A Different Kind of Monster [Darth Prazutis]

[Nisha Skaiyr]

Panatha​

Vain Hollow Citadel​

Violence Fetish

---

Slice from upper right to lower left. Close range, draw cut. Long, but shallow. Not crippling. Backstep, release off-hand grip for extra reach, low cut at shin height. Retrieve and return to two-handed grip, chest guard, angle blade for upward thrust, bypass ribcage. Lunge into target, pierce heart. Blood. Satisfaction.

~~~

There in the halls of Vain Hollow, Nisha vented her rage on a corpse, strung up and draped in armor. The mild satisfaction she received was nothing in comparison to the rush of true victory, in true battle. But the only true enemy near was also her Master, and so this would have to do. Side to side the war-witch paced, eyeing her inanimate foe like a tiger about to pounce. In her right hand she twirled her longsword, Mocelsa ai Maras, with the sort of ease that only came from skill at arms and great personal strength. The 'foe' she faced was pierced, sliced open, and bleeding profusely. Were it actually alive, it would have died a thousand deaths by now.

And still her rage was not sated.

A Force-Imbued dash forward brought Nisha close once more to her target, and she used the momentum she'd gathered in that short distance to throw the weight of her entire body into the next cut, delivering a brutally effective diagonal chop to the cadaver's left shoulder. There was a bit of resistance, but simple armorplast (as Nisha had discovered the material was named) was no match for a Sith Sword. The three pound blade sliced through armor and flesh, cleaved through bone, and then finally divorced limb from torso. With a feral growl, Nisha finished her cadaverous adversary off by thrusting the tip of her blade through its eye-socket. A sickening pop and a wet squelch followed immediately.

Had Nisha known she had an audience, she probably would've restrained herself a bit more.

But not much, really.

---

[member="Darth Prazutis"]

 

[Darth Prazutis]

​Vain Hollow, Panatha
​Arena Level, Sparring Chamber...

​Even in his new roles as King of Thule and Warlord of Rattatak to Braxus Zambrano he always felt most at home in Vain Hollow. The Dark Lord of the Sith held a sense of pride in the great citadel, for without his vision and determination it would never have existed. The citadel reminded him of the grim past during a time when [member="Darth Carnifex"] had died, the dark side corruption eroding his body away until it was nothing but ash in the wind. While some thought of it as the end he knew that death was the beginning and immediately the vast Panathan Empire was put to work by its interim Arch-King. It was towards the awaited end of this dark age that the new citadel was completed, built out of the tallest mountain in the Iron Mountains: Blacktalon Peak. The Arch-Prince scaled the peak to its tallest point before proclaiming its new name for all to hear: Vain Hollow. While such times felt like they were yesterday in reality it was a lifetime ago for the now Dark Lord. Where as then he knelt before Kaine and called him master, now he stood by his side and called him friend and brother.

​Times change.

​Darth Prazutis swept through the halls of Vain Hollow clad in a set of black and gold robes of zeyd-cloth. Beyond the black marble of the great keep build at the peaks top the halls of Vain Hollow were masterfully crafted out of the dark mountainous rock, augmented with an relatively Spartan and imperialistic ash gray metal in places to complement a perfect blend. The current level he stood on was often called the arena level. An element from the old and now destroyed stronghold he incorporated into the new designs was an arena utilized by the strongholds defenders. In the new design the arenas were changed and expanded to incorporate an entire level in the stronghold, as well as pens to hold various exotic beasts. It was here that the citadels denizens could find many sparring from the elite Crownguard and elite graug forces that guarded the lower levels fighting in these halls. However it wasn't the great arenas that were his destination, rather one of the small sparring chambers where one or a few could spar and work on their techniques in solitude.

[member="Nisha Skaiyr"].

The newly appointed apprentice to his nephew was what drew the goliath here, a denizen of the warrior people of Indoumodo. Braxus had heard many things about the apprentice, some good some bad, enough to draw his attention and warrant a trip down to the sparring levels. The undulating waves of darkness emanating from his form foretold his coming even before the doors opened, and he entered to witness Nisha mutilate a strung up corpse she used as her practice dummy. The womans technique was crude and could use some work but it was understandable for a new apprentice. "So you are the new apprentice from Indoumodo I have heard so much about." ​Braxus said stepping into the room.

 

[Nisha Skaiyr]

Darkness approached.

Strong, powerful, dwarfing Nisha's own presence in the Dark Side by a wide margin. At first, the War-Witch thought it was her Master approaching, but - no. No, this Darkness was distinct. Older, more experienced - if not necessarily more powerful than her Master's. By the same token, it was more subtle. When Carnifex approached, Nisha tasted blood upon her tongue, felt the end of all things on the horizon. This visitor, whoever it might be, was less cataclysmic. It was not blood and doom that heralded his approach, but suffering and loss. Heartbreak, betrayal.

Less bloody, but no less sinister, and no less worthy of respect.

After she had finished her routine, the grey-skinned Indoumodian turned on the balls of her feet to face the intruder. What she saw didn't surprise her; a massive man, built strong and sturdy. She could see in his features some resemblance to Carnifex - enough to conclude that they were related, at the very least. Beyond that, she wasn't sure. Brothers? It was possible. Whatever the case, it was best for her health if she were to treat the newcomer with the respect his apparent power warranted.

Nisha slid the tip of her blade into the ground as she bent the knee, hands resting on the weapon's pommel. Head tilted towards the ground, she closed one eye - the other, her 'blind' eye, stayed open, staring up at Prazutis with distressing alertness.

When the Witch spoke, her tone was respectful, without being simpering or subservient. "Unless Lord Carnifex has taken another Apprentice from my home, then you are correct, my Lord."

