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Onderon


King Kheldar vos Correlli
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𝖙𝖊𝖒𝖕𝖙𝖆𝖙𝖎𝖔𝖓 𝖔𝖋 𝖇𝖑𝖔𝖔𝖉

 

 

Qaela smiled at her daughter's question. There were so many possible causes for the question and avenues for the answer, none of them would make the Jedi happy. That her daughter was on such a promisingly dark path was a good sign. "They need not be all slain in the field, but I will not brook any risks that could endanger the overall operation. If we can take some of the Jedi alive, that is a pleasant bonus, but I won't have anyone taking undue risks. Any Younglings we find in the Temple itself should be spared, though, there are many things we can do with them."

 

A small chime chirped at her desk. She stood up and gestured for the door. "Go now and prepare yourselves. I must give instruction to the Imperial officers so they may know their roles."

 

As soon as they had departed, Qaela began readying herself for battle. Instead of the spear she lost on Felucia, she returned to the use of a lightsaber. The deep blue sapphire that powered it created a similar hue that suited her well. She also prepared another suit of medium matte black armor, complete with a small blaster pistol and bandoleer with grenades. This time, since the Sith weren't fighting with full biohazard suits, she limited herself to two incendiary grenades and two fragmenting ones. She didn't like fighting at close range, but she would be ready should that happen again as it did on Felucia.

 

*  *              *  *

 

In Onderon's highest security prison, routine was what kept the inmates under control. It allowed the guards to know when something was out of place and if their wards were trying to escape or cause problems. It gave the otherwise violent and unstable inmates a sense of structure to build their lives around and keep them from overreacting to anything.

 

However, today, routine was broken. Dozens upon dozens of the worst offenders, the most vile of rapists and murderers, the most hated traitors, and even some of those who peddled death dealing narcotics that weakened the health and resolve of the Empire's youth were all rounded up. They knew not where they were going, but they ultimately had no choice in this. Some were excited at the change, hoping that they would be going to a better place than the oppressive prison cells. Others were apprehensive at the change and and uncertainty of the unknown. Regardless to how they felt, within a few hours, over a hundred of Onderon's worst were secured in specialized cells on a medium transport commonly used by space liners and other transport companies to ferry paying passengers around the Galaxy. As soon as they were loaded and all was ready, the shuttle lifted off and joined the Sith fleet in orbit as it readied for battle.

 

A Victory class Star Destroyer, the Exultant Darkness, formed the core of the invasion force while the Herløv remained at Onderon to finalize repairs. It was escorted by two Lancer frigates and a half dozen smaller corvettes. It had recently suffered heavy losses to its own fighter and bomber compliment, so it took on both from the Herløv's own compliment which had been replenished at Kuat. Troop transports were also present, ready to deliver a battalion of Sith soldiers onto the planet's surface along with AT-ST's and some medium artillery units. It wasn't the largest invasion force Qaela had ever commanded, but their target wasn't a heavily occupied Core world, either.

 

As soon as everything was ready, the force slipped into hyperspace.

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  • 4 weeks later...

Mordecai stalked through the jungles of Onderon with grim determination, searching. Hunting. He had forged his blades in the fires of his fury, and quenched them in the depths of his sorrow. And yet, as he prowled through the jungle, his mind was not yet sated. Still his emotions gnawed at him, tearing at his psyche with dangerous efficiency. His chest still ached, though the wound had been long since healed. A phantom pain, pricking at his nerves in a shameful reminder of his first defeat since his battle over Borleais, all those years ago. He had faced off against the rebel's mightiest champions, their greatest heroes. He had slain their warriors and thwarted their attacks. And yet, that girl had stopped him. She had halted him in his tracks and slain him where he stood. In truth, he did not yet understand the nature of his reincarnation. He longed for the days that Xahl was by his side- the sorcerer would have known. His knowledge of the force had been vast. Another terrible loss for the Sith.

