Exodus

Eyes narrowed swiftly as lavish hair was compellingly whipped away from the required span of the eyes as Exodus suddenly sought to interrupt the obvious preparation for a more note-worthy attack. Upon the mimicked reckless swings of his opponent ”“ Exodus made it his simple priority to establish the patterns within his movement and than latch onto it with a convincing tactic which would surely shut that mouth of his. This so-called Revan lacked any form of direction and such was understandable when the last of his thoughtless swings set forth and targeted precisely the same spot as before. Weaving to the opposition of the blade once more, Exodus' left hand shot out across his form, lightly wrapping around the neglected leg of his opponent, generally around his ankle while reaching up alongside the calf with his other hand. As Revan finished his blind swing, Exodus rose and turned with the momentum provided to him, rising so that his body was facing towards Revan's and that he was standing alongside the outer edge of his left leg. Upon standing, he, in addition hastily tightened his grip upon his leg; beforehand it had been left rather loose, so as to give the impression of it lacking substance and perhaps even giving reason for it to remain unnoticed. Also, such a lightened grip allowed for Revan's full movement to continue, giving him the mobility to complete his turn. Upon the completion of his turn, however, the grip was tightened so as to hopefully prevent a simplistic adjustment of the body that may allow more violent intentions to be revealed without warning. Because of Exodus' positioning, he essentially voided the possibility of Revan being successful in his attack upon his form; due to straightforward physics, it would be essentially impossible for him to even reach him with any meaningful power behind a kick. Also, thanks in great part to the hand placed upon his leg, his motions could now be more easily detected. With the simple fact that everything within the human body was connected in some way, miniscule mechanisms of motion could be picked up more leisurely by means of realizing the tiny tensions and releases of tendons and muscles in the leg. With thoughts latent tirelessly upon the fact that dread was most certainly playing upon Revan's form, Exodus nimbly pressed at an upwards diagonal angle upon the leg with his left hand, which had already been gripping it tightly. Simultaneously, his right hand touched gently upon his right shoulder, gripping the fabric of his rather uninteresting wardrobe almost unnoticeably. Such a movement led to him turning so that his front faced his side. Exodus' right hand then, in equilibrium with the left hand's movement, pressed downwards and back upon the shoulder, thumb sharply pressing in towards the pressure point that rested where his right hand remained. Given the current state of gravity and the lack of balance provided to one suspended in flimsy movement, chances were that Revan could potentially find himself now within position to plummet onto his back, his head being to Exodus' right, legs, to his left, while he also suffered the pains of a pressure point being pushed into painful activation upon his left shoulder. By transferring the weight distribution and momentous direction of the Jedi before him, Exodus would've at least put him off-balance for a smooth landing. There was, however, the high possibility that he was in place to fall directly on his back with little to no recovery, unless he managed to bring about a conclusion at which he'd turn himself rapidly to face the ground. Allowing him to topple like a useless doll would be quite amusing but he wished to see that self-image of his rot. The aggressive pressure-pointed heave left Revan nothing short of being leaned towards the ground, seconds away from a defenseless descend ”“ Taking advantage and exploiting the situation, Exodus relieved himself of his limiting grip and swung his way stylishly to his opponent's neck ”“ seizing it instantly and with enough intensity to simply break it if any further resistance was issued with one powerful arm clutching his throat and his other scooping both his frail arms into one Perfect, the sound he wished to hear ever since having to listen to the Jedi spout his unwavering crap; the sound of him gasping for air, needing the same thing he constantly wasted while running his mouth. This would prove to be more of a teaching point for the dim-witted Jedi, demonstrating the necessity of focusing his anger, rather than exposing it on an ugly scale. ”œIs this the part where you crush me, Jedi?" The mocking tone of voice slithered its way deviously into the hatred filled head of the Jedi scum, a head ever-close to shooting off into the distance. It was as if his entire body was caving inwards, lungs tightening uncontrollably and arms bending back like rubber ”“ he would suffer pain before death”¦ (OOC: Hopefully I didnt go overboard, just testing new things while I have the opportunity is all)

