The Ruling House [ Darth Prazutis ]

[Darth Metus]

He couldn't feel.

In those moments, the ache in his bones was nonexistent. The protests of his muscles were mute. Even the constant abuse of his knuckles upon shattered bone was...gone. Izak was a high - and placing thunderous blows was his fix. This wasn't his typical fight; nor was this his typical evening. What usually transpired was something quick, something relatively harmless. Two men in chains were led into the ring, only one left standing. The other always awoke sometime later - bruised, but alive. The first difference in the now was that Izak's "opponent" was the furthest thing from a slave. He was more than a man, he was the Master. Before tonight, before this night, he may as well have been a god.

Yet now?

He had fallen.

Reality came swiftly to Izak as one final blow struck home. His scraped, raw knuckles crashed down upon the exposed bone. Crick! A fissure was born, sobering the Pit Fighter with a spontaneous wave of pain. His fist had given way: a knuckle wounded in the act of stealing life. And with this did the feeling begin. Every punch he had weathered, every kick he had withstood - all came crashing down upon him in one instant. The room began to whirl, the light became all the more blinding...but something odd characterized the moment. He had felt this way before, time and time again. He had felt the constant agony of his body whilst all the patrons gawked upon the fights. Yet normally, there was noise: a perpetual gaggle of cheers or groans; of rich men making sport.

But now there was silence.

Was it because the Slave had bitten the hand that fed? Was it because Izak had finally broken his own chains? No. That couldn't have been it. The reality was...the Master had protectors. Guns. Goons. Izak, in all reality, shouldn't have been able to have his way with the "gilded god." So what had given mogol and lackey pause? What, then, allowed the mongrel to sink his fangs into his late owner? He squinted against the light, attempting to see past the blur and into the crowd. Few eyes were upon him and the crimson mess he had made...the rest had their attention of a glimmering blade of red. A humming saber of light, wielded by a robed figure. Izak had heard the stories - every man in the Pit too.

A Sith was among them.

A true God stood among mortals.

[member="Darth Prazutis"]

 

[Darth Prazutis]

[media]https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=uLN0dy22sVw[/media]​

​

The Slave Pits
​A remote location in the Outer Rim...

In any normal setting on any average day [member="Izak"] would have been killed where he stood the second his fist lashed out against the superior master. A slave who dares to strike those who hold his leash suffers death. The mongrel should have been killed by any of the gun toting goons that acted as part of the mans retinue. He was not killed this day. So the mongrel with gnashing teeth and bearing claw struck down again, and again, and again ​upon the masters flesh staining his alabaster skin and tan tunic with a thick layer of blood and gore. The man was weak and he was no match for the master pit fighter whos fists fell like sledge hammers. All the while his goons that should've been his shields stood as if their feet were cemented to the floor. The man who stood closest to the master and in Izak's eyesight was shaking his teeth chattering in the dead silence of the crowd. Wherwe was the cheering? The roars and groans of rich men partaking in the sport yelling as if they were in the very pits? The pits were host to a lively and raucous, bloodthirsty crowd whose hunger was never sated.

Until now.

A presence washed over the crowd akin to a choking fog the very air growing colder and heavier in its wake. The presence was as unsettling as it was terrifying more than enough to rip the frenzied spirit from inside the chests of every spectator among the crowds. No one so much as moved, talked, and barely breathed in its wake. Deep within these flock of sheep a goliath emerged standing high above the paralyzed crowd. The man stood clad in a set of ornate and unusual hooded black robes that completely concealed his person. A pair of luminous sulfuric eyes burned brightly from within his dark cowl carving a great pathway through the crowd giving the titan the perfect vantage to watch the unsuspecting Izak pulverize the sniveling rat who had betrayed him. The stranger beckoned to the folds of his robes and out came a dark steel cylinder, its bright crimson glow illuminating those around him as its blade came to life. A pair of guardsman who stood among the crowd turned to face the dark man, their weapons turned they dared to draw against a god...

