Jump to content

Korriban


Exodus

Recommended Posts

... Two exits. One is never acceptable.

No windows. Sith didn't need windows.

Heartbeat, always good.

Small footsteps, echoing off the stone; probably Acolytes.

No light. Only shadows...

Keenava tilted her head from side-to-side as she emerged from the bacta in adequate condition, letting her lekku fall and twitch as she stretched. Whispers of pain tingled in her back and abdomen, but little else remained of the wounds that nearly cleft her body in twain. She brushed her fingers over her bare skin; a silent test. Nothing else claimed her shell - nothing unexpected at least.

 

The Twi'lekk flexed her hands, feeling as her warm lifeblood surged through her cold frame. She breathed. Each movement - each articulation - was a choreographed routine. It was familiar. The only peculiarity was her metal foot, which was becoming more and more typical as time wore onward. The brisk air of Korriban's dead washed through the hall of Assassin's and whisked past Keenava as she dressed in plain clothes.

 

Note to self: find someone to fix my leathers...

 

She settled her small armory at her hips, crouched, and then quickly made her way down the hall. Many acolytes thought to stop her for questions. They wondered why she'd returned when it seemed she was dead set on leaving. But, just as their questions were posed, their quarry had vanished. They were left dumbfounded in the middle of hallways and studies. It wasn't until she'd reached one of the Praxeum's many libraries that Keenava re-emerged. She stopped for a moment and took a small supply of books on poisons - both mundane and magical - from one of the shelves, and then vanished into the Assassin Wing once more.

 

Every other hour Keenava appeared on a balcony reading quietly to herself. Just as an acolyte thought to approach her, however, she would vanish and re-appear in another alcove or balcony.

 

 

Keenava Two Suns.png

Link to comment
Share on other sites

Neive looked over the two before looking to the sith in front of him, bowing for the superior, but not falling to a knee as the other two. He stayed silent as he looked to the two between him and the trandoshan, somewhere in the back of his mind saying that if the man was hostile, at least there would be two between him and the sith. After a second, he spoke.

"By order of lord lockjaw, I have been assigned to train with the two you find before you, sir." Neive stood straight and at attention. "But beside the point, it is an honor to meet you." He saw his attire, and strings started connecting for Neive. "Wait... General?" He bowed again. "General Omm, it is a privilege to be in your presence."

Ac6dGFj.png
Link to comment
Share on other sites

=======================

// Korriban, Academy

// For General Omm & Acheron

=======================

 

The ride to the temple was peaceful and quite. Perhaps the last time Camik would feel such sensations, so he relished in the moments while he had them. Despite trying to relax he found he was anxious, eager even to get to the temple and begin his training. He looked down at the stick that he now possessed. What had caused him to reach for it? IT wasn’t like he had seen something like it before or knew what secrets it held but instead it was like he had been drawn to it.

 

As the speeder approached he couldn’t help but notice the structures. Despite traveling a good portion of the galaxy, delivering goods he was amazed at the monuments and the building that stood before him.

 

As he got out of the speeder, he looked around and thought to himself So this is where it begins

v7G1vaY.png
Link to comment
Share on other sites

The Best Behavior pulled out of hyperspace over Korriban and hailed the spaceport for guidance to land. After transmitting documents and responding to purpose of visit inquiries, the ship was given a berth to land at the academy hangar. At touchdown Ailbasí already had a bag ready and was moving down the ramp the moment it lowered. In times like this you just had to keep a forward momentum or the anxiety and trepidation would catch up to you.

 

Ailbasí was wearing one of her dig site outfits, a getup that her father had helped her put together for when she was studying in less civilized places. It was baggy enough to hide her figure, and even had some reinforced padding on it in case things got violent. She also kept the hood up to hide her long hair and obscure her face in shadow. Creeps were a universal constant on every populated planet in the galaxy, and there was no reason for Korriban to be an exception to the rule. She palmed her chemspray and carried her keys in a way that allowed them to double as an improvised weapon as she approached the massive building through a sprawling tent city.

 

The earlier conversation with the flight controller had included a suggestion to check in with the recruitment desk in the academy for reassignment. Ailbasí didn’t know if being reassigned had negative connotations in the Sith order, but she hoped that it would offer a new perspective. Her observations of Sheog and her own personal experiences with the Dark Side had made her feel less like she was controlling anything and more like she was being chained up and dragged along behind a speeder. It was too much, and maybe that meant that sorcery wasn’t what she was meant for. Or maybe she just needed to study harder. She had so many questions and not nearly enough answers. Even the other voice had been quiet lately.

 

The recruiting office was less than crowded but not empty either, with most of the people being sorted into what seemed like new applicant lines. One of the posted guards did a double take when he saw her and muttered something along the lines of surprise that she had survived. Thinking back to introduction to the Sith, he wasn’t wrong for his surprise at the revelation, so she decided not to make a scene. When he collected himself he gestured to a smaller line, perhaps meant for reassignment of already registered apprentices, and she joined that line. Everyone in line was quiet, either to project an image or to hide their own insecurities, and Ailbasí decided not to upset that status quo.

 

It wasn’t long before she was at the desk facing a man in what seemed like his late twenties, dressed in ceremonial robes rather than the business professional outfits that Ailbasí usually saw in academia. His face was surly and his lips held a not even bothered to be hidden sneer. The skin around his eyes was unnaturally dark like you sometimes saw in heavy Dark Side users and he had numerous tattoos.

 

“Here are my datadocs, I’m here for reassignment under a new master.”

 

The man snatched her multipass out of her hand and began entering data.

 

He eyed her up and down as her file came up on his screen. “Our records have you as Sheog the Mad’s apprentice, but the progress notes don’t have any actual notations of training milestones, just sketches of you in revealing leather outfits. So either you can take your skanky self over to the new apprentices line and stop wasting my time, or you can file a petition of your totally not fabricated tale of how you were totally training the entire time and submit it for inquiry, which may require months. The form must be filled out in triplicate, and all of my pens seem to have dried out, so you’ll have to run back to your ship and get one from there.”

 

Ailbasí felt like she had been slapped in the face. Her cheeks flushed red with embarrassment, and the realization that everyone in the room was now staring at her made her have to hold back tears. Everything she had done, everything she had survived over the last few months, invalidated due to clerical omission. How could they take that away from her?!

 

“Awww, is someone disappointed that their little modeling sesh didn’t get the results they wanted,” the registrar chided.

 

She felt something new inside of her, and Ailbasí realized that it was the strength that she had found surviving her ordeals. Unlike the unknowable vastness of the Dark Side that she had confronted in her earlier training, this was personal, this was hers. She seized hold of it with her mind’s eye, like a huntress grasping comfortably on the hilt of a blade, and willed herself to draw and brandish it.

 

And it listened.

 

It felt rapturous to hold, a righteous and justified anger that the soon to be recipient deserved to have loosed on him. She focused on his face and yanked it towards herself, sending the man sprawling over the desk, his face an inch or two away from hers. The flesh sizzled and popped where her projected hand touched, and the man began screaming in pain until she seized his throat with her physical hand.

 

“I’m not disappointed, I’m angry. I did not kill my enemies, consume the weak to overcome my wounds, raise their corpses to do my bidding, and rend the soul of a krayt dragon just to have some wannabe conduit of the dark powers who users more eyeliner than my three old roommates and I combined try to push me around. So here’s what is actually going to happen. You are going to get me a cup of caf from the office, and then you are going to immaculately write out my petition for me, because real Sith don’t do clerical work. And about those pens not working…”

 

She wrapped her hand around the mass of pens in the cup on the desk and brought them down hard on one of his hands supporting him on the desk. He tried to pull them out but she stopped him.

 

“You can take one out at a time to write my petition, and if we need more pens, then I will find new and exciting places to put them.”

 

She released her hold on him and he ran back into the office to get her caf. The actual petition itself didn’t matter at this point, it was about defining her qualifications through action, pushing back against the people that pushed her. The man came back with a cup and its contents were as dark and bitter as Ailbasí’s current mood, so she through the steaming hot liquid in his face.

