Korriban

[Mavanger]

Mordecai had been traveling for days, and the ship's air, despite the filter, had grown stale. Alas, it was worth it, for now Korriban rose up below him as he piloted his ship into the Dreshadae spaceport. The ship jolted as it touched down, and Mordecai stood. He made his way towards the exit ramp of his shuttle, passing his security crew as he did so. "Stay here and make sure no one steals this ship." he said, and the ramp lowered. As he caught his first whiff of the air on Korriban, his first thought was that it didn't seem any different than any other city, if a bit warmer. He could also feel something different, darker, a sixth sense almost. The Force. He had hailed the Sith from orbit, and was instructed to wait here until someone came to get him. And so, with his weapons on his hip, he waited for the Sith to appear.

[Mavanger]

Mordecai saw the Sith approaching, and while he rested his hand on the hilt of his vibrosword, he didn't move. He barely had time to react after the Sith spoke, and as he was yanked forwards, he drew his blade. He only had moderate training, but he would use everything he knew here, or he would likely die. He moved with the pull, swinging upwards as he drew his blade, bracing himself for the inevitable counter attack that he had left himself open for. In desperation, he called on the force, but to no avail.

 

He had entered the viper's nest.

[Mavanger]

Mordecai felt his stomach drop as his blow simply glanced off the man's armor, before feeling a pressure around his neck as the Sith Lord tossed him like a ragdoll. As he skidded across the ground, attempting to roll to his feet, he felt the same unseen force as before drag him to his feet. he heard the Sith's words, and had to struggle with the urge to strike again. Doing so would do him no good. If he did manage to even injure the sith, his death would surely follow shortly fter. The Sith turned away and moved towards the temple ahead. Mordecai fell into step behind him.

 

The next question caught Mordecai by surprise, though he supposed it shouldn't have. He considered spinning a tale, but once more, he doubted it would do any good. He was silent for a moment more, considering his words carefully. "I come to build a legacy greater than my father's before me, or his father before him. I came to become one of the greatest warriors who ever lived." he said, remembering his father's words on the Sith and the Jedi.

[Mavanger]

As the Sith spoke of Mordecai's legacy, he was briefly offended. The sith had a point, however. His father had only been a low ranking officer in the Imperial navy, as had the rest of his ancestors. He came from a rather bland line of low-ranking officers, which in the galactic scale meant nothing. His sensitivity to the force had given him a chance neither of his brothers had in their lives. Mordecai nodded. "I am prepared to train and battle for however long is needed to become a great warrior." he said. He was sorely regretting his decision to put off his training with the vibroblade now, especially after seeing the Sith Lord simply shrug off the blow.

 

Mordecai looked at the statues in silent, expressionless awe. Now this was a true legacy.

 

"Less than I would like to. I only know of their prowess in battle from my father's stories. I know nothing of Sith legends or culture." he said, "Something I would like to remedy as soon as possible."

[Mavanger]

The Sith snapped his fingers and the room dimmed around all but one lone, weathered statue. Mordecai vaguely recognized the man from the descriptions his father had given him of the Emperor of his time. Mordecai frowned at this realization- an Emperor that was so recent's statue shouldn't have been so weathered and broken, and yet... this. He followed the Sith as he spoke, watching the Sith statues with intensity. When the Sith turned to look at him, all he could see was a glimpse of red under the man's mask. He listened to the man's words, and let that sink in. He would need to become stronger, that much he had already seen during his fight with the Sith Lord.

 

He was snapped back into focus as the voices spoke, only to be silenced by the Lord. Despite his words, Mordecai's mind was already working silently to discern the meaning behind the words, if there truly was any to be had. The Sith pointed to a clearing, and told him o meditate. He had tried connection to the force before, but now, with such history around him, it was almost permeable. He walked over, tucking his legs underneath his body as he knelt, closing his eyes. He took a deep breath, and reached out with his mind.

 

"I feel... the Force." he said. It was obvious, but his words failed to explain what he felt. The intangible feeling around him, reacting to his emotions and his thoughts. And yet, it was elusive. Whenever he would reach out, it would recede like a school of fish. And then, he had it. The force around him was his to use. "it's like.... clay. Mine to shape and use as a tool however I see fit.

[Mavanger]

Mordecai reached out once more. Again he could feel it, and he could take it with less effort. He could feel the ancient lords, but he paid them no mind. Not only did he lack the knowledge and skill to revive an ancient lord, it would also defeat his purpose. He would simply be continuing another's legacy, which was why he had left his family's home on Carida. He was here to make his own, not support some ancient dead man's. As was instructed, he spread his mind to the ground, feeling the ancient dark side energy that seemed to be embedded into the stone. He went further, examining his surroundings from this new lens. he could feel the crackling energy around the Sith Trainer, the danger and hatred. He could feel the darkness of Korriban as a whole, but other than that, it was empty outside the room. He wasn't very strong, yet. But he would get better.

 

"I can feel it." he said, quieter than his normal volume.

[Mavanger]

Mordecai could sense the dark energy around the saber, a Sith Lord’s energy still thickening the air around the weapon. It was old- Older than any living Sith or Jedi.

