Truth & Lies

[Vrak Nashar]

Athiss
[member="The Slave"]

The rise of The Empire had not stilled Vrak's ambitions by even a hair.

He still craved power, strength, and knowledge beyond everything else. To him the Empire was a stepping stone. His seat on the Council was temporary, and eventually it would turn into a singular throne. That was his goal. To the Empire on his own, his hand, his will. Whether that goal would ever be achieved was another matter entirely of course, but it was the nature of Sith. Especially a Pureblood.

He was sure that the others of the Council felt the same way, but that hardly mattered.

Vrak stood as Councilor of Intelligence. His duty to the Empire was keeping it informed, safe from within. His reached extended throughout the Empire and beyond, his agents moved fast and far. They were many, but he could always use more.

That was why he was here, home.

Though Ziost was the new capital of the Empire Athiss still remained Vrak's own personal Crown World. The planet had evolved from the only home of the Pureblood's to his own personal fiefdom. Most upon the world now held their Allegiance to him, and the Zuguruk and others who wished to serve him knew that the best path to doing so was to come to this world. He frowned slightly, looking out into the courtyard of the Temple with watchful eyes.

Dozens had gathered, as they always did every day.

Some tried to blend in, others attempted to gain his favor.

Most of course simply fell by the wayside, either forgotten or proven too weak. Vrak didn't choose them himself of course, rather the overseers saw to that task. Still, more than once he'd come upon an Acolyte with a particular...skill for the type of work he required.

Perhaps he'd find another.

 

[Darth Empyrean]

The Slave moved with care through the crowd, black hood draped over his form as he passed like a shadow. The murmur of the crowds were filled with rumors, small talk from those interested in those of greater value than themselves, those with a larger hegemony than they could dream of having; all things the nameless individual known as The Slave could care less about. His goal wasn't idle chatter with no purpose, nor the social aspects of political intrigue, but a far more grand prize. What he sought was power in the most harnessable form, direct training and operational control over the galaxy; and the strength of knowing someone so strong.

While he didn't have the training nor the experience many of the others perhaps came with, he came with something more. Something far more valuable and strong, that being his indomitable willpower and significant potential in the force. The latter wafted off him like a stench, filling the rooms he was in with an overbearing presence that few could ignore. He was a powerful blade, of masterwork quality that only missed the grindstone to make him sharp, to make him the weapon he knew he could be. The weapon he deserved to be.

Today he sought just that grindstone, a man by the name of [member="Vrak Nashar"]. He had heard of his position in this resurgent empire, this phoenix of a bygone era. He didn't have faith in his empire, nor his goals, but he knew if there was anyone he could reach that could help him, it'd be him. As he neared the front of the crowd, he made his presence known with a pull of his hood and a call from his lips;

"Vrak! I've come to prove myself." he said, his rather blunt nature an obvious testament to the will he held deep inside. The crowd grew quiet, staring towards this outburst as though it were an insult to all of them, and most of all Vrak himself. They all awaited his response, the ever present statue that was The Slave simply standing amidst the huddled masses.

 

[Vrak Nashar]

[member="The Slave"]

Silenced reigned within the courtyard. It seemed that every servant, every slave, every acolyte had suddenly grown deathly still. They were corpses, standing like statues and watching their lord as they waited for his reaction to the call, the challenge. They watched, perhaps in fascination, perhaps in horror as the Sith Pureblood slowly turned around on the balcony, facing the boy that had called him before his gaze slowly drifted down towards the figure that had spoken.

His face, hidden by a mask, was impossible to read, yet his lips bore a smile.

Vrak allowed the quiet to hang within the air, the everlasting silence that seemed to rule over them all in that moment. It had been long since one of them had actually challenged him, had demanded that they be allowed to prove their worth. When they did speak to him it was usually a mix of lies, promises, oaths of allegiance, and general groveling. most did not force their way to the front of the crowd, they watched and waited for their turn.

This one hadn't.

The Pureblood stiffened slightly, the force rushing through in in a torrent.

"As you wish." His voice rang out just loud enough for the boy to hear, but a second later Vrak raised his left hand. A powerful red spark rushed down his arm, singing his cloak before quickly reaching the tip of his fingers. A crack rang out within the courtyard as powerful jolt of Sith lightning rained down towards the boy.