---
[member="Darth Prazutis"]

 

[Darth Prazutis]

​The King moved from his leaning position in the doorway fully entering the room as he looked at the form of [member="Nisha Skaiyr"]. He said nothing as he approached the kneeling War-Witch his gaze pandering to her blade before refocusing on her powerfully toned muscles. This dark robed man circled her kneeling form before he moved back in front of her a hand lowering down to her level motioning for her to rise "Walk with me." ​The goliath said as he slowly turned towards the doors, his pace slowed. There was something different about his luminous sulfuric eyes as they gazed down at the War-Witch. They not only looked at her but they stared through her, as if he could read the very nonverbal cues on her face, as if he cracked through her insides and saw through her very soul, it was enough to bring a cold chill down ones spine.

"[member="Nisha Skaiyr"] is your name, yes?" ​Prazutis said as he folded his gloved hands neatly behind his back while they entered out into the dark metal, relatively Spartan hallways. As she stood alongside him anyone who happened to be in their path immediately stopped to get out of his way, conversations falling silent as he moved. "I am Lord Prazutis. How have you adjusted to Vain Hollow? I imagine its all quite overwhelming for you, especially the culture shock and the atmospheric compositional differences." ​Prazutis asked her. "Tell me your thoughts and see questions answered. Perhaps we can help get you properly adjusted."

 

[Nisha Skaiyr]

Prazutis.

Nisha did not know High Sith, but she recognized the way it sounded, the way it rolled off of one's tongue and rang in one's ears. In all likelihood, it wasn't the man's birth name, but then, few Sith she knew went by their birth names - perhaps because they did not trust other Sith, perhaps because it was a point of pride to take a new title. For whatever reason, the tradition still stood; Sith, at least high ranking ones, chose their own names.

And this particular Sith, who was most definitely high ranking, demanded that Nisha rise, so rise she did, moving still with a kind of steady confidence and savage grace. When the man looked her in the eye, she did not flinch, and she did not look away. Instead, she silently returned the gaze of the towering Lord. And while her gaze did not have the same effect as his, it was eery in its own right, being half delivered by a perfectly alert, perfectly aware milky white orb that should have possessed neither of the aforementioned qualities.

"I am trapped in a gilded cage, Lord Prazutis," began Nisha, sliding her blade into the scabbard at her side as she walked. Her words did not drip with rage, or barely contained hatred; her voice was level, matter of fact, and utterly calm. "Surrounded by those bound to the whim of a monster masquerading as a God. My Master has slaughtered my people, ripped from me everything which I held dear. In return for petty scraps of knowledge, I am expected to do his bidding without question. Every day, he makes a new attempt to destroy that which makes me who I am, and every day he fails at this task. And every day I resist the urge to slaughter every last guard, cup-bearer, chambermaid, manservant, concubine, and slave that makes their home in this gold-leafed dungeon." The War-Witch adjusted the straps on her respirator, making sure the precious machine was still secure. "With all respect, Lord Prazutis, poisoned air and strange customs are the least of my concerns regarding Vain Hollow."

---

[member="Darth Prazutis"]

 

[Darth Prazutis]

​In truth the Destroyer didn't know much about the indoumodian [member="Nisha Skaiyr"].

​Aside from the fact that she was his nephews latest apprentice and the project he was sinking much time into, and that she was plucked from an obscure and rural world, the extent of his knowledge in this rare case was limited. [member="Darth Carnifex"] while similar to him and ways was far different from Darth Prazutis in others, separating the two apart. Darth Prazutis was no stranger to breaking one down only to reforge them anew stronger then ever before, he had done and was doing the same with apprentices of his own. But whether an apprentice in particular needed such treatment he found one wouldn't know until meeting, and testing them first. Not all techniques worked the same on every prospective pupil each required their own different, and unique touch in order to tap into their locked potential.

​In the case of Nisha Skaiyr he came to the conclusion from her words that loyalty to her people was strong, and taking her home away from her while in some cases worked in others it could make training the apprentice much harder. Whether it was a disadvantage or not he couldn't know, not in such few words. But Kaine certainly did find a method to unlock her anger, her rage, emotions that fuel the power of the dark side. Nisha needed to hone these emotions if she was going to succeed in her training. "Yes of course, you are indeed in your own hell Nisha the mistake is mine, but think about this." ​Prazutis said, his hands remaining clasped behind him while they walked through the halls, rounding a corner past a series of open sparring rooms where guardsman trained within.

"Everyone at some point in their lives goes through a crucible clearly you are going through your own right now. Most believe there's only two types of people who do go through their crucible: Those who adapt and survive it and are stronger for it, and those who die. But few know of the third kind." ​Prazutis said pausing for effect, before continuing "Those who learn to love the fire. They choose to stay in their crucible because they find it easier to embrace the pain then to overcome, until it is all you know anymore." ​Prazutis gaze turned to Nisha as the pair walked to see the expression on her face, before once more resuming "Now is the time to act before you get used to living with hell looming over you. I can feel your anger, your hate, it gives you focus. Deep within our foundations we are who we are, we can bury our troubled pasts but it can never escape us. But who you will become has yet to be seen. You are resilient I can see that, use your anger to fuel your concentration, allow yourself not to repulse all of his words but to take them in and see the wisdom behind his teachings that will help you grow."