Relationship Status: It's Complicated
WEARING: xxx
WEAPONS: Ferrum Solus | Blodmåne | Strømafbryder
TAG:
Firrerreo
Korriban.
The dark side of the force had drawn the wolf to the ancient planet. It had been some time since he stepped foot on the red desert planet. A masquerade which had been far too fitting for the events which had taken place at the event. It had been nothing more than its own disguise designed to hide the true motive, a dark side ritualistic sacrifice.
He had hated it.
Gerwald was not above killing light siders. He was not above death. His wolf, however, deemed it needed to serve a purpose. Value needed to be exchanged. There had been no value gained by killing prisoners which could have been used to barter for something greater, not when others had willingly offered what was needed to fuel the nexus.
Blue eyes looked in the direction of the monolithic palace in which the ceremony had taken place. It was dark, twisted, black. The very existence of it did not settle well with the wolf. It was a testament to a more religious adherence to the Sith ways. Gerwald could do without all that. The force was the force, and there was nothing more to it than that. It was a tool, a weapon, an extension of the universe. The cosmic power was not something to be worshiped, not when it flowed through everything whether living or not.
His gaze shifted toward the academy. Whatever it was that had been drawing him, it was there. The building took on the same dark stone of the palace, and while Gerwald did not think Korriban was known for its architecture, he could appreciate the use of what was natural around it. The wolf had always preferred local materials over the metal and fabrications of sentient life. His home on Stewjon was a testament to that upbringing. The loft on Jutrand was representative of the other.
Each step echoed once the Dark Lord entered the Academy. Acolytes and teachers alike kept a wide berth from one recently named to the Dark Council. If he was here, then it was not a good sign. Why would Empyrean’s Wrath need to be present among those training if they he were not there in an official capacity?
Simply stated, he would not need to be.
He continued on until he found what it was that had gripped his attention. A room, not unlike most used for the alchemical arts. His kind had been born, created, in one similar he had no doubt. It was not the room which drew him, but rather the one who occupied it currently. A dark skinned man with markings on his forehead.
For now, the wolf stood in the doorway and observed. He did not want to disturb the wizard or distract him in what might be an important part of his process.
WEAPONS: Ferrum Solus | Blodmåne | Strømafbryder
TAG:
Firrerreo
Korriban.
The dark side of the force had drawn the wolf to the ancient planet. It had been some time since he stepped foot on the red desert planet. A masquerade which had been far too fitting for the events which had taken place at the event. It had been nothing more than its own disguise designed to hide the true motive, a dark side ritualistic sacrifice.
He had hated it.
Gerwald was not above killing light siders. He was not above death. His wolf, however, deemed it needed to serve a purpose. Value needed to be exchanged. There had been no value gained by killing prisoners which could have been used to barter for something greater, not when others had willingly offered what was needed to fuel the nexus.
Blue eyes looked in the direction of the monolithic palace in which the ceremony had taken place. It was dark, twisted, black. The very existence of it did not settle well with the wolf. It was a testament to a more religious adherence to the Sith ways. Gerwald could do without all that. The force was the force, and there was nothing more to it than that. It was a tool, a weapon, an extension of the universe. The cosmic power was not something to be worshiped, not when it flowed through everything whether living or not.
His gaze shifted toward the academy. Whatever it was that had been drawing him, it was there. The building took on the same dark stone of the palace, and while Gerwald did not think Korriban was known for its architecture, he could appreciate the use of what was natural around it. The wolf had always preferred local materials over the metal and fabrications of sentient life. His home on Stewjon was a testament to that upbringing. The loft on Jutrand was representative of the other.
Each step echoed once the Dark Lord entered the Academy. Acolytes and teachers alike kept a wide berth from one recently named to the Dark Council. If he was here, then it was not a good sign. Why would Empyrean’s Wrath need to be present among those training if they he were not there in an official capacity?
Simply stated, he would not need to be.
He continued on until he found what it was that had gripped his attention. A room, not unlike most used for the alchemical arts. His kind had been born, created, in one similar he had no doubt. It was not the room which drew him, but rather the one who occupied it currently. A dark skinned man with markings on his forehead.
For now, the wolf stood in the doorway and observed. He did not want to disturb the wizard or distract him in what might be an important part of his process.