 

“Sugar and creamer you moron, who the pfask taught you how to make a cup of caf?”

 

People were still staring at her, but it wasn’t with judgement or mockery anymore, and it felt very, very good.

NYRYS.png

Link to comment
Share on other sites

The Helios, its sleek Nubian hide reflecting the burnished bronze of Korriban's surface, appeared alongside a Grakk Megahauler registered to Lemnos Industries, Nubia. Without delay, the ships were granted clearance, and in short order proceeded to the surface. The stark dry heat of the Korriban desert contrasted sharply with the temperate climate of Nubia, and even the jungle heat of Ryloth was not a direct comparison. The moisture in the air deep in the dark jungles of Ryloth bore all the same heat, but the humidity at least made the temperature slightly bearable. Here, the scalding sands lapped at her ankles, warming her feet through her boots, the harsh wind like a vast ocean that sapped all the vibrancy of her silken skin.

 

Wrapping the velvet cloak about herself more firmly, she crossed the dusty ground of the spaceport. The journey to Korriban had seen her grappling with how much to present her true self: was she simply Director Kitaara Shiri, executive representative of Lemnos Industries? Was she Darth Angelia of the SIth Empire, confirmed by the hand of Haphaestus and blessed with the welcome of Lord Exodus? Dare she be both?

 

Once her feet crossed the threshold into the Academy proper, however, she knew the answer. Tossing her cloak back, she shook her head-tails free and smiled wickedly at the current of power running through her, that which had been cultivated on this planet for countless millennia. The darkness was palpable, delicious; while the atmosphere itself was arid, swimming in the undercurrents of the dark side was like biting into a ripe jura fruit and letting the juices run unchecked down her chin.

 

She was afforded all the courtesy of a visiting dignitary, especially having revealed the gift she had traveled thus far to bring. Her personal droids shouldered the bulk of the task of unloading the shipment of Enyo-class droids into the Academy's belly, taken to be reprogrammed and assigned according to need. They would serve as worthy adversaries for training, extra soldiers for the Empire's conquests, and guardians of its halls.

 

Kitaara had been waiting only a few minutes for her staff to return, in a small office off of the main intake lobby, when a commotion just outside kicked up dust in her impression of the Force. Slipping through the door quietly, she watched as a young entrant, a female Cathar by the look of her, asserted her dominance over a clerical peon who had presumably denied her entrance in some unfavorable way. Leaning casually against the side wall, she grinned at the young Cathar, the muscles in her jaw tightening against the ornate harness she wore over her lekku.

 

"What did it do to offend you?"

uCPChif.png

For when devils do the blackest sins put on, they do suggest at first with heavenly shows...

Link to comment
Share on other sites

Ailbasí suddenly noticed a young woman of roughly equal years to herself leaning casually against a wall and speaking to her. She was a Twi’lek, a species known for its graceful dancers that often caught the eyes of slavers, much like females of her own species. However, the manner of speech and confidence of this this woman suggested that she was no mere slave. Perhaps she was even a Sith, as in one of the true wielders of the Dark Side, as opposed to the fool that she had just put in his place.

 

“It was not an easy road to get here, and he tried to take those triumphs over hardship from me. Sheog was training me the ways of the Sith, but his duties to the Dark Lord called him away, and I was separated from the teachers he delegated to take over my training during a two month long exploration of trance state.”

NYRYS.png

Link to comment
Share on other sites

Folding her arms across her chest, Angelia shifted her weight and settled in against the wall once more. "He deserved it, then." Her lekku shivered, a barely noticeable tic, but one she knew outed her feelings where this Cathar's instructor was concerned. The cool and aloof demeanor refused to waver, but a glimmer of fire was visible in her dark eyes. The comportment of the mad Hutt was forefront in her memory as she spoke, the thought of his manic hunger creeping along her bones. Her brief brush with his following did not sit well with her. There was a truth of his species concealed maliciously under the strength of his entourage: the greed that draws all things--material wealth, possessions, even beings themselves--that Kitaara had seen present in every Hutt slaver she had ever had the misfortune to cross. The Dark Lord trusted Sheog, and that was enough for her at this juncture, but she had seen nothing of his actions to demonstrate an identity as a liberator. Perhaps this girl could speak to that.

 

In any case, she was curious to see what he had managed to teach her if much of her study had focused on the trance state.

 

Crossing to the desk where the clerk once more cowered, she glanced at the Cathar's file, still open on the terminal before him. She was registered as one Ailbasí Zirtani, and the lewd sketches that replaced her progress reports were as real as the man's sarcastic dismissal. Her cerulean skin purpled in the apples of her cheeks. Never had she met a single male of any species that could resist such objectification, and usually, it was less about sating their internal lusts and much more about the removal of power from a female they considered a potential threat to their ego. Haphaestus was the one exception to her experience, and she attributed this to his mysterious hybrid nature. If this young Ailbasí had earned such targeted disdain, it was likely that the males of Sheog's entourage had perceived her as a threat because of her superiority.

 

The clerk, who was struggling to bring up an electronic version of the paperwork to which he had so smugly diverted Ailbasí, suddenly found himself struggling against an invisible hand that inexorably tightened around his windpipe, drawing his face down to press into the cold surface of his desk. Clinically, dispassionately, Kitaara cocked her head to one side as she studied him.

 

"Let this be a lesson to you," she announced coldly, and as his eyes rolled back in his head, giving up consciousness, her icy grip released. HIs chair spun recklessly away from him as he slumped sideways out of it unceremoniously into a heap on the floor.

 

Straightening once more to her full height, Angelia returned her attention to Ailbasí. Extending a hand, she indicated the hallway that led into the belly of the academy, the central training atrium where outcries and snarls and clashes of sabers could be heard. "You need not prove yourself on paper. Come, show me what you have learned, and I shall determine your worthiness," she said with a sly and challenging grin.

uCPChif.png

For when devils do the blackest sins put on, they do suggest at first with heavenly shows...

Link to comment
Share on other sites

  • Midday… or around the time of high sun on Korriban.
    Smells: death, Yakkis bisporus caps, Varina hyphae, Arictha radix, Atropa belladonna, and pungent solvent odors mingling amidst the stale dry air of the Praxeum; these experiments reek.
    Sounds: shuffling feet, hasty breaths and faint heartbeats; to be expected. They still look for me.

 

The sound of stone grinding against stone echoed off the spartan chamber walls. The sight and smell of blackened pulp were all that could be discerned from the hall. The smells were atrocious. Dead rodents and small creatures lined the chamber and added to the musk that built in her wake. She was careful to mar any grunt or vocal expression of effort, but some sounds were to be expected. After all, she’d been diligently attending to her project for the last few hours.

 

She had one more test. A small emaciated creature that attempted to survive on the barren planet of Korriban, squirmed in its small rusted container. It looked up into Keenava’s cold red eyes as she dosed some cheese with her volatile mixture. But, despite witnessing the poison, the lust for food was stronger. The rodent-esque animal resisted its bonds, eyeing the snack with its beedy gaze. It frothed and chittered, but only when Keenava lifted the lid of its trap, did it seize its bounty. And, only when it had fully enjoyed its meal, did the little creature regret its decision. With a small screech and gurgle, the bundle of fur plopped to the table.

 

Joylessly and mute, Keenava put the furball back into its cage and watched. She counted silently to herself and watched as the cage sat still. The mild air of Korriban whistled as it passed through small holes in the stonework. The pitter patter of acolyte’s feet wisped past, paused, and then reconsidered entering a room smelling of death. Yet, the rodent stayed still. The smell seemed to get worse, possibly indicating that the rodent had fully passed. Keenava cursed to herself and punched the lab table, shaking her hand afterward as stinging sparks prickled up her wrist.

 

  • *scrip*

 

The sound was small but undeniable. Keenava’s red eyes lit with excitement and she streamed back to the little cage, watching as the little critter got back to its feet and started to resist the bounds of its prison once more. Success! Now, all I need for humanoid trials is a viable subject to draw on. And I need to redo my calculations. Bigger aliens, more or less potency...

 

I could… Wha?