 

“A lightsaber. Not originally of Sith make” he muttered, reaching into the weapon’s history. “An ancient weapon, from the days of the Old Sith Empire, in the days of the Old Republic. The weapon is slightly longer than most, held with two hands rather than one. There were intricate carvings on the hilt, long since eroded by Korriban. Not a Sith weapon- A Jedi’s, at least at first. A blue crystal, turned red. She was a Jedi” he said. Before his eyes, visions of the owner’s life flashed before him.

 

“She was taken as a child into the Jedi Order, like most. She trained under a distinguished master, a guardian of the light. She fought on the front lines of countless conflicts, supposedly keeping the peace.” he said, the memories of wars and battles long over and foes long vanquished washing over him.

 

“She became disillusioned with the Jedi Order. She had seen it’s lies, it’s hypocrisy.” he said, anger from the fallen lord seeping through his link to the blade, muddling his own emotions. “She left the order, wandering alone for a time. And then, the Sith Empire rose again, taking Korriban. She could hear the Dark Side’s call, and she answered. She came to Korriban to be trained as a Sith.” he whispered.

 

The sand blinded him as he stepped out of a ship, only to be greeted by a collection of Sith. “The Sith had sensed her arrival. She announced herself, and declared her power. One sith stepped forward, and she cut him down. There were others, and they met the same fate. She climbed the ranks, with little training, embracing the Dark Side, but using her training and experience as a Jedi to give her an advantage over the other acolytes, and then lords. She grew powerful, a warlord of the Jedi’s own making, a twisted child of both paths. She grew arrogant.” he said.

 

“Her arrogance killed her. She challenged the Dark Lord, and despite her skill and experience, was bested. Easily.” he said. “Her weapon fell to the grounds of Korriban, where it remained until today.” he said. “In the end, her greatest enemy was her ego. She rose too quickly, became to sure of her skills. She paid for that insolence with her life.”

[Mavanger]

Mordecai didn't need to see the shape in the sand. he could sense her. Anguish rose from the blade, along with promises of power if he disobeyed there was something deeper, too. A fear of a proper death. He hesitated- the emotions had spilled over his novice collection, and destroying the spirit felt... wrong. But if he wanted to be more powerful, he would have to. He reached towards the hilt with the force, grasping the spirit, and tearing it from the hilt, separating it from it's final physical connection to this world.

[Mavanger]

Mordecai heeded the instructions of the Sith lord. He could still feel the lightsaber, now an empty shell. It lacked the presence that had made it so easy to latch onto, but it was still a physical object. It was like a spider’s web, reaching out and attaching each individual organism and force-imbued object to each other.

 

By tugging on the web, he could lift the hilt, and he did so. The hilt rose slowly, and as he pulled the hilt towards him, he opened his eyes to see the blade drifting towards him, every so slowly. Frowning, he pulled harder. Too hard, it seemed, as the hilt flew past him and towards a wall. As it flew by, he struggled to regain control, stopping it inches before it hit. He tugged again, softer, but still firm, and the hilt flew into his hand.

[Mavanger]

Mordecai sighed as he was ordered to do the task again. To him, it was pointless, the exercise of an ability that he felt he had already demonstrated his competence with. As he stood to place the age-old hilt where it was before, to repeat the test, his eyes lingered on the crystal at his feet. It was beautiful, the blue shining ever so softly in the dim lighting of the chamber. The battery, brand new in comparison with the ancient weapon in his hand, the metallic sheen reflecting the crystal’s glow. He looked away, placing the hilt back in the sand.

 

He moved back to his prior position, returning to sitting.He breathed in, picturing the hilt in his mind, the memory of its owner still fresh in his mind, even if it was no longer present in the weapon. He could see her hand tightening around the hilt, bound by a leather that had long since eroded away. Before the sith’s fall, it had been simple, a chrome hilt with a simple brown leather, but after she fell, the weapon had changed to match. The guard and pommel of the hilt

had received intricate etchings, filled with gold, which had rusted away over the years. The engravings had faded as well, though were still visible in places. The simple leather had been replaced with a high quality fabric that was unknown to him, though that too had rotted away to time.

 

He reached out again, commanding the Force to obey. It was a tool, and he was the one that wielded it. He molded it into tendrils, reaching out towards the hilt. Slowly, they wrapped around the lightsaber, lifting it into the air. He pulled it towards him, much the same as before, his frustration at the repetition fueling his command more than his meditation before had. Much more quickly, the weapon floating to in front of him.

 

He honed his frustration into a tool unto itself, guiding the battery and crystal off the sandy ground beneath him. The crystal seemed to hum in response to the Force, but he paid it no mind. Slowly, the weapon began to assemble itself, a presence pressing against his mind, guiding his actions. He had never learned to make a lightsaber, but the force guided him.

