Private The Beast and the Black Crown

[Darth Prazutis]

Dromund Kaas, The Sith Citadel, Sithspawn Menagerie

Beneath the endless storm perpetually smothering the blackened skies of Dromund Kaas, deeper even than the Vaults, deeper than the shadowy Sanctums, there lay a place that pulsed with something far older, far wilder than any form of doctrine or discipline. The Sithspawn Menagerie. This was no mere zoo, no simple bestiary of curiosities to hold some tyrants curiosities. This was a true proving ground, a living pit of biological nightmares, an immense subterranean complex of alchemized ferrocrete and obsidian veined stone, the very air here was suffused with pure darkness and wrought with tight, sorcerous bindings. Here, the Kainate's warbeasts were raised, perfected, and broken, if they could be broken at all. A complex process to determine which would be fit to serve, how, and where if they passed at all. Great observation halls, some were scorched by fire and acid, overlooked chambers large enough to cage krayt dragons. The low hum of arcane energy seemed to buzz through the very air here, it mingled with the deep rumbles of something titanic shifting amidst the dark. Glyphs were etched into the walls, and they pulsed with a dull crimson light, their rhythm came similar to the inhale and exhale of breaths.

Tonight? It seemed to breathe even breathed harder. One of the outer doors groaned open with great seismic weight, spilling cold recycled air, dull overhead, and wall born torchlight into the gallery. Out from its threshold entered a man much smaller than the terrors that seemed to prowl these halls, but a man whose name carried weight behind it. Drako. Rider of Beasts. Binder of Monsters. The Beastmaster whose hunger for purpose led him straight into the black heart of the Sith, the center of Dominion. The man's arrival was not celebrated, it was not met by vast crowds or great honor guard escorts. Instead, a cloaked figure led him silently through ever shifting halls flanked by great cages and containment zones, some were reinforced by the blend of pure alchemy and sorcery, while others a darkened twist of bleeding edge technology and malevolent influence. Some still seemed to be active warzones, their occupants never seemed to be fully subdued. Massive claws seemed to drag across highly reinforced glass. Eyes of flame flared open in the gloom. A half-seen leviathan moved through a vat of flowin nutrient mist, just beneath a translucent floor.

Then? The path before him opened. The primary, central chamber of the Menagerie was a coliseum practically built in reverse, the arena descending in tiered levels into the depths of darkness below. Runes circled its pit, and the bones of long dead titanic beasts were etched into the walls like forgotten trophies. Massive metal gates lined the perimeter here, each was a doorway to something completely unnatural. Something unleashed. All the way at the highest tier here, seated atop a great throne wrought of black iron and obsidian spires, streaked with veins of crimson, surrounded by a pure, perpetually shifting shadow, the Shadow Hand of the Kainate waited. Darth Prazutis. A living war god made flesh. A destroyer of worlds, reaper of souls. The Dark Lord didn't rise at his arrival. The sheer presence emanating from him filled the chamber like a tsunami, that alone would be enough.

The beasts of the Menagerie, these feral beasts, and vat grown monsters grew quiet in his vast shadow. Even the air itself seemed to weigh heavier here. The obsidian plating of his armor glowed faintly at the seams, great runes pulsing like molten, volcanic veins of barely contained wrath. Those smoldering eyes, they were twin furnaces of pure destruction, locked on Drako as the silence stretched long enough to crush the unworthy, the Dark Lord said nothing. Then the ground seemed to quake. One of the gates in the lower ring hissed open. Then? Something emerged from the darkness. It was an armored, bipedal monster, alchemized beyond clear recognition, it was taller than any man, with armor plated skin and a row of bone spines that hissed with a dark vapor. It stalked forward on taloned feet, stopping to sniff the air, eyes remaining locked on Drako. Still, the Dark Lord said nothing. All he did was watch.

The test had already begun.

Drako ​

 

[Drako]

Tag: Darth Prazutis

---

Drako remained largely still where he stood with a regal posture, his eyes slid back side to side slowly as he surveyed the interior of the dark chamber. He had prepared himself for meeting the enigmatic Dark Lord who he had heard so much about. Meeting him was still a jarring experience as Drako could feel the sheer power flowing from the other man. It was unlike anything that he had felt to his recollection.