A complete turn of events this would turn out to be. The appraisal of the Dark Lord himself was enough to invigorate a trivial egoism, more so for the better of his prowess. He had finally been able too unearth himself to the only one it now mattered too, and so another goal had been achieved. The mention of his ex-master, one who cowered into his own demise, almost sickened him. Regardless, the Dark Lord sought an audience elsewhere and was obligated to pursue. Watching him drag the Jedi like the dogs they proved to be was quite amusing, but nothing could match the satisfaction of what he saw next; Renin and his rotting carcass, hanging unaccompanied from the wall with his expression nothing short of surprised. He couldn't resist but smile cynically almost wishing to break out in laughter, but not within the presence of the Dark Lord himself. Then Ryu's voice broke the dead silence swiftly with a most perplexing statement. Following such was a slew of sith students couriering a wide range of weaponry surrounding the erratic Sith Lord; bad move. At last an explanation was introduced, and Exodus was slightly taken back ”“ nothing to worry about though. Truthfully, all three of them would not be able to suffice against his constrained wrath, but it was a more preferred match-up. Still, he was stuck as a collaborator to one he cared little for at this point. ”œIf you wish, my lord.”

His search for meaning has only paved way for meaninglessness, and this awareness bequeath negativity in his part; futility steers him boredom, anguish and grievance, and these consequently lead into another pursuit of getting hold of meaning. This recurring routine has been ever-lasting since his understanding of ”œThe force”

Mysteries and riddles that easily deceive will eventually be solved. It was all just a sick and sadistic game of destiny that he had been dragged into against his will - a game that he wanted so desperately to end. But, the more brash side of his state of mind desired to the polar opposite. The side of him that wanted to go to war with those that ridiculed him and conquer them; diminishing whatever life left within their hollow, inadequate soul. As a mandatory aspect of life, he was once again faced with a life changing altercation; something that weighed him down to the point of submission. The words just wouldn't go away, like bacteria consuming flesh. Erratic flashbacks of violent tendrils sparking to life and licking away at the atmosphere around it burned away at his cerebral head space. He plainly stood there bearing no expression whatsoever. The remarks passed by both Alora and her dearly beloved didn't bother him, they were weak and without direction; childish as they were to sit there and scorn him for what they did not understand. Life itself hurried back into his lungs, choking him in the process. ”œA child”¦”

Reaching up slowly he took hold of her hair, allowing its fair length to slip through his callused fingers. She smiled endearingly; he appreciated her finer assets, always managing to find some of it to finger softly, no matter how carefully she put it into place. His hard features took on a faded light of contentment at her close presence, and he felt as though he could withstand anything, with her by his side. To him now the rest of the world did not exist, all that mattered in life was the time they had together, this is how the great seductress worked. Exodus, ran his fingers through her soft tresses once more, taking a strong yet gentle hold of the fine strands. Slowly he drew her head to meet his yet again, the coldness in his remorseless eyes melted for only her to see, as their lips met. She slipped her arms about his neck, entwining her slender fingers in the equally supple hair at the nape of his neck. She sighed with pleasure as Exodus' free hand made its way slowly up under the back of her shirt, caressing the small of her back and sides. She returned the seriousness of the kiss gradually, as she ran her fingers through his unruly hair, it truly was remarkably soft. He was silent as he held her tiny form to his, and she wondered if he would ever say anything. The hand that had been busy stroking her side came up to cup her face. Alora opened her eyes then as Exodus tilted her head to look him in the eyes. Once more the barriers drained away, and small tentative emotions found their way into his eyes, it seemed so odd to her even now, to see anything beyond indifference in those hard orbs. But for her he could bring himself to be more human that around anyone else. Almost hesitantly Exodus lowered his head to hers claiming her small bow like mouth as his own; showing in his own way the love that he felt for her. Just as soon as the ecstatic feeling brought him to levels unreached before, Exodus broke free. The message coming through as clear as day and freightening him beyond measure. Complete sensation left him dry and hanging, reering from his mysterious master. No sooner did the memories of the incident drown his thoughts, as if reinacting that very day. His young, immature form taking advantage of what was before him on the planet Vernza-Torrah. His mind blanked, as if within another reality. He was lost, standing completely still without motion and there seemed to be no such remedy that could pull him back..

This was not how things were supposed to end; he was supposed to triumph over her insolence once and for all, not let feeble emotions dissuade. He cursed to himself in his native Zabrakian language as he questioned the timing of this all. The purge stood right before him; one fell swoop would do her away in a quick instance. The urge to oppose burned into his body however, centering his attention on her unconditional magnetism. There was no way he could get out of this and he knew it. The time was not now for blood-smeared vengeance, he knew this now. Something of much deeper meaning roamed the airs; especially the being whom approached as he did that one indistinct day. It was as if something was to unfold, bringing new meaning to existence ”“ Being that was it awfully ironic that his past was gathering in this one spot. Not considering the situation comprehensively, perhaps due to the mass injection of pheromones ”“ Exodus remained wholly teased by his bygone desire and deactivated his solemn saber, walking ever-so charmingly towards his prey. Now, standing adjacent to the striking lady, eyes locked and unfaltering. Then graceful fingers reached up, and caressed her cheek. The touch was tender and persuasive, not at all aggressive. The fingers were seeking, curious, unaccustomed to such softness and suppleness. Now, the fingers touched her lips, tracing down to her chin and along her delicate facial composition ”“ seething with quixotic, fascinating tendrils of darkness. Without for ado, his alluring features met hers, lips locking in a beautiful, paced display. Perfect synchronization was met, as if they had faultlessly exercised the engagement. His flattering saturated lips oozed and merged with her all-embracing moist, provoking an ecstasy beyond this galaxy.