 

It moved like velvet. Dark eyes, pools of liquid obsidian, peered into the small chamber and studied her. It’s form was blurry and obscured. And the low-light of Keenava’s room did little to illuminate it. The Twi’lek stirred at its entrance, but could do little to prevent it.

 

Where did you co-

 

You think you can run from me so easily?

 

Chutes of pain scraped against the scars on Keenava’s back and abdomen. Keenava recoiled, reaching for the saber at her hip, but fell squirming to the cold stone.

 

That won’t work this time little one. Hmm… What’s this?

 

The dark presence moved further into the lab and hovered over her work.

 

Experimenting? Is that… Nightshade? Interesting.

 

The dark presence fell from its place near the ceiling and oozed into Keenava’s wriggling mass, suffusing her with its essence. Keenava stopped twitching and lay terribly still for a few seconds. The frigid hand of death clasped her waking mind and drew her back to a standing position. Her eyes, normally vibrant and red, were a cold black. Not even the whites of her eyes stood out from the liquid ebony that glinted only lightly in the low-lit room. On invisible strands, the Twi’lek grabbed at the mixture she’d been preparing on the table and then moved it closer to her mouth. There was a moment when resistance built against the hand, but strange phantom glee filled her as the bowl touched her lips. Then acrid stench tickled her nose and warm semi-solid liquid dripped down her throat. After that… everything faded away. The room seemed fuzzy. The world seemed fuzzy… And then something hard hit the back of her head.

 

 

Keenava Two Suns.png

Link to comment
Share on other sites

The sounds of combat surrounded Ailbasí in the training arena, and she found herself intrigued seeing the more formal training of Sith in combat. This was the sort of things that the holovids loved to show in the action flicks of Sith and Jedi, highly choreographed combat between skilled opponents. She should have been panicking that Sheog and his followers hadn’t taught her anything about combat, but a strange casualness stilled her mind. Muscle memory that didn’t belong to the Cathar kicked in, and her knees bent as she lowered her center of gravity. Her eyes moved over the girl and an alien perspective seemed to be framing what she saw into new information, and she supplemented its logic with her own.

 

The woman was at ease before combat, which meant that she had experience, more than Ailbasí did for sure. Ailbasí had no weapon, let alone anything that could withstand a saber, which is traditionally what a Sith would have. This meant that there was a wide radius of nope in the woman’s front arc that would be suicidal for Ailbasí to occupy. She also probably wasn’t fast enough to flank the woman as she could turn faster than Ailbasí could move. She would have to find a way close the distance and strike from where she wasn’t expected.

 

A plan began to form between herself and the phantom memories in her head. Use the mace to remove sight and smell from the equation. Bound low and right towards the statistical offhand of the woman. Extend claws and swipe at the hamstring, wounded animals don’t survive long in the sands. She would have to commit to the plan entirely from start to finish, she didn’t have the muscle intelligence to swap things up mid action.

 

The mace slid out quickly, a practiced action of muscle memory that was all her own, and she depressed the stud to send a cloud of chemical deterrent towards the woman. No time to wait for results, she dropped low and bounded right with claws reflexively extended, this part was the Otherness inside her head right now. As she started to clear the woman’s side she swiped her claws towards her hamstring.

NYRYS.png

Link to comment
Share on other sites

((At Camik Rhonik and any with him))

 

"You there! Overgrown Feline!"

 

A snide voice called out to Camik from across the landing area, coming from a tall lean redheaded man dressed in a Sith uniform who looked like he led a group of two others. All three were young looking, none had the telltale signs of Dark Side use. If there was any confusion as to who the young man addressed, he dismissed it by pointing dead at the Cathar.

 

"Fetch my bags. You might be worthy to be my errand runner, if you prove useful."

 

From the shadows, another being watched the situation unfold, an older woman, but not so old as to appear physically incapable. This new batch of recruits were whiny and demanded everything, and they always acted so kriffing entitled. Bev had unfortunately been assigned here, but she refused to benefit those who wouldn't benefit themselves. After she expressed as much to her superiors (a bold if not dangerous move), they simply agreed with her. It seemed the position was punishment enough for getting a squad of acolytes killed. The ways of the Sith did not bend for initiates, though, and her superiors were well aware.

 

One thing was for certain, Bev was very intrigued at how the situation would turn out. And so, she watched.

O1IsDR9.png

Like my posts? Google "zalgo font."

If you meet me, have some courtesy, have some sympathy, have some taste.
Use all your well-learned politics, or I'll lay your soul to waste.

 

 

Link to comment
Share on other sites

=======================

// Korriban, Academy

=======================

 

Of all the things that could be said to Camik, this was possibly the worst possible thing. He was tempted to go over to the group and rip out the speakers throat. The simple way he was being dismissed as a slave got Camik’s hackles up. He would never be a slave again.

 

Controlling his anger he put on a confused look and pointed to himself, as if to say “me”? When the confirming finger pointed at him he walked over to the luggage the speaker was talking about. Instead of bending down to pick it up, he decided to ‘mark’ it emptying his bladder on the luggage. Fully relieved he looked at speaker, kicked the luggage off the landing platform and letting it fall off into a ravine below and said ”oops. I am so very clumsy. ”

 

He was quite sure there would be repercussions but he was not going to be treated as a slave and what better way to establish himself then deal with these spoiled insolent brats.

v7G1vaY.png
Link to comment
Share on other sites

The scent of anxiety rolled thick off the mind of the female Cathar, this Zirtani seeming to almost tremble in anticipation as Kitaara led the way into the central training arena. The sounds of battle and the fragrance of sweat from easily a dozen species who gathered here under the banner of Exodus' empire assailed the senses immediately, and there was something primal that the concoction elicited from within the Lady of the Sith.

 

A low-level rumble from the instinctual center within her bespoke a gathering storm cloud from within the feline, a premeditated plan of attack that she could see clearly through the open window in the other's mind. There was something admirable about the intensity of her strike, but her unpracticed footsteps gave her away. Angelia rolled away from the chemical cloud, wrapping the heavy velvet of her cloak around the extended claws and with a dancer's grace dropping an elbow into the small of Ailbasí's back. The mace dispersed harmlessly with a summoned gust of air from within the Temple, carrying it towards another pair of duelists, soon to become their issue instead.

 

Side-stepping the clumsy and insecure footwork of the Cathar, she backed out of reach of the long and lethal-looking claws, unclasping the cloak from around her shoulders and letting it flutter to the ground, exposing the reinforced combat suit underneath. "Full marks for spirit, but yet unskilled. Tell me," she purred in her Lothian accent as she made ready should another strike be attempted, "since your footwork tells me all I need to know, was it purely his alchemical skill that inspired you to learn from the Lord Sheog? What did you learn at his side?"

 

Curiously, she reached for Ailbasí's mind, testing to see if she would meet resistance.

uCPChif.png

For when devils do the blackest sins put on, they do suggest at first with heavenly shows...

Link to comment
Share on other sites

((My apol;ogies for the late reply, I only saw this yesterday. I'm usually kind of busy and don't often check to see whether or not someone has replied. If you want faster results, just hit me up with a quick PM or FB message telling me you posted so I know I owe a reply.))

 

((Sanctioned Sith NPCs))

 

The sneer on the face of the ginger quickly turned to rage as the Cathar began urinating on his property, and as he kicked it off a ledge, he made a move towards Camik. He was stopped, however, by a stern voice, amplified through some unknown means.

 

"Stop, Shren. You asked for what you got."

 

Shren halted mid stride, recognizing the woman's voice immediately.

 

"But Master, you saw what this insolent cur did to disrespect me! I demand retribution!"

 

Bev reached out with invisible snaking tendrils of dark energy, forcibly shoving him down to his knees as she walked towards the group.

 

"This is a teachable moment, Shren, so I will teach you. The ways of the Sith don't advocate for lording power and subjugating people merely for its own sake. They definitely don't protect you from the consequences of your own actions." At the word consequences, the young man began to whimper, obviously suffering from some unseen pain that began wracking his entire body, though he was still firmly held in place on his knees. If he weren't, he'd likely be rolling around on the ground. She continued, slowly circling him, his two friends backing away, unwilling to step up for him lest they also be punished.