 

Which brought him to these cursed jungles. Prowling. Onderon was rife with Sithspawn whos' hides repelled lightsabers, whos' skin absorbed the Force like a sponge. From such a creature, he could fashion himself armor that would compensate for his aggression. That could halt an enemy's blows as readily as a saber or a shield could. And then, he would be unstoppable. At least, that had been the plan when he had departed. When he had set into the jungle it had been for this task, but it was one he had since abandoned, if only temporarily. For he sensed something else, a quiet presence in the Force. One that while unfamiliar, pulsed with energies that he recognized. There was a force-sensitive in these jungles, and Mordecai would find them. What happened then, only time would tell.

 

He rested his hand against Imeall Dólás, a form of comfort in this unfamiliar environment. His senses needled at him again. His chest was sore, and his heart ached. His rage built. He was close.

 

"Reveal yourself."

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Fiochmar Sadow-iv-Ragnos has been watching, tracking and trailing Mordecai the man having come into the jungle territory of the Ragnos Clan. Silently he moves through the brush and tree limbs his own self loathing and desire for revenge pouring off of him. His hands rest on the hilt of his Vibrosword and the head of his Vibroaxe. Looking around he bides his time taking a deep breath as he pauses.

 

When Mordecai says reveal yourself, Fioch looks around perhaps for a Jungle beast that may have broken a twig or made another sound. Realizing there's nothing his eyes go wide. "How can he know I'm here?" Fioch thinks to himself before shaking his head he grins sadistically. Drawing his blades he leaps from the tree and swings the blades down at Mordecai. "FOR THE GLORY OF HOUSE RAGNOS!!" He shouts on the way down.

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Aggression.

 

A simple emotion. One he knew well. One that called to him from the Force as the man revealed himself, leaping from the trees like some lesser primate. He acted on instinct. The metal let out a hiss as he drew both blades, blocking the man's sloppy swings with practiced ease. He spun away, creating distance between them as he eyed the new arrival. He was young, and of the same race as Lord Akheron. Interesting. A rarity, then. And from the looks of it, he knew how to fight. Already it seemed better than the last whelp he had trained. She had turned into a warrior by his hand. With this, he could do so much more.

 

He stared down the Tjsis, a snarl printed across his face.

 

"Enough!"

 

That single word carried with it a booming power, a presence and authority that a master of the Force commanded.

 

"You shout of glory, and yet you attack an opponent unawares, slinking in the shadows like a lesser creature. You strike at someone not known to be your opponent, and not knowing of their capabilities. Tell me, young man, where is the glory in dying alone in the jungle to a stranger?"

 

He lifted a blade to the Tjsis, its weight a comfort he didn't know he had missed. A lightsaber was many things, but a weapon with impact was not one of them. This gesture was many things. A threat, that if the attacks continued there would be consequences. A challenge, that if the boy thought himself above Darth Mavanger that all he had to do was prove it. And beneath that... An offer to learn.

 

"Tell me, what do you know of glory, hidden away in this jungle?"

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Fiochmar snarls and rolls away reversing the sword and holding the axe out. Mordecai's command of enough makes him falter for the briefest of moments before he shakes it off and starts to circle Mordecai with a grin. 

 

"You come into our jungle, and trespass in our territory, armed and expect us to not defend ourselves?"

 

Fioch sneers and watching the way Mordecai levels his weapons. Looking around to make sure that Mordecai hasn't brought any backup and when he's satisfied they're alone he laughs. Fioch moves a bit closer at this point.

 

"I stay in the shadows like a predator. Stalk the prey and attack when least expected. Any who trespass in our jungle is an opponent. The glory is in my ancestors and the Gods knowing my deeds were of greatness! I know the glory of my people and why we remain here in this jungle." 

 

And before another word can be said Fioch charges in again swiping, slashing, hacking and swinging his blades at Mordecai.

