<div class="floatright">(http://i1099.photobucket.com/albums/g393/theredfear/Screenshots/Screenshot_2012-10-29_01_36_58_733242.jpg)<strong><br/>Temor (http://elliquiy.com/forums/index.php?topic=150938.msg6869979#msg6869979)</strong><br/><strong>Location:</strong> Korriban Shuttle Landing <br/><strong>Summary:</strong> Arriving<br/><strong>Tagged: </strong> Sa'na, Moros, anyone<br/><hr/></div><br/>"The same was once said when I first stood upon these steps. " he said without actually looking to or directly addressing the chiss who made a nice flashy entrance. Was she trying to make an impression on the whelps she just insulted? "If memory serves the Overseer who said it was killed years later by one of the very whelps he'd so casually dismissed." He finally turned his hooded head ever so slightly in her direction "All who call themselves Sith now once stood upon these steps as low as these whelps. Perhaps they have more potential than you think."<br/><br/>More and more force-sensitive Chiss seemed to be cropping up of late. On both sides of the war. It was as if someone had suddenly and inexplicably lifted a racial restriction of some sort. He was distracted from pondering this peculiarity any further by the arrival of Darth Moros's procession. Well, there was little point in masking his identity as Darth Dominar any further. He raised his hands and pushed back his hood as he turned to face Moros.<br/><br/>Moros almost seemed to embody everything about the Sith that Temor detested. Vain, shallow, his every thought focused toward his own power. And though his son and apprentice had a reputation as an exceptional master of the lightsaber, nothing Temor had heard about the young Sith Lord led him to beleive that his apple had fallen all that far from Moros's tree.<br/><br/>He breifly wondered if the rumors were true. That Moros intended for Erobas to fight in this tournament. He could scarcely imagine what Erobas must have done to offend his Master, to be so humiliated before other Sith Lords. Surely if it were true it had to be a punishment of some sort. For even a common Sith to be pitted against fledgling whelps...mere Acolytes who had not yet even earned the distinction of being called Sith...it would be an insult. But Erobas was a Sith Lord. He had nothing to gain in dueling these acolytes that were barely more than younglings. And if somehow he lost...or even appeared to struggle...it would be a public display of weakness that would make him a laughing stock throughout the Empire. And Moros would look no better, being both his Master and Father.<br/><br/>Surely it had to be a rumor. What could Moros possibly hope to gain by putting his own apprentice...and his own flesh and blood to boot...in such a no-win situation? Or perhaps there was more to this tournament than mere Acolytes hoping to demonstrate enough skill that they might catch the eye of an illustrious Lord or Darth who would take them on as an apprentice? It might make more sense that way.<br/><br/>He nodded his head faintly and offered a simple one word greeting and acknowledgement of the other Darth. "Moros. "<br/><br/>Temor might not have a high opinion of Moros, but he was still a Darth afterall. And you don't acheive such status amongst the Sith without having some combination of competence, cunning, and power. Temor suspected Moros rose to his rank primarily though politicing...not the most fearsome or glorious path to the rank of Darth, but one that he had learned to never underestimate. Those who schemed their way to power had a well-earned reputation for eliminating Sith who...on paper...were vastly their superiors. That kind of cunning should always be taken seriously.