 

"The Sith teach and offer paths to freedom. To glory. To ascend ones' self beyond the normal means of betterment. Without these ideals, shows of power or status are meaningless. Do I make myself clear? Harass the other students again and I will flay the flesh from your bones myself and feed it to the war hounds."

 

With an effortless flick of the wrist, she released him with a telekinetic shove, sending him sliding across the smooth spaceport floor towards his friends. Bev's eyes turned towards Camik, her yellowed orbs studying his body.

 

"You. Come here. Introduce yourself. You are a newcomer, yes?"

O1IsDR9.png

Like my posts? Google "zalgo font."

If you meet me, have some courtesy, have some sympathy, have some taste.
Use all your well-learned politics, or I'll lay your soul to waste.

 

 

Link to comment
Share on other sites

That… did not go as intended. Her pride would have been bruised if she had ever received any combat training beyond the self defense courses Atani had dragged her to at Charmath Uni. She recovered as best she could from the blow while responding to the woman’s query.

 

“He found me. I was doing a permitted survey for an archaeological dig when I was detained by Sith guards and held in the detention cells. After being held for awhile I was escorted before him for what at the time I thought was a trial, but now think was more of an interview. He must have liked what I said because he gave me full access to the Sith historical archives while we departed for Onderon.

 

When we arrived I had my first encounter with the Force, a Sith battle meditation. It was powerful, and terrifying, and overwhelming. Afterwards, Sheog offered for me to partake in consuming the fear of the planetary population with him, but I declined. I felt like if I did it, I would be swept away and lost to the current. I don’t know if that makes me weak or just cautious, but when I look at Sheog, I don’t see a person, I see the darkest, most sadistic aspects of the Force wearing a Hutt shaped mask. I want to use my power, not for my power to use me.

 

After that, I was dispatched to parley with the Onderonian nobility. I wasn’t fear and death incarnate, but I think that is why they sent me, I didn’t have a reputation for brutality or slaughter. Once the Galactic Alliance stood down, the responsibility of my training was delegated to two underlings of Sheog’s. They sent me out onto the streets with a knife and told me to come back with a kill. I came back with two. Not because of any particular skill or bloodlust, I just don’t think that they expected me to fight back as hard as I did.

 

I was in a hospital for a while after that, broken finger bones, dislocated shoulder, multiple lacerations, and a concussion. Someone smuggled me out back to the Sith and Black Sun fleets, and there I met up with the twins again. They were teaching me meditation when I blacked out. Woke up two months later, surrounded by corpses and fully recovered. The scent of slaughter attracted a canyon krayt dragon, but between a hunter that happened to stumble upon me, my research into the creature’s biology, and some poorly reanimated corpses, we managed to mortally wound it. I consumed what was left of its life force with the Dark Side after that.

 

I felt a presence on the planet calling out to me, promising to teach me more about the Dark Side and necromancy, but again I felt adrift in a dark and violently turbulent sea, and that wasn’t what I wanted. You wonder why Sheog taught me so little, I think he wanted to turn me into another conduit like himself, another mask for the Dark Side to hollow out and wear. I didn’t want that so I noped the pfask out of there and came here. Grabbing that desk clerk was the first time that I actually felt like I was controlling the Force, and not just being immersed in it.”

 

Ailbasí could feel the woman poking and prodding around in her brain. All of this immersion and connection had left her strangely attuned to the connections between individuals. She teased out the invading presence with thoughts of her next move, before enveloping it with the fragmented shards of the girl that she had killed on Tatooine. Like smooshing a spider with a piece of tissue paper and bundling it up tightly. Except the tissue was made of the razor edged fractal shards of a former person’s mind. She didn’t have the speed to outmaneuver the woman, but maybe a sudden burst of direct aggression would catch her off guard? Hoping for an opening from her mental trick, she discarded grace and poise to try and close in enough for a grapple so that the woman couldn’t use agility to evade her.

NYRYS.png

Link to comment
Share on other sites

Camik prepared himself for a fight as soon as the luggage left his boot. He fully expected it and something inside of him was spoiling for one. He kept loose and relaxed though trying not to betray his preparedness. That was until the insolent youth took a step towards him then stopped, all by the source of a voice. A voice that was almost like a physical wall to the spoiled brat.

 

He began to watch in awe as the tendrils of dark energy controlled the spoiled brat, making him into a puppet. This was why he had come to this planet. This was what he strived to learn. It was good to be able to fight, that was what would help keep him from being placed in situations he couldn’t get out of but this, this was POWER.

 

As she lectured the brat he stood a little straighter and smiled a bit more with each word she emphasised. It was like a speech that had called him home.

 

Being called forward he walked towards her, the spoiled brat forgotten for now. He stood straight backed, not in a posture of fear but one of strength. He might not have it now but he would soon or die trying. He was becoming more and more confident that he would work to bring his people back to the pride they once had. Mandalorians were not the only warrior race, as he spoke he developed a new goal. Lead his people out of slavery and to greatness. ”Yes Mistress I am new to the planet.” He used the term mistress not as one that was his master but as a term of deference, acknowledge her strength and power. ”I am Camik Rhonik and I have come to learn and to grow more powerful.”

v7G1vaY.png
Link to comment
Share on other sites

((Sanctioned Sith NPCs))

 

Bev circled Camik slowly as he replied to her, noting body language, posture, tail movements...she had enough spacer experience to understand that Cathars talk with their entire body. And while most Cathar didn't usually consider a non-Cathar aware of that, in this case it spoke volumes to her. What she couldn't glean from his stray thoughts, a twitch of a whisker, a flick of a tail gave away. It was something she was adept at...Which is likely why she was assigned to the academy.

 

"You do not fear me."

 

She spat the phrase out, more as a matter of fact than anything she was impressed with.

 

"Foolish. But you will learn. You will learn to use fear as your tool. Your average garden variety Sith is usually too proud to admit any fears, in case they are turned to weakness. The truth of the matter is, fear is healthy. Fear keeps you alive. Controlling that fear is the first step towards forging something worthwhile with yourself."

 

Abruptly, the woman began to walk off. There was no need for a show of power, and he had done nothing wrong, yet. She called over her shoulder nonchalantly, not exactly caring if he heard.

 

"Hallway on your left. Second right, register with the clerk. Set an early alarm."

O1IsDR9.png

Like my posts? Google "zalgo font."

If you meet me, have some courtesy, have some sympathy, have some taste.
Use all your well-learned politics, or I'll lay your soul to waste.

 

 

Link to comment
Share on other sites

The older sith walked around Camik, clearly inspecting him. It surprised him to hear her state that he did not fear him. A statement he had not heard before, most never cared if he feared them or not. But fear was on old friend of his. Fear kept him warm at night. At any time throughout his life he would be beaten, could be killed all at the whims of his master. He had learned to push fear aside and not let it rule him.

 

He was not stupid enough to correct her though.

 

Camik was determined to take any morsel of knowledge this Sith had to offer and use it like a starving cat finding food for the first time.

 

As he watched her go he eyed the spoiled brat and briefly wondered if he was going to have issues with him. Most likely, though i doubt he will do anything directly the brats ego had been damaged so he would likely want to seek revenge without getting caught.

 

Letting the problem pass for another day Camik walked into the building reporting into the clerk before retired to his assigned room. He set his alarm for early, though this was nothing new for him. Most of his life before being freed he had to ensure he was up before his masters and usually went to bed after them. When he freed himself he allowed himself to sleep in at first but found his body had been used to the amount of sleep he had gotten in the past.

 

As he closed his eyes he found he had some of the strangest dreams, though when he woke the next morning he could not remember them. Strange he thought. They were not nightmares per say but they had left him with the strangest of feelings. Something else for him to worry about at another time. For now he needed to get ready and meet his new Mistress in the hopes of becoming stronger.

v7G1vaY.png
Link to comment
Share on other sites

((Sanctioned NPCs))

 

Early in the morning, the door to Camik's room almost silently slid open. An assassin droid quietly entered, carrying a pain stimulator, a baton-like rod that used electrical pulses to overload a being' s nervous system.

