Heir of the Shadow

An old Correllian Corvette easily punched through the upper atmosphere of the Sith planet of Korriban. An unnatural storm seemed to be brewing above the Valley of the Dark Lords. Bolts of lightning continued to pummel the armored hull of the vessel until it breached the last of the storm clouds. Its hull was scorched and blackened by the storm, but one could not ignore the easily recognizable laser charring along the vessel as well. The long freighter angled itself towards the Sith Temple, slowly traversing the Valley. Deep in one of the slave cages within the vessel, a young warrior could feel the strength of the darkness that seemed to ooze from the tombs and the sands. A look of confusion covered his face as his strength pulsed yet he did not understand why. His shoulders ached from being pulled behind him. The cuffs about his wrists dug into his skin, chaffing and cutting his skin. The drugs that the slavers periodically pumped through his system kept him from using his full strength and ripping the chains from the floor. He could feel the ship bouncing about as it made its way through the atmosphere and the clouds above the planet of Korriban. The darkness he felt surging from the planet was slowly unfogging his sense, diluting the drugs in his system, but he was still nowhere strong enough to rip himself free. As the freighter made its way down the Valley of the Dark Lords, two figures stood in shadows on the uppermost balcony of the Temple. One was draped in a thick red cloak, the hood pulled far over his head so only the lower half of his crimson face could be seen. A smirk graced his face as he felt the strength of one of the beings onboard. Curiosity was blossoming behind the cruel smile. The second figure was sheathed in black combat armor. Sith runes had been acid etched into the armor, giving it benefits beyond that of just sturdy construction. A look of pure hatred seemed to be permanently attached to his face. He could also feel the strength of the being that was brought to their doorstep, it was not his curiosity that been peaked, but his rage. The arrogance of these slaver that would would pollute the newly cleansed Korriban. Only the pure, the true, the Red Sith were allowed to set foot upon Korribans soil. Receiving a nod from his compatriot, the armored Sith moved down to the landing bay. His three fingered hand seemed to almost caress the hilt of his lightsaber as he moved toward the corvette. The snarl never leaving his face he watched as 3 Rodians and a several Nikto brought forth the line of slaves they would attempt to sell. It was obvious these slavers had been around in awhile. Before they could even begin to realize what was happening, the Sith warrior ignited his crimson weapon and leapt between them. With each slash he took down a slaver, his blade passing through their weapons and their bodies, each screaming for mercy that would never come. When only the stench of burning corpses remained, he turned to the slaves. Some had fear across their faces, some hope that they had been freed. And one, his body sluggish seemed to not yet process what was happening. But yet the strength of the Dark Side radiated from him, his raw potential making even the Sith cringe. “He is not like the others, Kissai. The others can be Grotthu. But this one is strong in the Force.” The priest slowly moved towards the Dathomiri. Angling his head to see the alien from all sides. “This one is of the Dark Side. But he is not Sith. If he is not one of us….” The Priests raspy voice trailed off. “Then he is one of them.” The Massassi responded without hesitation, drawing his lightsaber. Holding up one finger, the priest halted him. “But perhaps he can be useful. Have two of our most promising Apprentices hunt him in the Valley. His blood, his strength will once more fuel the Sith. Give him his armor and weapons. Let him be a useful training tool before his death.” The Massassi warrior quickly boarded the corvette and emerged carrying several weapons and a crate of armor. They sheathed the young Dathomiri and sent him on his way into the Valley. They knew that in only a short time, his death would strengthen their Order as well as the Dark Side.

