The Lykos

[Darth Ferus]

[member="Xavka Duquo"]

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Ancient Unnamed Temple; Iridonia​

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Iridonia. Homeland of the Zabraks. It was a war torn planet, destroyed time and time again as it's natives fought among one another. That's how the blood thirsty race was. Always fighting, always killing. Time had tempered them, yet left them disorganized. The name of Iridonian had faded almost entirely. The Echani and the Mandalorians, hated rivals, thrived on their own, the later more than anything. But times were always changing.

The name of Darth Ferus once inspired the people of this planet. Before, when the Feral ruled, the way of the Iridonian was coming back. Yet when Feral was lost, and the Abomination took the reigns, the practices returned to legend. The Abomination, the Epicanthix, had never, nor would he ever, be a true Iridonian. Yet as before, times were changing.

Alone in this ancient table the man waited for he who would truly bring the Iridonian's back to the forefront. The one who should have taken Ferus as his name was he who belonged to it's people. It was time to allow the Zabraks to have their leader. It was time to let the Iridonian carve a path of blood in history once again.

 

[Xevek Nekonis]

Iridonia. The lone word could continue to inspire many a feeling within Xavka's slowly hardening, slowly freezing metaphorical hearts. Even as the world around began to fade into a haze of grey, loosing its colour, and emotions became harder and harder to call upon, to feel, beginning to become annoyance that Xavka new he should welcome but he continuously failed to find the needed effort to do so. Even as Xavka began to lose himself to apathy, the weight of his experiences weighing on his mind as he attempted to delve deeper into the Force with the lone effort to feel again, the name of his home would forever continue to stir emotion within his hearts, even should they become frozen to everything. The word, whether whispered or shouted, thought or spoken, roused the sensation of home, of an inner balance and understanding, the warmth of the suns that were no longer over his head caressing his skin in a phantom memory.

Much like its root, the word Iridonian inspired its own array of feelings within the man who labelled himself as such. A sense of fierce pride would form a warm ball inside his breast, formed from the knowledge that, unlike the majority of weaker species that populated the galaxy, those that coasted by in life without hardening themselves to the struggle of survival, Iridonians were truly strong, toughened by harsh with a harsh and merciless environment that would kill you if you weren't prepared. The fact that, even after the times of warring amongst themselves had ended, Clans continued to survive in the wilds of the desert planet, even if some did settle behind the protective walls of cities that removed them from the reach of the sands, and that many thrived under such tough situations caused a feeling of arrogant satisfaction and admittance with his species to accompany the ball of pride within Xavka's chest.

These musing passed through Xavka's head as he trudged through the sand dunes that stood within the path leading to the coordinates that Darth Ferus, the man that Xavka called Ay'edar, the cold breeze blowing into his face. Beneath his feet, loose grains of sands scattered away, constantly shifting with every application of weight. Stopping for a moment as a particularly strong gust of wind blew across his features, sending strand of dark grey hair, that had fallen out of the dreadlocks that Xavka kept it pulled into, whipping across his wind-weathered skin. Inhaling sharply, Xavka scented the air only to grunt in annoyance when a clean, sandy scent made itself, signifying an oncoming sandstorm. Returning back to his trek, Xavka's pace drastically increased as, while the sandstorm would be nothing more than an annoyance, it was annoyance that he didn't want to deal with.

Sliding in between two cracked and close to crumbling pillars barely a few minuets later, escaping the heavy glare of the noonday sun and encompassing himself in the cool shadows, Xavka walked through the halls of the long since abandoned place of worship, picking his way around cracks in the floor and chunks of fallen stone as his bared feet impacted near noiselessly with the ground upon which Ancestors long since passed had one walked.

It was only a few seconds later that Xavka set foot within the room that Ferus was in, his sharp eye rapidly reacting to the dark as his slitted pupils expanded until nothing but the thinnest of rings remained of his iris, surrounding the now expanded pupil. Easily picking his way through the ruined room even though it was filled with shadows, Xavka stopped a few meters from the form of Darth Ferus, his hands clasped behind his back.

"You asked to see me, Ay'edar?" Xavka's gravelly voice rasped loudly within the silence that hung heavily within the large room, echoing dully off of the ancient walls.


[member="Darth Ferus"]

 

[Darth Ferus]

"Indeed I did, Son of Iridonia. Do you know what this place is?" An open ended question, but one the Sith went on to answer himself. "This is the halls of your ancestors. Of your clan. That of Ferus the First, or Feral. The name was meant to revive the clans of this world, reunite them into the warriors they were before. Your clan was to usher in a new era. At least, that's what the Feral wanted. But I usurped him, and took his name for myself. And left this ideal to ruin. Until now at least. I've had you come here to take back your clan and bring your people to glory once again."

Both hands settled down at his sides as the Sith spoke to [member="Xavka Duquo"] . Now was the time to chat, but that wouldn't remain for long.

 

[Xevek Nekonis]

A hand, one that had previously clasped behind Xavka's back, disappeared into the numerous folds of the robes that swathed Xavka's form, consuming any outline of his figure. Within the dark fabric, the hand settled onto the hilt of the sword that was held within the carefully crafted leather sheath. Tanned fingers wrapped around the leather wrapped hilt, compressing into the softened material, claws that tipped the fingers biting into the leather and leaving stark and clear marks. Through out Ferus's speech, Xavka had been slowly shifting into such a stance, the words spilling out into the dark silence that consumed the hall, echoing off of the stone walls and floors, putting Xavka on edge and raising his hackles. Pointed teeth were subconsciously bared as the true meanings behind the Sith Lord's words slowly sunk in and triggered a true understanding of what was being discussed.

