Necessity and the Swallowing of Pride

[Ferian Adair]

This was what that whore had done, and he had murdered her for it!

In stripping him, he had been reduced to something akin to one of a number of young of his species when beset by the initial full brunt of their urges and instincts. He had felt fear for the first time since he was little more than a speck of a child, fear that the madness had come for him... and yet, inch by inch, he came away from that fear, rebuilding that crucial control; all that was necessary before he could even begin to think of power.

And, oh, he could think of it. What he was! Who he was, respected, and feared - but knowledge of self would not help him. Months upon months of trial and error, frustration and anger, had he spent pacing around the hole in himself that power had once occupied, after years spent regaining the control necessary to function - he had managed some progress, regained a few basic skills in the Force, but it was hardly enough and yet... heavy, deeply entrenched pride, distance from the knowledge of how to learn, and the taste for power that he no longer had in his possession had stalled his progress; also, it had prevented him from seeking those in power as he once had as a young man of no more than fifteen years of age.

It was why he was here at the academy of the One Sith, having swallowed his pride and nearly choking on it in the process. To see if, perhaps, what he sought could be gained, here, what else was on offer... and if he would have to kill anyone to get it.

That would be acceptable.

 

[Sheff Zee]

There was a large room in the One Sith's new temple upon Coruscant, akin to an auditorium, but lacking the necessary chairs for a large audience.

That didn't stop the young Sith Knight from sweeping into the room in a black tide, charcoal coloured flesh visible for but a moment as his cloak closed, thus hiding the silver lining lightsaber that was upon his belt.

He was Darth Acarus, and he had come to claim another Apprentice, one that he hoped wouldn't be as disappointing as one of his current two.

If they were, then he wouldn't hesitate to break them, and build them from the top if he had to.

He blinked once, and the Vonduun Skerr Kyyric covered Pureblood turned his head and his gaze settled upon [member="Ferian Adair"], golden eyes glowing from underneath his black hood.

His sole movement was raising a hand and beckoning the Sith Acolyte forwards.

 

[Ferian Adair]

It seemed that he was far from alone. The frustrating limitations of his senses within the Force - the work of centuries gone in a furious instant (he would take undeniable joy in rendering her lifeless again, if he could) - still permitted him enough depth and breadth to 'see' the universe beyond his eyes, and though there were other individuals scattered throughout the vicinity as far as his senses could reach, there were a scant few in the immediate area, the entrance hall to this temple on Coruscant. Oh, what particular memories this world held... but those memories held little application at this moment in time.

He had paid the design and intricacies of the temple construct little mind as he traversed within, for this was far from the first temple of the Sith that he had set foot in, and it was unlikely that it would be the last. He was some two thousand years and countless light-years from the time and place of his birth, little more than one half of it lived, and the rest... well, he had been brought here by a mere accident, but upon his extensive considerations had found the event to be a welcome one, as it had unwittingly removed him from the circumstances of a galaxy where he was known and hunted.

Advantageous, he mused within, when one of the forms in the hall presented itself to his line-of-sight, eyes narrowing habitually at the beckoning gesture, the ghost of a sneer rippling across his face and fading as fast as the attack of a serpent, while his mind pulled back from a reaction that he was - to his distaste - no longer in a position to uphold effortlessly. One of many things that he would have to reacquire.

A subtle snort exited him, and he swept back the right side of the long, dark duster he wore - which had furled around that leg - permitting the smooth forward transit of his tall form to acquiesce to the wordless request... while also plainly showing one hilt of what would be a familiar purpose for any appropriately trained user of the Force, as well as a few short blades (daggers, knives), and one fairly simple blaster. It would be a safe assumption that the ancient K'paur could be so armed down the other side of his body. He approached [member="Darth Acarus"], taking in his form...

Sith... pureblood. How interesting. A resurgence in these times... ?

...but verbalising nothing, and keeping his thoughts entirely to himself. It was better not to speak until spoken to, until one knew a little of the local politik, hierarchy, and expectations of comportment. Despite that, so much could be said in few or no words, in truth - this he knew. He stopped his forward movement the moment he stood near Acarus, and looked to the Sith as if expecting that he would have something to say, or... perhaps, another solitary movement to make.

 

[Sheff Zee]

He took note of the being in front of him, golden eyes scanning up and down [member="Ferian Adair"]. There was quite a few things to take in, a lot of... Seeing. One had to look past what the surface held if they wanted to see the potential of a force user, to see if they were capable of becoming the entity all force users were destined to become.

There were quite a few things he saw, and all of them he filed away mentally. Malphas himself had a long memory, something that he believed was necessary if he wanted to be a Sith, let alone someone who lived a long life. When someone owed you... Whether monetary or lethal payment, it was better to keep track of who they were.

However he was certain he was safe within One Sith Space. To some extent anyway, there were quite a Bounty Hunters around that were hunting Sith Lords and other force users. Mostly bounties set by One Sith and Republic representatives, but it was still dangerous to be leaving One Sith Space if you weren't prepared to be ambushed.

Good thing they had the force, right?

"Your name."

Less request and more command.

 

[Ferian Adair]

When was the last time anyone had given him a command? He thought on it a scant moment, the memory coming to the fore. The fact was, however, that he was not exactly in a position to react in the particular way the memory presented. After all, this one would be of very little use to him dead. Thusly, he would play to expectations, at the very least for the moment.

