When One rose above Another

[Darth Abyss]

Nar Shaddaa, Slums

Who could've figured that hiring a few mercs to take over a nightclub would come with such an interesting collection of persona that were willing to work for him. While there had been many to do his dirty work, one stayed in Abyss mind. Not because of his achievement during the raid, but because he triggered a long lost memory in his head. The replaceable apprentice that had stood besides one of Carnifex bastards, the one of the that had been responsible for the loss of his right leg so many years ago, had found his way to the smuggler moon, and into the employ of the Black Assassin. When they last meet face to face, they both had been mere acolytes, but today Abyss stood with a slight hint of pride on the top of the sith foodchain, a lord by both power and title.

It wasn't like he didn't held grudges, but the apprentice had only done what any good apprentice would've done and aided his master. The bullet that had injured Abyss on kuat was only a half faded thought that was almost forgotten in the back of his head, and he didn't cared enough about such a petty, old wound to ignore this possibility. From what he had heard the mans master was gone, and so [member="Drogh"] stood without a someone to guide him in the darkness.

Not that Abyss needed another apprentice, he already had one to train as his legacy on the path of the sith, and a shadow hand, his former apprentice which had been gone for long and now had to live with the knowledge that he would never be more to Abyss than a tool to use and throw away when he wished so. But his old foe held as much hate as respect in Abyss mind, and if he had made the creature his apprentice then not without a reason. And he desired to see what this reason was.

Nar Shaddaa wasn't his own world, but it belonged to someone close to him. Even without her, he still had eyes and ears everywhere, and it wasn't hard to track anyone on a place where money could make anyone talk. So the Prophet had ventured down into the slums, and many stepped away when they saw the characteristic mask on his face. The man would feel that a dark, powerful presence was not on the search, but on the hunt for him.

 

[Drogh]

Drogh had not been blessed by the darkside. The darkside came to him against his will, circling around him when his emotions began to boil. It was not of anger or desire for power, a hunger that can never stop. It was pain and suffering, he felt ill almost constantly headaches, his limbs felt weaker, his mind as if it was rotting on the inside and yet he gained little to no power from it. Drogh did not crave power or desire knowledge, the darkside did not do that to him, he was not the type to consume the darkside and it in turn consume him. But rather let it passively destroy him from the inside out, decaying at both his mind and body; in a sense he was drowning in the darkside. It was not used as power but rather a disease a cancer growing within him, and yet Drogh would do nothing about it, simply accept his painful fate and live life until he dies.

Deep down however Drogh didn't want this to be his fate, deep down there was rage against the darkside it's self. He didn't want to suffer like this , sulk as he rots in the darkness, he wanted some sort of invisible revenge or pointless stubbornness to keep him going or anything really. What was he really? What did Drogh stand for or fight for? What values does Drogh hold or morals that he accepts as he own? Was Drogh nothing more but a empty vessel of the darkside? That was when "it" started happening. Another side of Drogh, an aggressive angry, spiteful alter-ego of Drogh, when fear was non-existence and he Drogh wanted was to watch the galaxy burn for it's wrongs against Drogh. He would hold the universe and the force it's self personally responsible for all the horrid things that have happened to Drogh. But Drogh really knew he was never going to get his justice or revenge.

He a master once, he did not like him much and in act he was regretful the master had disappeared then taken him on as an apprentice, brainwashing him into a old and backward ideologically that was past it's time. Drogh didn't hold many views but he knew a few things, the Jedi and the Sith should be gone and replaced. But these were thoughts he would never spill out to anyone. Yet Drogh wanted power, deep down he did, maybe to cast this curse off or to perhaps to use it to good use either way, Drogh felt he was wasting his life. Why didn't he just end it? Drogh didn't know but everyone he tried, a screaming voice would shout "STOP" .

Some thing was making him go forward, doing these jobs, making this alliances and 'friends', if it was completely up to him he would be in Coruscant sulking and rotting away.

So he came here, Nar Shadda the slums.

The smell was awful but no overwhelming, for what ever reason Drogh found him self drawn to the worse places that the galaxy could offer. The suffering, starving children, corpses laying on the ground, species of all kinds laying in their blood, mixing in a metallic mixture. The houses were crumbled and broken, bit of scrap and anything anyone could find. Violence for violence sake at least it seemed. Nar Shadda was a working machine, cogs working to drive the crime engine but this was a broken part of the machine that was tossed away, it still had the characteristics of Nar Shadda but it was not given the wealth, pleasures and rewards most parts were custom to instead it only had the raw and most basic part of it, death. And Drogh was here, watching in the darkness, he felt hidden here at least for a time.

As he hide in a dark alley way, the metal. drips of a liquid lingering above him, gently tapping the ground as Drogh tarted his eyes, he felt some thing he really didn't like. A big eye was staring down at him, like a torch right up to his face. Drogh felt terrified, some thing or some one was watching him and he didn't know where, yet a flow power went down Drogh, a cold shiver against his spine. It was overwhelming but, oddly recognizable.

Drogh had taken a job from Abyss, a small thing which anyone could do but Drogh needed money so he wouldn't simply starve and enough fuel for his ship to keep him going, money from his last job was starting to run dry however he never thought his mind would be so focused on Abyss. It had been a long time since they last met, Drogh didn't know him and he prayed that Abyss didn't know Drogh. Drogh always knew he would never be safe here, a small feeling that Abyss would want 'a word' with Drogh was always lingering in his mind. A small whisper said "enough hiding." Drogh wasn't going to shy away from Abyss, he knew he was coming and there was little he could do about it, so he would simply face him. Walking out into the slums, he stood, focusing ahead, waiting.

