The Approaching Storm (Sith)

[Darth Ominus]

The purple hue of the storm ridden night sky began fading away as sharp golden rays pierced the somber sheets of shadows. Darth Ominus sat quietly upon his throne safely hidden away deep within the confines of The Citadel of Pain. He had been awake for the last few days and the lack sleep wore openly upon his sagging brow. His head lulled lazily to lay restfully atop his heaving chest as sleep stole him away at last...

As the morning dew dried, and the disciples began to train, still he slept. His dreams were not as they had always been. His long slumber was normally accompanied by his memories of pain wrought and foul deeds done. He never flinched or even flashed a moment of regret for the life he has chosen. He would show no remorse for things he has done, or will do.. This was his way...The way of pain and agony.
How had he fallen so far to become something less than a man? Or were that he tore away the walls of his millennial cocoon to emerge stronger than he had ever been? He was yet to understand the power he now wielded, but one thing was certain, he would enjoy ever single second of it!

[Darth Ominus]

The sun filled sky above Hurom waned and moaned as the storm wracked clouds of night marched across the ever darkening troposphere. The prismatic shades turned to gray as the last bits of light crept back into obscurity.

Darth Ominus's head rose slowly as he fought to break the shackles of sleep that imprisoned his mind...The pain in his spine was near unbearable. He must remember to make it to his quarters next time. It would take multiple massages to work the kinks from his neck and back. Luckily he had a surplus of very talented slave girls at his fingertips. With a simple clap of his hands several servants appeared and quickly knelled upon the ground before the Sith lord. Ominus uttered a few whispered words to his slaves before they ran off with all speed to prepare his bath...

[Sabre]

Infernus’s speeder bike hummed over the ash black ground, he was on his way to his Master’s citadel, it was some distance from his own. His eyes darted around, as he swerved about the rocky outcrops, the dust clouding behind him was like a thick black cloud. He pulled up before the steps of the citadel, flinging his body off of the bike and up the stairs. His black robe flew behind him like a blanket caught in the wind. Moments alter his footsteps of intrusion was heard coming up to his Masters chamber, he walked in, his face gravely hooded. “Master,” he said in recognition.