the monsters did serve their purpose.

Cedric turned, his hand waving dismissively towards the living. A wave pulsed across the room, a single slashing resonance of power. It shimmered for a second, then sliced into the family cowering within the corner. Half a scream came from each of them, and then they were rendered into dust. Cedric stepped from the building, leaving the ashes and the screaming boy.

It would take time, and there were yet others who would see the same fate.

 

[Isar Kislo]

[member="Cedric Dorn"]

Cadeyrn had arrived within earshot of the edifice Cedric and the family occupied just as the remainder of the family screeched out their last breaths of life. Stopping, the young boy stood silently and motionless in the night air as a man just slightly shorter than himself emerged from the modest home.

Despite the size of the man, his appearance and general aura of power gave him more than enough allure to clearly be the dominant presence. In this regard, Cadeyrn became aware of two things. One, he had no choice but to stand tall and accept whatever happened next. Two, the line between bravery and stupidity was thin...too thin to really see. His father had told him countless times that he would inevitably falter along his path to wisdom and capability.

Per usual, it appeared his father was about to be irritatingly correct once more. Saying nothing, Cadeyrn merely kept his silver-blue gaze focused on the curious form, silently evaluating him to the modest degree he was capable of. At his current state of training, his genetically-honed talents were of primary use. It seemed the man was...human...or perhaps was? The physical manifestation was in conflict with the blood Cadeyrn could smell.

"You wear the harshness of life as one might wear a shirt..."

 

[Cedric Dorn]

[member="Cadeyrn Centurion"]

His face twitched.

The skin upon his lips had long since rotted away, the flesh upon his cheeks had been consumed by the darkside, and what little emotion that he could display came purely from his eyes. As the boy spoke they expressed only rage.

As soon as the boy opened his mouth, as soon as he said anything at all, Cedric closed his hand. The gnarled and torn fingers that hung from his palm seized, the force flowing around and chaining Cadeyrn in a simple twist of the darkside. He would begin to feel the prickling pain of agony and hurt, small needles puncturing the skin where the force held him in place.

“I wear it as all Sith should.” Cedric said, his voice a thunderous boom.

He had no idea who this boy was. He had no idea what he was doing here, but he could feel his stregth.

He would not die. Not yet.

 

[Isar Kislo]

[member="Cedric Dorn"]

Pain.

Unfortunately, it was a sensation that the boy was all too familiar with. However, the thing about pain was...it remained painful no matter how accustomed one might be to its inflections. The sheer abruptness of the onset was what caused his body to flinch and recoil slightly. The mysterious man's voice was not lost on Cadeyrn as he forced himself to stand upright, attempting to use his moderate knowledge of the Force to counter Dorn's own manipulation against his body. This effort was not met with resounding success and the pain barely ebbed, but it did ebb enough to be a slight relief.

A slight relief was all he needed in that moment. Through gritted teeth, he commented, "Sith... Here I thought their purpose was to pointlessly clash against Jedi, foregoing any other legitimate opposition."