As the monstrous Sithspawn cast its gaze on Drako the Sith Knight stood firm with his hand extending as the hilt of his retrosaber followed into his palm. With a searing noise a red blade sprang from the hilt. The red light cast eerie shadows over the segmented plates of his armor and illuminated portions of the Beast.

"As you wish, so will it be done." Drako replied to the unspoken challenge of Darth Prazutis. Drako's left hand, which was empty, clad in the durasteel armor with subtle claw like fingertips, splayed. Drako projected his will through the Force and attempted to establish command of the creature. He was, to a degree, afraid of the creature. He lacked crucial information about its true origins or mentality. Although he would utilize that ribbon of fear to reinforce his own determination to succeed. Drako's splayed hand slowly contracted as if he was gripping something invisible "Obey." he commanded firmly in Common to the creature, his crimson cloak billowed out from behind him as he channeled the Force. The creature and Drako were now locked in a test of willpower.

The Sith Knight's arsenal of abilities may have been more limited than his peers, though this was his particular specialty. Something that the Dark Lord clearly understood and was now testing the limitations of self-described Beastmaster. Underlying Drako's efforts were some doubts. He had cowed Rancors but this was no Rancor.

 

[Darth Prazutis]

The darkness had stirred, not like mere wind or smoke, but it was as if the very room itself inhaled. The Shadow Hand didn't move from atop his obsidian throne, not even a flicker. Yet the weight of his attention seemed to bear down like planetary gravity, crushing down on the confrontation below. Prazutis watched as the blade hissed to life, as crimson washed over both steel and claw, and the air itself seemed to warp and shift under the gathering pressure.

The beast, plated in alchemized bone and shrouded in vapor, resisted. It didn't charge. It didn't retreat. It stared, as if, somehow, it understood the nature of this very contest. Muscles tensed; shoulders started to heave. Its claws dragged long, deep scores across the obsidian floor, gouging into the stones as it fought back with far more than just strength. This was not merely instinctual rebellion. It was pure will. But this was different. This was ancient, mutated, weaponized will. It snarled, not just in pain, but pure defiance. Yet the command in Drako's voice was real. It rippled through the Menagerie like a shockwave. The glyphs flared once; the torches had sputtered. Obey. The word did not bounce off the beast like air, it sank in. Like a splinter buried in the mind. Like a spike driven into the soul.

Still, despite this demonstration, the Dark Lord didn't speak. But the room did. The pressure had increased significantly. The lights seemed to dim. Something massive and ancient loomed within the very bedrock of the Citadel itself, as though the will of the Shadow Hand wasn't simply content to watch, but to press. To test both of them. Then, suddenly, the beast staggered. Not from pain. Not from a simple strike. But it was from the very first shudder of submission. Then, and only then did the voice come. It was a voice of such commanding baritone that reality seemed to stop and listen, a voice of volcanic depth, of iron certainty. "Good." The syllable seemed to crack like stone that sundered under pressure. "Then let us see if your leash holds." Another gate hissed open far below. The sound of claw on metal, of great scale on stone, echoed through the darkness. A second beast emerged, this one leaner, faster, coated in barbed chitin and wreathed in static. Its eyes burned with rage not its own. It saw Drako. It saw the beast. And it charged. The trial was not over. It had only begun.

Drako ​

 

[Drako]

Tag: Darth Prazutis

---

Drako felt the feedback of the creature's submission to his Will. It was no was mere feat for the Sith Knight. Outward appearances may display a relatively trivial task for Drako, but the truth was that the battle was wills was something more fatiguing. Drako's shoulders fell once in relief in a momentary release of a burden but then rose again to full muster as he saw the second Beast was released. His attention turned from the first Beast towards the Dark Lord.

Did he mean to have Drako slain? It was often hard to discern the machinations of the more established Darths. They often viewed the life of lesser Sith as expendable to their curiousities. Though now was not the time for Drako to be distracted. The Beastmaster pointed his retrosaber towards the second, more dangerous, Sithspawn and extended his domineering presence towards it.

