Thu Sep 23, 2010 1:13 pm by Dragus
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A Lord's Return
"It has been a week since we fled from the Myrkr system. A long and dreary week full of ill fated events. The shuttle barely held together; myself, the Fallanassi, and the infiltrator all struggled tirelessly to keep it running, moving further ahead towards the end of the Outer Rim. We were shamed by our failure, some more than others. I did my best to explain the necessity of quitting the field, though the accusing looks in their eyes remained. Then one night as we slept, the Major simply disappeared, vanishing to the Eye knows where. Truly I think she felt fear at the prospect of returning home to Pzob where my brother awaited her. I tried to reassure her that no harm would come her way, even going so far as to console her despite the bile it caused to rise in my throat. It seems pointless now to deny my affection for her, even if there is a part of me that strongly resists. I did love her, and though she would vehemently deny it, I am certain she felt the same. Now I return home, bloodied and beaten, but not yet dead. The war had only just begun and the Order needed to prepare itself for the worst of it. My duty was known to me, my path unshakably clear. I would walk into hell with only my faith in the Eye to serve as my cloak, and I would do what must be done, no matter how wicked or cruel. Glory to the Almighty Eye!"
~ Dragus
The Book of Hate
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*Emerging from hyperspace just outside the planets defenses and naturally formed gravity well, an Imperial Shuttle appeared as it entered the system. It was battle scarred and limping profusely like a wounded hawkbat. The silver sheen of its hull was marred with black scorch marks, while the integrity of its frame was dented and bruised. Sparks spat from a wide series of injuries, while its engines sputtered and spat as they did their best to propel the ship towards the planet. NOE security codes as such belonging to one of the Council High Lords were transmitted to the traffic watchmen, who did their best to clear a lane for the shuttle down to the Sith Temple in the southern forests of Pzob. Brooding alone within the transports cockpit was the one and only Famine Lord, so far the only recorded survivor of the ground assault on Myrkr.*
*Dragus was in as foul a mood as ever, though some of the angst and fury faded when he lay his cool blue eyes upon the dark green orb ahead. Pzob, the mysterious gem of the Outer Rim, further than any other world from the bosom of the galaxies core. It was breathtaking in its natural beauty, truly blessed by the Eye. No matter how desperate and bleak the situation seemed, one sight of the Eye's cradle was enough to warm his black heart and reassure his troubled mind. The Dark Side flourished here; this was home.*
*He did his best to pilot the ship downwards, into the planets atmosphere and towards the Sith Temple to the East of the City of the Eye.* *The City was the true bastion of power for the Order while on Pzob; the temple hidden deep in the wilderness acted more as a sacred place. It was a place of worship, reflection, and all things mystical. Should Dragus seek a doctor to see to his wounds, the City of the Eye would be best. Be that as it may, what he desired more than physical care was spiritual healing. Basking in the radiant power of the Dark Side would do much to strengthen his resolve and revitalize his damaged flesh. Many living sacrifices would have to be made, though that was a price many of the Order's followers would gladly pay to see that the health of one of the Eye's champions remained in good condition.* *A gloved hand manipulated the steering yoke, jilting and jerking every now and then so as to avoid turbulence and set the vessel down smoothly. It vanished from sight shortly after dipping below the cloud line.*