The mystifying dart plunged into his broad neck, barely breaking through its rough interior, releasing what felt like a stream of conspicuous fortitude. It led to a creation of another reaction, just as tension rose with a sudden tender distress in the forearm”¦ Almost enough to rip muscle, but halting abruptly. A signal; release, go. Forced skyward; His body outwardly weightless, Exodus discovered himself midair, mentally viewing the transmission from ground to gravity-commanded regions as a slow ascension. The personal apprehension of each movement was delicate, allowing a more perfected view of the engagement. A crude touch of indication upon understanding; comprehension was required to save one's self from descending to obvious pain. A resolution was made with swift precision. ”œWhen did she...”

Exodus was oblivious to the affects of this extraordinary use of pheromone manoeuvre. It was something he was never quite perceptive about. Despite the consequences, his concentration dwindled; not hurting him, but assisting his feral movements. This was more than some simplistic boast of prowess, this was much more; continually being underestimated by everyone and all; the pent up wrath escalating beyond unimaginable heights. This was his result; this was his resolve, rather than bickering and crying about the anguish and torture he suffered ”“ he fought it out. Exodus would broaden his grounds while circling his double bladed saber with absolute alacrity. The inconceivable speeds exposed unnatural winds combined with the tempest of darkness rampant throughout him. Of course he was watchful of the problematic whip at her side, but his reaction to such weapons would be hasty and unyielding. His provocation lacked when dealing with someone with such deception, but he would keep this settlement principled. Foreseeing the ideal split second, the dagger concealed within the demon's exquisite robes flung free and with frightening speeds proposed its plunge for the woman's waist. Not leaving a split second for reaction on both ends, Exodus saber threw primary weapon high. The valuable high-low manoeuvre would be united by an instantaneous lash of the force; a terrific surge of darkness that would follow through regardless if either weapon hit. Nothing complicated, simply the beginning.

Finalizing the thought, Exodus exploded in anticipation whipping his structure in a most inventive manner. His entire body lengthened with his lightsaber out in front. The Sith Lord's visage was seething with a twisted hatred that would no doubt prove his sanity otherwise. Despite what the woman had to say, his absolute transformation sustained. Underneath his reflexive armour buried within his obsidian robes his interior, his very skin would quiver with impulse. His budding muscles trembled with power while the concave hallways sung a requiem for the reaper. Too many options to choose from, Exodus preferred his versatility the most, knowing that on the whole others fine tuned themselves to one art of combat. His immediate force sense rang wild, Alora was unimpressed thus far. But she lacked an ulterior warfare strategy, something that Exodus had and hid well. Choosing to completely pay no heed to the accusation of his service to his god, Exodus smiled. He knew full well that Alora served none other than Slaneesh, of course being the one to rescue his own master and bring her to the planet that that particular god inhabited. ”œWatch this”¦”

Doing away with the renowned headdress, placing it to his side and allowing his mass, strands of hair to fall in a most lustrous manner, his out of the ordinary, seductive, organic slithers of devastation would fixate themselves on the woman before him. He had unquestionably developed into a man of wonders. ”œShe talks to me as if I am still but a child.”

How dare her, blatantly shoving off the seriousness of the matter. Crushing her right here and now would be sufficient enough for even the slightest reparation. In spite of his uncharacteristic sentiments, Exodus came to calm; perhaps, aided by the distinct aroma that hung around his former Master. ”œShe is none of your concern.”

The black spectre dominated the hallways with his ominous presence, every step pounding masses of absolute darkness throughout the very academy itself. His mind proposed diverse amounts of reflection, contemplating even the most recent situations to the most historic. More importantly, what if Dominique had failed as well, what if she ran into danger on her path; something Exodus would not have. Just as Exodus was near entirely succumbed by contemplation, a most notable aroma sunk its teeth into his neck; Seducing him gradually to the point of being irritatingly inquisitive. Then it hit him, the voice in which eluded him for what seemed centuries. If one could perceive his lashing tendrils of the darkness at this point, they would be quick to make haste in the other direction. Why did it anger him so, to see her? To hear the voice in which he admired in a distant time”¦ ”œYou”¦ After all this time”¦ Now is when you show your face?”

Peace is a lie, there is only passion. Through passion, I gain strength. Through strength, I gain power. Through power, I gain victory. Through victory, my chains are broken. The Force shall free me. "Peace is a lie, there is only passion One must be ever conscientious of our emotions. Often times it will lead us to a higher plane of power while on other instances it can weaken and turn our own against us. One thing that apprentices are taught from a very young age is to never overlook your feelings, but control them. Control is a very important thing. How much control you need means how much discipline you'll get. True power of the Force lay not through contemplation and passivity, but rather by tapping into the emotion-filled and hateful energies of the dark side. It is your undying passion for things; anger, hatred, fear - that fuel your power, your resolve of the Force. Through passion, I gain strength. Our feelings make us strong. We become headstrong and more determined to succeed. It feeds both our mind and body to achieve. Without pain, victory has no meaning. Without chaos, you do not advance. Without strife, there is only stagnation. Your history will endow you with such pain, if not ”“ your future will hunt you until pain is found. Through strength, I gain power. Strength comes within us, from our passion. When we exert it as the force it becomes power. It is not a crime to crave more of it, but be forever mindful. Conflict forces change, growth, adaptation, and evolution. Conflict ensures that the strongest survives. If you do not conquer power Through power, I gain victory. The Force is our servant and our master. Our teacher and our companion. A weapon and a tool. Know it and you know the universe. Master it and you master the universe. Strive for perfection and the Force shall reward you. Without power, without pain, without passion you will become nothing more than the quench for blood thrist. Others will find you, and rid you of your existence purely to satisfy themselves or their own goals. Through victory, my chains are broken. Do not confuse such victories, but believe that unless victory proves your superiority, it is merely an illusion or furthermore an experience. Once true victory is accomplished, you will feel the ever-allusive pull of flaw weakening by your blood filled hands. The Force shall free me. Fear can be planted into the hearts of the ignorant; it can be used towards our advantage and against us. Without knowledge, ignorance prevails and the minds of many will become closed-minded. We must combat the fear of our hearts before combating the fears of everyone. Our worst enemy is ourselves. This is simply my standpoint on such; you may create your own. Truthfully, these words will make or fracture a weak mind. Comprehension of the code is inevitability, if you do not hold such a prerequisite ”“ Then disappear and never reveal your face in my presence again." -- It was unmistakable that the submergence of mind was too much for Taim, it rendered him feeble and dormant. The simulated seas would effortlessly smother his mind into a vegetate state, and so proved he was not yet ready. Instead, the philosophies were once again spoken anew and with suspicious expression as if Exodus himself began to see a twisted view of the code, a code he would keep to himself if any. It saddened Exodus to see such potential slowly dissipate, but time could not be played with. Exodus would not sacrifice his own hunger for power in order to satisfy another's. Eying the Noghri with a most discriminating look, the Sith Lord would place the prominent mask upon his face once more, not before turning his back to his apprentice conceitedly and exiting the spacious dormitory. In spite of the moment, allowing Taim to drown in his own feelings of disappointment, nothing less than seven foreboding bulks of assassin droids wildly unrolled into offensive, surrounding the Sith apprentice. Exodus understood that Taim was full-well capable of dismantling each and every one of them. But this time, he desired to feel his soothing anger throughout the entirety that was this temple; to feel his smouldering sorrow seeping throughout each and every crevice. Otherwise, he was better off dead”¦

Finally, the impression of a Master carved its way into his prominence. He had never dreamt the day such would occur, he never bothered to place any importance to such matters anyways; teaching was beyond his focus, but now became his main pursuit. Simplicity wouldn't serve this situation easy though. Exodus would have to breed a new ominous outlook, deafening those he had instructed with his insistent philosophies and having those he educate listen keenly with respect, obedience, and an undying thirst for more. This new phase would begin impetuously; he would no longer be taken for granted by those too arrogant to know their position; he would no longer motion for second judgment, for these outspoken remarks would be served with definitive consequences; he would no longer expend nonsensical generosity, because doing such rewarded disapproving reverence. Evolution was at hand, and it was easily confronted within such a small window of time. All it took was mere seconds to revolutionize an entire state of mind. Such was Exodus. -- ”œThe man I rescued, huh?”

His eyes fluttered open and the once calm and beautiful emerald hue flowed into the next spectrum of color - the ardent ruby which would eradicate life in an inferno of purifying flame, hidden behind the convenient mask of darkness. Countless invisible, strapping and lithe tendrils of darkness spilt off from the demon known as Exodus holding them in an erratic, jerky spasm. Each languidly and sporadically shifted about one another like angry vines that thrashed against the ruined landscape and slashed outwards at the ever-closing circle of fire. He narrowed his wondrously frutescent eyes through the black holes within the bottomless mask. Rejecting the tedious taunts wasted before him. It was a sad display truly, to witness the one he grew to respect, banter on with witless claims of perfection, in addition to the fact that he would completely underestimate, undervalue, and take lightly of who he stood before. To tell the truth, Exodus at that point in time, immediately scanned the area to search for this so-called ”œPerfect one”

In a fiery precinct that remains standing and suffering throughout its tortured moment, the man continues to wander searching for something that it has no words to describe it ”“ even if in mind alone. The man roamed here, in this exact frame of mind before but to conclude why he was here, why he drifted in his own mind filled with elusive attentiveness was beyond him. But those searches were only half hearted and served no real purpose, no real passion. This time, it was definitely different. This time, something was calling out to him and he could not ignore this call. The call was innocent and pure, but it was full of sorrow; So much sorrow that the man had traveled from his customary rain forest surroundings, passed boundless wastelands, and over grand mountains to answer this call. Though the call had sound to it, it was more of an echo. The sound of it was everywhere and yet nowhere at the same time but only he was able to see where the call was coming from as clear as day itself. As Exodus got closer to whatever was making the call, the pull it had on his heart kept growing and growing until it forced him to excel in unimaginable speeds to the area where the call was coming from. When he finally arrived at the destination and saw what was making such a call, Exodus couldn't believe any of it. Reaching his fingers out to the vivid luminosity”¦ -- How distinct he was from the rest. Even within controversial circumstances, Exodus dwelled in his own world, separate from these bickering, belligerent vermin. Just then, he realized the unmistakable truth; the living ignored him, but the undead called to him, pleading for the same form of consideration he too desired ”“ In essence the dead respected the man who felt precisely what they endured ”“ crowning him as their king. The inferno raged everywhere. A casual glance around could reveal no structure left untouched by the fire. There were sounds everywhere, sounds of battle, and sounds of wailing and crying. Babies crying, mothers crying, sisters crying, sons and fathers fighting, and dieing, armored men clanking as they ran around, slaughtering everyone on a whim and showing no mercy. Those were the melodies of his mind, only he could hear them, only he had felt them and only he would ascend from such anguish. Life came back to him like a cold breath ushered into his lungs. His senses narrowed to a knife-tipped point as he whipped his robed arm in the direction of one he called ”˜friend'”“ clawed gauntlets literally lighting up the surroundings of Trowa as he pressured the flames to contain his pitiable form, allowing the waves of the darkside to demand obedience. His already preternaturally keen vision sharpened and exploded in carmine. He could feel the heat of the sun, all-consuming and omnipotent, rising out of his chest like a budding supernova. The beast which would forever be apart of him, which was him now, filled his entire body ”“ barely contained and needing release from the tethers of this simplistic form. ”œHow could you”¦”

Sullen wings embedded upon an angel of darkness wavered in contest. A middle-aged face, showing the first markings of terrain, which would become increasingly unfathomable chasms of hatred and malevolence, smiled with a frightful contempt. His mind-numbing, malicious pupils of iniquity burnished with a wickedness that declared his ranks amongst his brethren. They're light still glinted with a cool emerald, which would soon become jaundiced with immeasurable self-control. For now though they roamed the pathetic landscape that stretched ahead before placing the appalling headdress of Nihilus upon his mane of hair. Indeed he was emergent while powerful as he strived for and it pleased him to know that within his heinous grasp he was gradually tearing apart the fragile fabric of the galaxy, turning it in on itself. Creating a vacuum that would suck out all the pitiful ”˜righteousness' and leave a rotten abyss over which he would one day develop to adore. The viewing platform that was firmly positioned within the pinnacle of the tower, from where he could watch as the effortless ruin of time ate away at the planet, symbolizing the decay and ultimate fall of the stubborn Jedi nuisance. Today though, Exodus was stealthily in company of one of his brethren, but the patience act bored him stiff, especially as he had more enticing ideas with destiny at hand. As if suddenly called, he turned away abruptly from the vista, launching himself in a most refined manner. While flaring through the spacious fall, Exodus unclipped a his lightsaber from a belt concealed beneath the black sea of cloaks that still whipped and danced through the atmosphere. Within an instant, a luminous, sporadic blood-red flame of light ensued from the cold metal hilt, swiveling and cutting through the air with style and dexterity in the hands of its master. It hummed and buzzed with each cut, slicing perfect chunks through the musty internal atmosphere, like he had carved through the compassion of the Republic, wiping out those that would oppose his ultimate goal. Colliding with the rigid ground, the sullied, collected dusk exploded in each and every direction, surprising the newly arriving pest along with his predestined comrade. No words were met, no gestures sought; simply the invigorating silence of sin suffocating the would-be graveyard.

