Post by Tanis on Jun 29, 2010 8:52:36 GMT -5
Dante's screeching brought Varras' attention away from the red sands of the Korriban soil to the sky, where the medium sized Corellian raptor circled above. His black cloth pants and shirt billowed about him as a wind blew past the Dark Jedi, who quickly brought his arm across his face to blot out the sun. He scanned the sight before him: the new Sith Temple.
The message have been brief, but came with both great promise and merit. Having spent a fair amount of time in solitude after murdering the Jedi sent to claim him, Varras had received a coded message through short burst, ultra-high frequency transmission from an indeterminable location. It had taken the Dark Jedi almost 34 hours to crack it, but in the end, dogged determination and a rampaging curiosity prevailed, and Varras was quite surprised at the terse message.
-We find you to be worthy. Korriban. On-planet coordinates attached.-
It could only have meant one thing. Varras chuckled as the wind kicked up again, blowing sand and dust into his face which he again shielded with his arm. The Sith Order had sent him a message. He had pondered whether or not to answer it for but a few minutes before setting course for the barren planet at the heart of the Sith Empire's space. He would approach the offer with the same caution and poise that defined his style, of course. One could not fully trust those who are in the habit of killing their own. But, as before, curiosity got the better of the Dark Jedi.
He would see what the Sith Order had in mind for him.
It had taken him twelve days of travel at full warp to arrive at the desolate planet. He'd never been this deep into the Outer Rim for a long time, and even so, had never seen Korriban personally. He thought briefly of Yarik, the old bag that had, for so long, mentored him in the ways of the Force to take on other apprentices and other duties. Yarik had been beaten in a saber duel several years ago, and Varras knew that the 'Master' likely wouldn't last much longer before another, angrier Dark Jedi ended his existence.
Having landed several kilometers away and hiked into the coordinates provided, Varras considered the building before him. The stonework was new, the entrance ways clean and cleared. This was not a temple for the old, but a temple for the new. A promising start to a fresh Order. But more than that, Varras could easily sense the massive amount of Force Sensitives within. Some far out shined others, but who, and why, he could not say. He held up his left arm and the hawk which had been circling overhead swept out of the sky and came to a rest. Dante ruffled his feathers.
“You do not like the hot sands of Korriban, do you?”
Dante squawked angrily in response.
“Funny, I was thinking that I kind of like it here.”
Varras walked about the entrance way to the temple, the arches far overhead and walls all around were carved out in interesting architecture. He could not help but run his free hand over some of the runes and designs here and there, feeling their curves and lines. He always did have an appreciation for art, and that is exactly what this temple was. He smirked again slightly and chuckled a few times. A work of art built to teach art.
He removed the long cloak which had been using to keep the sands away and laid it across a stone bench, if that is what it was, just outside the entrance. He was a guest, after all, and guests do not go about walking around inside the host's domicile without permission to enter. He instead went about focusing his thoughts and feelings. Dante hopped off and took up a perch on an archway above. Varras' loose maroon shirt billowed about him from the wind which never ceased for more than a few seconds.
“Home.” He thought. At least, for a while.
He took a seat, crossed one leg over the other and began to clean the dust and grit off of the hilt of his lightsaber whilst waiting for whomever it was who had invited him to make themselves known.
The message have been brief, but came with both great promise and merit. Having spent a fair amount of time in solitude after murdering the Jedi sent to claim him, Varras had received a coded message through short burst, ultra-high frequency transmission from an indeterminable location. It had taken the Dark Jedi almost 34 hours to crack it, but in the end, dogged determination and a rampaging curiosity prevailed, and Varras was quite surprised at the terse message.
-We find you to be worthy. Korriban. On-planet coordinates attached.-
It could only have meant one thing. Varras chuckled as the wind kicked up again, blowing sand and dust into his face which he again shielded with his arm. The Sith Order had sent him a message. He had pondered whether or not to answer it for but a few minutes before setting course for the barren planet at the heart of the Sith Empire's space. He would approach the offer with the same caution and poise that defined his style, of course. One could not fully trust those who are in the habit of killing their own. But, as before, curiosity got the better of the Dark Jedi.
He would see what the Sith Order had in mind for him.
It had taken him twelve days of travel at full warp to arrive at the desolate planet. He'd never been this deep into the Outer Rim for a long time, and even so, had never seen Korriban personally. He thought briefly of Yarik, the old bag that had, for so long, mentored him in the ways of the Force to take on other apprentices and other duties. Yarik had been beaten in a saber duel several years ago, and Varras knew that the 'Master' likely wouldn't last much longer before another, angrier Dark Jedi ended his existence.
Having landed several kilometers away and hiked into the coordinates provided, Varras considered the building before him. The stonework was new, the entrance ways clean and cleared. This was not a temple for the old, but a temple for the new. A promising start to a fresh Order. But more than that, Varras could easily sense the massive amount of Force Sensitives within. Some far out shined others, but who, and why, he could not say. He held up his left arm and the hawk which had been circling overhead swept out of the sky and came to a rest. Dante ruffled his feathers.
“You do not like the hot sands of Korriban, do you?”
Dante squawked angrily in response.
“Funny, I was thinking that I kind of like it here.”
Varras walked about the entrance way to the temple, the arches far overhead and walls all around were carved out in interesting architecture. He could not help but run his free hand over some of the runes and designs here and there, feeling their curves and lines. He always did have an appreciation for art, and that is exactly what this temple was. He smirked again slightly and chuckled a few times. A work of art built to teach art.
He removed the long cloak which had been using to keep the sands away and laid it across a stone bench, if that is what it was, just outside the entrance. He was a guest, after all, and guests do not go about walking around inside the host's domicile without permission to enter. He instead went about focusing his thoughts and feelings. Dante hopped off and took up a perch on an archway above. Varras' loose maroon shirt billowed about him from the wind which never ceased for more than a few seconds.
“Home.” He thought. At least, for a while.
He took a seat, crossed one leg over the other and began to clean the dust and grit off of the hilt of his lightsaber whilst waiting for whomever it was who had invited him to make themselves known.