It was Ferus the Feral that, apparently, Xavka had sworn his loyalty, not the man holding the title that stood before him. The unwavering loyalty that Xavka had held and preformed upon without hesitation had been a lie for so long.. It was true, suspicion had been slowly growing within Xavka's mind for some time now, it was true that Xavka understood that it was the nature of Sith to pursue power so unrelenting and he acknowledged the power that a word or name could hold. But, even then, the anger of betrayal, the death of a fellow Zabrak and Iridonian stirring up the anger and igniting that spark into a roaring inferno. But, even as that anger burnt bright, Xavka's breathing stayed level, the rate at which his dual hearts beat maintained its steady pace and he kept his calm. The only sign of the rage that was stirring within the Zabrak was the silent bearing of teeth and tensed muscles along the arm that held the hilt of his sword.

"You will explain." The gravelly voice of Xavka once more lanced through the silence that had settled within the hall as he took a single step forward, the sound of flesh impacting stone ringing out. Unlike previously times Xavka had addressed Ferus, the respect was absent and instead the order, for it could not be mistaken as anything else even if it was been addressed towards a man that could break Xavka with ease, held a cold and tense undercurrent of bloodlust.

"I understand usurpation. I understand the why. But you will explain your talk of I'Ru. You do not get to speak of them, and outsider like yourself, a simple mali'kep. You are not of the People. So speak, quickly and decisively, and explain your talk of my Clan. I know that Ru Uigin never settled near these parts. And Ru Rakama is a Clan formed around myself for my future kin. So speak, before I decide to test my blade on your flesh."


[member="Darth Ferus"]

 

[Darth Ferus]

"I am not a simple mali'kep, and you would be wise to not speak of me as such again." The words were spat back at [member="Xavka Duquo"] as the Sith Lord matched the threatening tone of the Knight. The snap hiss of a lightsaber filled the air as Ferus drew out his red blade, making it clear he was prepared for the fight. "The First Ferus brought me into his clan. Your clan. The clan. It has no name, nor will it ever, because it is all clans. The name Ferus, or Feral, is the name given to the Khan-Ur. The leader of all Iridonians. Once, thousands of years before even the plague, our people were a threat to the galaxy. The Mandalorians and even the Echani feared us and our power. Our bloodlust. Ferus was going to bring the Iridonians back to the forefront, to instill the fear once again. But I killed him, and I did not care enough to carry out his legacy."

In a single fluid motion the Darth brought his blade up, letting the plasma point right for the heart of the Iridonian. "You are one of the last true sons of Iridonia. You will take this title from me, become the Khan-Ur, unite the clans, or die here and now." Emotion had drained from the voice of Ferus as he spoke on, being sure to lock it away. Emotion was power to the Sith, but control was key to it. Emotions could betray. And the secrete within the mind of this Sith on this whole situation was one that couldn't be given away just yet. Xavka needed to fight with all of his might after all.

 

[Xevek Nekonis]

Rage had been steadily building with Xavka's hearts with every word that the mali'kep before him spoke. Yes, Xavka still respected Darth Ferus, he respected strength and Ferus had strength, but that respect was no where near strong enough, burnt no where near bright enough, to still the roaring fires of anger that whispered within Xavka's mind as he stared down the tip of the lightsaber leveled at his face. However, no matter how strong the drums of combat beat within Xavka's mind, no matter how much the Dark he called to him feasted on his anger, Xavka's heartbeat stayed the same steady pace, his pupils dilated no more than they already were and his mind was not clouded. Xavka had been born and fed combat and had long since learned how to control and direct the emotions that may arise.

Lips peeled back revealing bloodstained teeth (the blood came from Xavka's meal of raw or blue cooked meat, not that many of those he face knew such a detail and Xavka never saw to correct their erroneous thoughts) as a snarl broke the silence between the two Sith, one Iridonian the other a fake. Xavka's right leg slid forwards slightly, his left shoulder titled backwards and his knees bent. All the while, as his stance changed, Xavka's eye, burning a bright amber as the Darkness ran through his body, remained locked on the face of Ferus the Abomination.

"Vol Nath, Mali'kep."

As Xavka's words settled, his body blurred forwards, the Force augmentating his physical capabilities, as his robes billowed behind him and the exposed claws on his feet kicked up a shower of sparks from where they ran over the stone flooring. Only a meter away from Ferus, the sound of metal running over wood rang out as Xavka's arm emerged from his robes, the hilt and then blade of his sword following soon after, aimed directed at Ferus's sternum, seeking to bisect him. The blade of the sword itself was glowing, signifying the Force that Xavka was running through it to increase its cutting potential while the arcs of lightning jumping from the blade before grounding themselves on the floor easily showed that Xavka was also conducting Force Lightning through his weapon.


[member="Ruk'Oars"]

 

[Darth Ferus]

"So be it."

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=IMTaoZSAMqc

Ferus knew that the conversation had been over as soon as it began, and as [member="Darth Lykos"] brought his blade around the illusion of peace finally shattered. Teeth bared as the Lord's saber was brought down, glowing bright. Just as Xavka had done, the Epicanthix was sure to counter with his own infusion. Weight specifically. Zabrak were naturally stronger, and to counter the quick strike of the Knight the Force would increase the strength behind Ferus's own blow, allowing a hard parry with a single hand.

As the two weapons would collide, War's free hand would come around, all to release a blast of the Force meant to knock the Lykos away and create a gap. All for simple breathing room. A chill ran up the spine of the Ferus as the strike came. Those bared teeth would turn to a grin as the thrill of the fight came. There was nothing that could make him feel more alive.

Oh, how he would miss it.