 

The droid, however, was slightly confused when he found Camik awake. "My apologies, master Rhonik. I was sent to wake the new trainees. I was not instructed on what to do if they were already awake. I am to deliver a message after waking, that morning calisthenics will begin promptly in one standard hour and twenty three minutes. You are to meet in training room 47-b, wearing the proper workout uniform. I will...leave you to your business."

 

The droid spun and left, crackling the pain stimulator in the hallway, as if it were disappointed it wasn't allowed to do it's job.

 

((You can backlist waking up if you want, just end your next post at the training room. Two others will be there when you get there, a blond male human and a green female Twi'lekk, both appearing no older than 25)).

O1IsDR9.png

Like my posts? Google "zalgo font."

If you meet me, have some courtesy, have some sympathy, have some taste.
Use all your well-learned politics, or I'll lay your soul to waste.

 

 

Link to comment
Share on other sites

Camik’s natural sleep cycle ended before the early morning sun had risen. Trained from a young age that sleep was a luxury that he had not earned, even when he had earned his freedom his body refused to give him as much sleep as he wanted.

 

Today he was glad for that training. He was not sure what time he needed to be ready but he was sure that it was earlier than than sun would have liked. Nothing like kicking the sun awake for sleep in he thought to himself as he began to get dressed.

 

As he was about to discover his paranoia was not great enough as the door slid open and a droid came in without him noticing. After the droid gave its speech and left, though it appeared sad that it did not get to use its stun baton, Camik slightly began to curse himself. He needed to be more aware of his surroundings. He had heard rumors of Korriban and he let his guard drop on his first morning.

 

Quickly getting changed into clothes better for exercise he left and locked his room, for what good it would do, and went to find the area the morning workout routine would be. He was not trying to be an overachiever by getting there so early but instead his goal was to ensure he was not late. This academy so far seemed a bit of a maze, something he was starting to map out in his head, and he had no intention of being late.

 

He eventually found it, though at the time it was empty. He went in to get a look around, getting the lay of the room, before leaving to wander a bit more to kill some time.

 

When he eventually came back he found the room was no longer empty but had a human male and a Twi'lekk female. At least there will be something nice to look at while they try to kill me he thought to himself. He was under no illusions that these were going to be his friends. Companions, acquaintances teammates sure but friends that was highly unlikely. He walked in and gave them both a nod hello before he started to stretch and warm up a bit.

v7G1vaY.png
Link to comment
Share on other sites

Bastion of Pelko

Sith Academy

 

Above the planet, the supply shuttle carrying Qaela reverted from hyperspace and began its descent to the Bastion of Pelko. Qaela had spent the trip in meditation and deep thought in preparation for this task, and was determined to do her part in molding the Sith into their maximum potential. She studied the temple's layout and mission from whatever small amounts of data she could find, and prepared to learn far more when she arrived. She would build these disparate, self centered creatures into a cohesive, unified Tribe even if blood had to be spilled to do it. Nature sought balance, but it could also be cruel, and she would not tolerate any who tried to elevate self at the expense of the Sith Order as a whole.

 

She directed them to land in full view, at the front gate. When she hatch lowered, she strode confidently down it with the small hovercart containing her effects trailing behind. In a rare move for her, she let loose with her mind's defenses and barriers and spread her presence throughout the facility in a way similar to Lord Sheog on Onderon. There would be challengers, that she knew, due to her abnormal upbringing and sometimes strained relationship with the Sith. Those she would deal with, but the way was not to slink in like a shadow. The times for her to play in the shadows were over. Dark Lord Exodus wanted her in the spotlight here, so she would be.

 

Within her presence was an unmistakable summons to the largest chamber in the bastion. Those who were weak and new quickly heeded her call while those who were stronger or more established and thus more prideful hesitated or even balked. There were non-Force using staff and slaves on hand to tend to the mundane needs of the facility as well as droids for various purposes. Showing one of the guards with a battle droid on standby her medallion, she commanded, "Take note of any who come late or fail to heed my summons. I want names when I am finished." The man nodded and furiously began typing into a datacard for assistance and began following her.

 

There were Sith of rank here as well, none of whom she knew. She would talk with them and see where they stood. Some might need to be sacked and sent elsewhere to serve the Sith, others could become valuable assets for her in teaching here. She would have to see, and time would be the only guide.

 

When she arrived at the Main Hall, a glorious stone structure designed to hold over ten thousand with ease, she waited only a handful of minutes. When she grew annoyed at waiting, she nodded at the guard to seal the chambers and begin taking note of those who failed to arrive. The sound of the large stone doors sealing shut brought the chambers to silence. Without hesitation, Qaela marched up to the grand podium resplendent in her black Krath leathers, her lightsaber at her hip and her Force imbued wooden spear on her back, and trailed by the darkness of the Force. If this was to be her destiny, then she would embrace it fully.

 

"I am Qaela, last Sister of the Clan of Darksong, now Headmistress of this Bastion by command and will of Dark Lord Exodus," she said as a preamble. There was no pride in her voice, only a mere statement of fact. "I learned from many including then Dark Lord Haphaestus, and Lord Ar-Pharazon and will now give a select number of you the opportunity to learn from me should you prove worthy. I was made a Sith Lord by Lord Ar-Pharazon for leading Jedi Grandmaster Kitt Fitt to a trap and his death. I was recognized a Sith Master by Dark Lord Furion. I have faced Dark Lords and Jedi Grandmasters, and still stand before you. Many have tried to kill me, all have failed, and yet few still live.

 

"Dark Lord Exodus has summoned me to head this Bastion, and so I shall. You may not like me, you may not agree with me, but you will obey my will or pay the consequences. The Sith have eaten at each other for millennia and have suffered every time. The days of the Sith killing more of their own than their enemies are over in these walls. Done are the petty rivalries that result in nothing constructive but weakening of the Order as a whole. Gone are the days of quiet, cowardly assassinations and backstabbing.

 

"Nature is what binds us all whether we like it or not. The Force, of which the Darkness we all embrace is a part of, is a part of Nature. Within Nature is a balance that must be kept or it will find a way to punish the offenders and humble them. As part of the darkness, we must embrace nature's law that the strong must thrive and rule over the weak. It is our place to make ourselves and the Sith Order strong so that it does not collapse as it has countless times to the weaker Jedi. For, it is my contention, that almost without fail, the Sith are always the stronger, but fall apart due to their own fractures and imbalance of nature.

 

"The Rancor does not bow to the nerf, but instead dominates the nerf and eats its fill. If the Rancor eats only what is needed to survive, nature will ensure that the nerfs grow in population as well so there is more for the Rancor's future offspring to flourish. In time, with that balance, the Rancors will continue to grow mighty and strong while the nerfs continue to serve them. However, if the Rancor ignores the balance of Nature and slaughters all of the nerfs for mere pleasure instead of need, it will undoubtedly be able to do so, but will starve itself and die. Nature, if not needed, will bring about its balance by force if necessary. If the Rancor slaughters death and destruction upon the weak without purpose, then death and destruction will also befall it.

 

"The Sith must nurture the strong and conquer the Galaxy, but it must do so wisely and set the groundwork for a thousand years of true Sith greatness and strength. You don't build strength by destroying everything and each other: that only builds your own downfall. To rule over ashes is not to rule at all. Better to rule over a population that recognizes and respects your strength and knows better than to challenge you than to destroy it all, or become a laughing stock for betraying each other. The lone Sith can be destroyed by their enemies or even each other, but a unified Sith is unstoppable.