​The hooded god simply gestured in the air and the two goons flew through the air slamming high on the back wall they desperately gasped and croaked trying to get air into their crushing throats. But the near seven foot giant didn't even look back at the two dying men as he entered the fighting circle facing the other six men who stood around the corpse of a man who they once served. The hooded man stopped on the opposite side of the fighting pit from Izak who could feel that dark gaze practically as it glazed across his skin. "You are as I have forseen. Power flows through your veins, the blood of gods flows within you. You have gifts but what has Verd done with them? He allows you to fight as a sheep amongst the herd, you stand with the chattle in the mud and grime for others amusement. You are reckless, naïve, and undisciplined. Look upon me in awe young one as what you have the potential to become. I am the Destroyer." ​​The man spoke out his voice deep and dark yet it thrummed with power, it held an almost hypnotic lull as it boomed through the chamber. The crimson blade rise from down by his side to right in front of his face illuminating his facial features in its crimson glow, an dark grin shone on his face. "Let me show you what a god is capable of." ​To those uninitiated in the arts of the force they'd be utterly surprised as the giant flew across the room with such unnatural speed he appeared as if he was a blur, a shadow. Izak would see the mans shimmering form slam into a guardsman near him with the force of a falling avalanche the crimson blade repeatedly fell and immediately a pair of the goons fell into pieces. The man thrusted a hand out and erupting from his fingertips was a blast of crimson lightning, the smell of ozone filling the air while its violent blast ripped through the room and ensnared another with such power his very skeleton became visible to all present.

Where the scent of ozone once remained the stench of burning flesh followed the screaming man as his charred corpse hit the floor. The hooded warrior didn't even hesitate when the two terrified men who remained tried turning their blasters on him, another gesture sent them ripping out of their hands flying across the room. The energy blade dissipated then and the cylinder was hidden beneath his robes while he moved after the men who attempted to run. Again he was a blur as the giant who shouldn't be able to move so fast crossed the room and wrapped a grip around the throat of one with just one hand, while the other goon stopped cold in his tracks as if he was compelled. A mere tightening of his grip snapped the flailing mans neck with a loud crack, his body hitting the ground soon after. The remaining man turned to face this dark god amidst the slaughter his entire body shaking. The twi'leks teeth chattered he managed to scream out of them "P-Please! Get out of-my-! Make it stop! Please make it stop!" ​The man howled long and loud unlike anything the mongrel of the pits had seen before, the fear rolling off of him in palpable waves.

​Suddenly the man ran towards a nearby patron pulling the slugthrower from his side holster, he jammed the barrel deep in his mouth and pulled the trigger. A crimson mist sprayed through the air then as the gun went off blowing the back of his skull out. The dark one surged into the open once more and turned to face Izak. "A hundred generations of gods flows through your veins, and instead of awakening that power you have been led to grovel among the sheep. No more."

 

[Darth Metus]

There was a distinct difference between Izak's former Master and the Deity which descended from the seats. Although the recently deceased would consider himself powerful, it took the arrival of the Sith to demonstrate what true might looked like. With ease, he commanded ethereal might: hurling men through the air with but a wave of his hand. And his presence...Frigid. As the hooded behemoth drew ever closer, Izak felt as if a shadow had washed over his very being. As if his limbs had been dipped into the harshest of winter. Only a few moments prior, he felt strong. He felt powerful. But now, his frailty was paramount.

Then, the Destroyer came to a halt.

His words were as thunder, booming over Izak with force. Yet at the same time, they commanded his attention. Although terror wormed itself in the pit of the Fighter's stomach, he could not turn his eyes away from the behemoth. It was as if the man were a flame, and he a moth. Let me show you what a god is capable of. A second ticked by...and he was gone? To the eyes of one battered and bruised, it appeared as though the Sith Lord had simply vanished into thin air. But this was a falsehood, as a terrified yelp caused Izak to turn about. The shining blade of red moved in a deadly dance, rending to pieces the Destroyer's prey.

There was a flash.

