ʜᴄ sᴠɴᴛ ᴅʀᴀᴄᴏɴᴇs
Bastion | Harper's Respite
Something was ever-so-slightly wrong with Antherion's favorite power broker. Once going by "The Slave," this newfangled "Darth Maliphant" character seemed different. Less random, more political. No evidence of memory of who he was, what he was, a new sort of being entirely. Fortunately, judging by his little 'boons,' he still had that quality he so loved: throwing around new artifacts like they were candy, as though he had too many and was actively striving to get rid of the surplus, and that body of his - beautiful in its own way, a quality reflected in his own. They weren't identical, Antherion's flesh had been sculpted with influence from his own genetic code while his spirit was gripped by the Darkstaff, but his accomplice in a few pleasant crimes had left an obvious mark on his body. Part of him, that part he tried to keep buried, felt a gnawing, empty sensation at the thought that someone he could at least tolerate being purged from existence. He narrowed his eyes briefly, hoping to turn it to more acceptable emotions. If anyone can help me with this problem, he thought, it's him. And I am certain his 'condition' will make it easier to make him... pliant.
As he walked up the dock, he tilted his head. Richer than I thought, he thought admiringly. Richer than me. The admiration stopped. "I," he said, "Will have to stop living out of my ship and embrace some real luxury for once."
He waited at the platform for his contact - the new Slave. His greatcoat fluttered in the breeze, and he regarded the sound of the cascading falls and the jungle below. For all the Sith's fondness for the grim, it was good to know that some people still appreciated genuine beauty.
[member="Darth Maliphant"]