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Delta straightened his back and pulled his handshake into a salute as he watched the Sith spirit depart. Then, he turned, walked out of the Cathar’s quarters, locked the door, and made his way to the Marie. That blessed ship that had carried him for over a decade. He smiled as the crew welcomed him aboard and after consulting with the officers he went to his quarters as the ship was prepped for hyperspace.

 

It was when he had sat down on his grav couch, his pile of armour sitting beside him that his comm chirped from the Cathar girl with the Sith father. He smiled. What a lovely idea to go gallivanting to her species homeworld. He had never likened much to furries until he had met Ailbasí so he had written her species down as furry-lite. At least acceptable to let live. They weren’t Bothans afterall. So he made his decision, and walked back to the girl’s ship, dressed completely differently than anything Mando like. He passed the coordinates to the captain, and watched the Marie take off into the upper atmosphere before he walked back to the girls quarters and slept until they arrived. The Marie would follow should they need her.

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Commander - Darkhand Brigade - Sith Empire

Blood Prince

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  • 2 weeks later...

The fire raged on. Not having much to do, Zutia sat with her arms curled around her legs and quietly analyzed her situation. It was better than pondering whether the wind would turn her direction and she would die to smoke inhalation. It was surely going to be nightfall soon. The smoke from the fire was going to play havoc with her navigation, but the running lights of the occasional freight traffic of Dromund Kaas would at least give her a general direction to walk towards. The carcasses of the two tuk’atas  had ceased their reflexive twitching and had gone still, their limbs stiffening as rigor mortis set in. Even the blood had ceased pooling around her feet--more likely due to coagulation than to exsanguination, Lavell told herself. Even if her blade had pierced the heart, an adolescent tuk’ata had enough blood volume that exsanguination was unlikely.

How long could she last without water? There was no potable water between here and the Sith academy, and even the few standing ponds were heavily contaminated with toxic minerals. The blaze would have sucked every droplet of moisture out of the air. two days, perhaps more if she traveled only at night, but dehydration would cripple her ability to think clearly within a day.

She glanced at the stagnant pool of blood at her feet. No, she reminded herself, the blood of a tuk’ata was far too ferric to suffice as a source of water, and it had clotted by this point.

It was soon quiet again. Wisps of smoke no longer drifted into the cavern, and the dull roar of the brushfire had finally faded. Zutia stepped clear of the grotto and into the scorched wilderness of Korriban’s plains. She glanced upwards; night had fallen, but the brushfire had generated so much smoke that the night sky was blotted out. It would be navigation by compass and hope.

The hunter took a moment to cast down her pack, the canvas splashing ash around its impact. She rummaged through her gear and discarded anything that she would need for immediate survival, anything that would away her down: extra changes of clothes, her collapsed shelter, most of her ammunition, and any extra rations that would endure beyond three days. Nodding with satisfaction at the small pile of discarded equipment, Zutia turned towards the wind and began to walk.

She proceeded at a steady, deliberate pace, her feet instinctively responding to every unseen rise and fall in the ashen plains. The smoke refused to clear the first night and the entirety of the next day. It wasn’t until the second night, when a fortuitous rain shower cast a few blessed droplets of water on her forehead, that the smog finally began to fade and she caught a glimpse of stars. Drinking from the scarce few raindrops she could gather in her hat, Zutia caught a glimpse of intense blue-white light streaking across the smoke-veiled sky.

Sublight engines. A glance at her compass confirmed that the craft was landing at Dreshdae.

She walked for two more days.

On the night of the third day, a dehydrated, delirious Zutia Lavell staggered into a cantina on the outskirts of the Dreshdae starport, a fine cloud of ash trailing behind her passage. Bumping repeatedly into tables, she managed to will her body to the bar and leaned heavily upon it. Her mouth worked a few times, but a mixture of dust, ash, and dehydration seemed to have formed a seal of concrete in her mouth and throat. A nearby Devaronian decided that wherever he could be, it would be better than anywhere within a city block of this wild woman who smelled of smoke and whose trousers and boots were covered with dried blood. Zutia took no notice, her eyes instead boring into the back of the bartender who was making a determined effort of looking anywhere but in her direction.