 

With a soft click, the process completed. He opened his eyes, and the newly completed weapon dropped, sending a small puff of dirt into the air. He reached down, lifting it. It didn’t look any different, but he knew that appearance was a deceptive one, that if he simply pushed a button…

 

With a loud hiss, the blade sprung to life. The soft glow of the crystal had given way to the brightness of the lightsaber’s blade. He stood, giving the weapon an experimental swing. It was weightless, but dangerous. A single swing could end a life, a capability that he relished owning. He looked to the Sith Lord.

 

“What now, my Lord?”

[Mavanger]

Mordecai had expected many things when he decided to come to Korriban and train as a Sith. Pain, both physical and mental. Difficulties on a level that were previously unknown to him. He prepared for even more. His death when he arrived, failure to complete his training, even the possibility that he was shot down before ever reaching the cursed planet. What he hadn’t prepared for was seeing familiar faces.

 

He recognized one of men, Fal, a friend of his whom he hadn’t spoken to since he left. They had grown up together, but Fal had left for Kuat a year ago. Immediately, he called out. “Mordecai! What are you doing here?” Fal grew silent, glancing at the ominous sith lord that was wreathed in shadow, then back to Mordecai. “It doesn’t matter. You can help us! Just-”

 

He didn’t have time to finish his sentence before his head tumbled to the ground, severed with a single cut. The other male gasped, and tried to move away. Mordecai stopped him with a single word.

 

“Stay.”

 

He grinned. Before, the youngest of his family, the heir to nothing, his word was next to meaningless. His older brothers always trumped him. But here… He stared at the weapon in his hand. He held the power of life and death now. There was guilt, of course. One does not kill a lifelong friend on a whim and come away without the feeling of guilt, but it would pass. An Imperial claiming association with him after being captured would do him no good in the days to come. He had no room for weak blood in his midst.

 

He could feel the fear radiating from the two others, though mostly from the other man. He stepped in front of the cadet. “Where were you when Kuat fell?” He received no answer. He frowned. Surely, this whelp of a prisoner didn’t defy him? No. It was the fear. Even he, as unaccustomed to the force as he was, could feel it. Too timid.

 

This death was not as clean. He stabbed the man through his heart, and let him die in pain. There was but one more. The Sith Lord had told him the only way to build a legacy was to kill more than the previous sith before him. This was a good start. And yet…

 

There was one more. He hadn’t even come to a halt before she uttered her words. “You’re a coward, and a traitor. You kill shackled prisoners and think yourself mighty. But you’re weak.” He breathed in, his momentary anger fading. She was stronger than the other two, a fact hidden by the tears that marred her face. He doubted she would survive if he released her, so he did the next best thing. “She would make a good sith. She may have the will for it. But if she lacks a connection to the force, or if you disagree, she will be my slave.”

[Mavanger]

Mordecai gazed at the training course. The turrets were intimidating, but would only matter if he failed. He prepared to run the course, taking in each ramp and ledge, every jump, his imperial training taking over. He stopped himself- Imperials thought such a way because they didn't have the force. Mordecai did. He stood straight, took a step forward. and reached out with his newfound abilities. Immediately, he could feel it. The crystal pulses, hummed with energy invisible to the unworthy and the uninitiated alike. He grasped at it, like a child grasping for a toy, for a new experience, and pulled.

The crystal responded, and the energy reacted to his own, the force obeying, whether by choice or by his own force of will, he couldn't tell. He opened his eyes, and gazed at the crystal as it flew closer. he was acutely aware that he likely only had a few seconds left, and gave a hardy tug. The crystal flew into his open hand, and he closed it into a fist, turning to his mentor.

"That was easy. What now?" he asked.

He could feel it. With every moment that he used the force, his connection to it grew stronger. Not by much, he wouldn't be breaking any records, but it was there. Over time, he would get better at using this new tool, until eventually, he theorized, it would become like an extra limb- an extension of his will.

[Mavanger]

Mordecai had been too enthralled in his brief victory over the course that he hadn't noticed the change in goals. He silently obeyed the Sith Lord, taking a knee. He did as was told, drawing on the prisoner's anger at her captivity, hatred for him and the Sith, and fear of what would become of her. The rush it gave him was euphoric, and he could suddenly understand why Jedi would fall so easily, and so few Sith ever 'redeemed' themselves. He reversed his earlier machinations with the lightsaber before him, slowly, carefully dismantling it as he prepared to replace the crystal.

As he did so, he could feel the Force becoming more familiar, like a mute slowy gaining a voice and learning to use it. While his earlier usage had been sloppy and wrought with mistakes, he was slowly ironing out the kinks, learning to do simple procedures such as this in a faster, more fluid motion. The first crystal was discarded with an abesnt projection of his will, and he carefully fitted the new crystal into the weapon. He reassembled the weapon, quicker this time, and pulled it into his hand. He gripped the hilt, and could feel the crystal. However, he didn't know how to 'bind the darkness in his spirit' to the crystal.

He felt the crystal pulling him, he could almost feel it in the corporeal world. He simply submitted to the Force, and let it lead the way. For now, at least. Until he understood how. He was not such a fool as to use a tool without understanding how to do so properly. And then, the Force had receeded. Curious, he activated the lightsaber. It sprang to life, the crimson glow washing over his surroundings. He  smiled. A red blade. The first sign of being a Sith.