Nature's fury leapt from the fingertips of the Sith: crimson bolts of lightning which swiftly sent another into oblivion. The smell of ozone and crisp flesh invaded Izak's nostrils, causing his face to contort all the more. Awe. Terror. Both coalesced together to form a stunned expression as the Fighter witnessed the Sith's final act. He invaded the mind! A man, screaming in protest, drew his weapon and sprayed the contents of his skull with a pull of the trigger. Then, the Destroyer graced Izak with his presence, turning so that sulphuric eyes could bore into his skull.

Silence ruled him, for myth had literally come alive before his very eyes. Seemingly exaggerated tales of the might of Sith Lords were real...and this man saw something. This Destroyer saw power untapped. Izak drew a shaky breath, forcing himself to think. He...was a dead man. Striking, nay killing, his master was sure to see him gunned down. Only the presence of the Sith allowed him to evade certain execution. Another breath. If the Destroyer wanted him dead, he would be dead. No, he made a point of showing his might...and going on about the power in his blood.

"Are you..." Izak managed to croak out. "Are you saying that I can do that?" As the words formed and fell from his lips, the Fighter raised a finger. He indicated the charred remains of the man who had literally been thunderstruck. The gears began to move. With that sort of power, who would ever force him to fight in a cage again? Who would ever force him to do anything? Hell, he could be the one forcing for once...

"I...I'll do whatever you say." he said.

"I'm tired of being weak."

[member="Darth Prazutis"]

 

[Darth Prazutis]

"Goood. A mongrel of the pits you are no longer." ​The dark one bellowed while he circled the form of [member="Izak"] like a shark circles its prey just before feeding time. Tall, broad shouldered, ebony skinned with solid muscles Izak was in peak physical condition. The mans fists were broken from tenderizing the face of his cowardly master, his nose broken the telltale sign of a brawler. The broad shoulders and dark hair traits gifted by his Zambrano blood, among other gifts. The blood flowing through Izak Zambrano ​was greatly empowered by the force and swelled in the dark side of the force. The very lineage of the royal house was enveloped in the dark side and those gifted with their blood were naturally predisposed to the dark side akin to the ancient Sith species of old. It was an age old byproduct of the experiments done by Solomon the Black, ancient King turned God of the blood who conducted experiments on his own. But without the right teachings he could never truly tap into its gifts. Braxus stopped a short distance in front of the young man giving looks to his broken and scarred portions. Once more he called out the dark side of the force by thrusting forth his hand, and it eagerly obeyed. A thick black smog burst forth from his hand it was milky and unnatural, just by being in close proximity Izak would feel repulsed almost nauseated by the dark energy.

​Even without the full training he could feel one single solitary feeling that radiated from the unholy smog: hunger. The dark cloud glided across the air and completely enveloped a nearby spectator. A high pitched yelp escaped his lips shortly before being cut off entirely. The sickening energy finally surged back towards the Sith Lord revealing the man who was once filled with life, now appeared as something akin to a skeleton with thin skin stretched across bone. The Destroyer didn't appear phased by the slightest as the energy coiled around his person, its clouds moved and shifted by his mere command. But suddenly he pointed towards Izak and the thick smog surged off of him and through the air, entering the youth. While the previous victim was dissolved almost entirely by the dark energies Izak felt nauseated his first time, but almost refreshed. It filled his stores of energy fixing a broken nose and other unknown broken bones and unhealed wounds, he suddenly found his bruised and broken fists completely restored as if he had been submerged in kolto. "Come." Content with the outcome of the initial meeting the dark lord spun on his heels and moved towards the main exit once more the crowds giving him a wide berth. No one would hamper Izak's path or even look in his general direction as an eerie silence fell over the once loud brawling pits.

​When the doors of the arena slid open a Delta-Class JV-9 Shuttle would shift into view its ramp lowered, a pair of dark ornately armored guards sporting lightsaber pikes bearing a phoenix emblazoned on their chests stood ominously at the ramps bottom. "The blood of a Zambrano flows through your veins Izak. It's powers are locked away to the untrained mind but under my tutelage you will learn to tap into this power. You will learn to rule." ​Braxus said guiding his young nephew into the transport. The pair of guardsman followed only when they were completely inside, the ramp followed. "We share the same blood Izak. I am your uncle, Braxus Zambrano."