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Mordecai let out a laugh, unbidden from his chest as he blocked the frenzied attacks from the angry child. He had been no younger when he had set out for Korriban. Those days had been simpler. He had wanted a legacy, to be remembered by generations in the future. But he had grown since then. Now, he saw a larger picture. The Sith Empire was strong, and in keeping it strong, he would leave his mark on this galaxy, whether they remembered his name or not. He moved on the backfoot, not even slightly winded by the attacks. He had form, but he had lost it in his frenzy. He had emotions to harness, but did so sloppily, and it cost him his bladework. These could be remedied.

 

"This is not your jungle. This is the Sith Empire's jungle. By squatting here like a vagrant, you trespass on an empire that spans countless stars and planets. I can only assume you stay here because we have been indifferent to such a small and petty creature claiming dominion. Your ancestors were warriors and sorcerers. They shaped the very galaxy where they walked, they demolished civilizations and defied the Jedi for millennia. If you think they see any glory in lurking through the shadows of what was once their empire, begging for scraps of violence and shouting of their honor, then you do not know their nature as I do."

 

He went on the offensive now. He would show this boy what it meant to stand against the Sith Empire's champion, the Warden of Kuat, the Scourge of the Outer Rim. he rushed forward with a speed one would not expect from a man in heavy armor, drawing on the well of his emotions to empower the Force, which in turn empowered him. Strength surged through his body as he lunged, and he brought down his blades in a series of crushing strikes. One came down overhead, the blade's weight and gravity further enhancing the blow. The second was a thrust towards the Tjsis's abdomen, again the weight assisting with his momentum. It was calming to him, having a real weight behind his attacks now. The last was an underhanded swing, looking to open the boy from hip to shoulder.

 

Maybe under this onslaught of blows, he could see what real power was. What real strength was. What glory truly entailed.

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Fioch starts to laugh at what Mordecai states. "My ancestors built the Empire you people are claiming in our name yes." He says with a malicious grin.

 

Before being put on the defensive his axe and sword coming in rapid flurries of panic not used to a foe so skilled and talented, he blocks the first strike deflects the thrust with his axe but with the up slash he dives backwards and rolls. Using his emotions to fuel it he throws his vibroblade at Mordecai.

 

"DAMN! He's good." He says to himself.

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He could have blocked the blade. It was sloppy, unpracticed. Instead, he chose to make a statement. The blade lodged itself in his shoulder, and pain, a familiar friend, blossomed from the wound. The blade landed squarely, impaling his shoulder. He gripped it with a gauntlet-clad hand, pulling the blade out slowly as he stared down the child. with a sickening wetness, the blade slipped free, and he let it clatter to the ground. He relished the feeling. It fueled him, it drove him further. He took a step closer. His boots left an impact on the very ground that he tread. His blades cut through the fabric of the Force, forged in the ancient ways of the Sith. His blood stained his armor. This was nothing compared to what he had experienced on Naboo. Another step. His gaze never wavered, it never faltered.

 

"Your ancestors were warriors. We claim nothing in your name. What we have, we have taken for ourselves through strength and through power, both of which you know nothing of. I have studied the ancient Sith Lords. You said Clan Ragnos? How would your patron feel if he learned that his legacy had been reduced to this? A mewling welp with no hope of defeating the man he calls a trespasser, for I have died before, and even on the cusp of oblivion, my rage pulled me forth unto a new life. What hope do you have to defeat me? Marka Ragnos was a great man. Someone to aspire to. But his way was not slinking through the jungles of Onderon hoping that his prey was not too strong for him. He pitted his foes against each other. He slew his rivals in single combat, and led grand campaigns to expand the Sith Empire. You struggle to defend what you claim are your borders. You hide, because you fear the empire of your ancestors. And rightfully so- if they saw what I see, they would abandon you for all time."

 

He took another step forward.

 

"You have already lost. In a mere fraction of a second, you have lost your momentum and your weapon. You are weak. Do you truly believe that if I wanted you dead, that I would be unable to achieve such an act? You are a fool. But weakness can be erased. You can teach someone to not be foolish. If you seek glory and power, if you wish for your ancestors to see your glory, then you much reach out and take it. Reclaim the Empire, if you truly believe it is yours. I offer you a chance to learn and to grow, to become more than what you are now, as my apprentice. But know that if you decline, then I will put you into the dirt, as you will be an enemy of the Sith Empire."