Her voice came out as an strangled croak.

“may i have a glass of water, please”

She wasn’t heard by the bartender, who had decided that he would much rather not deal with this problem. Zutia decided that she needed to make herself unignorable in this cynical city dominated by the Sith Order.  The weapon seeming agonizingly heavy in her arms, Zutia managed to lug her rifle up to her shoulders and slammed it onto the bar, the plastoid reverberating deafeningly through the cantina. She leaned heavily on the weapon. This time, she shouted.

“May I have a glass of water, please!”
 

So build that wall and build it strong,

'cause we'll be there before too long...

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  • 3 weeks later...

The spiced smoke was sweet upon his tongue and burned as it passed to the great Hutt’s lungs. The soft tip of the pipe’s bit lodged itself into the misshapen corner of his maw, but it gave him no pain, even as it rubbed into the spit-laden sores that ringed his mouth.  The Hutt’s fractured mind was occupied by his work, and not on the pain of his daily reality.

“Whatcha building Sheoggggggggg?”

The small, lovingly mocking voice drew him from his concentration. The Hutt startled, almost dropping his elaborately carved Veshok-Briar pipe upon the slime-soaked flagstones of the Krath temple. He gave the girl a stare with his crimson eyes, letting the sulpheric lids drag across his visage to concentrate upon her form.

<<Hayley…>>

The auburn-haired girl skipped towards him, and Sheog’s gaze was drawn to her scarred orbital socket, and the mechanical eye that gleamed within it. A gift from the pirates of Mrykyr. It shone red in the half darkness, scanning the room and the pile of corpses before the Hutt. They were stacked like cordwood, freshly dead, and not even stinking yet, even though the bloatflies were beginning to swarm around them.

“That is my name yeah. Were those the Coruscanti refugees?”

The Hutt reached out with a slimy hand, letting the Force flow around him, catching her as the young teenager slipped in the slime and blood that had slickened the floor. He breathed out a puff of spiced smoke which clung to the air and settled upon the bodies. It seeped into their pores and orifaces like the bloatflies that were searching for a meaty place to lay their eggs. The Hutt appreciated their tenacity and their willingness to repurpose the dead. It was a trait they both shared.

<<Yes. Their minds, before they were broken, told me of a harrowing escape. Mandalorians. Moonfall. Moon Knight taking a world with a storm of death? A moon hits a world and a Moon Knight conquers it…>>

The Hutt sighed out more smoke from his lungs, letting it fall onto the corpses once more. The Force moved through him, feeding on his greed and hunger to corrupt his desires. The bodies began to heave and twitch. Sheog’s labored, noisy breathing paused

<<No, not Moon Knight. A servant of Kad Ha’rangir…>>

A slobbering breath filled the room as the Hutt began to laugh

<<Little Terra has finally come to her own. My old master’s Pariah. Never seemed to be able to talk with her…>>

Hayley watched from where she was suspended still by her master’s will.

“She took Coruscant?”

The bodies continued their seizing, epileptic dance

<<Apparently.>>

The wraiths rose from their writing stack of flesh and began to shamble out of the door, their body’s twitching as if they were marionettes on a string. The Hutt focused on a single body, that of a toddler who had been nearly decapitated by his lightsaber. He hadn’t even noticed her. He watched as the body’s twitching became less abhorrently gross, the muscles refining their touch.

<<Such a crude thing, Necromancy…>>

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King Kheldar vos Correlli said:
Sheog, I have to ask, overkill much?
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  • 1 month later...

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."

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Ahhh well done then boy

Came the voice that thundered throughout the training area. The figure clapped his hands slowly and gestured for the apprentice to follow him. He turned and strode through the tunnels of the dark lords. Their statues looming overhead, staring with stone eyes. The only memory the galaxy had of them. He gestured to a towering stone figure. 

What lesson is taught to us from these statues of sith lords young Mordecai? 

Commander Valinor - Sith Lord

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Admiral 3rd Felix Legions

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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.

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  • 2 weeks later...

Aye. Well said young one, merely seeking death and destruction is not a legacy that lasts. If you wish to be hated by millions of mothers and children and believe that is some kind of legacy that will last beyond a single generation it is foolishness. For who even remembers Ar-Pharazon the Golden? Terrian the cruel? Lord Achzet? 