It was momentary. Drako quickly realized that he was not prepared so soon as to commandeer yet another Sithspawn so soon. He lowered the bright red blade his weapon towards the ground, the attempt to domineer the beast ceasing, as he pulled his left hand towards the beast as if tethered to the first creature "Fight." he declared. Drako's intention was to use the first creature to fight the second in order to either kill or sufficiently weaken the beast so that he may maintain some level of control over both.

 

[Darth Prazutis]

The Black Throne of the Menagerie did not stir. But the darkness around it certainly did. It tightened greatly. As Drako shifted his command from dominance to direction, deftly forcing the first creature straight into the path of the second one, the temperature in the room dropped sharply. The first beast snarled, it was a deep, metallic sound as its plated limbs flexed then, its obedience to Drako not without a sense of hesitation. But despite this, the bond between them held. From the depths of the arena below, the second creature hurtled forward with no such restraint in its intent. Instead, it moved with the speed of a lightning bolt, talons sparked brightly as they scraped over the blackened steel and obsidian floor, saliva dropping from its open maw sizzled and burned when it touched the ground. It was a living terror, a monster born of rage.

"Very good," The Dark Lord of the Sith's voice boomed down. Still, the Dark Lord hadn't moved. He wasn't testing simple strength here, no that would be far too easy. This was in fact, a measure of the Sith Knight's mind, of how strong his will was, his command. "That is Akarzir, the Flayer-Whelp" the Shadow Hand added, his voice becoming a deep pressure that surged outward from the throne like a telekinetic shockwave. "Bred from the spawn of the Terentatek bathed in stormlight, and infused with the essence of fallen warbeasts." He tilted his helm ever so slightly then.

"Its rage is not quite its own. It carries the fury of a dozen slain Sith with it. It obeys no one." The battle below erupted in earnest then. The first beast lunged straight into its foe as the Flayer-Whelp collided with it in a blazing eruption of claws and hardened bone. Sparks flew. Blood hissed and boiled. The very stones beneath the pit rang loudly with the sheer force of the clash. "If your will falters, it will not be you who dies first." Prazutis said quietly, almost contemplative then. "But it will be the creature that trusted you. Then, and only then will you be torn apart." The shadows writhed again. His smoldering gaze never wavered. "Do not disappoint me."

Drako ​

 

[Drako]

Tag: Darth Prazutis

---

As Drako moved towards the two beasts that were fighting, with Vozrak charging into Akarzir, he could hear the words of the Dark Lord even past the feral fighting "Impressive." Drako replied to the details of the pedigree of the Sithspawn. He was more fond of the natural wonders of the Galaxy's fauna but he could appreciate good craftsmanship.

The Sith Knight raised his empty hand once more as Akarzir fought the larger Vozrak, his desire for victory fueling his fresh attempt to dominate the mind of Akarzir. It was very difficult to maintain the link with Vozrak as he did so though this was slightly mitigated by Vozrak clashing with Akarzir which prevented the Sithspawn from dedicating enough of its faculties to shrugging off Drako's domination.

Drako's vison tunneled onto the beast his exertion causing distortions in the air around him just enough to cause his cloak to once again flutter in the still air. It was a difficult contest to be certain. Up to this point he had never tamed a Sithspawn let alone two at the same time. Though there was not much of a choice for Drako to make given the likely outcome of failure.

He would not allow Vozrak to fight on his own, that was not really his style, but neither was being a combatant without his battle mount. Drako was cautious on his approach since even with a lightsaber he was fairly certain that the unnatural anatomy of Akarzir and Vazrok were more than able to take a hit or two from a lightsaber.

 

[Darth Prazutis]

The shadows coiled around the Black Throne; they writhed like smoke under intense pressure. Still, the Dark Lord didn't rise. He didn't need to. The very Force itself strained, bending around the great contest as Drako extended his will toward Akarzir. A lesser being would have been torn apart by this mere effort alone, two monsters, both forged through alchemy for death, both crafted from nightmare and blood, clashing under a single, mortal command. And yet…he held. Barely. But he held.