Still, the second half of the Lord's instructions did not fall on deaf ears. His first thought was to just pull the captive, as he had the crystal, but when he tried, discomfor arced through his body, weblike, and yet not following his veins or nervous system. As he continued his attempt, the slight discomfort quickly turned to a sharp pain, and he was forced to release his grasp. He gasped, his sparehand going to the ground to steady himself. The prisoner gave   him a dirty look, and he sneered at her. The Sith had never said he had to be gentle.

His first move was to sprint foward, straight for the platform. Much to his dismay, it was much higher up than it had seemed to be from the beginning of the course. He knew there was no way to jump that high, at least, not in his current state. And so he veered of for the closest ramp, but too late. The time had already been lost and he heard the loud bark of one of the turrets before feeling an electric pain down his spine and he fell to the ground. He struggled to stand, and took a few wary steps towards the ramp, only for the turret to fire again, sending him to the ground once more.

He growled. How was he supposed to make it if that damned turret shot him every time he stood? Above him, the Imperial seemed to be enjoying herself watching his failings. It only served to enrage him further as he pulled himself forward, leaping up with an angry shout, only to once again be shot by the turret. His mind raced. The pain was becoming more intense with each shot. He thought back to the stories his father had told him. Of Jedi and Sith deflecting blaster bolts with the flick of a wrist. He stumbled to his feet once more, his lightsaber hissing as it activated. Just in time, as the turret fired again, but he failed to stop the bolt, taking the shot to his chest his time, a blow that sent him to his knees.

With a roar of anger and hatred of his own, he threw the lightsaber at the turret, watching it sail through the air in a haphazard spin before slicing she turret in two with a flurry as screeching and sparks. He stood in triumph for a moment, before remembering the second turret as it hit his shoulder and sending him to the ground. He rolled over, reaching for it with the force. The invisible tendrils of pain and despair mved to his command, wrapping around the barrel or the turret and crushing it. The fixed weapon tried to fire again, but only succeeded in damaging itself further.

He stood in bittersweet victory for  moment, before walking across the room and scooping up his lightsaber, turning to the woman with hatred in his eyes. Her smug expression had faded now as he stalked up the ramps, never once taking his eyes off of her. he wanted to hurt something, and that something was right in front of him. He didn't beat her. He didn't assault her with the lightsaber. No. Instead, he simply... pushed her over the edge of the platform, watching with steely satisfaction as she fell to muffled screamed before hitting the ground with a soft thud.

For a moment she was so still he thought he'd managed to kill her, but that proved  to not be the case as she began to slowly squirm on the ground in pain. He walked back down to where his moment of triumph had occured, grabbing her by the arm and hauling her to her feet. He dragged her to the beginning of the course, throwing her to the ground before the Sith Lord, his earlier expression of cocky pride replace by one of smoldering fury.

"It is done, Lord."

[Mavanger]

Mordecai was silent for a moment, contemplating the question and the Sith's earlier lesson regarding the statues. Indeed, a legacy of death, pain, destruction and dispair was easily forgotten as soon as someone caused more than their predecessor. Perhaps... perhaps that was not the way to become a legend in the Sith. What would be a lasting legacy, however, escaped him. From what he had been told, what else was there for a sith to build a legacy on?

He spoke these thoughts inquisitively. "You tell me a legacy of death is not sufficient. These ruined statues are proof of that fact. That leaves me quesioning, however, what is a Sith to build a legacy on, if not death and fear and hatred?" he asked.

He glanced back at the Sith. He was painfuly aware that if he failed this test, he'd die here. He wouldn't even be an acolyte, and he'd have failed. This fear of failure filled him with more strength, however, than any complacency that would have filled him in a less brutal enviornment.

[Mavanger]

Mordecai nodded dutifuly. He had indeed never heard of the Sith lords that his teacher had mentioned. His legacy would not be one of triumph and glory, but of quiet whispers. He wouldn't be a man. He would be a myth. The boogeyman that mothers told their children about to scare them into behaving. The other sith would wonder who, if anyone, he was. A person? Or a title, passed on from generation to generation? Deathless? Perhaps dead long ago. Maybe this Sith's legacy would be one of order, and security. But powerful sith had enemies, he was sure. If not in the Jedi, then in other sith, looking to claim that power for their own. His resolve stronger than ever before, he turned to the lord, kneeling.

"Teach me the ways of the Sith..."

He was silent for a moment. This would be his final chance to back out. To die now, uncorrupted, as it were. But that was not what he came here to do.

"...My lord"

[Mavanger]

Mordeci looked up. Was he surprised? Indeed he was. Was he in disbelief, however? No. He believed that the dark side wascapable of such feats. He took her hand, though it was more of a formality, as he rose on his own. "The warrior's way is brutish. It lacks the delicate touch sometimes required. It is like a club. Dangerous, yes. But also predictable. Used with little or no thought. Sometimes, all you need to kill is the general, and the army falls apart. I will become an assassin. The scalpel of death, rather than the club.