 

"I will no longer tolerate the petty slaughter and maiming of your fellow Sith without cause. From this moment forward, any who murders a fellow Sith or our servants and slaves pointlessly will be punished severely. Those who do not use the Force here have skills of their own and are costly to find and train, so you shall not squander the Sith Order's resources because you can't control your anger or feel some pathetic need to show off. Those fellow students who are weak have a place and can be sent to hopefully redeem themselves on the battlefield as mere infantry. If they cannot, then they shall serve as a distraction to our enemy so our strong can prevail. Those who fail to meet the standards of this Bastion shall not be spared and eventually promoted out of pity, but shall instead sacrifice their lives in a meaningful manner either for the betterment of the Sith Order or on the battlefield as rejects. If you have a rival, you shall not just kill them and thus deprive the Sith Order of even their menial skills. Instead, you will endure, constantly improve yourself, and be ever vigilant that your rivals over come you. Use their presence to drive yourself instead of growing complacent that they are dead.

 

"I know many will oppose this just as I know there is sometimes a good reason and cause to kill a challenger. For this reason, I shall allow for duels to the death to take place when the circumstances merit it. If a student wishes to kill a rival, they may do so within the Grand Arena with the approval of myself or one of the other Masters. You shall not get to cowardly kill them in the night or ambush them at dinner. Instead, you will prove your true worth in an upfront duel observed by all who wish to view. Show your prowess by defeating your opponents in a straight up fight so all will fear and recognize your greatness."

 

For the first time, malice and threat began to enter her voice and aura. "If you disagree, feel free to challenge me. If you do have the foolishness to challenge me, you had better hope that you win because if you do not, I shall not kill you, but give you a fate far, far worse than death. Your fate will be whispered in these halls fear and trepidation, your presence greeted with mockery and laughter. I do not suspect more than one shall challenge me.

 

"Go now, return to your studies. Grow strong for the Sith. Those who feel they are worthy of approaching me for further training may do so at the Headmistresses' chambers. Otherwise, the rest will continue to receive instruction from the other Masters and Lords."

 

With those words and a simple gesture of her hand, she dismissed the gathering. Without hesitation, she turned and retired to her new office, a list of both those who now served her as teachers and those who failed her summons to contemplate.

Qaela Sig

Send PM's to Travis.

Link to comment
Share on other sites

((Sanctioned NPCs))

 

As the trio began stretching in silence, the red-headed Shren humbly hobbled in, nursing a bruised thigh from what looked like a stun baton wound. He saw Camik areound the same time the other noticed him, but Shren immediately averted his gaze, moving to the opposite side of the group. On the exact moment the time turned over on the hour, Bev stepped into the room, clad in a light calisthenics outfit, though still with her lightsaber strapped to her waist.

 

"Good. We can begin. Welcome to the Sith. You are all here because someone, somewhere saw potential in you, and you chose to leap for the opportunity to turn yourself into something better. When you walked through those doors, you left your old lives behind. You are not Sith yet, but Dark Lord willing, you will be by the time I'm finished forging you into a honed weapon. From this moment on, this group will be known as Fireteam Adder. You work, move, operate as a team, or you die as a team."

 

There were uncertain glances between the students at the last statement, and with a slight smile, she continued.

 

"Yes, that's correct. Not everyone who attends this academy will leave here living. If you're lucky, when you fail you might simply die. Worse fates include becoming research fodder for our Krath scientists, or if you've a capable body, you might have the luxury of being a personal servant. But if you are worthy, you will become Sith. Two of you already met me, but the other two have not. I am Lord Bev Qun ((pronounced "kyoon")). I was known as "The Durasteel Master" because of how effective a Sith Warrior I am. Shren Vek, Lance Hohner, Mephala Nik'Torr, and Camik Rhonik. Get to know each other over the next few days, your lives could depend on it."

 

She assumed a leading position in front of the group, in full view for demonstrating some of the movements they would be doing in their workout.

 

"But now, calisthenics. A Warrior is an instrument of death, their body a well-oiled machine. This is maintenance. For some of you...remedial maintenance." She shot a hard glance at the blond haired young man, who was slightly chubby compared to the others. But it really made no difference, if he survived, he wouldn't be chubby when he left the academy. The workout itself lasted well over an hour, though it looked like Bev had barely broken a sweat by the time it concluded. Notifying them of their next gathering location, uniform, and time (which was a good two standard hours away), she left them to themselves on the pads in the workout room.

O1IsDR9.png

Like my posts? Google "zalgo font."

If you meet me, have some courtesy, have some sympathy, have some taste.
Use all your well-learned politics, or I'll lay your soul to waste.

 

 

Link to comment
Share on other sites

Camik eyed Shren as he walked into the room. He should not have been surprised that he was there, after all he did say the word “master”. Camik had no sympathy for thigh. Camik was sure the spoiled brat had deserved it.

 

Those thoughts quickly changed as Bev started to speak talking about hey prospered or died as a team. not only am I going to have to work him but I have make sure his attitude does not get in the way of us thriving. he thought to himself.

 

Before he could spare many more thoughts on that they dived into the workout routine. "The Durasteel Master" may have called it calisthenics but that word implied a light workout and this was anything but. The group was all but ready to fall over by the time they were finished. At least all but their Master that was who looked like she had barley broken a sweat. How was it someone that looked so old was in such great shape. After all before this Camik though he was in great shape but this was just his first lesson in how much he really did not know.

 

Upon finishing the workout routine they were given a short break to prepare for the next iteration of the days training. As much as he wanted to take a nap he knew there would not be enough time so he forced himself to get cleaned up and get dressed in the days uniform. Grabbing his newly acquired weapon he found the best place to store it, due to its length, was across the back of his shoulders. It was easy and quick enough to draw and this way it stayed out of his way. He was not sure if he needed to bring it but since the General had directed him to pick it out before coming here he thought it would be good to have.

 

Years of having to get ready and beat his masters was serving him well now for he found he was the first one at the transport. He could have gone ahead but every time he started to board the transport he kept hearing in his brain You work, move, operate as a team, or you die as a team. So he waited until all three of the others arrived, though the last person to arrive was not surprisingly Shren. As he sauntered towards the transport Camik pushed down his irritation and yelled at him to hurry up ”Lets go Shren, we need to make sure we are there on time.” He had always been taught that if you were not fifteen minutes early you were late. ”Do you really want to risk the wrath of our Master if there is a problem with the transport.” That thought seemed to light a spark in him as he started to trot towards the transport.

 

Once on board the transport took off to take them to the next place they would see their Master. It was not that far away but it was far enough that they were not given much in the way leisure time to get ready. The next thing he knew he felt a boot to his side. ”Wake up sleepy head we stopped.” It seemed that he had taken advantage of the trip and got some sleep. He did not know how long he was out for, but upon exiting the transport he realized that there was nothing around. Checking the coordinates as the transport left them he realized that they were still at least fifteen minutes away. ”Well it seems that morning calisthenics are not over.” with that he started with a trot going to the meeting place.

v7G1vaY.png
Link to comment
Share on other sites

((A week later...I sincerely apologize, brother. I used to be able to crank multiple out on the daily.

 

Sanctioned NPCs))

 

The transport had left them on top of a large, barren, and mostly flat plateau, Bev having intentionally instructing the transport pilots to drop them off where they were so they had to rush to meet her on time. The Cathar arrived first, as she expected. The race typically was more muscular than most, and Camik was no exception, a fact she knew would help him in the weeks to come. He was barely even breathing hard, which was fine.

 

She now wore her traditional Sith Warrior battle armor, hard yet lightweight scaled armor that allowed for an incredible range of movement while affording good protection and leaving few openings, none of which were in blind spots. Her raven black hair was pulled back into a top knot, and while there were creases beginning to run along the age lines on her face, her students could feel deep in their guts the power she exuded, in the backs of their minds she was pure danger, not a being to be trifled with. Her eyes and nose were covered with a stripe of camouflage grease, her yellowed eyes only adding to the fearsome visage.

 

"Tell me, Camik. What do you know of the Sith? Of the Dark Side? Most who wish to join our ranks seek power so they can lord it over others." She shot a glance at Shren as he jogged up, but quickly refocused back to Camik. "Not an entirely unworthy goal, but without perspective, it is a narrow and small-minded purpose. I have been charged with training you four, and I train Sith. But what that means is far more than just ancient powers and laser swords. It begins with the mindset. Tell me what it means, to you, to be a Sith."

O1IsDR9.png

Like my posts? Google "zalgo font."