His sweeping hand took in the statues dismissively. 

They are nothing, because they built nothing. That is our crucial flaw Mordecai. We do not look to the generations in front of us to leave a legacy to. 

His hand became an fist. 

We consolidate power out of greed and that power dies with us. We have built nothing but crypts and tombs, halls to our eternal power that show little but decay. 

The mask's eyes flared red gold. 

Do what I do little one. Build order, build stability, build the next generation. And do not fall to the trap that is power for powers self. 

The eyes turned to the apprentice.

Do you understand? 

Commander Valinor - Sith Lord

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Admiral 3rd Felix Legions

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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"

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  • 2 weeks later...

It had been months since the battle of Kuat when the infamous Sith Master known as Darth Oni suffered his defeat at the hands of the Imperial Exorcist Kyrie and his gaze fell upon the child of Darkfire as his blade pierced the beast's heart. Gazing out into the wasteland, Neo's braided silver hair flowed upon the breeze as he gazed off into the distance toward the Academy. Oni died that day, releasing Neo from the demon within and allowed his soul to finally find freedom. But with that freedom, Neo found weakness within himself, and in his pursuit to correct it, found his own path to forge. And forge it, he had. As the former Assassin rose from his perch, the twin Tuk'ata rose with their Master as he headed back to camp. Too long had he been gone, and now the dawn of Neo Krell crested upon the horizon.

It had been nearly two months since Neo left behind Darkfire's Dojo on Mechis III, three months since he buried Oni, his life as an Alcazarin, and set out upon this journey. But now he grew ready to return to Onderon, to the fold of his brethren, and take his rightful place as a true Sith Master. Griping his gloved fist tightly, the air around it sparkled with electrical static as his excitement grew. It had been a long journey, but now it was coming to an end. His gaze shifted toward the twin shoto-sabers he held within his gripped fist as he unclinched it, and began his trek back toward the Massassi Camp he had called home since his return to Korriban, the twin Tuk'ata in tow.

As he walked, his mind recalled what happened since he left the Dojo behind along with the Oni-bot that his Master had forged for him, riding himself of all that his Oni persona had stood for. And since arriving on Korriban, Neo has defined himself extravagantly. His strength and knowledge of Natura Kevn had grown immensely, earning him a place of power over the Forja Sitmyr, a clan of Massassi whom have bred and trained the Tuk'ata of the Tombs over hundreds of millennia. And though his appearence still mimicked that of a beast similar to Darth Oni, his leathered robes lined with fur and Massassi Runes embroidered upon it, his eyes spoke of the intellectual warrior that resided within as his gaze shifted upon the camp when his visage came into sight of his newfound kinsmen below. As Neo's mouth opened, a roar erupted that echoed through-out the crevassed canyon, the Massassi below standing as their heir apparent returned, their voices raising to greet his howl. 

With a smirk upon his face, Neo lept from the cliff into the camp below and walked to its center. With a prideful boast within his heart, Neo spoke. "It is time Forja Sitmyr. Onderon awaits us. Exodus awaits us." 

With that spoken, Neo bearded the ship he had prepared, the twins Skoll and Hati in tow, as well as a guard of six of the Forja Sitmyr Massassi and their Tuk'ata companions. Within moments, they exited Korriban's atmosphere and entered hyperspace.

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R.I.P. Nanny (6/3/1941-1/9/2012)

R.I.P. Papa (2/14/1936-2/7/2012)

R.I.P. Big Mike (5/12/82-11/9/2012)

~Revelations 21:4 (KJV)~

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Ahh so you have made the choice to follow us despite the warnings of every one before you

The voice was now strangely soft and its pitched changed to a tired tone, as a black hand reached up to tug the mask from Valinor’s face. Bright blue eyes stared back at Mordecai, as the black mist surrounding the commander of the Felix legions disintegrated into the air. The eyes were the striking feature of the commander’s face, and when the darkness surrounding had disappeared, the commander was revealed to be a woman. Mid twenties, face covered by red tattoos.

She extended a black gloved hand to the young man.