His mind raced, thinking of what was to come. He was to become Sith, now. If his luck and skill held up, he would perhaps ven become a Lord. But that was in the future.

"What do I do now?

[Mavanger]

Mordeci followed his new master's instructions, settling down and closing his eyes, trying to meditate. He focused himself, tried to reach out, but something wasn't clicking. He called on the force, and it answered, but how to hide himself was beyond him. it wasn't as intuitive as merely moving things with the force was. Before he could go any further. They were interrupted, however, by a timid man, careful not to tread to heavily, as though the ground were covered in landmines primed to kill. His master's humor was infectious, if dark. He did not guffaw, or chuckle, but he appreciated the humor. He had never been known for his sense of humor though, even on Carida.

 

The man's message, however, was a humorless one. They were going to war, and he was little more than an acolyte with rudimentary training with a blade and the force. Indeed, he felt more at home with a blaster as of now than he did the new weapon that he held in his hand. And yet, he was meant to be better than this. He wasn't a foot soldier in someone else's war, like his brothers were. He would be a foe to be reckoned with. And this was his chance to prove himself, for better or for worse.

 

He followed the Sith Lord closely, keeping his head down. He had heard stories of how the Sith treated their rivals, and he would like to slip under their radars for as long as possible. If his pathetic attempt to fight Valinor was any indication of how'd he fare against a proper Jedi or Sith, he'd have to pick his targets carefully. He would stay by his master's side, to be sure however. He doubted she would save him if he got in trouble regardless of where he was, but he had no intention of picking a fight he couldn't handle.

 

Then again, most people who die in wars never do.

 

He boarded the shuttle behind Lord Valinor, looking out over Korriban as it rose, the legions of Sith soldiers and warriors preparing for the conflict. It was an epic spectacle, one that would strike fear into the hearts of their enemies. Still, there was a question on his mind as they departed the planet.

 

"My Lord, where will the fight be?"

Edited June 5, 2019 by Mavanger

[Mavanger]

Kuat had been a test on Mordecai. His body had been tried on the battlefield, facing the Imperial Knight who had embarrassed him before, reclaiming some of his wounded pride. She had still escaped, but just as battered and bloodied as he. And while her escape infuriated him, he drew on that well to fuel him, to drive him to lengths he hadn't thought possible. His mind and spirit had been tested next, as he battled his fatigue and his feelings to remain collected, commanding his forces to the best of his ability. It was here that he was more disappointed- Only one ship. His only claim to glory. He would have to do better.

 

His leader's silence had worn on him, however. It was clear that the losses of two potent lords had been too far, and he'd returned to his master before judgement could be mustered. If the Sith Master wanted him dead, he'd put up a fight. Build his forces. A power-base. If not, then it would do him well regardless. His thoughts of legacy and legend had been left behind. They had been half-baked and hardly thought of. A fool's motivation. It didn't matter to him anymore. Instead, he was concerned only for his own strength. The wish fora mighty legacy still lingered, a stubborn and frustrating ember that he'd found impossible to stomp out, but it could be addressed later.

 

He returned alone, his forces left under command of the Captain. If the opportunity arose, Mordecai would return for them. If it didn't, they would continue Quala's campaign, waging war for the Sith empire.

 

As his shuttle approached where he had originally landed all those years ago, he was greeted by an almost familiar sight. An imperial craft, though larger than his had been, and a line of crewmen. This was new, though he was aware of what fates would soon befall them. Save the one who seemed to stand off to the side. An officer. He recognized the uniform. Not even a captain. But then... where was the captain? Already dead, perhaps? Maybe they were prisoners. He disembarked, waiting patiently. His master would see to him when she was finished with these mongrels.

[Mavanger]

Mordecai scoffed at the Imperials. So quickly they turned on eachother, not even hesitating to pounce on one another like animals. Was this the famed Imperial Navy? No. This was a lowly pack of deserters. The irony in this thought given his own past did not escape him, and he shook his head. He was disappointed. This is what had awaited him had he not joined the Sith. He would have gladly killed them himself had Lord Valinor commanded it. But she had other plans, and he would not get in her way. He had not stakes in this. Even if she was seeking to replace him like the Sith of old, his competition was... lacking.

 

When the battle was over only two remained. A force sensitive woman, her pride stubbornly holding her up despite her bloodied state. Pride in what? Betrayal?In supposedly administering the Sith Lord's justice? And a broken and battered man, unconcious but alive, who had sought to win through treachery and guile rather than through the blade and his own mettle. Both equally undeserving. False Imperial filth. But if Valinor was intent on training one, he would put his bets on the victor. There was something there, at least, to work with.

 

He knelt before his master. "Lord Valinor, my task is complete, and I return with my report. After I landed on Dark Sun, I engaged a Jedi in one of the hangars. I defeated her, though her allies arrive before I could claim her life. Instead, I took on of her arms, and her lightsaber. I was enlisted to aid Lady Darksong in the Dark Lord's plan, and... I suffered the indignity of defeat over Borleais at the hands of two Imperial Masters. After my recovery, I was taken to Corellia, to establish a beachhead for Lady Darksong's invasion. The enemy struck Kuat before we could land, however, and we moved to defend it.