If you meet me, have some courtesy, have some sympathy, have some taste.
Use all your well-learned politics, or I'll lay your soul to waste.

 

 

Link to comment
Share on other sites

Camik was not moving at top speed, just moving fast enough that he would be late. Every time he thought about going faster he was reminded that they would succeed or fail as a group. If that wasn’t there then he was tempted to just leave them all and be done with them. He could not believe how slow they were going.

 

Camik was not a runner per say but his race gave him the endurance to do it. It was easy for him to forget that not everyone had that benefit and there was no reminders around to tell him otherwise.

 

As he arrived he saw his master dressed in full armor with an aura of death for any that might defy her.

 

Without waiting for the others to catch up she asked Camik a question. Was this going to be asked of the others or was it just for him, being the new commer? Either way it did not matter, he paused for a moment to collect his thoughts before answering. ”Much of the Sith, I only know through rumors, but of the rumors and talk that people say the biggest thing it means to me is Freedom. Freedom to oppressors, Freedom to be my own cat, Freedom from the shackles that enslaved me all my life. When I first discovered I was force sensitive it was because a Jedi told me, but things didn't go well for him and I had to find another avenue to learn from. Further research on them I realized that they were a bunch of hippocrates that shackled themselves to their own ‘ideals’. That life was not for me. Power is something that you either have or you don’t. Being able to lord it over people is a waste of time, for there is always someone stronger that could lord it over you.

 

Of the Dark Side I know next to nothing. Of the Sith, to me it means Power to bring Freedom. ”

 

Camik hoped it was the right answer but it was a truthful answer all along. He was not sure why he brought up the Jedi other than as he was talking about freedom it brought up memories as he found out about the Jedi and realized they had let him stay in slavery while talking about justice. It was because of this he would never forgive them and given the chance make them pay. But he wasn’t going to out of his way to hunt them, that just seemed to much like trying to lord your power over people, a waste of time.

v7G1vaY.png
Link to comment
Share on other sites

((Sanctioned NPCs))

 

Bev nodded, then shifted her gaze to the heavier-set blond man. "Lance?"

 

The young man cocked his head oddly, the only other in the group of four besides Camik who oddly wasn't breathing heavily. His reply was flat and monotonous, as were his facial expressions. "It means no limits when bettering yourself. Like Camik, I approached the Jedi first, but they would not share with me the information I desired except after years of service to their Order. So I sought out the Sith." He rolled up the sleeve on his left arm, giving it a little shake as seams appeared in what looked to be perfectly normal flesh, but as sections mechanically pulled themselves apart, the entire arm was revealed to be an advanced realistic prosthetic multitool. "I prefer to...modify myself, to...improve. The Sith represent the path to perfection."

 

Again, the Sith warrior nodded, looking to the Twi'lekk.

 

Mephala seemed to blush, at least her face turned a darker shade of green. Her voice was soft, but resolute. She appeared meek, but her voice carried subtle notes of certainty. "They represent the strength to bring proper justice to those who deserve it." She almost continued, but after a pause shut her mouth, unwilling to say more. Bev stared at her for a moment longer, knowing what the beryl alien meant merely by the virtue that her mind was more or less an open book to her instructor. Finally, her gaze shifted to Shren, who had just finished recovering from panting hard from the light jog.

 

He took a moment before replying, thinking hard. "I suppose the Sith represent a natural force of nature, a cleansing fire that burns away the unworthy and purges the messes left behind by those who don't understand or respect the truer nature of the universe." Bev's brow furrowed, she wasn't expecting such an answer from him. She replied to him after a beat, posing another question. "And that nature?" Shren's eyes flashed as he coldly answered without thinking, the answer already in mind. "Chaos."

 

The older Sith woman nodded, gesturing for them all to sit. "Excellent answers, all. To some degree, you are all correct. It actually gives me more confidence in this group. There are many aspects of what 'Sith' means, but there is one description, one absolute code that defines us, that shapes our studies and actions. The Sith Code. Listen well:

 

"Peace is a lie, there is only passion.

Through passion, I gain strength.

Through strength, I gain power.

Through power, I gain victory.

Through victory, my chains are broken.

The Force shall free me.

 

"We Sith value freedom above all else, but we also define that very broadly. Freedom can apply to many things, but in most cases it means freedom from subjugation. As Camik said, there is always someone stronger. For the Sith, our Dark Lord represents the pinnacle of that strength. Many Dark Lords have fallen through the ages, and while they are always incredibly powerful, there was always something stronger. It is a struggle we strive towards, both as individuals and as a collective. If there is no struggle, there is no improvement, and if there is no improvement, there is only stagnation and death.

 

"We aim to improve our surroundings as well, which includes beings not belonging to the Sith. We...iron out the imperfections, culling the chaff, and enriching the remainder, paving the way for the best, so they can grow and achieve loftier heights that others will eventually overtake in kind. In this way, we represent purity and perfection. We use the Force as a tool, having been gifted but also burdened with this mandate, to constantly seek strength and forge it wherever we can. You sit here because you possess these gifts. Today, you will take the first steps towards being able to use them."

 

She turned, pulling a duffel bag from behind a rock, unzipping it and handing each of the seated students a black velvet bag. Each contained an item that related to them personally. Lance opened his first, immediately after receiving it, and Bev said nothing, though she did notice how the others abstained from doing anything without her permission. No matter, that would be a later lesson. Lance pulled an old model prosthetic forearm from his bag, badly damaged from what appeared to be an internal power cell rupture. For the first time the young man flashed a sign of emotion, clenching his jaw so hard his cheek muscles seemed to pop from his face. Shren's bag contained a picture of an older red-haired man, Mephala's bag contained a black satin rope, and Camik's a used slaving collar. There were bits of dried blood and fur on the inside pain spikes that this particular model possessed, looking like whoever had worn it previously was subjected to the torture of a very sadistic owner. While the collar wasn't Camik's, it would be more apparent to him than the others that it had belonged to another Cathar.

 

Bev motioned for the others to open their bags, addressing them again. "Take your gift. Allow the emotions to wash over you, but do not act on them yet. These objects will serve as reminders for you in the future, and for the time being will act as anchors for your feelings. These things are meant to incite anger within you, focus on it, use it. Think on what these items mean to you. Never let it go, as it is a part of who you are. Meditate for a bit."

 

Bev finally sat in front of them, pulling out an intricate yet small silverish sigil that was tucked beneath her armor, allowing it to rest in her open palm as she stared at it for a moment. After that moment, though, she closed her palm, tucking it back away as she simply stared at the ground in front of her, seeing not rocks and dirt but a vividly violent scene in her mind's eye. As long as she still drew breath, she would never let it go.

 

((Have Camik think about something that happened in his past. Write the scene, but you don't have to necessarily write a novel like I did here, that was mostly for the benefit of the other student NPC backstories. Bev plans on letting them meditate for about ten minutes, if that helps put a time frame on it.))

O1IsDR9.png

Like my posts? Google "zalgo font."

If you meet me, have some courtesy, have some sympathy, have some taste.
Use all your well-learned politics, or I'll lay your soul to waste.

 

 

Link to comment
Share on other sites

Camik stared at the collar, his tail swished in anger as he struggled to contain himself. He had thought he had left this kind of thing behind but his new master seemed to want to dreg up old memories.

 

This of course was not his own collar, that had been destroyed in a celebration of his freedom, along with the body of his last master.

 

As he held the collar his brain slowly processed what Bev was telling him. This was supposed to invoke his anger, she was not doing this to torment him but giving him a tool. For what reason he had yet to find out. When he had come to Korriban he knew it would not be easy and had resolved to do whatever was necessary to complete this journey. He just did not think it would be involve this.

 

Sitting down he placed the collar in front of him, while placing this hands on his knees. He did not need the collar in his hands to evoke the emotions, just having it near him was enough to rip open the wound that had not healed right in his physic. He could feel the pain and torment coming from the collar, emotions that had embed themselves into the collar, likely as the death of the Cathar had occured. He did not know how he knew there had been a death but somehow he knew.