“Then join me, and tell me of what you wish to be within the Sith.” Her hand swept wide. “What draws you, a warriors spirit? A tricksters?”

Commander Valinor - Sith Lord

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Admiral 3rd Felix Legions

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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?

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“Well naturally we make you a Sith Assassin, like the Spider.”

A bright blue eye winked.

“But really we teach you how to become invisible and strike where it hurts most.”

She let go of his hand and pointed to a large expanse of shifting sand that was gathered at the feet of several statues.

“Go sit, meditate, and figure out how to disguise yourself in the sands.”

 

Commander Valinor - Sith Lord

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Admiral 3rd Felix Legions

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  • 1 month later...

The subaltern had tried to be quiet in his approach to where the high ranking Sith Lord was teaching her apprentice, an effort to not disturb the mighty lord perhaps. But it was ineffective and the twinkle of laughter left Valinor’s eyes in a second as she felt the nervous man’s approach. Her voice was soft as she whispered to the apprentice as she stood up and placed a small hand over her beautiful face.

 

“We are disturbed. Can you not sense his apprehension? It is...delicious.” The hand covering her face went dark and in an instant the smiling face of Katarra Corun now deemed Lord Valinor was gone. Swallowed in shadows. “There must be something of great calamity to disturb me as such.”

 

Two sharp knocks echoed in the room from the subaltern, who swiftly opened the door and stepped inside. His face downcast. But his apprehension had piqued to a ferocious anticipation. And he announced himself, the eagerness dripping off his voice like a thick film.

 

“The Dark Lord has called all forces to action My Lord.”

 

He saluted and held out a slip of parchment like flimsiplast.

 

“We are called to war lord.”

 

Beneath the masquerade of shadows a smile crept from ear to ear. Her voice was harsh and victorious.

 

“Assemble the armies.”

 

Korriban had been called. And the old Ark of the Sith would answer.

 

“Stay in my shadow little one. By weeks end you and I may dine on the flesh of mighty warriors.”

 

________________________

 

Great shuttles descended from the grey cloudless sky to land among the old statues. They would be loaded with Lords and Ladies of the sith and their retinue before departing for space and the summons of their liege lord. Some many thousands of force users left the Temple of Unholy Dormition in this matter.

________________________

 

|The Felix legions|

marcet sine adversario virtus

 

One by one they appeared, black helmets dull in the Korribani sun, eyes dark behind the veil of the force. Blasters they carried, cradled in brutish arms, with sabres of darksteel slung on dark leather belts. Creatures of the darkside, unholy in intention and spirit, prepared to fight the enemies of their Lord commander. The dark four thousand and one.

 

 

((You may post us leaving to space. Have fun with it.))

Commander Valinor - Sith Lord

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Admiral 3rd Felix Legions

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As months passed, Qaela immersed herself in the daily maintenance of running the Bastion of Pelko at the commands of the Dark Lord. The success of his mighty campaign had created a massive flow of new recruits eager to seize the power offered by the Dark Side. Many hadn't managed to survive the training and constant power struggles within the Sith, but there were substantial numbers of competent and dedicated Sith Lords. Some of those under her had challenged her authority, but she had dealt with them in sufficiently brutal fashions as to discourage too much ambition for her position. She also had developed a small but effective and loyal following to protect her position and increase her power.

 

When word arrived that Exodus was summoning the armed forces of his Empire, Qaela knew that it was time for her to leave this dusty, desolate planet. Despite her role and the love she had developed in instilling whatever sense of clan and unity into the normally fractious Sith philosophy, she yearned for the green lands she had grown up in. The desert was too dry and barren for her tastes.

 

Working with the various Sith military commanders and fellow Sith Masters, she did her part in assembling and loading up those within the Bastion that were ready to fight. When all was ready, she joined them. It had been a long time since she had gone to war, and when she had, it hadn't always turned out well for her. Scars on her body and soul attested to that fact. Despite that, she believed it was time to keep her word to Exodus to serve him. He had summoned the Sith and she was now Sith so she would fight as he needed.

Qaela Sig

Send PM's to Travis.

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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 by Mavanger

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  • 6 months later...