 

There I encountered one of the Masters that left me as you see me, and in the assistance of two Lords, I evened the score. She lives yet, but she will have scars to match my own. After we drove the rebels off, I returned here, to Korriban. I have massacred rebels in the Sith name, and have grown more powerful than I could have imagined when I left the false Empire."

 

[Mavanger]

With those words, Mordecai inhaled sharply. It was done, then. He was a true Sith. Nothing seemed to change, as he thought it would have. Perhaps, in reality, it was but a rank. But with it came privilege. Privilege to command lesser Sith, to fight his own battles, and to mold these two as he deemed fit. He rose as his former master left, not shaken by her predictions of his early death. At worst, it meant he would die as Lord Fahren had, on the cusp of greatness. At best, it was an expectation to be shattered like glass as he rose above it. And this would be his first step.

 

He turned to the two survivors, one still unconscious.

 

"Interesting. It seems that you are mine. And through the fire of battle I shall temper you into a weapon, one that shall slay Jedi and Imperials alike. But first... you must survive. You stand with false pride- you have not slain fighters, but crewmen, with a weapon unearned and undeserving for one of your station. You will attack me, or you will kneel, but either way I will see such falsities banished from your mind."

 

He glanced at the injured crewman. there would be... other uses for him. Though weak in the force and in body, perhaps there was a chance for his mind. And iff not, then he would fall like the rest of his allies. Turning back to the upstart before him, he ignited his own blade, the cyan blade reflecting eerily off of Korriban's crimson sands, his second still hanging from his waist.

 

"Which will it be, pretender?"

[Mavanger]

"Disappointing."

 

He wouldn't kill her. But he would humiliate her. His stance remained relaxed. He wasn't threatened by this woman, not yet.

 

"Your stance is sloppy. Your grip on your weapon, too tight. You're telegraphing your moves. I know you'll attack by the way you've positioned yourself. If I were a Jedi, or an Imperial Knight, you would die before you completed your first strike."

 

He began to circle her, inspecting. Sloppy. Untrained. Her assets, unused. Disappointing.

 

"You shouldn't feel pride, you should feel shame. I don't even warrant you to be threatening enough to bother killing you, even though you intend to attack. I've faced down Knights and Masters, other apprentices and swarms of troopers. I've spilled more blood that your entire crew combined, and this is what you meet me with? Strike me! Give me a reason to train you! Strike me, and prove to Lord Valinor that allowing you to live was not a mistake! Strike me, and prove to me that I shouldn't correct that mistake!"

 

As he spoke, his voice raised, shouting at the woman. She showed inaction. Unwillingness. No sincerity. He needed to fix that. If she was going to fight for the Sith Empire, she'd need to show conviction. It infuriated him. Did she even have a plan? He could feel the pull of the Force, beckoning for him to give into his emotions. His disappointment, and his anger. His contempt for the turncoat. He shouted once more, the Force booming through his voice.

 

"Strike me!"

[Mavanger]

He could feel her anger. Good. It was a start. She would learn to fight, or he would kill her. She kept her weapon low. A mistake. There were few actions that she could perform from her stance. Her first swing was simple, low, and while it held more skill than what he had previously seen, she still telegraphed. His second saber remained sheathed. He wouldn't need it for this. He blocked her first swing, pressing close. He would teach her to fight... but first, he would humiliate her. Break her down to her core, shatter her. Then, when he put the pieces back together, she would be a weapon. None of this silly pride, this stubborn refusal to submit.

 

He ducked under he second swing, and as she reared back for her third, he grabbed her wrist. He pulled on the force, his emotions leading his actions as he lifted her into the air and threw her over his shoulder. He watched her hit the ground, orange-red dust flying into the air from the impact.

 

"If you will not kneel, I will make you kneel. Giving into your emotions is easy, but if you do, then your defeat will be just as easy to achieve. Being a Sith is more than giving in. It's controlling them. Harnessing the energy they possess and using it to power your connection to the force. Submerge yourself. Let yourself feel everything. The pain of injury, the shame of defeat. Even anger at me. Hatred. The desire to kill me, if you have it. Feel these emotions and rather than being bent to their will, you will bend them to yours. Now stand, and try again."

[Mavanger]

Mordecai let out a deep, guttural laugh at her attacks. They were still sloppy, unplanned. Uncoordinated. He took her push, pushing him out of the range of the follow up attack. From there, all he did was pivot and plant his feet, sliding about a meter back at her second attempt at a force push. He still stood, unharmed and sneering, before grabbing her with the force and forcing her to her knees.

 

"Better, but you are still weak. You're uncoordinated and unplanned in your attacks. You cannot hope to best me if you cannot even best your own impulses."

 

Her failure was a bitter one- her failure as a student was his failure as a teacher. She would learn, whether it took harming her to teach her or simple words would be up to her.

 

"Your strikes should have more purpose than to harm me. They should force me to sacrifice, to retreat. They should lead to a final coup-de-grace. A finishing blow. Try again. Failure this time means more than humiliation."