It would be interesting to see if he survived.

 

[Darth Empyrean]

[member="Vrak Nashar"]

As the lightning let loose its vicious onslaught, The Slave had only a moment to react. His arms crossed in front of his body, an instinctual response to the strike that bore down on him. However, unbeknownst to him was the latent energy he held. There was a slight hesitation as the force lightning stuck against his natural shield, dispersing its damage in a wide circle that struck those around him before it finally grounded itself in his forearms. Burns surged up his arms, hot lines of fire scarring his skin before his entire body was thrown backwards into a nearby wall. The slave let loose a cry of pain, only catching himself when he finally landed on the ground almost five meters behind his original position.

His body shook with pain, his mind a whirlwind of thought before he forced himself to stand once more. His robe's sleeves were shredded, his arms bleeding from the burned skin. It was obvious the Acolyte didn't have a lightsaber as he never reached for a weapon, he simply took deep breaths, staring back up to the Sith Lord with nothing more than he almost glowing green eyes. His words were hoarse, his voice quiet compared to his initial challenge;

"I've... Come to prove myself. I'm not leaving."

 

[Vrak Nashar]

[member="The Slave"]

Interesting. The boy had survived through a lattice of the force. Vrak mused for a few moments, then slowly turned away from the edge of the balcony. He could practically hear the collective sigh of the crowd behind him, as if they somehow feared his wrath.

"Ryal." He called for his servant, the Pureblood woman having been at his side for night on three decades now. She was not powerful enough in the force to rise to any true heights, and thus had entered his service instead. "Bring him to me."

His survival was had at least earned him that much.

Most Acolytes would have crumbled under such an assault, mostly because it had been entirely unexpected and strong enough to kill. The fact that this boy had survived it impressed Vrak enough to at least hear him out about what he had to say. After all, if he turned away everyone that came to him his circle would never grow.

That would be true folly.

 

[Darth Empyrean]

[member="Vrak Nashar"]

As the servant came to him, The Slave continued to struggle to stand. His muscles cried in pain, for the ability to surrender, but the will of his mind kept him steady if not a bit shaken in balance. She offered him a shoulder, and he took it almost instantly. His arms blistered from the burns, but he kept as straight of a face as he could as he was dragged through the crowd. To show them weakness now would serve to fill a false idea of weakness he refused to allow, not for him, nor his hopeful new master.

The woman took him towards the room just inside from the balcony, sitting him down before disappearing once more to likely fetch some medical service droid, at the minimum something to stop the bleeding so he didn't ruin the carpet. The Slave sat with his gaze focused towards the doors he assumed the Sith Lord would come from, idly waiting for his first commands or introduction, something to graze him with who he was hopeful to serve.

 

[Vrak Nashar]

[member="The Slave"]

The Sith Lord wandered into the room a few moments after he heard the sound of the boy being placed in the chair. Involuntary groans and echoing cries of pain were a rather good give away. Vrak glanced towards the boy for a moment, stepping inside and reaching up to remove the mask that had been sitting on his face. There was a slight hiss of oxygen as he removed the device, a rebreather having sat in the device in case of poison attack, something he sadly had to watch for.

"Most would have died in that Courtyard." Clearly Vrak didn't feel the need to introduce himself. The boy already knew his name and there was no need for him to know his yet. Perhaps he'd choose not to kill him, but such decisions were still up in the air.

After a moment Vrak placed the mask down onto a far table, his hood pulled down to reveal slicked back hair and his crimson face. Bright yellow eyes gazed towards the Slave, a scrutinizing glare falling over his injured and bleeding form.

"Consider me intrigued." Not impressed, not yet. "What is it you wish?"

Proving ones worth was only the beginning after all. A servant with no ambition was useless to him.

 

[Darth Empyrean]

[member="Vrak Nashar"]

"To learn and serve in response. To experience the things I couldn't on my own."

He spoke with a slight sense of granduer, perhaps pride of who he was and what he had overcome. His eyes watched the Dark Lord with a burning passion, the type of which showed a young man full dreams unending. The considerable aura he gave off seemed to swell at his words, a built pressure that bordered on releasing like a flood.

"I want to grow stronger."

