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Sith Master
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221 Legen-wait for it-dary

About Corvus

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  1. Enantiomorphs

    A boring, sharp and fleeting pain - he still didn't move, even as the gauntlet proved to be detrimental to the otherwise gentle gesture it could have been interpreted as. The color in his eyes shifted as he finally looked back at her; if he'd still been courting people and trying to make a good impression on the nobles he would've had half a mind to speak freely, but in these halls he'd do little else than put up with it. "Any time, my lady; though I'm sure my techniques are far less refined than your own, fit only to polish your own." He replied plainly yet politely with another slight bow, it was probably fairly obvious that he was attempting to simply play his role, especially to her of all people. There was some truth to it- if you compared their supernatural abilities. As troublesome as she was, there was little other than the likes of her that'd put up a fight worth waiting for, even he couldn't deny that. Acolytes broke too quickly at this point- they had neither the endurance nor power to flip his switch, and anyone above the rank of Master was preoccupied with their own problems. Corvus could, and would, do little as she pointed out his nature as plain as day. Apparently it was hard for her to forget his 'capabilities and strength', his eyes averted from her and turned to more pleasant things as he fought the urge to sigh internally. Lucky for him, Corvus, she seemed to take interest elsewhere soon after! He'd hardly been expecting the predator to give up on her prey as quickly as she did, but after taking a small flesh wound on his face and putting up with her questions he wasn't going to look a gift horse in the mouth. Corvus bowed in respect as she left, but as he stood up his hands balled up into fists and he grew visibly irritated. He was fed up with far more than her however, and she had simply arrived at just the right time to set him off for a moment- That's why when she was far and clear, Corvus turned ninety degrees and put his foot straight through the nearest object, which just so happened to be a bench that a lone Acolyte had been using to rest for a few moments. There was a sickening crack as one of its legs gave way and its structure shattered, leaving the Acolyte on the floor and the bench in two pieces. "Schutta," Corvus almost bit his tongue, but quickly regained his composure as he fixed his tie and smiled at the confused Acolyte who finally began to recover to his feet. Ah, well- there was always times like this for everyone. Not even the hybrid was invulnerable to such things.
  2. Enantiomorphs

    Darth Sanguira was an awfully hard thing to miss. Like the moon blotting out the sun during a solar eclipse, it became terribly hard to focus on anything else but the encroaching darkness that surrounded him within moments. Then followed a sensation of dread that washed over his consciousness as he thought about how hard and draining it had been to deal with her type, and what the encounter would most likely put him through. Not fear for his life, or by any means a fear of what could happen- it was the fear or anxiety you'd get when knowing exactly what kind of trouble you were about to be involved with. On the likes of the noble courts and councils, Corvus was thankful that she wasn't among their head count. Corvus moved neither hide nor hair when the woman reached out for his head, and his eyes did little else than train on her sharply like an animal that was backed into a corner. He was far past the point of lashing out at other people, but the instinct to protect himself was still very much present. The serious reception was quickly shattered when he smiled faintly; however, and bowed slightly to greet her like a proper gentleman should- mindful enough not to butt heads given how close she'd ventured. Much closer than he'd like anyone to be, and the color in his eyes shifted elsewhere as she got to business and asked about the condition of her lover. He knew there had to have been a reason for her to approach him past teasing him, though he thought that topic in particular was one better suited behind closed doors. What he thought was irrelevant when it came to the two of them for the most part, though. His smile bared the whites of his teeth as he made an audible hum for a moment before answering: ".. Not to worry, Lady Sanguira. Lord Atrox hasn't resigned himself, yet." A vague answer, but it was one that held meaning to the Echani. Whether or not Atrox was losing strength or gaining weakness wasn't really relevant to the picture at large. As long as people would reject resignation, they would gain the privilege of making humanity their footpath, and that's what held the most meaning at the current moment in time. No doubt she'd load up any ammunition he gave to her for Atrox, too. When Sanguira turned, Corvus finally felt at peace enough to look back towards the people in and around the pits. She wasn't wrong, she echoed the sentiments he'd been considering before she'd arrived. But as she brought up the subject of his past and partial shame he couldn't help but scowl for a moment as he looked at the back of her head, which reset back into a friendly expression moments after- So very, very difficult. "Demon's have neither friends nor allies, my lady, and the Force spares no salvation to those who would beg for it. Neither does it seem fit to be merciful to those who would ask for it's benevolence, don't you think?" It was very obvious to the hybrid echani - his past wasn't applicable to anything in his present. No longer did he even consider himself the same person, or on the same level as other people that he would've once considered 'allies'. Corvus now belonged to a world where all there was is death, he had no bearing or right to interfere with the land of the living. The Sith Master simply did as he was instructed, and acted on the best interests of the Sith. "What of you, does anything ail you? Is Dathomir to your liking?"
  3. Enantiomorphs