A low sound resonated then from the obsidian throne. It wasn't quite a growl. It wasn't quite approval. It was pure inevitability made audible. "Now…you begin to understand." The voice of the Dark Lord rolled outward like a shockwave, it wasn't roared but spoken with such absolute power that the chamber itself seemed to stop and listen to his words. The vicious fight below seemed to intensify with every syllable, it was if the words poured pure fuel into the fire. "To lead…is not to lash. It is not to scream louder than the void. It is to instill such fear…such clarity of command…that even wrath itself seems to bend the knee."

Akarzir shrieked, caught between the great biting fangs of Vorzrak, and the dark pressure of Drako's will. The Flayer-Whelp's talons raked across its armored hide, carving deep glowing, agonizing lines, but the brute held its ground against the onslaught. The torchlight dimmed as Prazutis continued "Control is not given. It is taken. In blood. In bone. In belief." Another breathless pause then. Then, quieter, almost cruel in its softness the Shadow Hand continued "Now tell me, Beastmaster… will they fight for you? Or die for nothing?"

Drako ​

 

[Drako]

Tag: Darth Prazutis

---

Drako considered the words of the Darth as he watched the two creatures brawl. It was clear now that Vorzrak was the victor as Akarzir had no true means of escape from the larger and more physically powerful Sithspawn. The manner in which the Dark Lord spoke was cryptic and left Drako a more bewildered the more he thought over the words.

Though one thing was for certain, he had no desire to see the creatures needlessly kill one another "They will fight for me." he said out loud though within he truly meant 'they will survive'. As Drako stopped his advance just a few yards from the two monsters he redoubled his effort to create some sort of link between his Will and Akarzir. It was proving to be far more difficult than he had imagined. Especially with his prior and recently established link with Vorzrak fraying as the Sith Knight spread himself thin "Obey me!" Drako grunted from behind the durasteel helmet. His voice was stern and marked by a subtle hint of desperation.

 

[Darth Prazutis]

The Menagerie didn't erupt then, it tightened.

Drako's cry rang out, not one out of failure, but one of defiance, desperation had now sharpened into command. Obey me! The very air responded. The Force itself shuddered. Somewhere in the deep darkness, something ancient stirred in answer. A pulse rippled outward from the center of the pit, as if reality itself had flinched from the sheer intensity of will that was forced upon it. Akarzir froze mid-lunge, claws halted inches from Vorzrak's exposed throat. The Flayer-Whelp twitched then, its powerful muscles straining, breathing ragged, but it didn't strike, it didn't soak its claws in the blood of the brutish hulk restraining it. Not again. The beast's gaze flicked, not to the Dark Lord, not to the shadows, but straight to Drako. Then? Then it bowed. Not in reverence. Not in peace. But in submission.

The moment stretched. Stillness had once more returned to the pit but not comfort. Never that not here. High atop the Black Throne, the Dark Lord remained entirely unmoved. But his voice came, not as booming thunder, not in condemnation, but as something lower, something far deeper. It seemed to move through the walls and it came downward, reverberating through him. A verdict that wasn't merely spoken aloud, but one that was etched into the very stone. "They fight because you willed them to." A breathless pause. "And that alone is enough." The pressure in the chamber bled away then, like iron drawn from an open wound. The glyphs seemed to dim. The shadows coiled tighter around the throne.

Silence reigned once more, but this time? This time it was a silence truly earned, not an enforced weapon wielded against him. But that wasn't all. "You came seeking purpose, Beastmaster." Prazutis said at last, the voice carried with it a dreadful certainty. "You will leave this chamber with two things." The shadows leaned closer to him. "Power." A second beat. "And debt." But he didn't stop there. "You will work for me, for my Immortal Legions. There, your monsters will be unleashed in my name. You will be unleashed. Worlds will tremble in your wake, and you will prepare them for what is to come. And you will not disappoint me." The throne did not rise, nor need to. But the judgment had been passed. The message had been delivered clearly. The bond was forged in blood and breath and will. The Dyarchy had seen Drako. Now? Now it had chosen to claim him.