Edited August 19, 2020 by Mavanger

[Mavanger]

Mordecai allowed himself to laugh. She was learning quickly. Perhaps she was worthy of teaching. The threat of real violence seemed to have spurred her on. He planted his feet as she began her offensive. Her second attack was wide, and he deftly blocked it with his lightsaber, the clash searing the air with heat and their ears with the shrill bark of plasma-on-plasma. He kept his movements tight, pushing her second blow wide. He chuckled.

 

Her hand connected with his wrist, and with a burst of strength and speed, he twisted it, sweeping her feet from under her with his leg, causing her to slam into the dirt, as he kicked her lightsaber away. Impressive. Injury need not be her punishment this time.

 

"Impressive, but only given your prior performance. Perhaps Lord Valinor was not mistaken. You may not be quite the waste of time I suspect. Still, I don't need an apprentice who dies the first time anyone with a modicum of skill fights back. Retrieve your weapon. Ready yourself. Whether or not you survive this part is up to you."

[Mavanger]

"You are not. You doubt yourself. Good. Arrogance leads to an early death. But keep your doubts to yourself. Do not display them as you do for all to see or they become an even more potent weakness. Regardless, you will either earn the right to be called Sith here, or you will die. It does not matter to me which- the Sith empire gains new acolytes every day."

 

He stepped forwards, raising his blade in an aggressive stance. He would hold back- she had no chance of surviving a lord's assault, regardless of her potential. He swung with un-augmented strength, once, twice, three times. The first swing was downwards towards her left arm. The second, an attempt to sever her legs. For the third, he ignited his second lightsaber, swinging to her right shoulder. She would need to watch for such trickery, she would learn.

[Mavanger]

Good enough.

 

She had much room to improve. The smell of her burning flesh would teach her the lesson he intended. But to continue would be foolish. That she still stood with her wounds was surprising in itself. He frowned. A slave approached him- one he recognized. Ah. Her. The one from his own trials. It seems she had survived. Good. She hesitated for a moment before kneeling.

 

"My lord. The battle for Corellia has begun."

 

He could see the sneer on her face- another Sith must have instructed her to inform him. Valinore, maybe. It mattered not. She was here, and kneeling. It deemed a response.

 

"Good. Return to your quarters. Obey the other Lords. I'll discuss my plans for you when I return."

 

He turned back to his new apprentice. "Behold, the penance of failure. Slavery is a lenient sentence- I was foolish and swayed by mercy when I issued it. Your own crew member awaits the same fate. Decide what you will do with him, and then we depart to Corellia. Your first true battle awaits.

[Mavanger]

Korriban. The ancient homeworld of the Sith and the ancestral capitol of their empires. While no longer a capitol of an empire, it was still the heart of their order. The Korriban academy stood tall, relentless in its oppression and untouched in its darkness. It was here that he was trained. Where those from across the galaxy would seek power and fame. Where countless would fall in that pursuit, and countless more would grow into Sith. This was the purpose of his visit. If he was to build support for his plans, he would need to start here, where the young apprentices and acolytes served and learned. What better way to learn what a Sith is, than to witness conquest?

 

The rust-colored world loomed in the darkness, his fleet drifting ominously towards it. He glanced towards the captain. nodding.

 

"Get me a secure line."
 

~

 

On the surface, a woman moved along the sands, her tattered clothes barely worthy of a slave. She'd had a name once, long ago. Served the Imperial Navy with distinction. Now it was stripped from her, through physical and mental torture. She was a nobody, loyal to one Sith. She hated him, but she survived. He fed off of it, nourished it. It was hardly a life, but she would escape. Eventually. For now, she bode her time. Gathering information. She'd become an adept at remaining undetected. Most Sith would go out of their way to beat a slave. She was better than them.

 

She'd reached her goal, a small metal device in her hand and she stalked towards the Sith. a Hapan woman, teaching her apprentice. She sneered. The slave closed the distance silently, speaking only at the last moment.

 

"Lady Sirena, my master, Darth Mavanger, requests your time." she said, presenting the communicator in her hands.

[Mavanger]

Mordecai chuckled inwardly at her attempt to disarm him with her looks and coy smiles.

 

"The pleasure is mine, Lady Sirena. And in order to continue this meeting without the unnecessary posturing, I feel it is my duty to inform you that your charms will not work on me. I prefer the company of men."

 

He was blunt about it, almost uncomfortably so, but it was necessary. he knew her reputation, and while he stood to gain by keeping up the charade, he would tire of it quickly. He was never one for political or social machinations for something so petty. Instead, he preferred to co-operate with his fellow Sith, rather than scheme against them. Those he held in contempt knew that fact well. He believed in the furthering of the Sith through personal power and gain, of course, but when the Jedi and false Imperials were strong enough to go on the offensive, and with the recent defeat the fleet had suffered at Corellia, it would be detrimental to fall into a deadly game of Sith politics.