    Out of suffering have emerged the strongest souls; the most massive characters are seared with scars. It was a core belief to them, and the main reason they were so harsh; no one grew stronger due to being deprived of challenges or growth, or so they were lead to believe. The weak would be violated, desecrated, destroyed - the strong would struggle, adapt, evolve and succeed. A simple mantra, and therein lied the problem in Corvus' honest opinion. As he watched Acolytes and other Masters move about, practicing to hone their mind and bodies into instruments of way; it was just too simple. It was easy to lose yourself in a fit of blind rage. It would certainly give you a great burst of strength when you let your emotions take control, but the rebound was often both great and damaging. Few realized this, far too few. It's why Sith would often throw themselves headfirst into peril and come out permanently damaged. Perhaps a bum leg for the rest of their life, or fit with a re breather for the foreseeable future. Therefore, as he had once believed; the key was this: Be angry, but do not act angry. Whether or not it was a controversial topic when you talked with others about the "Light side" or the "Dark Side", there had to nonetheless be a harmony between "Good" and "Evil". Corvus couldn't help but lament about how annoying being alive was, because the dichotomies were both endlessly present and infinitely annoying. He glanced down at his hands, balled them tightly into fists and then relaxed them once more as he watched the Acolytes in particular. "Kid's who are too obedient and never think of themselves are the hardest to watch." He mumbled to no one in particular, simply sighting as the color in his eyes shifted to other things that felt more important. Not a whole lot, save a few individuals who were doing things their own way. They were still infants, oblivious to the reality they stood on. The frail, fragile reality. They didn't understand death at all. They would learn how to inflict damage on other people, and perhaps even make it to the point where they could kill a poor old woman if they were pushed to a corner. No; if they could truly see death, they probably wouldn't be able to maintain their sanity. The freshest of recruits - all they could perceive is what was alive. Truly understanding 'death' was something that undermined everything. Temporary, everything is temporary. Not in the sense that it can be replaced, or that it'll be gone in a couple hundred thousand years. Standing on the battlefield as many times as he had forced him to understand quite clearly: The ground was like it wasn't even there, and the sky felt like it could fall at any moment; crushing everything insignificant beneath its infinite mass in a flash. The whole world could perish in an instant, as its reality is naught but a simple illusion to safeguard the ordinary peoples minds. How many of them would continue to struggle once they came face to face with the reality? Corvus let out an audible hum as he continued to watch things unfold before him- "I should get started on those savages, soon."
  4. Birthright

    Deadpan stare - even when the Private turned heel he kept an eye on he, and when she inevitably turns face; brandishing her blaster towards the Sith'ari a smile unlike any other crept onto his face out of nowhere. He didn't feel anxious, scared or tense. Simply excited. This was the exact turn of event's he'd been waiting for the whole time, though what ensued was anything but what he would've preferred to have happened. As words split forth from the font of ignorant in front of his lord, Corvus could and would do little but snicker at the whole scene playing out in front of him. His right hand raised to his mouth politely as he tried to avert his gaze to spare the poor thing some embarrassment, but he very much remained attentive to what was going on. Niekinti. The little act being put on by the Echani came to a halt almost immediately. His hands straightened out his suit and eventually returned to his side once things were in order, his eyes carefully watching Atrox for a moment to ascertain exactly what his plan was. If memory recalled, while he was laughing at the outrageous behavior of their military recruits (something to be taken into account for reference), Atrox has showed a card awfully similar to mercy. Which.. simply wasn't a real card. A faux card, perhaps, but that wasn't something he'd ever truly seen. Corvus' eyes narrowed back to their neutral state- that meant a few things, and one of them was more suspect than the rest. Manipulation, of course! The time old classic. This is why, when Silas Kitsuchi made his way towards the group Corvus did little once again than but watch. While he certainly wouldn't have panicked in the first place, 'do not panic' also easily translated to 'don't kill the poor kid' in their own mutual understanding of things. " I won't be a puppet ever again," Corvus shrugged and folded his hands in front of himself, "Bone meal for the plants is an alternative, I guess." He mumbled aloud, he didn't find enough light inside of himself to praise someone for basically committing suicide right in front of him. For someone with potential to squander it like that, it was utterly offensive to the Echani. They could've struggled and walked their own path. Even if it lead to deaths door eventually, it was sure as hell more impressive than the display in front of him right now. "A moment of his time, my apologies." Corvus crept out of his designated spot as quickly as the blood and viscera had left the body with Silas' final draw backwards, and whether or not Lady Sanguira had intended to take leave of the stage immediately was almost irrelevant to him in that point in time. Long since the first strike he'd wanted to say something to him, if only on a whim based on boredom. The hands folded in front of his persona unfolded, with his left extending outwards and his right covering where a humans heart normally would be. He bowed slightly, then extended the same left hand towards the Apprentice with a calm and composed look on his face, the red of his eyes trained indefinitely on SIlas' own for the time being. Whether or not he'd take the hand and give it a firm shake - it didn't really matter to Corvus, and it wouldn't reflect negatively in his demeanor. "It's a pleasure to meet you, Mister Kitsuchi." The whites of his teeth showed as he politely retracted his hand and rather impolitely stepped in close to the boy, attempting to draw close enough to whisper to the opposite ear Sanguira would be positioned to. "Come see me sometime soon, I have a proposition for you and Magus." Then he simply leaned back, gave him a polite (albeit off kilter) smile and took a glance towards the woman at his side, whose fangs and talons were already poised at the poor boys throat before they'd even been there a day. Well, there wasn't much he could do about that, that was simply how she was he'd come to learn. Corvus bowed his head slightly, performing the same aforementioned bow for her- "Do play nice, my lady. He has potential." He calmly, respectively, stated before his poise returned to full form. With that, his bid in the little battle that had taken place had come to an end; and his attention turned to the public at mass rather than a few individual faces that had been confirmed to be harmless or, well, dead. More importantly, the words of Sanguira had gave him a rather good position on that day. Not only did she take it on to answer any and all questions they might have, she had made her presence even more known than his own. That would make it easy to bee line it straight to the library as soon as humanly possible! The thought of relaxing with a decent piece of literature in an air conditioned room.. almost heaven, he concluded, as he side stepped the pulpy mess on the floor. He still had one job left to do; however, so he patiently waited for Atrox to continue his entrance unless anyone else prompted him to do otherwise.
  5. Birthright

    One after another, familiar faces bled out with the masses. Corvus took note of individuals that stood above the others, ones that held considerable merit both positive and negative. If there was one thing the Echani was good at besides martial combat or political intrigue, it was the act of discrimination. Discrimination based on the grounds of competence, more or less. It was important to find the individuals who could make an impact of any kind, especially with the venture they were about to embark on. The ones who sided in silence were of relative note; it didn't necessarily take a large amount of courageous confidence not to join in with the arm raising, hooting and hollering act that the sheep had erupted into. What it did say; however, was that they had a backbone and their own sense of identity. Some would silently accept it, while others might brood and begin planning their own schemes - all kinds of people would be needed. The color in the hybrids eyes shifted as he moved from one face to the next, eventually moving from old faces to fresh ones. "Ah; well, it's nice to know they've managed to find recruits." He smiled from his position behind the two stars of the show, the whites of his teeth barely showing. It seemed that things would go according to plan so far, no upstarts had interrupted the speech, and no one had the gall to challenge Atrox right then and there. His eyes turned upwards, not catching anything of interest; but none the less admiring the view from which he stood until his head leveled out once more once Atrox began to speak once more- along with lighting a few things on fire. Corvus sighed, quietly. "Corvus, assist me in taking the measure of the Dathomirian tribes, and cover my flank. However, if you wish to wait and eliminate any of those that speak anything you believe is heresy.. then you have been granted my blessing," Telepathy was something he'd learned to get used to, even if he hated the sensation, and it was already a mutual understanding the Corvus was to do as he was told to the letter, the act of reminding him being a simple formality by this point in time. He simply bowed slightly, eyes shut with a pleasant smile; the kind of elegant gesture you'd often see a butler performing for their master. The role wasn't all that much different, truly, though it did involve a great deal more violence and intrigue than your average attendant would ever see in their lifetime of servitude. The next event took him by surprise. Someone, a private, had the nerve to approach Atrox itself. Corvus hadn't moved an inch even while she had approached the man, simply because it would've almost been insulting to the man had he done so. His eyes simply watched 'Private Jax' carefully, his expression resembling something akin to interest. This is how it went in the Echani's mind: When a fly approached Atrox, did Corvus defend him? Simply put, no. There was no need. Atrox could simply act as if the fly wasn't there at all, or he could swat it down with the minimum effort required. The real question was not her bravery; but, just how generous was the Sith'ari feeling on that day? Moving up closer to the flank of the Dark Lord, Corvus watched this 'Jax' like a hawk; perhaps the most invasive stare he'd given anyone up until that point, though he remained silent in the time it would take Atrox to respond to the situation.
  6. Birthright

    Disce aut discede - he couldn't place a face or name to the one that had imparted the wisdom on to him, and he didn't much care to think about it a great deal either. The words themselves were the star of the show; the path he'd followed; in a sense, his "raison d'être". Learn or depart. It was what had taken him from being on the road from a doctorate to the path of enlightenment within the halls of the Jedi, then it was the same thing that had taken him from the embrace of the Jedi into the vice grip of the Sith. Whenever the Echani felt at odds with himself he simply sought what was missing, rather than become stagnant and complacent with the place he had settled in. Student, Padawan; Acolyte; or Master, things like titles didn't hold much importance. Perhaps that's the true reason he never grew complacent, but it left him infinitely restless no matter where he was, who he was or what he could possibly be doing. No; not even if he was standing beside powerhouses the likes of Atrox or Sanguira could he feel content. It was as if the entire galaxy was out of balance, he had things to correct constantly. From the way his possessions sat just askew on the edge of a desk, or looking towards the grande idea of escaping the god awful planet they'd some how found themselves stranded on in his absence. If Corvus was to be utterly, entirely honest without any intention of honeying the ears of those in his presence- It was fucking crazy. It wasn't the kind of talk he'd had the chance to use for the last little while. Corvus had been playing the diplomatic type - he learned how to sweeten up the ones that were important and how to hold his cards to play them when they we're appropriate. A dull, dead kind of combat that invoked no sense of adrenaline or excitement. It reflected the same dead, dull expression that was currently playing across the features on his face. His eyes were still, like fish eyes, and his mouth didn't twist in even the slightest hint of discomfort. His head was as if a mannequin, fixed by a metal rod that maintained his perfect posture even under the pressure of the Dark Lord who turned to face him. The two cylindrical objects were deftly caught by the raven haired man, as if he'd been expecting the very gesture long before they'd even neared their destination. A smile finally found its way sneaking through the corners of his lips; "Of course." Affixing the hilts to his side was second nature, and the weight on his hips sent a familiar sense of nostalgia running through his extremities as he flexed his hands. Yes, certainly; he hadn't found himself fighting for his life in quite some time. Not in the most barbaric sense, which was why the current situation satisfied him as much as it had. It was perhaps one of the most dangerous places in the galaxy, and there could be a very good chance that disgruntled people wanted to make their voices- Rather, their fists, heard. In contrast to the regal depiction Sanguira might've held with her armored ensamble, or the ragged worn down appearance of her counterpart; Corvus was wearing a rather splendid outfit that you'd sooner see at a ball or social event held between Nobles of some kind. A snug fitting black dress shirt; prim, proper and ironed out finely. Dress pants to match, with shined black boots and a sort of dress coat that reached down well to his knees. Either hand could be seen gloved, which he folded behind his back as he descended down the landing ramp. His eyes still moved slowly, lethargically settling on the Overseers that would inevitably appear as he begrudgingly took the first step into the muddy shithole. He supposed it was time for the little dance to begin as Atrox spoke to the masses, and Corvus remained to the rear with an eye on everything and nothing; not daring to standing next to either of the two while they made their entrance. While many would no doubt be confused, the reception seemed to be kicking off relatively well with a few already announcing their intentions with fists and voices raised in unison.
  7. How To Deal With Fleas

    Corvus had picked up his data-pad and began shuffling through it's contents as two people had made themselves comfortable- or rather, present at the very least. He patiently took off his beskar helmet as they had, setting it down on the floor next to his chair quietly enough. A head of white, disheveled hair hung about a dreary looking face. Pale, with sunken eyes that made it look like the poor young man had missed a month of sleep: The corruption, while not terribly advanced, had considerably grown since the infusion he'd received from 'him'. There were two easily recognizable people; one for the feats he'd accomplished and the other for the attention he'd drawn in the pits. Bloodshot red eyes shifted to acknowledge both of their presences, though he didn't make nearly enough effort to stand up from his seated position to return the bow Ren had given him. The Zabrak had drew a bit too close for comfort, but it wasn't surprising by any means to the Echani. It was his domain; after all, Corvus was little more than a visitor. It might've been strange for someone to host a sudden forum within it's halls- no, it was rare. Even after being out of commission for as long as he had been, some things never changed. His eyebrows had raised when Verrin raised the question of what had happened to him, and it was all too clear that he'd mistaken Corvus for someone else. A close call, he mused; dropping the data-pad gently onto the table respectfully. (For the curious, perceptive sort; this is displayed on the data-pad for all to see) Item Identification Number of Items to Ship Next Action Adegan Crystal 4 Deliver Items Durasteel Casing(s) 3 Send Invoice Leatheris Hide(s) 3 Send Invoice Equipment Schematic 2 Ship Total 12 "I think you're mistaken, Lord Verrin." He let one hand fall into the gauntlet of the other, cradling it carefully as he thought about how best to approach the subject of 'who he was'. Whether or not the Darth had been mistaken, the fact he he such a troublesome, motivated and somewhat unpredictable person prying into it so early was.. troublesome, actually. Though he aired no sense of hostility and simply remained impassive, stoic as the moment either of them had entered the room. Just as he looked at the data-pad he looked at Verrin, but he smiled every so faintly to lessen the tension that would no doubt consume them all. The last thing he wanted was for his identity to be discovered less than a week after returning- not that it mattered in the least; it would just make things that much harder to control. "I do know you though, my lord. Few don't," Corvus raised his hands and rested his chin on them, one hand disconnecting from the cradle to gesture towards the seat closest, adjacent to him. He then gave Ren a glance as if to say 'I haven't forgotten you're here', but his attention smoothly transitioned back to the Zabrak as if it had just been a passing survey of the room. No one else had come, but then again he hadn't expected the likes of the Sith he'd seen up until that point jumping into a debate that threatened to question the morality, state and objectivity that the Sith had held until now. Some considered questioning such things treason, or disrespectful- Corvus simply wanted to get a grasp on how they thought. How much had changed since he left; how much had remained the same, and what would he need to do as a result. "I do hope you don't mind this little forum; I took the liberty upon myself." The faint smile split into a wide one for a moment, but Corvus caught his composure and tempered himself before it crossed any lines. He reminded himself that no matter how he felt or how indifferent he was towards their ritualistic way of beating around the bush, he was still a master while Verrin was a Darth. It was an honest gesture though, he hadn't meant any harm in setting all of it up. Not that it would've been difficult to go through the proper routes - simply a manner of saving time, he'd concluded. Corvus clicked his tongue off the roof of his mouth as things seemed to have settled down with no one else showing up; he supposed any that arrived late would simply have to catch up or be left behind. "Not quite the amount I'd been hoping for, but certainly a diverse spectrum. I appreciate both of you showing up," Whether or not Verrin had come for the subject at hand was irrelevant to Corvus; he had his attention for the time being, so he'd abuse it all he could for the sake of gaining information. An Apprentice and a Darth, he suppressed the urge to grin as he contemplated the vast distance between the two. The Echani entertained the idea that he could be considered the 'half-way' mark between the two, and he impatiently wanted to see the difference in opinions; or more importantly, what they shared in common. Would Ren lose the ability to speak simply in the presence of Verrin? A hundred questions, never enough time to ask all of them. ".. But I won't waste any time here; I apologize if it feels like I'm dismissing you. However; how do both of you feel about the current state of affairs concerning the Sith, the Sith in power; the natives and our current residence here on Dathomir?" A sharp stare would be traded with both participants as Corvus neatly folded both hands back beneath his chin. It was a rather loaded question; and he ended up giving Ren perhaps a much more lengthy, threatening glare than he could have ever possibly given to Verrin. It translated very simply for the perceptive folk: Talk.
  8. How To Deal With Fleas

    7th Melona , 3630 BBY Dathomir- Force only knew why they'd chosen such a planet for their new base of operations, but Corvus wasn't in any position to complain. While he was asleep the galaxy had continued to move, and the gears of war continued to turn; what was once Jedi now being replaced with an insufferable infestation of local wildlife. Well, if it were simple animals it would've been an easy enough problem to deal with; eventually they'd learn to stay far away from their domain for their own sake; but, some people believed it best to make deals with the Natives. To try and understand them, to.. negotiate with them, if that were even possible. An optimistic outlook, though most likely not the eventual outcome. There were very few able bodied individuals remaining who'd be able to carry out such a feat to the T; it would most likely end as all deals he'd seen with them did. Bloodshed. Corvus sat at the head of a table, a simple one that could seat a considerable amount of people lengthwise. His hands rested on the tabletop folded over one another, and he seemed to aimlessly look around the library as he waited for things and people to settle down and in. While he hadn't made it an announcement of any sort, he felt a need to bring together like minded individuals to discuss the current state of events concerning Dathomir's 'wildlife' and what they'd planned to do about it, if they planned anything at all and what their thoughts and opinions on the matter were. All bonuses in reality, as the Echani had a much more important intention in mind: Teaching them. The Sith who believed in power over all else would see the folly in their arrogance, while the peaceful and loving of the bunch might turn to face reality. It was truth that there could be war with the Natives. Pitiful, laughable truth; but that didn't make it any less of a truth. Their influence and power had waned considerably since he was last awake, and it tore at him to see the Sith fractured, fighting and screaming at one another rather than unifying to face a common goal. If things continued, if all of them wanted to torture one another and push each other to the brink of death 'just because'.. Dathomir would be their grave. The legacy would come to an end for them, and they'd be renowned for being a kingdom that ultimately fell to savages. So a notice was placed in the training pits, of all places, that a debate would be taking place in a public part of the Sith Library. It stated that age, rank and origin did not mattered; and that you were only asked to come with your thoughts and opinions on the current state of affairs concerning Dathomir and what was happening between the Overseers, acolytes, apprentices and even Darths. It was a ballsy proposition, but not one the likes of being labeled heresy; for the one who held the small conference of people was none other than what some would no doubt consider a loyal pawn to their King. Corvus picked up a tablet off the table and became immersed with it as he waited, prompting anyone that may approach to sit at any of the available chairs if they so willed it until things settled down. Each person would notice several distinct objects laid out on the surface of the table; holopads that looked exactly like the one Corvus read, each containing a series of entries on things ranging from Stratagem to Maneuvering, though none of it would have any context for a person inquisitive enough to take a look through it in advance. All would be clear in time though- as soon as the small gathering began.
  9. There's Nothing You Can Do

    It must be a joke - it had to be a joke. Corvus had watched the entire thing unfold from a distance; he didn't have much choice in the matter when the training pits themselves slowed to a grinding halt when a certain someone started yelling with some sense of authority. About a droid, about failing; and most.. importantly, about being designated as a.. towel boy? The Echani stared at the wall in front of him in search of answers, but mostly just so he didn't have to look at the shit show that was unfolding by the second. He deactivated his saber, set it on his belt and sighed heavily as he took to a bench and began retying the laces on his boots. Now then- who was involved, he mused. A no name redheaded Acolyte or Apprentice, a Darth that Corvus knew as one 'Verrin'; and another bystander who curiously enough was masking their presence in all but the force. Be it habit, intuition or simply paranoia - Force Sight was still something he found himself using more often than not. Even after regaining the 'ability to see', it was trivial to someone who could use the force to achieve unparalleled vision. It's the reason he took note, and looked directly in the direction of the third party that was present. They didn't make a move to help Silas though, so Corvus took that into account. Probability was that they were on their own side in the first place; second only to the people they help loyalty to. In this situation, no one held loyalty to someone of the victims level, if only for fear of their own safety. The most interesting element was the one of a Darth himself taking the time out of his day to scold him. Was it a personal grudge that caused the outburst, or simply the force-awful weather of Dathomir pushing him to the edge? It was far be it for someone as Corvus to step in before blood was shed, let alone his station to tell a Darth what to do. While he certainly had made it up the rungs in his own way past the rank of apprentice, he hadn't earned the recognition or infamy that would let him pull on such strings as of yet. Something to lament about on his own time, he concluded. He finished retying his boots and leaned back against a wall, the whole conversation between them seemed more or less like a grudge after all. Was the boy of higher station in reality, was he someone who oversaw the maintenance of their droids? The fact he spent his time getting man handled in the pits spoke testament to the fact that he wasn't such an important person, and his hands didn't look much in the way of a man who did a lot of manual labor with tools or small wires. If anything, the boy looked the part of a scribe or scholar, maybe even royalty of some sort. Explained this and the previous situation quite well, actually. A scholar would've been rather useless in tracking down some malfunctioning droid in the wild, and he couldn't help but smirk to himself in his own little corner of the pits as he wondered why, exactly; such a thing had grown so far out of hand. Clad in his own set of tattered, black robes - Corvus wore only the gauntlet of his actual armor ensemble; a Beskar gauntlet and arm guard that would hide the entirety of his arm while providing adequate protection beneath the cloak that hid all of his features from the neck down. Stealth wasn't his prerogative by any means; he'd only come to use the training pits himself for his own type of 'rehabilitation', but since that had derailed rather quickly he remained on the bench and quietly minded himself; while also minding the group across the Training Pits. If things were to get out of hand, or Force-forbid it someone die; it would've been rather awkward to not have a first hand account of such things for the people that would then have to deal with it. An Overseer approached him quietly, but Corvus simply waved the question away before it ever crept out from the nervous mans throat; "Yes, tell him; see if he cares." He sounded impassive, as if it were such a trivial thing to even waste breath on at that point in time; but he knew that if the Sith were going to start ripping each other a part in the halls, a certain someone would care enough to be told. Whether or not he'd do anything was up to him, and it wouldn't have surprised the Inquisitor in the least if the same Overseer would come back and tell him 'You do it'. Such a small squabble was above the station of those that mattered. Without having anything even happen to him yet, Corvus lamented as he crossed his legs and sighed: The Remnant truly did work their own to the bone.
  10. Stand Up and Scream

    What they know could prove useful, they might be hiding something that could be detrimental to their cause - All things Corvus had considered, heard and been subjected to since he himself had been hastily snatched up by a certain darth from Nar Shaddaa. The memories tumbled around in his head in a haze, a haze that began to heat up as if some fictional friction began to heat the blood pumping through his veins. It was perhaps the most logical and understandable thing a Sith would jump to when hearing that one of their own was 'once a Jedi', but the Echani remained impassive as always even after the Pureblood pressed the issue. As far as he was concerned, a Padawan taken from home knew just as much as he himself did. Fundamentals, names- Whether or not any information he'd be able to supply would even still be applicable since Tython, he wouldn't know. None of them would, save the people in charge of their intelligence; possibly. He took note of the pressure exerted on his wrist; it was rather clear the boy hadn't given up in knocking him over. A faint smile tugged at the corner of his lips as he let the force keep his arm - he needn't try and fight it when he had other options. His other hand flexed - fixated with the force and drew the hilt from his bound hand to the other, adeptly activating it and bringing it upwards as Ren charged forwards, aiming at what he could only assume was his midsection. A bold attack, separated from the patterns of the Ataru he'd been using up until that point. If anything, it reminded him of a bold faced attack from another form such as Makashi or Shien, though lacking any of the grace or discipline of a practitioner. As the saber would near he'd let the plasma take hold of one another, both blades inevitably sticking to one another as he would allow Ren to draw closer without harming either one of them. Still harboring the words of both individuals in his mind, he shifted his stance as Ren would inevitably connect with some sort of momentum; it wasn't quite enough to knock him over, but he did have to brace himself. Whether or not Ren would remain connected, retreat or press his attack Corvus would none the less speak- "No- that's simply one unfortunate truth. Warfare is simply a means of negotiation between governments. Even without the Jedi, the Sith or of the Force; it still breaks out somewhere. Advanced civilizations, tribes- what we're interested in is territory, resources, other interests determined by the heads of factions. I'm sure you once thought the Sith to be evil- beasts. Unwarranted aggression fighting peaceful people, but we live just as they do. We thrive just as they do; I've lived on both sides. I've walked the planes of Tython, I studied in the halls of the Jedi; and I fought to protect my people. We won't save you, but neither will they, Ren. The difference is whether you want to walk alone or with people who see your worth." He paused, gritting his teeth as the emotions of a long last past flooded his body with endorphins. The tempered Echani always had trouble with keeping himself in check in a fight, but he remained in control for the time being. This was a lesson, not real combat. The statements he made would no doubt disarm any person who overheard them, as most turncoats weren't exactly jumping in line to announce that they'd once belonged to the other side. "Religion, pride and Ideology; all contributors. When the objectives of state are met, war will end. If enough of our people die to outweigh them, war will end. Anger and hatred are but tools to tilt war in your favor. I'm not interested in my emotions or theirs; They're simply a means to an end that you must control." Corvus flicked his lightsaber off as he came to his conclusion, whether his words would have any weight at all was ultimately up to the boys own conclusion. He'd inevitably draw one, that much was certain. If Corvus knew anything about the halls of the sith, it was that they pushed someone to a conclusion whether they wanted one or not, eventually. That, or they'd die with a heart full of regrets. Ultimately the life of a Jedi was a cold and solitary one, but so too could the life of a Sith. Warm bodies were for times of peace- and for ordinary people. As to whether or not he agreed with the Pureblood, his attention finally shifted, with a certain sense of hostility accompanying it- "What would we have him do, then. Tell us the routines of the Padawans- how they struggled to temper themselves as they came to terms with the Force? How the masters were nice, but strict; adhering to their beliefs with an unwavering conviction? If getting to know your enemy is what you seek, then don't allow pride to blind you. Earning the ire of Ren won't further our cause- at most, he was worthy of being a Padawan. I can tell that from his form, at the least." His eyes closed for a moment as he calmed himself, there was little to gain from chasing an aggressive path in these circumstances. As much as her attitude may have rubbed him the wrong way, he couldn't necessarily blame her. A Pureblood, of all people, would have perhaps the hardest time coming to grips with how much they shared with their sworn enemy. It was in their blood, it was in their connection with the force. One who never touched the light side.. a pity, he mused. "It's not my station to tell you your business, however." He changed his position to a more relaxed tone, one without any prejudice or aggressive undertones. "Your free to take whatever path you feel is best," Corvus nodded slightly towards the Pureblood, then turned his attention back to Ren. "You are, too. You'd do well to remember that. If you're here, your chains have been broken. Whether you like it or not, you've been set free of their code; and it's your decision which path you want to take." He turned at that, facing away from the two of them before he began to walk off- stopping only for a moment to glance back at the bench. Would've been rather bad to leave that behind, he concluded, and returned to the bench to retrieve his helmet. He made no indication of taking back the saber from Ren; however, and as soon as he had it back on he began to walk away once more. "However," Corvus stopped one last time as he made his exit - as open minded as he may have wanted to be, one glaring fact remained. He turned to glare at Ren, though only a stone faced beskar helmet would be what either of them saw- "If you do choose the Jedi, I will drag you back myself." He grinned beneath the surface of his helmet, it was his role after all. Turncoats were traitors, but no one would be forgiven for fleeing from the remnant. Heresy would be suppressed, and terrorists would be interrogated for all they had - not because they chose to believe in another cause, but because they were aiming to hurt the Sith Remnants. To hurt his people, and his order. Corvus gave a dismissive wave as he made his way to leave the training pits, he'd done far more than he'd set out to do.
  11. The Coward's Way

    Daunting - seeming difficult to deal with in anticipation; intimidating. To say that Atrox was a man that fit the bill was hard to say, because Corvus felt little to anything in regards to the matter. Once he was as normal as a civilian, an acolyte as them- an apprentice to some; after having died already once, what had he to fear? When death was something one already accomplished, what in life would seem all that daunting. Perhaps staying alive, Corvus mused. He walked towards the throne room with an air of indifference, clad in the gear that had been gifted to him by none other than the dark lord of the sith himself. For a man that would be regarded as infamous, cruel or even evil he was terribly generous - if only for the sake of his goals, to be fair. He'd spent most of the time getting to know the lay of the land and who was where doing what since he returned to the land of the living; it wasn't surprising to find many of the stations vacant since the battle, though a few select individuals he hadn't expected to remain. The more reclusive of the Darth's for instance, who had been all be present nearly three and a half years ago to him. Stares were directed the Echani's way as he made his approach - not because he was intimidating be default; no, most were relatively carefree or nonchalant about his presence so far. While he certainly wasn't pristine any more, he didn't have the age that most did. He still looked young despite everything he'd been through, the reason they were staring was rather simple: The red substance that was splattered across the right side of his face. His helmet was carried at his side, cradled beneath his right arm as he entered the throne room. His stature was straight and rigid; that of a military man rather than a scholar or civilian, neither he'd claim to be for a long time. His eyes took in the room, immediately recognizing the presence of another as he stepped to the side and maintained his composure- while most would bow, Corvus stood adamantly. Not for the sake of defiance, not for the sake of pride - it was respect in which the Echani held himself highly in the presence of some. "You sent for me your excellency," The bright red in Corvus eye's shifted to look at the girl who bowed rather elegantly for 'her excellency', then he brought his left arm across his chest as if in a sign of respect to the man who seemed to aimlessly swirl around a goblet of intoxicant - happiness was a rather fickle thing he mused: A man who had everything that everyone around him wanted, yet someone who wanted something more. An all too common occurrence in the galaxy. Corvus decided that he would respectfully wait for him to be spoken to before speaking before, during or after Atrox and the girl.
  12. Stand Up and Scream

    It had been nigh on three-years, but his time spent at a university wasn't one that was squandered. While he didn't necessarily see the point in the boy witnessing a standard liver transplant procedure, the fact Ren paled at the sight of blood was not a shining beacon of hope. That he was willing to see things through to their end; however, was a merit for him. Corvus's attention wandered as he kept a steady bead on Ren- was it a light whip that she used? A curious weapon, one he wasn't entirely familiar with. The Sith's attention waned as the topic of torture came up however, and his stance shifted slightly as he evened out his weight distribution. Yes; she very well could torture information out of him, though the information might not be worth the effort or potential loss. How many recruits, acolytes and apprentices would have to be broken before people were content? Corvus sighed; a part of him knew that there was no limit to such a thing. It was all a part of the cycle. "A Knight," Corvus spoke up, turning his full attention to Ren once more. He remained stone faced, though a trace of irritation bled through the seams as he mulled over the revelation that the boy had once been, at least, a Padawan. Something that only perhaps Corvus himself could relate to on all of Dathomir at that point in time- "Emotion, yet peace. Ignorance, yet knowledge. Passion, yet serenity. Chaos, yet harmony. Tenants meant to govern your behavior; to resist and prevent yourself from falling to the dark side." He spoke in a firm tone as his fingers readjusted themselves around his hilt, his thumb against the ignition switch as if he were contemplating whether or not he wanted to even activate the thing. There was a moments respite before his conclusion: Things were beginning to stray from their original intention, so Corvus closed his eyes and took one deep breath. "The battlefield does not care about your past, and your past does not determine your strength. Survival of the fittest is the law of the galaxy. For us, for the Jedi- for everyone. Do you know why we fight wars, Ren?" Corvus let his thumb rest beside the ignition switch after all, but in no way did his presence become any less real or threatening. Whether or not the boy wanted to continue the session was up to him, but he'd see to it that he imparted at least some sort of lesson to the child if he possibly could.
  13. Stand Up and Scream

    Actions spoke louder than words, Corvus was a firm believer in this philosophy. The willingness to pick up the saber was negligible - the courage to activate it and ready boost forwards, that was something somewhat commendable. As the frail boy leaped forwards Corvus sighed; he couldn't blame the boy, though. If Ataru was the only thing he knew, it meant it would be the first thing he relied on. The color in the Sith's eyes shifted as he looked up as he fell towards him, and he raised his right arm in preparation for the attack that came- It rose to shield his left arm, and the red plasma of Ren's saber would splash across the surface of the beskar gauntlet for only a moment before Corvus' fingers stretched outwards after diverting the attack from his body- anyone that had had any clue how the Force worked might've been able to guess what was coming next: A point blank force push. The Force was willed and it obeyed, sending out a concussive shock wave that would attempt to send Ren back several feet after taking the glancing blow if it connected. Corvus could feel the heat transfer, he could feel the burn on his right hand; and he couldn't ask for more. It was like hot coffee after a bad hangover, or a cool rain after a hot workout. Feeling combat again was.. blissful, to the Echani. The aggressive assault belied what the eyes would perceive. A meek, frail boy- unable to defend himself, unable to take the life of another. To most people it was probably worth feeling pity over, it would irritate other Sith both old and young; but, Corvus felt neither emotion towards the boy. This was because after one simple exchange of blows, he could tell one thing over everything his mind wanted to process: Ren wanted to live, yet not as a slave to someone else. Perhaps it was simply intuition, imagination or the figment of Echani remaining in his body telling him so, but Corvus chose to trust this feeling. That's why he didn't advance on the boy whether he regained himself or not, he simply glared at him still; hilt in hand, feet in place. He stood as stoically as a statue while he considered his options. "You'll be fine with either form." Corvus shook out his right hand as he gave Ren his answer, looking down at the floor of the training pits rather impassively. "If you want a strong defense, I suggest Soresu. Either form will be taxing on your body as is, you'll need to adapt." He decided to be straight forward about that point; no Form would be adapted easily to a frail body not fit for combat. If one was broken, it would've been much simpler to focus on the Force as a weapon and a defense. If the boy was determined though, he'd make it work. Corvus was an example of such training. "Try again, this time with feeling." He said as he turned to Meracus, as if ignoring the threat Ren presented entirely. "What of your appraisal of Ren, then? I'd hear it." A grin played across his face as he asked the Pureblood the rather sudden question; it was meant to unnerve the boy more than appease his own interest. While the first strike certainly didn't lack motivation, it lacked any considerable punch at all. His eyes fixated on the woman while his vision expanded all around him; he wasn't quite so careless as to ignore Ren entirely.
  14. Stand Up and Scream

    Corvus listened to the words from the Pureblood; she seemed to understand that while she certainly could answer the questions, it would hardly mean anything if they didn't come from Ren's own mouth. It didn't take a mind reader or a naturally perceptive person to get a read on the tension that hung in the air between the two, though the Echani continued to look impassive even as he glossed over the details- "Corvus." He'd entertain the question since his had been, that was his new name. In all honesty, it could've been easily comparable to a familial situation. As if the Pureblood was disappointed in her son, but willing to help him improve. She lorded over him, baiting him with questions that she already knew the answer to. Corvus simply took a deep breath when the woman went as far as trying to persuade him to answer honestly; well, it certainly was one way to get an honest answer. It didn't take long for even Ren to figure it out though, it seemed- and Corvus couldn't help but faintly grin as the boy caught himself mid sentence and regained his composure. What would have no doubt been an agreement had turned into the opposite - a sudden heel turn that he wasn't expecting. It begged another question, though- Did the boy just lie to Corvus, to be defiant against the Pureblood? If the directive was to answer honestly, and he'd broken that control to choose his own answer.. another test, then. "Stand, Ren." He suddenly announced as his hands detached two cylindrical objects from his belt, one in each hand. They were relatively unimpressive hilts- nothing about them jumped out or screamed unique perhaps other than their curved nature.. It would no doubt be more of a nuisance for the boy than anything. Yes, the boy; Ren. Corvus would patiently wait for Ren to do as he was told before he tossed one of the light saber hilts to the young mans feet- "Drop the training weapon. Pick it up." Corvus said flatly as the hilt in his right hand fell into a comfortable grip- not one that could be attributed to any stance or form in particular of course; he hadn't the slightest intention of taking any of this farce seriously. If Ren did choose to pick it up- he'd learn fairly quickly that it was an awkward thing to hold. It's shape wasn't comparable with your standard hilt, fashioned for a specific Form over all others. The crystal, which would emit a red light saber when activated was one of Corvus very own synthetic crystals. Much had changed since he last had them; however, and whatever connection he may have had to them was dwindling at best. Lastly, the weapon was badly taken care of. Scorch marks, scratches- it was clear that the weapon had been used to take quite a few lives. "If you aren't repressing your emotions, then this will be easy." A faint smile tugged at the Echani hybrids lips, and he stood several feet away by this time to give the boy some more room to acclimate for what he was about to be told to do. It was a fairly simply 'test', and one that didn't necessarily have a destined outcome. "Knock me over, Ren."
  15. Stand Up and Scream

    As he finished adjusting his gauntlet he was pleasantly surprised. Not just by the boy, but by the Pureblood as well. Despite her previous words for the boy she seemed to be considerate enough to entertain his rather impromptu advice; he had a rather nostalgic feeling from her, but he focused at the task at hand. The boy - still nameless to Corvus - appeared to have answered the question without any deception. Whether it was due to the encouragement of the other Sith, he couldn't be sure, but it didn't make his answer any less valuable. Corvus stood stoically in contemplation for a moment, then his right hand rose beneath his helmet and began to pick at something. While some people may have advised caution on his behalf; he'd only been awake from his rather deep sleep for all of a day, Corvus had no intention on holding himself back in any way whatsoever. It only took a few seconds, but soon his helmet became unfastened and he lifted it off his head with ease as he spoke- "Does survival make it justified.. ?" He let the question hang as if waiting for some sort of answer - that would be his name, of course - before he'd finish taking off the beskar helmet. Corvus then approached the bench and let it drop next to Ren. "Never the less, philosophy about murder matters little here. Not everyone has it in themselves to kill at first, what's important is that you can fight. For your life, for the lives of others- For the Sith Remnant." Bloodshot eyes looked down at him from above, though perhaps the most unnerving thing about them was the eerie crimson color they contained. He held a rather condescending expression, as if the person in front of him actually mattered very little. "Another question: Are you holding back your emotions." While he was attentive to the presence of the other Sith, his attention remained on the boy. Whether or not she had more to say he'd leave that to her discretion and deal with them as they came, he had very little time to waste on small talk with so much to do so soon.