A lengthy and untamed mane of raven black hair draped over a single shoulder, a ghastly porcelain face remained motionless as his eye lids were shut. His chest moved up and down, finally one long breath before his eyes opened and he began to stir. A strange iridescent violet hue swirled within the large irises, obviously abnormal. "Granted, however”¦”

The figure had returned, brandishing a new veneer marked within each empowering stride. His movements remained tranquil as always, but the imperceptible hurricane of wild, unmanageable vines signifying his darkness whipped throughout the hollow corridors. To those who understood the legend of Nihilus would imagine he now walked their floors, but only those knowledgeable of ancient times may perhaps surface with that assumption. Regardless, he thought it in better to taste to remove the privileged headdress for the time being. In any case, the feel of both apprentices still stood strong. Their will diminished but their vigor unfaltering. At this point, it was hard to judge if they truly sought real power. Exodus remained unimpressed as he roamed the dull halls of the lifeless academy, suppressing his impulsive craving. He looked out over the passing scenery through the window with a heavy heart; not even the bloodshed, and the relief of tension could raise his spirits. A barely audible sigh escaped his lips, as he turned away from the window. Things never quite go as planned. That is a fact of life. Always has been, always will be. Exodus paused and brushed back an errant strand of luscious hair that dangled in his face. He had changed little over the years, and if anything was different, it was his eyes. They were older now, filled with wisdom and experience and touched with a deep sadness that comes only to those who truly seized power. ”œEnough!”

Devoid of emotion, Exodus caught one of the two remaining mercenaries meaty fist in his own without any apparent difficulty in doing so. Flowing like a bolt of silk, Exodus' hand lifted the man's arm up in the air even while his left hand spun the quarterstaff about and around. Once the staff was cradled in his under arm and within the rock-steady clutch of his left hand, the heartless reaper spun around. While still turning away from the one-eyed hunter, one of the steel-rimmed boots pushed away in perfect synchronization with his left arm pumping the quarterstaff backwards. The blunted edge of the staff struck the underarm of the hunter and roused a bizarre popping noise that could only signify a shoulder being brutally dislocated. Silent as ever, Exodus leapt skyward into the dusk sky reaching heights unimaginable, ending his flight only when landing on the shoulders of the only healthy hunter; forcing a pain tinged grunt from the startled and scared mercenary. The Sith Lord's hands washed inward to the center of the staff in a movement so fluid as to invoke imagery of swift water; albeit a rush of water bent on destruction. With the mercenary still too drunk on spirits and panicked by pain, the dark-clad figure perched on his shoulders slid the staff under the man's chin and yanked it upward with a distinct snapping noise. Exodus hastily tumbled off the mercenary's shoulders as the body collapsed to the ground with its head grotesquely hanging limp on one side with an obviously broken neck. If Exodus felt any sort of emotion or pain, then those flint eyes under the mask depicted nothing of what could be going on inside his mind. Under the thick guise of twilight however, it was impossible for a soul to notice the rivulets of blood oozing from the corners of the Exodus' dilated eyes. The prisoners who had been forced to witness the slaughter were both transfixed and aghast as one by one some of the most weathered mercenaries of these plains were brought to oblivion by a masked reaper with a penchant for murder. As the sanguine waltz carried on, not a single prisoner could tear their eyes away from the violence; the killing was both mesmerizing and hypnotic. There was something about the way the Sith Lord moved that caught the attention of the trio of prisoners, but it was shuffled in the back of their minds, out of reach. Exodus' prey was faring much worse as it was all the leader could manage to crawl away from the approaching footsteps that set a chill into the night air. And then, the footsteps stopped, causing the man to wildly look around with terror shortening his every breath to a shallow gasp. Acrobatic in grace, the fearless reaper pulled a somersault in midair and landed squarely on the back of his quarry much to the dismay of the man's back as it fractured under the impact in several places. A once unsoiled street was now littered with a collection of corpses and the timeless expression of sudden death on every face. Annoyed by the energy spent in butchering the half-assed mercenaries, Exodus stood over the final victim without making any move to bring an end to the misery. A shred of light from a nearby lamppost caught the luster of the hilt perched between the reaper's hardened grasp and a flicker of recognition swept through the few remaining survivors.The blade extended and cleanly cleared the head of his opponent off, rolling down the steps disgustingly. The time wasted would not go unrewarded though, he would arrogantly sift through his opponent's possessions, gathering a large sum of credits to his disposal. ”œHeh, thanks for lunch fellas'”¦”