 

He closed his eyes, trying to push away those emotions that were pushing their way into him but failing, his mind's eye drifted to a different landscape. One that he had burned into his memory but tried not to think about.

 

He was young though he was just old enough to go before the auction block. His mother was getting him ready for the day, moving slowly because she was almost ready to birth a new litter. She was long past when her body should have stopped having litters but her masters insisted on breeding her as much as they could in order to sell as many slaves as possible. It was a fate many females as resided themselves to, never getting to attached to their offspring for they would be taken and sold as soon as they were old enough.

 

As he prepared himself to meet his new master, his current master walked in. He was drunk which did not bode well for anyone. His master was a cruel drunk, taking to beating anything he could in an effort to feel superior, though at the time Camik did not realize this.

 

Quickly his mother shooed Camik and his littermates out to hide. Attempting to intercept their master with a drink that she had prepared just in case. Just as she reached him, Camik felt something and turned around just in time to see his mother trip and spill the liquor all over their master. The shouting the followed was great though the words were never burned into his mind just the pain of seeing his mother knocked across the room and landing on her very pregnant belly causing her to scream in pain. Their master becoming even more angry that she would endanger his property like that and in his drunken state beating Camik’s mother some more. The sounds of fist hitting flesh echoing through the small hut. Blood flying and hitting the walls.

 

All through this Camik could do nothing but watch the scene, anger at his master for beating his mother. Anger at himself for not being brave enough to stop him. The anger he felt in this memory transferred itself outside his meditation and coursed through his body, coming off of him in waves. Small rocks lifted slightly off the ground and was carried away from him like the waves of an ocean carrying trash out to sea. The pebbles did not more fast or far but unbeknownst to Camik they did move away from him.

 

As the beating finally ended in his memory, he remembered his master turning to Camik, sweat beading up from his master's face from the workout he had just given himself. His mother a bloody mess that was unmoving. ”Well boy it is time for you to get yourself to the auction block. Need you to make me some money to make up for what your mother just lost me” His master told Camik, as if it was mothers fault she got herself beaten to death.

 

He could still feel the anger and rage pooling off of him, looking for an outlet when Bev called a halt to their mediation. He glanced over at Shren wondering if he was going to give Camik an excuse to let loose his rage today or if he would have to find a way to release it in other ways.

v7G1vaY.png
Link to comment
Share on other sites

The edges of pain closed in on her mind, spiking for the shred of a moment before Angelia's own defenses kicked in and she pulled away from the Cathar's consciousness. A Cheshire grin stole across her face at the resourcefulness of the young Ailbasí. There was a haunt about her, a shred of lingering darkness that collected among the essence of those who had removed others' souls from their bodies. And she had weaponized it. Not only did that speak well of her ability to know where she ended and others began, but it proved a useful application of a past experience that others at her level of training might shy away from. The most distasteful aspects of Sheog, from her experience, had already been decried by this apprentice of his. Perhaps forging an order like the one she and Haphaestus had dreamed of was not outside of the realm of possibility just yet after all.

 

No sooner had she reestablished her mental defenses than the blur of fur came flying at her in a head-on assault. The Twi'lek met the ill-fated attempt with the force of two solid years of rigorous physical training under Haphaestus: she wouldn't be able to dodge contact with her opponent in entirety, instead choosing to lower her center of gravity and throw her shoulder forward. Ailbasí's momentum would carry her solidly into the blow, and the Twi'lek shifted her weight forward and up, with the intent to flip the Cathar over her shoulder and lay her on her back on the sparring mat.

 

As she did so, however, a creeping coldness exerted its existence on her awareness; a call to arms. It bore urgency and necessity of investigation. The demonstration of the young Cathar in the registration office, and now, here on the sparring grounds, confirmed to Kitaara what she already knew.

 

"Your will is strong, but your body is weak," she hissed, though a pleased glint remained in her eyes. "If you desire to learn such things, to master yourself as you master control of the Force, I am willing to teach you what I know. But it will not come without cost to you, and you must not give your answer lightly. The Sith Order will no longer suffer fools, or those who dominate their brothers, who revel in needless destruction. And now," she added, as the murmur of voices grew larger and the arena began to empty, moving toward the commanding presence that located itself in the heart of the academy, "our attention is required elsewhere. Tomorrow you may choose to begin, and ease will be forgotten."

uCPChif.png

For when devils do the blackest sins put on, they do suggest at first with heavenly shows...

Link to comment
Share on other sites

((Sanctioned NPCs))

 

Each of them reacted in different ways that Bev could feel through the Force, but the overall goal she had intended by giving them the items was achieved. All in all, she had doubted the students she had been assigned at first, but now understood what others saw in them. They were here for a reason, they had far more potential than the larger classes tended to show.

 

"Now, clear your mind of everything but the pure emotion you feel. Focus only on what you feel. Shut your eyes, and allow all else to fall away. It is unimportant."

 

She reached out with invisible hands, connecting herself to them, sharing what they could handle of her experience and wisdom. While they wouldn't be able to understand just yet, it would greatly assist them in their next task, reaching out to touch the Force for the first time. It was always like a muscle one didn't know they had, and by connecting herself to them she was able to assist and guide them. For a moment, there was nothing, and then as she spoke, sent a surge of power through them all, a brief taste of the majestic, raw, unbridled power that was the Dark Side.

 

What came next was always different for every student, many felt no different though they knew in the back of their minds how to begin to tap into their own power, but some experienced something more...interesting. Bev herself had unknowingly triggered Force assisted sight her first time touching the Force, and could see without eyes the surges of energy connecting everything around her. It was something she'd never forgotten, an important success that could be credited with the start of her ambitious rise through the ranks.

 

"Open your eyes. Reach out. Feel the whispers of the Dark Side, and embrace its power. You are forever changed from this moment forward, charged with upholding the glory of the Sith Empire."

O1IsDR9.png

Like my posts? Google "zalgo font."

If you meet me, have some courtesy, have some sympathy, have some taste.
Use all your well-learned politics, or I'll lay your soul to waste.

 

 

Link to comment
Share on other sites

Pushing the thoughts out of his mind was hard. He struggled to let go of the memory that kept want to bring itself forth but eventually he was able to suppress it. The anger though, the anger never dissipated at all. He rode the wave of anger as it seethed through him. The anger burned away all other emotions. It was an animalistic emotion that threatened to consume him.

 

As he felt Bev’s touch he could feel the surge of power being pressed into him. It felt like it was attempting to break a damn, and it eventually it did. The rush of power poured through him, though the anger he held seem to direct it. It was as if the anger was a boulder in the middle of a rapid. Stopping the river was impossible but the boulder would be able to direct it to a different direction. Though he did not know how or where he wanted to direct it he found he could feel everything around him. He did not attempt to feel specifics or try and gauge emotions but with his eyes closed he could tell where everything was, down to the smallest insect that walked the ground near him.

 

Through Strength I gain power was this what was meant? One could not hope to control this raging torrent of power without the strength necessary to control it?

 

He knew now how weak he was, but it gave him a goal, a point to work for. He was Sith. That much he knew for sure, there was no going back after feeling this. As he opened his eyes seeing with his eyes what he had felt he knew that he would fight and claw to get strong enough to make this power his own and make it obey his command.

v7G1vaY.png
Link to comment
Share on other sites

The shuttle made landfall with the grace of a Jannnisari Gildr, the flair of the pilot was not, however appreciated by the sleeping girl in the cargohold. Wrapped up in a blanket and crash webbing and dead asleep. Dead to the goings on around her, embraced by the dreams of the force; She only awoke when the shuttle driver yelled back at her to move or enjoy the trip to Umbara. Making fast, she sprinted down the cargo ramp, into the bright sun of Korriban. She squinted against the brightness but still sneezed anyway. She rolled her eyes after the sneezing fit was finished and grabbing her bag, made her way into the valley of the Dark Lords. Slowly walking the long way to the academy, passing by the ancient tombs of the Sith.

Tel.png.2b2713b149ad183d24a4b9a423368e48.png

Link to comment
Share on other sites

×
×
  • Create New...