Gathzarion'S CHARACTER SHEET Identity [!ident] Real Name: Primal A.K.A: Gathzarion Homeworld: Dathomir Species: Dathomirian Zabrak Physical Description [!dscrp] Age: 21 Height: Pre-Magic: 5’8 Post-Magic: 6’3 Weight: Pre-Magic: 130 lbs Post-Magic: 200 lbs Hair: None Eyes: Green/Yellow Sex: Male Equipment [!equip] Clothing or Armor: Black under tunic, overtunic, leather tabards, loose trousers, leather boots, utility belt, NightSister made combat armor Weapon: NightSister Pike, twin curved NightSister daggers, ancient Iridonian Zhaboka Common Inventory: Holo Com Unit, credits, copy of Book of Law, copy of Book of Shadows, copy of Wild Power Faction Information [!factn] Force User, Force Sensitive or Non-Force User Force-Sensitive Alignment: Chaotic Evil Current Faction Affiliation: N/A Current Faction Rank: N/A History: [!hstry] Force Side: Dark Side Trained by: N/a Trained who:N/a Known Skills: N/a Background:Primal was born of great Dathomiri blood stock. His bloodline was that of warriors and assassins. His was the bloodline of Maul and Savage. His ancestors were Gethezerion and Allya. His father was killed off shortly after his birth as many breeders were. During his first few years in the Nightbrother village, the elders noted that his size was never going to be exceptional, in fact he was more than likely going to be a little small. As he grew, this was proven true. But despite his small stature, many visiting Nightsisters noticed that his fact was extremely attractive. But they dismissed this because they did not believe he would survive the combat training he would be forced to endure, nor the Selection that would one day occur. But Primal surprised everyone. As he grew, he never achieved the stature that his peers did. But his skills in combat surpassed them all. His instincts as a warrior were unparalleled. If any had traced his bloodline back, they would not have been surprised. He quickly rose to the top of his warrior brood. Upon turning 18, a group of Nightsisters came to his village and ordered the Selection to take place. Many expected Primal to be a forerunner, but many also believed his classmates would turn on him given the chance. Which I precisely what happened during the Selection. Many times during the Trials, other Nightbrothers attempted to sabotage his chances. Several times during the Trial of Fury, multiple opponents attacked him at once, but his warrior instincts were able to save him each time. When the number of Nightbrothers remaining was down to 6, the Trial of Fury was halted. Moving onto the Trial of Night, Primal knew once more his “brothers” would attempt to turn on him. For nearly an hour, Primal avoided the attempts on his life, and one by one knocked out his opponents until he was the last one standing. When time came for the Trial of Elevation, one of the Nightsisters stood opposite Primal, drawing twin curved daggers. Immediately the Trial began and pillars began to rise and fall and combat began. It was an intense battle, with Primal taking many shallow cuts along his arms and legs. But he also managed to land several good punches and kicks to the Nightsister. The Nightsister managed a lucky slash to Primals face. Anger began to build within Primal, and his strength began to build. His speed increased, and his fury was unleashed. Despite facing an opponent armed with deadly weapons, Primal pushed his assault. He dodged each stab and cut by ducking into the Sister. As they each rose into the air on a pillar, Primal grabbed the sister round the waist and laucnehd them both off the edge. His vision, colored red by blood and rage watched as the ground grew closer, his only his hatred towards the Nightsister was what mattered. Both Primal and the Nightsister slammed to the ground with a crack. Quickly rising to his knees, Primal continued to bash the Nightsister head against the ground, until the life left her eyes. As all the pillars sank into the ground and the dust settled, the remaining Nightsister only saw Primal on his feet, blooding dripping from his arms and face, the twin daggers of their fallen Sister gripped tightly in his hands. Knowing he was chosen, they brought him back to the Mother. While in the care of the NightMother, Primals body was flooded with the Dark Side magic, increasing his size, strength, and speed. But it also increased his rage. He spent the next few years training with the NightSisters in combat. But they never chose to train him in their magic. Primal grew to resent the NightSisters and soon struck out on his own, only taking the weapons he had earned and the armor he had been given. Ship Registration [!ship] Name: The Slash Class: Space Transport Model: FireSpray-31 Manufacturer:Kuat Systems Engineering Length: 21.5 meters Armaments: 2 GN-40 Rotating Blaster Cannons Armor: Military Grade Starfighter armor Anti-Personnel Defenses: Appearance: The color scheme of The Slash has been changed to match the Dathomiri tattoos that cover his body. Modifications: