Darth Exprotis



"The Empire is my home, I may not agree with all my superiors do but I will not be the man who sells out and turns against my government for personal gain. I am a patriot and I will defend our galactic borders from all threats, even domestic terrorists like this.... Progressive Union. They'll be bygones in a matter of weeks"

― The newly dubbed Darth Exprotis, addressing Dark Council Member Darth Krovos



DARTH EXPROTIS SUMMARY PARAGRAPH

To Rise from Ruin
Laughter, the clink of wineglasses, music, and a warm smile on his mother's face. Although not a perfect moment, Xaiviat was content. This party was one of many occasions his parents had organized for Balmorra's high society, and although Xaiviat found little value in the fundraisers and galas of the elite, his mother and father always exuded life when part of a crowd. A band of well-dressed Bith musicians played classical music on a stage at the forefront of the elegant hall, the center of which contained a dance floor that was almost entirely full. Xaiviat's father, a kind and portly man, had become just drunk enough to join in the band, as was signified by the level of rosiness in his cheeks. He was an incredible singer, and his wife adored it when he took to the stage. So did his son, as nothing brought more joy to his father than entertaining.

Then, with a blinding flash and a deafening roar, it was over. For a moment Xaiviat could only lay on the floor motionless, staring at the ruined murals above. Remnants of Balmorran history preserved solely in art burned away before his eyes in the wake of the proton bomb's annihilation. He turned his head, face to face with the body of his mother, who had died in a state of bliss without a moment to process her imminent demise. Wine glasses had shattered all around him, alongside the bones of their owners. Bombers flew overhead, enough to cause at least a dozen more explosions in the distance. In shock, Xaiviat stood up, waited for the high pitched droning in his ear to cease just a little, and fell beside his mother's body. Nothing remained of his father. Little remained of anyone who sat close to the stage. It was that day that the Sith Empire had decided to bring the brunt of their occupational force to the doorstep of the ruling class. Fate had spared the life of a young boy, but orphaned him as well.

The war-torn streets of Sobrik in the wake of total Imperial domination were certainly not a kind place for anyone to grow up, especially one accustomed to comfort and wealth. Nothing could have prepared Xaiviat for the trials and tribulations he would face without the watchful guard of his parents and their staff. Most children would have failed to prevail in such conditions, and sadly, many did, however there was a fire in Xaiviat's heart that could not be so easily extinguished - a seed of hatred had been planted for the Empire, one that flourished after days to process his parents' deaths and face abject poverty. Xaiviat's features became increasingly gaunt and skeletal as the grip of starvation tightened around him. He spent his days begging for food and his nights chasing small wingmaw in hopes of sating the hunger that threatened to cripple him. He never succeeded. At least, not until one night, when while hunting his ever-elusive prey, Xaiviat fell into a puddle of mud. How long had he been out there? A week? A Month? Tears streamed down his mud-caked face as he screamed into the alley, the despair that was his life boiling into rage, all of it directed at the escaped wingmaw. Then, the creature fell to the ground. In awe, Xaiviat ran to its corpse. Through his will he had crushed it.

It wasn't long before wingmaws became vendors, and vendors became Imperials transporting rations. He was not aware of what openly using his power would unleash, however, and so was unprepared when one of the convoys he intended to ambush was protected by a Sith - the physical embodiment of all his anger. Naturally, his ample rage was not enough to combat the Sith Warrior, and as such, he was quickly knocked to the ground. Much to his surprise, the Warrior did not slay him, instead, ordering nearby soldiers to detain Xaiviat, instead leading the boy to the ruins of an open city square and boarding a dropship. As they ascended, one of the soldiers forcibly injected Xaiviat with a tranquilizer, but before he fell unconscious, he heard the Sith speaking to an unknown superior through his comlink. "Yes, my lord. I have another one for you."

The Belly of the Beast
Xaiviat awoke to the sounds of quiet pistons and electronics. When he opened his eyes, he identified the source of the noise as a single medical droid that swooped by his bead gracefully, adjusting his blanket and taking a variety of scans. "Oh! I apologize, sir. I did not mean to wake you. I will contact my master immediately!" Before Xaiviat could ask the droid ant one of the many questions flying through his mind, it had hovered out of the room. From what he could tell, he had been nursed back to relative health. He was no longer starving, and his complexion had improved... at least he assumed as much based on the newfound meat on his bones.

A few moments later, the doorway to his small medical room was occupied once again. The droid had returned, however this time it was not alone. "May I introduce: Darth Charnus" the droid said. A tall and slender yet imposing man, the Sith possessed a great many cybernetic modifications that ran up his neck and covered his ears and right eye. "So you're the product of your homeworld's plight, are you? The so-called 'Wraith of Balmorra'? I'll be frank with you, child; spooking Imperial soldiers in the dead of night and raiding their caravans is a pitiful way to live, especially given the natural power you possess. The question is, will you make the choice to harness your strength, or will you remain a pathetic whelp that is unworthy of it? We shall see." With that, Charnus exited the room almost as quickly as he had entered. The droid flew past the bewildred Xaiviat, who between just awakening and only now remembering what it felt like not to be on the verge of death, had little time to process his surroundings. "Our master has instructed me to convey his will that you join the others outside for training" the droid stated matter-of-factly as he took another reading of Xaiviat's vitals. "I don't recommend you leave him waiting."

After getting dressed and leaving the infirmary, Xaiviat followed the medical droid through the surprisingly grand corridors of the Sith compound. A seething rage now boiling consistently within him, he was determined to confront the Sith who were responsible for his parents' deaths and his impoverished suffering. "Darth Charnus and the other await you in the courtyard" the droid said, gesturing towards a door at the end of the hallway. "This is where we part ways... assuming you aren't horribly injured today, of course, which is probable... good day!" Upon entering the courtyard, Xaiviat was unsurprised to discover he had been staying in the former residence of Sobrik's governor, an estate that had also doubled as the city's center of government affairs. Naturally, this opulent edifice would be the only place a being as pompous as a Dark Lord would choose to reside. All around him he could see the intimidating metalwork of the Empire's new architecture working its way up and around the walls, expanding the building and modernizing its interior. The courtyard doubled as a balcony that overlooked the rest of the devastated city, still aflame in the wake of occupation, and still in constant conflict. It was then that he saw Charnus, lecturing a handful of others who appeared to be his age. This was his moment to strike at the heart of Balmorra's struggle. More importantly, it was his chance to finally get revenge.

Xaiviat used the force to propel him towards the group. While in midair, he extended his arm and pulled one of the other disciples' lightsabers from her belt, prepared to lunge at Charnus. Before he could ignite it and strike, however, he felt himself freeze. Another of the students, a muscular, light-skinned young man with sunken eyes, had halted his assault and promptly forced him to the ground. Charnus then turned to face Xaiviat, his expression indicating some form of amusement. "So I see you've chosen to wield your gift... recklessly and without thought, perhaps, but a victory all the same. Release him, Decklaine." The pressure which had kept him firmly planted on the concrete floor subsided, allowing Xaiviat to rise to his feet. He shot the acolyte Decklaine a dirty look that was completely ignored. "Whatever hate you may harbor for the Sith is misplaced, boy, and I will not be dedicating any more of my valuable time to convincing you otherwise. Decklaine here can kill you, or you can join the acolytes. You have five seconds to decide." Although young and overwhelmed with emotion, Xaiviat was not foolish enough to risk his life on such poor odds. The Sith were powerful, this much was true. Perhaps joining them was in a bizarre way his best hope at defeating them and sating his lust for revenge. Reluctantly, he stepped into line. Charnus grinned. "A wise decision."

Vying for Favor
Zahl Deklaine

Ivella Cho

Darth Decimus apparently took many war-orphaned children to be his acolytes as Xaiviat found that he was one of five other young children drafted into this mans cult. Decimus' eldest apprentice, Darth Charnus, trained each of the acolytes individually and Decimus would occasionally give them special missions to carry out

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