Taken back by the sheer viciousness sparking in the Sith's stride was enough to silence any further jeers from the inebriated mercenaries. A feral growl tore past Exodus' lips as his thoughts churned chaotically about in his mind. Pests, all they ever seemed to do was make his life miserable. Now, after traveling for the better part of a day to reach the very edge of the sprawling port town, a group insisted on infuriating him for no reason other than entertainment, unless ofcourse someone had it out for him. It had been a long day, what with having meticulously planned the proper course of actions for dealing with the mercenaries and that wasn't even taking the physical trek through the forest into account. The only fuel left burning within the prevailing Exodus was frustration that had been rekindling ever since his helplessness in the face of every recent happening around him had become apparent. Crashing waves against the docks and a heavy trace of salt clinging to the wind tugged at the memories concerning his buried past. Before the weight of action could be observed, the Sith Lord was dashing towards the enemies with reckless abandon, gathering a misplaced quarterstaff as opposed to his lightsaber. This would be the only mercy he would show”¦ Flint eyes raked the cluster of hunters, scoping out the numbers and possible battle plans even before the steel-rimmed boots began pounding against the iced cobblestones. There were exactly six, three of which were burdened with prospective therapeutic bandaging wrapped around their waist and one of which was heavily favoring his left leg over the right leg; a classic sign of weakness or injury. The subtle weight of the quarter staff clenched between balled fists swept a warm sensation of confidence through Exodus as he finished his charge forward, but not before whipping the staff against a hunters windpipe as he ran past the cluster. He promptly spun around to face them by shifting the weight from the toes of his boots to the heels and pivoting about; this scraped out the grinding noise of steel dragging across cobblestones. Only then did the blubbering of a unsuspecting hunter struggling to draw air into crushed windpipes reach the ears of the Sith Lord. In spite of their obvious ill-equipped, incautious behavior, he plunged in the tangle of bodies with his dexterity fueling the wicked dance of war that beat bones to fragments and pulverized vital organs. One of the blunted ends on the staff put out an eye as it was rammed through a mercenary's eye socket, but only then to have the staff ripped out and jerked into another man's sternum with the crisp crack of broken bone piercing the air. Having glanced casually at the hunter who was clutching at his fractured sternum, Exodus spat out a quiet deliverance from between clenched teeth. ”œPerish and know that your existence proved worthless.”