 

[Vrak Nashar]

[member="The Slave"]

Vrak gave a chuckle.

As a general rule Vrak approached things with a healthy amount of pragmatism. He was not like many other Sith. Generally he would not slaughter random people out of hand, he would not torture, nor would he toss someone aside if they offered their services. Yet, he also knew the value of testing someone. That was what the Courtyard had been. Athiss wasn't just any place after all, it was the center of his own power and where only the most gifted came to learn.

He couldn't allow just anyone to challenge him here, even if it was just a small bit of yelling. Still, the boy had fire, and Vrak could appreciate that at the very least. "I see."

The Pureblood seemed to muse for a moment.

"Why come to me?" He wasn't a teacher after all, nor did he orchestrate the ethos of war for the Empire. To many in the Empire he was simply a spymaster, nothing more. The truth was much more complex of course, but many did not know. "I am neither the strongest Sith in the Empire nor the Galaxy."

He could freely admit that without hurting his own ego, after all power was more than raw strength.

 

[Darth Empyrean]

[member="Vrak Nashar"]

"Because I don't seek reknown, nor do I wish to sell you short."

The Slave cringed as the robot droid entered the room and began work on his suffering skin, the ever quiet buzzing and binary beeps offering a background hum that filled both of their ears. He swallowed before speaking again,

"I'd be a fool to think a spymaster of the Empire didn't have a reason he was in that position. I've come to witness ambition, to see what it means to be great when you have complete freedom."

 

[Vrak Nashar]

[member="The Slave"]

The reason was a good one.

Vrak was not well known, at least not like some other names within the galaxy. Sure there had been Naboo, that run in with Irajah, but by and Large he was still relatively unknown. To most in the galaxy he was simply That Pureblood they had seen in the holo-message, nothing more. That was a state which suited him well. He was sure that in time people would come to know his name, his face, but for now anonymity, at least in part was still his.

At least this boy wasn't fool enough to seek glory and recognition, both were for the dead.

"What is your name?" Vrak asked finally. It was noteworthy. With most people Vrak never truly cared to find out. Seraphina had not spoken her name to him until they had been together for nearly three weeks, the same went for Irid, now they were the only two people he could at least somewhat trust.

Names were rarely important, but this boy had earned the question at least.

 

[Darth Empyrean]

[member="Vrak Nashar"]

The Slave hesitated for perhaps the first time. He considered his words before speaking, his voice barely calling out above the sounds of the medical droid cutting and slicing his wounds, replacing it with biofoam and skin replacements, carefully applying disinfectants and cellular level destructive polygons before moving onto the next section. It worked on his arm in a slow yet certain manner, interupted by nothing.

"I don't have one, nor do I deserve one. I've not earned it." he said, his brow furrowing as he watched Vrak speak to him.

In his lifetime, he was never given a name, but instead a variety of numbers. Ones to establish who he was amongst a crowd of workers, or a psuedoname given to him in the rings he fought in as a mandingo. He was nothing more than a set of numbers his entire life, so a name meant more to him than it likely did to most; something he didn't expect Vrak, or others for that matter, to understand.

 

[Vrak Nashar]

[member="The Slave"]

That practice wasn't exactly unheard of. On Zygerria, where he had found Irid they did the exact same thing. Slaves were given numbers and no names. Even if they were important servants they were never actually given a distinction.

This stopped them from forming proper identities and thus, ideas of resistance. Things didn't resist, people did. "I see."

Vrak would not give this boy a name, not yet. Perhaps in time he would earn one, but that remained to be seen. The Sith Lord turned away from him, allowing the Medical droid to attend to the rest of his wounds while he considered just what he would do with this boy.

He frowned, glancing back for a moment.

"Very well." Vrak said finally. "You may stay."

That would likely not be enough for the Boy, but it would have to do for now.

 

[Darth Empyrean]

[member="Vrak Nashar"]

For as moment, he beamed. It wasn't often he could enjoy being happy, but it was times like these that exilerated him. In the past, he was never offered such an oppurtunity, every spurt of happiness he had shred to nothing by his masters of not others, but it was his own mistake for being weak. He promised himself long ago he'd never be weak again, and that is what drove him... To drive back that which sought to bring him down, to make him less than what he deserves, and he deserved everything. Exalt himself, and noone can rise above him.