Edited by Mavanger

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Fiochmar stares at Mordecai and holds up the axe. Before clambering back to his feet, he stares down the man before as a grin spreads across his face.

 

"I did not lose all my weapons. Nor have I truly lost. I only lose the day I die and can't return. I am indeed a member of the Clan Ragnos and I am indeed wanting to take the glory back for myself and my people. However I must disagree you use the Name Sith for the Empire you took and reshaped and rebuilt. Sith is my people so in a sense it is in our name as it uses our name." 

 

Now its time for Fioch to step forward his gaze nor smile wavering.

 

"I Do accept your offer to learn, and grow to gain strength and power. I am Fiochmar."

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The boy did not believe he had lost- Mordecai would have to beat that out of him, it would seem. He took another step forward, before the communicator as his waist let out a high pitched chirp. He froze, narrowing his eyes. It seems that fate had a different plan, at least for now. He let his annoyance flow, bottling it up. It would be useful later, for him to uncork in a storm of fire and fury. A message, from one Darth Nyrys. It seemed that the Dark Lord was ready to make her move. He closed his eyes, centering himself once more.

 

"Very well. We must move, then. I have been called to war. The Dark Lady calls her Lords, and I will answer. In time, you will learn that your bloodline means little to these people. You will fight, and you will live or die based solely on your abilities as a warrior, not on whether you have red skin or not. This is, and always has been, the Sith way."

 

He turned away, moving back towards the nearby settlement. "I am Darth Mavanger. I shall be your master, and I shall teach you to harness the Force as your weapon. You would do well to listen closely, as I am not in the habit of repeating myself. Your training will begin once we are en-route to Naboo."

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Fiochmar nods picking up his vibroblade and sheathing it and his vibroaxe. He quickly makes to follow his new Master before he looks to him. 

 

"I'm aware of the way of the Sith. I don't expect my lineage to make a difference. I know its my own strength and power that will ensure my survival and my place here."

 

Fioch states simply as he heads off with Darth Mavanger. He stops a moment before looking at his mentor he grins.

 

"What about my ship and Wrath?"

 

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"Or your demise." Mordecai added.

 

Indeed, failure was the most common outcome of apprentices within the Sith. It was why the Jedi always seemed to have a numerical edge over the Sith forces. Still, the warriors that the Sith produced were much more often incredibly powerful, whereas the Jedi would give anyone who could push a ball with the Force a lightsaber. That much he had seen himself. Indeed, each time he had fought them, they had put up hardly a fight, crushed under his momentum, until he had dueled the girl on Naboo. She had potential- it was a shame the Jedi had found her first. But from what he had witnessed, such warriors were few and far between. He knew the value of a trained warrior well, and had instilled that mentality on his previous apprentice. It had not been without effort, of course, but now she was a functional addition to the Sith. Whether she would continue to perform well, and hold her rank and title, was no longer his concern. It was hers.

 

He glanced back at the boy's question.

 

"Give the co-ordinates to the man attending my ship. He is a loyal soldier, and will retrieve your belongings and meet us at Naboo with them."

 

He walked in silence the rest of the way- there was no time to waste. The sooner he met with the Dark Lord, the sooner he could begin his new apprentice's training, and the sooner he could strengthen the Sith Empire.

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Fiochmar looks a bit uneasy at handing over his ship and Droid. But seeing little choice he does give in and follows Mordecai to his ship.

 

"Fine ill hand over my ship and Droid to your man."

 

He says giving the attendant the codes and such that he needs to get into the ship as well as a pass phrase for his Droid to know this man isn't attempting to steal his ship.

 

"I'm eager to learn and start my training Master." 

 

Fiochmar says with a bow before straightening up to head in.

 

"I won't let you down."

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