Jahnya Posted February 7, 2012 Share Posted February 7, 2012 This Holocron, richly decorated to a point of almost being ridiculous is most assuredly encrypted and most probably kept safe by several nasty, horrible traps. Along the bottom in glittering metal, the runes spelled out one word and one word only: M a l i g n. Holy water cannot help you now A thousand armies couldn't keep me out I don't want your money I don't want your crowd See I have to burn Your kingdom down Holy water cannot help you now See I've had to burn your kingdom down And no rivers and no lakes can put the fire out I'm gonna raise the stakes; I'm gonna smoke you out** The shuttle to Korriban stunk of fear. So much so that he could taste it now, too. A sharp, acrid smell that had started more like an afterthought and grew keener as the transport broke the atmosphere of the planet. They were afforded little comfort on the ride. There were few seats and what seats there were had no cushioning. No comfort for the lowest of the low, the bottom of the chain. The Sith masters wished them all to understand that luxury would only be afforded to those worthy. The interior where he and the others had been marched into was filled quickly. Those with brute enough aura and commandeering enough presence—like him, of course—were able to settle themselves on the metal jutting from the walls that served as a place to sit. The rest had to stand and hope they could save face enough not to be thrown around like weak, pathetic little rag dolls once the decent to Korriban began. He watched them all without hiding it. While some of them were nothing more than children—babies at most, he thought, and even some of them laughed as well as chattered like it was just another day…Most all of them watched him back. And then watched each other. Their eyes were those of predators newly born, trusting no one and nothing. They sought out their weaknesses already, gauged who to note, who to avoid, who they might even have to kill… They were all going to the same place. The academy upon Korriban. The goal was power; unlimited, unheard of power—but to even begin to grasp at that they must train, and to train you must be stronger, better, faster, more merciless cruel than your class mate. Each of them on that shuttle knew that out of the lot of them only a few would even live to hold the rank of apprentice, let alone Sith. He knew this too, and he let every bit of that show in the half-born sneer of mocking on his face. He let it show in the arrogant way he slouched like old Kings on uncomfortable throne, his massive arms over the back of another, powerful legs sprawled. See what I am, his posture seemed to say. I will be your doom. Though…on occasion…there was one distraction he was trying to ignore-- He caught first sight of her when she stepped foot on the ramp and had made her way inside. Short enough that unlike the brutes that came before: wide shouldered, bull-necked, red, pale or dark skinned—she did not need to duck her head at all. She was not human, but twi’lek. Jarlan and the lot of them would be idiots not to recognize it, the strange, deeply brilliant gold skin, the stripes that lazily meandered down twitching brain-tails, and most importantly, the body of a man’s slave-girl dream. Jarlan let his eyes rake over her as he might a fine piece of roast presented upon platter. She was hardly delicate. Outfitted in hand-me-downs from some other dead apprentice no doubt, the dark leggings and chest pieces were too small and worn around the edges. His keen eye found a quickly patched hole along the side—a light saber strike that killed the last owner of the clothing perhaps? No matter—what did was by the time he flicked his eyes from her ample chest he found himself staring eye to eye with her. Her eyes…Ah, her eyes. The prettiest shade of purple he had ever seen. He wanted them instantly—on his desk, in his room, perhaps preserved on the hilt of the light saber he longed to build. They were as brilliant as her skin and they simply oozed pure hatred and malice at him, all from an emotionless face that somehow conveyed that despite the fact she walked bare foot, nearly in rags on the shuttle? She was far superior to them all. He’d found himself sitting up a little straighter, like boys in school when they realized the teacher was suddenly attractive. It angered him and the few seconds of her seething glance pleased him highly. He'd his head to completely ignore her, whilst listening to the others curse her out as she passed—‘Alien scum,’ ‘Get out of my way, Slave!’ ‘Idiot dancing girl…’ ‘Ey there, dumplin’, how’s about a free lap dance? Promise when I earn my Darth title you can dangle from my knee.’ At least, he tried to ignore her. He found his eyes slithering to the corners of his lids to follow the place far, far in the back she put herself, gliding over the metal plates on the floor as if they were the most resplendent rugs the galaxy had ever know. Oh yes...this one will be mine—her eyes turned positively hard as little crystals. Eyes that could chip a man or woman, or several hundred too. As the shuttle bounced around in its landing, she remained stock-still in the chaos, refusing to be bounced around by the turbulence of engines firing for a landing. Her spine was unbowed, snicked straight as slim vibroswords with little decoration and her revulsion roiled from her, mingling with the fear. He’d have her. Whether she wanted him to or not. And her pretty little eyes too. (**Credit to Florence & The Machine for title and lyrics. Song: Seven Devils. No harm intended by the inclusion of lyrics. All rights remain with the original artist. Malign is a Sith Assassin, Apprenticed to Amaryll, played on the Lord Adraas server.) Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
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