Drako ​

 

[Drako]

Tags: Darth Prazutis

---

Drako's hand went down to his side as he watched the two beasts untangle from one another and their fighting cease. He felt fatigued. Though he had no intention of making a show of his exhaustion. His breathing was measured as he turned towards the Dark Lord who addressed him. As the words from the throne echoed in the dark chamber the Sith Knight stood motionless and quiet - save for the steady hum of his red retrosaber.

"I would be honored to herald your conquests, Darth Prazutis." he bowed his head and brought the red blade across his chest in a form of salute. As Drako raised his head and lowered his blade he spoke "Whatever the debt, it will be repaid my lord." he stated with certainty. He had no intention of remaining in perpetual debt to anyone. His ambition as Sith would not premit it. Though his internal virtues of loyalty forbade him from shirking responsibilities.

The red retrosaber disengaged and Drako hooked it to his belt, the tether quietly reeling back into a mechanized spool. Drako's eyes slide from behind the visor to glance towards the two Sithspawn. Their might was considerable. Greater than that of many beasts he had crossed paths with in the past, and even some Jedi. Did Dromund Kaas truly hold more examples of this alchemical engineering? He could only speculate. Surely there were creations greater than these, though he could not be sure, he was sure that he had sensed far more life in the Mengarie than his eyes revealed. Especially when he had been exerting his influence upon Akarzir.

 

[Darth Prazutis]

The darkness didn't ease. It settled. The warbeasts stood in tense stillness, their breath steaming in the cold, alchemized air of the pit, the silence after violence stretching long like a held breath. Above them, the shadows clinging to the Black Throne writhed slower now, like great coils of a serpent coiled around its prize. The crimson glow of the glyphs pulsed once, dimmed, and the chamber then fell into a hush that wasn't peace, but true command. Darth Prazutis didn't immediately speak. He watched. Measured. Vorzrak, the dreadbound hulk, stood still as stone. Akarzir's eyes twitched once, still simmering with the echoes of inherited fury, but it was no longer defiant. The will of their new master, hard-earned and battle-tested, now pressed on them like a yoke.

The silence wasn't hesitation, it came as permission. The kind granted when the test was over, and the result had been successfully judged. Finally, the voice came. It was deeper than before. Quieter. But final. "Rise, Drako." The man's title was not repeated. Not because it was forgotten, but because it was already being reshaped. The shadows that had lingered around the Black Throne began to ease, retreating into the great seams of the stone and alchemized metal.

The Force itself shifted then, no longer tense, but…poised now. It was like a blade returned to its scabbard, yet it was still within reach. "A chamber will be prepared here in the Citadel's Menagerie for you. You will oversee your warbeasts there. Train them. Shape them. When I call upon you again, you will not come alone." Another pause, this one darker more loaded.

"You will come as a shadow of the wilderness. A herald of terror. A storm on iron hooves." The crimson glow from the glyphs along the arena pulsed, one final time, as if sealing a pact. "Serve me well, Beastmaster, and in time, the galaxy will whisper your name in fear." The throne did not rise. But the audience had ended.

Drako ​

 

[Drako]

Tag: Darth Prazutis

---

Drako's gaze took in the strange glyphs and the swirling shadows. Aside from this brief audience on Dromund Kaas he had never seen the Force manifest in such a manner. Though, of course, he had heard tales of certain Sith throughout the galaxy having proved to be far more gifted in the Force than the average Jedi or Sith warrior.

He'd have to study these strange oddities of manifested power at some point in the future, preferable whenever the source of those disturbances was not present.

"As you wish my lord." Drako's head dipped in a respectful nod as he turned he looked towards the two beasts with a glance of thoughtfulness. How would he care for them? Well it seemed they were mostly well taken care of in this location the Darth did say that there would be a chamber prepared for him. After considering the two beasts for a bit more time he continued out on his way from the chamber. As he exited the building, after some great amount of travel, he approached the speeder landing pad. Drako looked up towards the dark blue tinged clouds and the lightning that streaked through them.

Could his name really be known?