Darth Ferus
Wanderer
A dead, nameless world. Destroyed by time and foolish Lords of the Sith. A land forgotten, and a valley of power few knew existed. To some Sith it called them, a whisper of a challenge from the nameless. Revenge was always a mantra of the Sith. Against your allies who betray you. Against your enemies who stand in your way. Against the living who leave you dead. Krest, Ferus. Both names of a man who once walked among the dead to challenge his own apprentices so they might prove their strength and worth.
Many passed, and soon the tradition spread. The world was still unmarked, but for the first time in hundreds of years the planet found life. Now Krest walked among the dead, his gaze drifting from the ruined statues of Lords who could have shaped the future in a vastly different way had they survived. That was the true test of the Sith. To outlive their death through their teachings.
You've come back. We felt your death you know. So lucky to be brought from the ashes unlike us. Why do you return? To taunt us? Darkness overtook the elder lords vision as cloaked specters formed before him. Their anger was palpable.
"No, I've come to reclaim what was rightfully mine. Do not stand in my way." There was silence from the spirits. Slowly the man began to undo the lock that held his saber to it's cane, his body tensing. Then all at once the darkness and spirits faded as a new sensation filled his mind. He wasn't the only living soul that had arrived.
[member="Darth Tihl"]