Ulic Qel Droma - Tumblr Posts

I was absolutely heartbroken at that point

some doodles from tales of the jedi

Extra Ulic Qel-Droma and Exar Kun sketches

drawn by original artists of the comic

Early drafts of Tales of the Jedi: Dark Lords of the Sith

Origins of Star Wars Tales of the Jedi: Dark Lords of the Sith

sith ghosts lying in tombs distributing forehead tattoos is no basis for a system of government

I am huge star wars fan and hobbistic artist.

When i don't know what to draw,

I draw Sith Lords on Korriban or anything from star wars...

I have drawn a few(and more)fanarts with alcohol markers,

of my favorite dark lord of the sith, Exar Kun.

Hope you like it ;)@femurs-vectivus

WIP Whenever

i was tagged by @starknstarwars a few days ago, but i'm just now getting around to actually doing this, lol. (stole your header image because i lost the one i usually use, whoops) going to tag @ipreferfiction @darthsassacre @tarrevizsla aaand @darthmarrsgf for this one!

ft: a bit of horrible men from the tales of the jedi fic that AC and i are writing, way in the future because this scene wouldn't get out of my head.

Rain drips down across the open windows cut into Exar’s black stone temple as Ulic drops himself down into the chair at the vanity against the wall, one hand going absently to his lightsaber and lifting it off his belt. He’s left his heavy pauldrons on a table out in the outer room, and his cloak pools scarlet like blood against the stone floor, just barely visible from where he sits. The rest of his armor is discarded nearby; in nothing but his tunic, pants, belt, and, naturally, the amulet, he finally feels able to relax in a way he hasn’t since he offered himself as collateral for the amulet and the Keto cousins’ loyalty. Even with the doors locked and his awareness spread out into the Force, alert for any kind of treachery, Cinnagar had felt like a minefield surrounding him, the jaws of a trap just waiting to close. Without anyone there he trusted unconditionally to watch his back, he’d been all too keenly aware of the danger he was in, between Satal’s jealous hatred and Aleema’s manipulative seductions. Gods, honestly, getting captured on Coruscant was almost a relief for the excuse it gives him to avoid the Empress Teta system for a few weeks.

Yavin IV has always felt a bit like a respite, even from the first moment he set foot on its surface, led onward by a ghost and a promise of knowledge that could save them all. The dark side pulses just beneath the earth like a heartbeat, focused up through the temples the massassi helped build and increased by the power of the tropical storms that sweep the moon multiple times a month. Ulic closes his eyes and leans back in the chair, reaches out into the rush of the Force around him, lets the dark and its cold fire wrap him in an embrace; it’s been too long since he’s had the time to just- let everything go and meditate, reach out into the living, breathing power surrounding him and feel its ebb and flow like his own breath.

The kyber crystal in his palm hums a resonance with the amulet against his chest, the brand on his forehead, the Force echoing through and around him, a bright reassurance of the path he’s chosen, the way forward. All of the bloodshed will pave the way for the resurgence of the Sith, and Force, but he thinks if only the Jedi masters could understand how this feels, the Force heavy against his skin whispering promises of power and success and acceptance, the sheer, utter rightness of the Dark, then perhaps more of them would join him, instead of opposing him on some pointless moral grounds. As if their morality ever helped him when he was thrown time and again into situations he didn’t have the tools to handle, when he was constantly scolded for his failures and never rewarded for his successes.

The only person morality ever did anything for was Nomi, and it chained her.

The sound of footsteps echoes into the bedroom from the outer chamber - Exar’s, he recognizes them by rhythm alone, even without the aid of the Force and the bond and the way his amulet has abruptly warmed against his skin. There’s the rustle of fabric, the clinking of metal, and then Exar walks into the room, and even without opening his eyes Ulic smiles.

“You appear to be settling in well,” the Dark Lord of the Sith says, and Ulic stretches and sits properly upright again, opening his eyes and tossing his lightsaber onto the vanity table as soon as it returns to his hand. Exar has stripped out of most of his outer robes and finery as well, his ponytail spilling over his shoulder and tangling with the golden earring threaded through his ear. He looks far more human than he had on the floor of the Senate as he perches on the arm of the couch across the room, infuriatingly far out of reach for a man Ulic has only seen in holos for months.

“I thought you were showing Cay around the Corsair,” Ulic says in response, letting his eyes trace the lean lines of Exar’s body, the coiled power in his deceptively narrow frame and the muscles that Ulic knows from experience are far stronger than anyone would expect. The trio of scars across Exar’s face add a sharpness to his cheekbones, even when twisted by the smile curling across his mouth with a fondness most would consider uncharacteristic, and Ulic lets his eyes linger on his master’s lips for a moment longer than strictly necessary. It has been too bloody long.

That smile shifts a little more into a smirk and Exar leans back against the back of the couch, tossing his ponytail over his shoulder with a expansive motion. “Cay is less fun than you are.”

“It’s a little hard to be fun from across the room,” Ulic says, and crooks a finger at the other man, only half expecting a response - Exar does whatever he wants, whenever he wants, more akin to the nexu that prowl these forests than anything else. “Come here.”

“Ordering me around, now?” Exar asks, but he does stand in a loose, casual motion, crossing the room in a few languid strides to stand over Ulic, one knee braced against the edge of the chair and one hand pressing against the back of it next to his head, the other reaching over and taking Ulic’s chin in those long fingers that have always held a fascination he can never quite avoid. Exar tilts his chin up so their eyes meet and the gesture is a softer echo of the possession broadcast to the rest of the galaxy on Coruscant, still enough to send a rush of heat through him. “How very brave of you.”

“Bravery always has been one of my principle character traits, right next to arrogance,” Ulic murmurs, and brushes one hand down Exar’s side to settle on the other man’s hip. “I missed you.”

Ulic! I can feel you out there. It’s dark. I’m trapped. I survived… but I’m trapped. Ulic! Why don’t you answer me? Don’t leave me! Ulic! Ulic?