He nodded to him, the ever present buzzing still filling the room.

"I appreciate that. I won't fail you, I swear on my very essence."

Perhaps he thought to much of it, but afterall he was only but a young man. The idea seemed oddly romantic to him, to be trained and ascend from his enslavement to godhood. His master would be pleased...

 

[Vrak Nashar]

[member="The Slave"]

The boy didn't lack for enthusiasm, that was for sure. "You will find your place here."

Vrak was confident of that. It seemed that those who had nowhere else to go within The Empire often ended up right at his doorsteps. He supposed it was natural in a way, Intelligence work often suited those who had nowhere else to go.

The Pureblood turned back towards the boy.

"We will find out your skills." Tests, always more tests. "And see to it that you are assigned what suits you."

His face became more stern.

 

[Darth Empyrean]

[member="Vrak Nashar"]

"What will you have me do?"

His words were questioning, his tone curious. The medical droid moved to the other arm as the first was 'healed', being the skin sutured and the natural healing process established. He wouldn't have scars from the burns, but he'd still suffer the pain of what he endured for some time. He ignored the thought however, bringing it back in full bear upon the topic at hand.

Being no stranger to having to prove himself, he was somewhat excited. Perhaps it was his growing confidence, but he didn't think it was possible for him to fail, no matter what the Sith Lord through at him. The poor thoughts of an inexperienced acolyte, perhaps.

 

[Vrak Nashar]

[member="The Slave"]

"I am no monster." Vrak began quite simply. He wouldn't have the boy hold any misconceptions. "Perhaps some Sith would throw you into the fighting pits, force you to face some creature of the darkside."

It had always annoyed him how the others had thrown away potential. Just because someone wasn't strong enough to face down a Rancor as a child didn't mean they were useless. Everyone had different talents, and those talents needed to be exploited. "I am not them."

It always took people a long time to understand that.

"Understand that I will not hesitate to kill you." That was only natural, The Slave was nothing to him, no one. "But If you were hoping to immediately face the strongest of my retainers then you will be sorely disappointed."

When Vrak took an interest in someone he wasn't stupid about it. "You will work with Ryal and the others, gain knowledge, venture outside the Empire. You are young still, and unknown to even my brethren on the Council. That will be useful."

 

[Darth Empyrean]

[member="Vrak Nashar"]

"Of course."

He said with a nod, fumbling with his thoughts before he spoke once more;

"While I can sense the force, I have little control over it. My power or otherwise."

His gaze moved up to Vrak once more, looking over his face's ridges and red tinted skin.

"I'll need training."

 

[Vrak Nashar]

[member="The Slave"]

"You will get it." Though not from Vrak himself, not yet anyway. There was much to learn before The Slave would reach that point.

For a moment Vrak considered the situation, then withdrew for a moment. He disappeared into the back of the room, his eyes slowly scrolling over an intricate set of shelves. Over his years and during his rise to power Vrak had collected many trinkets. Some of them had been worthwhile, others not so much. After a moment of looking, Vrak pulled a small pyramid from the shelf, his fingers wrapping around the holocron before he turned and wandered back towards the boy.

Without a word he placed the device onto the table before the boy. "Open this."

Perhaps he should have said attempt to open it.

Using a Holocron required at least a small amount of skill, and there was no telling if the boy would actually be able to do it or not. It was another, small, test.

 

[Darth Empyrean]

[member="Vrak Nashar"]

As the holocron was laid on the table, Vrak would notice something unusual. The boys essence, the almost intoxicating nature of the force that fell off him in droves seemed to surge towrads the holocron. Without his control, or effort perhaps, the holocron would slowly begin to activate, its mechanical center circling and unlocking as the entire structure seemed to almost unfold. Above it, the hologram of the Dread Master herself appeared, the holocron's gatekeeper.

The Slave offered little more than a glance upwards to her, not entirely sure what had happened. Although sensitive to the force, he did not yet understand its movements, let alone his own actions within it. Whatever had happened was something he himself obviously didn't notice. As the Gatekeeper looked around, arms crossed over her chest, The Slave spoke slow;

"Its... open, Vrak." he said, watching the woman as if waiting for something to be said or done.