 

"In the interest of staying blunt, my offer is simple. I'm looking to begin a campaign, a second front on the Rebel worlds. Any further details must wait until we meet in person, but I am offering you this- Come with me. Conquer Rebel worlds, and spread the Sith Empire. In return, any force sensitives we encounter, I will entrust under your tutelage on the condition that they remain loyal to myself as well. You further your reputation as a Sith teacher, and get to kill any Jedi or Imperial Knights we find on the way. I prove myself as a Sith worthy of the Dark Lord's support, and gain a following among the Sith."

 

He'd sought her out for a reason, of course. He could have contacted his former master, Lord Valinor, but she was already likely to support him under the right circumstances. lady Sirena was an unknown variable, and he needed a way into the Sith Academy's good graces to garner support among up and coming Sith that wouldn't raise too much ire from other Darths.

[Mavanger]

Mordecai grinned, the scarred tissue stretching across his face as he responded.

 

"The contents of my soul are for me alone, my Lady, though if you wish to wax philosophical, perhaps there will be time for that in the days ahead. I will see you when you arrive."

 

The communicator shut off, and he glaced at the captain, nodding.

 

"I'm done here. Close the line." he glanced over to his apprentice. "And Kahla, you are about to meet one of the Sith Academy's many dedicated teachers. You met one already, Lord Valinor, whom raised me from my ignorance herself. I expect you to give her the respect you would any Sith Lord. Unlike the Jedi, our titles are not empty platitudes. She will have wisdom to share. Though be careful- she is a seductress. And I mean that literally."

 

He looked back out the observation glass. Korriban was beautiful, in its own way. The desolation and ruin that this planet brought across the galaxy- it was something to admire, the darkness surrounding it akin to what he'd felt near the Dark Lord. It was a shame he would only be here for a while longer. His campaign required decisive action, and he would deliver.

 

~

 

The slave stiffened as the Sith's attention turned back to her. Soon. Soon she would escape. That hope is what kept her going. Hope, and spite. She wouldn't let the Sith make an example out of her like they did the other who had been captured alongside her. This Sith was like all the others on this blasted rock- so full of herself, she would never see an attack coming. Not without help from the Force.

 

"Go to the nearest landing pad. There is a shuttle waiting to take you and any apprentices you deem worthy to my Lord's current flagship, the Wyvern."

[Mavanger]

Mordecai stood in the command center of his flagship, beside his apprentice and the higher ranking officers of his forces as Sirena entered. The table in the center of the room held a hologram of the galaxy, zoomed into the outer rim. There were a few planets with annotations, such as Geonosis and Bothawui, bot other than that it was a standard map. He nodded as she entered, crossing his arms.

 

"Lady Sirena. A pleasure to meet you in person. I'll cut to the chase. The Rebels are fighting back now. Where Coruscant and Carida with almost no resistance, they struck us at Kuat and beat us back at Corellia. What we have on them is numbers, so I'm opening a second front. We'll come at them from below. While they're focused on fighting the Dark Lord and his followers for the Core Worlds, we'll strike the outer rim. There are two objectives here- Expand the Empire, and establish a beachhead to attack Nar Shaddaa. We'll make a pit stop at Raxus before we commence to gather more ships. Geonosis will serve as our headquarters for the region, its manufacturing capabilities should prove useful. After that, we'll spread out through the outer rim and take as many worlds as we can before the Rebels can react. Then, we'll move to Bothawui, the staging ground I've chosen after some discussion with my staff.  It's also the most likely place for the Rebels to try and stop us."

 

He took a moment, studying the map.

 

"It's a lot of space. I'll have to split my forces to take it all fast enough. Most of the fighting should be easy, unfortunately. Local planetary defenses and possibly scattered Rebel troops. It will be easy at first, but the longer we're active, the more time the enemy has to rally against us. Speed is the key factor here- don't fight a war if you can intimidate the locals instead."

 

It was a sound plan, one that he'd been working at since his ascension to Lord. For nearly three years, he'd been fighting in this war. It had leant him the experience and the wisdom he needed to command this campaign, and in time, it make mark him worthy to be considered one of the Dark Lord's best. And perhaps, in time, he could surpass the Master of all Sith. That time was far away, however, and those were thoughts best kept to himself. For now.

 

~

 

She had been shocked at the Sith's words. At first, she'd doubted it, waiting until the Sith was gone to even consider it. But the Sith were treacherous people. Perhaps she wasn't the target of this trap- perhaps it was her master. They fought and schemed with eachother as much as they did with the Jedi and the True Empire. There was a possibility that the offer of escape was genuine... and yet, she didn't take it. To do so and fall victim to a trap for her would destroy all of this. All of her fighting and her struggling to be free, to fall to such a blatant trap for be worse than death.

 

And so she wept.

 

It tore at her soul. Yes, maybe she could escape. A day from now, a week, she would likely regret this choice. In fact, she knew she would. But it was a choice she couldn't risk. Not yet. She glanced at the communicator she used to receive word from her Master. Sneering at it, she knew her goal. She has a loose chain. A mistake. Sith didn't notice her without the spikes of anger and disdain that had grown from her mind in these times. She would train herself to suppress them, and then, truly, she would become a ghost.