[member="Darth Abyss"]

 

[Darth Abyss]

There was no grand gesture, no show to it as Abyss stepped through the chaos and decay of the slums, there was only fear in the eyes of those that saw him. The so called "Prophet" had worked hard for his reputation, and now he could see the effect that it created. Everyone that knew who and what he was, also knew what would happen if someone would stand in his way. Maybe death would find them from his hand directly, or maybe they would just disappear all of sudden, snatched from their homes and families without a trace to follow. Maybe they would return, but as someone else, robbed of all they believed in, of all they cared for, men and women with minds that had not only be altered but replaced by a shadow that could quite as well just be a myth, if it weren't for the faint sound of his breath, the only sound that was audible, as each step was made with a ghost like silence.

He could feel the one he searched close by, the stench of fear and paranoia had shrouded him already when they first meet, and it had not faded since. The figure of [member="Drogh"] appeared at the edges of his vision, as the man, or rather the thing as it was the term that seemed to better fit whatever he was, waited, presumably for Abyss to meet him. Good, that meant that despite the strange, corrupted mind that he possesed, he was still able to touch the darkness to a great degree, and that was all Abyss asked for.

His black, ragged robe drifting slightly as he walked, Abyss made his way towards the creature he came to hunt. With his mask, the amulets around his neck and the way he stood and walked, it became clear why many mistook him for a ghost or spirit instead of a sith lord made out of flesh and blood. He was a shadow with every part of his soul, and as one he was empowered by a darkness that was far diffident from that of the great overlords that ruled with their might out in the open, it was a cold, a twisted aura that clouded him, that had nothing of the bright fires that surrounded the Zambrano lineage.

"Do you remember me, lesser one?"

Abyss figure towered in front of Drogh, his voice as cold and inhuman as his appearance and aura.

 

[Drogh]

Drogh stared forward observing Abyss. People would say Drogh looked like a ghost, but Abyss in his ragged cloak, dark as a starless space, looked as if he was on a different plain of existence entirely, as if he was removing him self from this world, to a another. Drogh couldn't make out Abyss, his aura both scared and confused him. Like a maze, a twisted maze of sharp metal and broken glass, impossible to find the way out or a way in. As he walked forward, those he would fear would scatter into the darkness and become nothing more but victims of their own fear. Drogh didn't understand Abyss, but he wasn't trying too, he was simply riding the harsh and stormy waves of the darkside, like he had been doing for his entire life. Drogh examined the Sith Lord, wearing a mask to shroud his face, dressed in ancient relics it would seem. Drogh felt as if he was looking into a mirror, could Drogh become this if his master had taken him to Panatha? Drogh was going to be a Sith Assassin like the many that were, trained in the dark arts of an old order of which he did not like. Yet, that was not going to be his future, it was his own and yet he knew not what to do with it.

His aching headaches were getting worse, his mind become more blurred then before yet some how, the darkside felt stronger in him, the negative emotions of fear and pain bouncing of each other, Drogh felt ill, more then usual. Still, Drogh looked ahead, trying desperately not to give hints of fear or paranoia, but these efforts were futile. Yet he had to show some sense of strength rather then submissively giving in to the fear and running.

Drogh let out ghostly frail words, yet they had a sense of heavy dread that weighed them down. "Yes, I do."
[member="Darth Abyss"]

 

[Darth Abyss]

"Good. And do you have any idea what I could do to you, if I wanted to?"

The burning gaze of Abyss yellow eyes rested on the creature before him, a glimpse of hate clearly visible in them. He could feel the mans fear, and that meant that his question was already answered, but it wasn't his way to let someone like [member="Drogh"] get away so easily. While he wouldn't hurt the man physically, but he wanted to see fear, confusion and a wide range of other dark emotions that a sith lord could summon in a inferior being.

"Your master, do you have any idea what happened to him?"

This question wasn't as easily answered, but Abyss hoped that it could bring him a step closer to a revenge that he actually cared for. Drogh was just the apprentice, he still could be shaped into something more, but his former master had crossed Abyss plans many times, and for that he deserved a blade in his chest.

"So, lesser one, what is it that you seek?"

The tone of his voice changed slightly, it was still cold but far less threatening than before. Darkness came through fear, but it also came through desire, through passion, and to see if Drogh had what it took to serve under Abyss this passion had to enkindle into a bright flame.

 

[Drogh]

Drogh was still puzzled and confused by Abyss, but his words were a glimpse into Abyss, a sudden flash of light that Drogh sought to see though. His mind and body gave very little but what he said made it all clear. Provoke him? Drogh had little hate in his heart for Abyss and he knew that Abyss could snap him in two if he so desired, Drogh saw this simply as a fact, he was not some stubborn dark jedi that goes around waving a light saber, Drogh is not weighed down by heavy things such as pride. Yet Drogh knew well Abyss wouldn't do it, Drogh would either be dead or running by now. He brought up to his old master, Drogh cared very little about his former master, rarely thinking about until recently, but Drogh had no real "relationship" with him, good or bad he was simply a "Master" for a short time. What did Drogh seek? Truely to be left alone but that wasn't his choice, the galaxy was staring at him and he hated it. Now this Sith Lord comes to him asking "what do you want?". His voice was trying to lure in him a trap, Drogh stood his ground, fear and paranoia covering him like a blanket, he wasn't going to be taken by pretty words or a false sense of control, Drogh was far to smart for that.

"What do you want from me?" Drogh said simply, he wasn't going to waste his time pretending he some how felt offended by being talked down too, or he try to bring about a past that meant little to Drogh.

[member="Darth Abyss"]