Ah, but what name to give? There had been so many in his past, some he had lived with for longer than others. Not a soul had called him by his given name for a very long time, due to the fact that he had felt disinclined to give it, and with good reason - that name held power, and very particular meaning. It was not meant to be spoken for those who did not earn it.

He blinked, once and slowly, his glacial eyes never once leaving the red-skinned one.

"Ferian Adair," he gave, finally, his voice sharp and even, "and what name has been hung about your neck, child?"

[member="Darth Acarus"]

 

[Iroatas]

There was a moment of pause from the Sith Knight, though he made no actual movements.

"There is no name hung about my neck." He took things for what they were, but what [member="Ferian Adair"] meant didn't fall on deaf ears. "That supposed 'person' doesn't exist anymore." Of course he still referred to himself as Malphas, but that was a personal thing, but to the outer world he made it seem like he was the typical Sith who believed that the life you had before you claimed your Darth title was forgotten, it didn't exist anymore. Sometimes it didn't make sense to him, but it was necessary.

"You will refer to me as Master or Darth Acarus."

 

[Ferian Adair]

"Will I?"

He almost bristled at the mere thought of calling this one 'master' - he knew when a master of the Force was before his eyes, and none had that title spoken unto them from his lips since his first and last master, over a millenium before - and to call him Darth would have been a stretch, in the mind of the K'paurian, for one not yet a Master but it was still the less-grating alternative.

"Very well. '[member="Darth Acarus"]' it is," he gave after a moment, a slight dismissiveness to his tone as if indulging a pestilent, headstrong whelp, whether that was the case or not. "Over eight-hundred years hence, and the title of 'Darth' still lives?"

He chuffed derisively.

"Fascinating."

 

[Iroatas]

Acarus blinked.

There were definitely plenty of beings within the order of the One Sith who were older than him and he prided himself on the fact that he was younger than many of them and was a Sith Knight whilst they remained Acolytes, such as this one. Did he simply remain in hiding his whole life? Cowardice? Or did he get woken up from a frozen sleep? He didn't know, he didn't care.

"The title of Darth is not something that will disappear through time. If it will fade from memory, it will take more than eight hundred years for it to be forever forgotten."

The media would never forget about the Sith maybe, certainly not the Jedi Order, and wouldn't whatever education centres the rest of the Galaxy have, wouldn't they teach their young history correctly? Perhaps not if the Sith were wiped out, but history often repeated itself, and if the Sith were gone then some headstrong Jedi would become the next Dark Lord of the Sith.

"Why are you here?"

[member="Ferian Adair"]

 

[Ferian Adair]

[member="Darth Acarus"]

Why was he here? Why?

The reasons were many. The reasons, the asking-after-them dredged up the visceral rage those very reasons caused, what those reasons had reduced him to, the causal weaknesses fed the fury well. Never had he been so enraged as he had been this past handful of years... barring the temporal shift. The Force sought to make a joke of him.

Has-been. Was.

Fingers, claws trimmed, dug into his palms, curled into fists. A sneer rippled across his face, vivid imagery of his hand gripped around the windpipe of this Darth, ripping, snapping, flashed before his eyes... and in a blink, a long closing and opening of the eyes, the scene was gone. The Force remained in aftereffect, kicked up in a vile storm of desires and intentions, and those icy eyes, now staining with a representative black ink that seeped eerily into the irises as he focused on the red-skinned one again. Blood began to drip from his fists, the sharp, stinging pain of it being the only thing that reined him in, in that moment. It was only then that breath eased out of him in a shudder, bringing two-toned words along with it, the truth of him, the Man and the Beast. One.

// [SIZE=18pt]“To reacquire what was taken from me,[/SIZE][SIZE=18pt]”[/SIZE] //

It was, in essence, so simple. A clarity seeped into his mind, then. It mattered not what he had been. No, he had to play the game by the rules dictated to him. He was not known here, and could be accorded no respect or fear that he had not earned or effected, in this realm of time.

// [SIZE=18pt]“[/SIZE][SIZE=18pt]To be stronger than I was.[/SIZE][SIZE=18pt]”[/SIZE] //

Wasn't that the truth? It was weakness that had put him in this state. Still, there was one certainty.

// [SIZE=18pt]“[/SIZE][SIZE=18pt]and I will not hesitate to Remove any who should block my path[/SIZE][SIZE=18pt]”[/SIZE] //

The necessity of swallowing one's pride.

// [SIZE=18pt]“[/SIZE][SIZE=18pt]Whether you assist me or not, Master Acarus. I will have what is mine.[/SIZE][SIZE=18pt]”[/SIZE] //

 

[Iroatas]

Different from what he had heard before, it piqued his curiosity. What had been taken from him? The rest were standard answers, answers that he had said and thought of in the past without hesitation. [member="Ferian Adair"] was worthy of being his Apprentice.

But his tone would have to change.

"Then I will teach you for as long as your goals are in hand with that of the Dark Lord. When they stray, I will not hesitate to strike down my own creation." He stared at the Acolyte as if daring him to test him, to question him. To even make subliminal threats, as he thought the Acolyte had done just a moment before.

"I will not decide what you shall learn, unless that is what you wish. You are by far my elder. Tell me what you would know?"

Acarus was a Sith, he still thought himself better than any and all who called themselves Sith, especially if they were not Purebloods like him, but he was still respectful.

To some degree.