Exodus threw back his cloak once again, and stood, turning to face his adversary. What he saw stopped his breath and his blackened heart skipped a beat. Standing before him was a massive hulk of a man. A colossus, one supposedly of a dying breed of people ”“ seeing as Exodus had never seen such before. From the looks of it, it was a fierce warrior, that made up what it lacked in cunning and intelligence, with brute strength and extraordinary stamina. Regardless, Exodus' reaction was definitely not a thing of fear, but rather the opposite. Still, his expressions were masked by the praiseworthy headdress and the shadows that blended with his blackened robes. Covered from head to toe in a massive suit of armor the giant also wielded two swords each at least as long as the Sith Lord was tall. The only visible part of the massive beast was his eyes, which regarded Exodus with a dull satisfaction, like one gets when he has tired of a search, and is just pleased to have found what he sought. A low guttural growl emerged from behind its helm and the sinew of the thing's massive tree trunk arms tensed and raised the swords to attack. The first sword crashed into the sand and sent a small plume of it rising from the newly formed crevasse. Exodus dodged to the left easily out of the way before the sword came down. He pulled his blade and flipped it around as a show of arrogance. His arrogance was short lived however as the giant swept his other sword across, and into the sword lodged into the earth, pushing the side of its blade under the Sith's feet, and sending him careening to the left, knocking the recently fashioned saber from his hand. The saber rolled several feet behind the beast, leaving his grasp. Exodus quickly rolled away as the Giant repeatedly raised and lowered his swords in a windmill chopping pattern at Exodus' prone form. He rolled to his feet and realized his best option. He darted between the giant's legs and in passing, summoned the saber back to his readied palms, drawing the blade along the thick back of its humongous ankles. The blade caught up under the armor, and drew a thin slice across the rear of his leg, bringing the beast to a knee. Hopping off the things massive heel, and using its armor as handholds Exodus scaled the beast to perch on the back of its neck. He hacked aggressively at the armor that covered the beast's spine, merely toying the beast to death with his bladed gauntlets. It stood now and attempted to grab at the Sith Lord. He dodged the first attempt, but a massive fist clamped around his abdomen, crushing the wind from his lungs, and sent him sailing to land in a hard thump on his back. Exodus still smiled with amusement, despite him being caught. He manages to get to his knees before the shadow of the giant looms over him. It grabs him up by the legs and dangles him upside down, its eyes smiling in anticipation of victory. Through the forged pain Exodus reaches behind his back and quietly pulls his hunting dagger from its sheath. As the giant pulls him close, positioning him face to face with his adversary, Exodus turns the knife backwards, to lay it against his wrist. The stench of the beast's breath washes over Exodus' face and the steam of rotten flesh is propelled into his nostrils. A low guttural laugh emerges from behind the faceplate of the behemoth. Exodus ignores such, refusing to expel any use of the force while tensing all his muscles, swinging his arm around with a uncomplicated sophistication. The knife connects directly with the beast's massive jugular splitting it and causing a spew of blood which casts out across Exodus and the broken terrain. The beast staggers back, as it grabs flailing at the wound trying to prevent the escape of its life's blood. In his final death throe the beast decides that Exodus isn't of any importance now and allows him to drop. Arrogantly, he dusts his exclusive robes off while igniting his lightsaber ”“ basking in the sound of the harmonic hum played off by its sporadic thirst for blood. The beast still struggling in its own discomfort, stumbling around the already broken forest with absolutely no train of thought. ”œWho sent you matters not”¦”

The ”˜divinity' stood there, resemblance to the garb that Exodus adorned, save for the sinister, spine-chilling headdress he wore. The sockets of such were blackened entirely, presenting two terrifying black holes. He didn't speak to those around him; he didn't panic in spite of the ship plummeting en route for a complete execution. More accurately, he stood there meditating ”“ supposedly consuming the force around him, around others and doubtlessly the world around him. It was magnificent, observing the massive amount of dark tendrils bending to his will. ”œLord of Hunger”¦”

After the unsophisticated sacrament concluded, Exodus quickly stirred onward. Step after step he struck the damp soil with a squelching noise as the boots trudged forward through the heavily forested pathway with no signs of faltering. All about, the undergrowth swayed with every tress of wind that dared beat itself against the adamant trees. The atmosphere was rigid with the pungent odor of death and rotting bark that lingered about like a tangible residue; needless to say, the humidity was messy. A random songbird would break the creepy quiet with an ecstatic call, but eventually it would be silenced by some lurking predator. While the walk to wherever he ventured wasn't actually lengthy, the alchemic weight bearing down on the Sith Lord made it take a lifetime; every step another agonizing year. Absolutely consumed by thought, Exodus by no means noticed how the natural world gave him wide berth as he traveled among the countless trees. This was the product of a specific brand of reckoning: if any type of mysticism poured from a traveler, they were well worth avoiding. And this one in particular gave it off in waves of unused force that wandered aimlessly without direct purpose. Whether or not everyone realized that they gave off such auras was speculated to not be widely known. Just as frightening as the aura was the infrequent bursts of contemplation that passed Exodus' mind without his realization. ”œOh”¦?”

An incoming transmission revealed itself unexpectedly, interrupting whatever discussion transpired within the room in which both Taim and Dominique stood. A conspicuous ethereal form shot from the center of the room and exposed none other than the Lord; Exodus. Time would linger in silence for an unusual amount of time before his insensitive tone of voice spawned an unearthly chill. ”œThe most distinctive mark of a sophisticated mind is the ability to take another's point of view; to put one's self in another's place, and see life and its problems from a point of view different from one's own. To be willing to test a new idea; to be able to live on the edge of difference in all matters intellectually; to examine without heat, the burning question of the day; to have imaginative understanding, openness and flexibility of mind, steadiness and poise of feeling, cool calmness of judgment, is to have refinement. You both can take advantage of this, mature from this. Despite whatever hatred you have for each other ”“ be oblivious to it and strive together in the time of my absence. Remember these words well my apprentices.”