Peace is a lie, there is only passion

 

But what is passion? Why is peace a lie? To understand those questions, one must understand themselves. This was a fundamental lesson that Master Hu'lak had instilled into Mi'lan since she began her enduring tutelage under the Sith Lord. Peace is stagnation, a false Utopia, an attempt to drive nature from existence. For in all of nature, conflict, survival of the fittest, natural selection, were all solemn truths. Because of these simple truths, it was passions that birthed growth and evolution. The passion to experience life. The passion to learn and grow. The passion to survive. And they were found in every life form from flora to fauna to sentients. Passion was the true natural order.

 

Through Passion, I gain Strength

 

And once one understood themselves and the truth of peace and passion, then they could begin to understand the strengths of those very passions. Passions were meant to spur growth in ones self, to inspire, and to guide. And through growth, inspiration, and guidence, one becomes stronger. And strength is a fundamental attribute in life. For without strength, there is no will. And with no will, there is no life. Like the beast that eats the plants, who is then ate by the carnivor, who then dies and becomes the soil for the plant, life must persevere. But strength alone cannot support life. As the weak become strong, others will do the same. And the need for evolution requires the next step.

 

Through Strength, I gain Power

 

Once one has realized the passion of life and the strength it brings, they soon realize that others have as well. Entire civilizations have evolved and fallen under the guise of strength. But those that persevered were those that realized the next step was power. Without it, strength is meaningless, futile, like a rock. A rock is strong, but useless. But chip it away and add a tip to it, and it becomes strong and powerful, a tool to be used in proper hands. It can strip fur from flesh, providing cleaner food as well as clothing and shelter. And even more, it can settle conflicts with deadly accuracy and establish dominance in a domain where the weak would attempt to prey even upon the strong. This is where natural selection guides the strong into the powerful, and let's evolution take its next step.

 

Through Power, I gain Victory

 

The strong and powerful cannot survive on such basic aspects alone, for with strength and power, comes the passionate envy of the weaker. The weak will always aspire to take down the mighty. But thanks to natural evolution, the stronger and powerful are gifted with greater aspects. By combining the gifts given by nature, and honing them, the weaker will remain weak. Conflict is inevitable, and by displaying one's superiority, they will continue to grow and evolve. Like the Alpha of the Tuk'ata hounds, their leadership is chosen through conflict and superiority, the strongest of the strong chosen for leadership and tested regularly. Such is the way of nature. Such is natural selection. Such is evolution. Despite the envious nature of the weak, they still need the strong to guide them into the future. Without the strong and powerful, the weak would perish. When the weak rule, civilizations fall and are lost to time. But when the strong rule, civilizations prosper.

 

Through Victory, my Chains are Broken

 

Once one understands the laws of nature, the process of evolution and natural selection, the truth of the Galaxy is revealed. Life is cruel and unyielding. And for most, the only means of survival is to grasp at any shred of power they can obtain. For the weak, its secrets and numbers, grasping at false senses of security in an attempt to gain it. But for the strong, its honest and natural. But even nature and evolution can only take one so far before it becomes their choice to either remain in complacency, or take the next step and free one's self from the bondages of life, even for those born with silver spoons in their mouths. Some say to free one's self and break the chains that bind them is a metaphor, others believe it makes one Sith'ari and places a destiny to only destroy those around them. But the truth is that strength and power can only sustain them. To truly live, to truly evolve into who they are meant to be, they have to push themselves beyond their potential. And in doing so, they find who they truly are and what they're capable of. That is true freedom.

 

The Force shall free Me

 

The Mantra of the Sith Code and its understanding can be followed and lived by any walk of life, whether they can touch the Force or not. To know and understand it is to know and understand one's self in the purest and most knowledgeable way, unhindered by oppression and stagnation. But for one born with the gift of the Force, it is so much more. To know it is one thing. But to feel it and weild it is another. The Force is symbolic as much as symbiotic with Nature as any living thing. It flows through all things, but only a select few of the living can coexist within it. Such is the nature of the Force. Like the Mantra of the Sith, it too was guided in its growth and evolution by the very nature it exists within. And for we Sith, there is no deeper truth to behold. Strong, Powerful, Dominate, it leads life with a delicate hand and grants us that are sensitive to its truth a humbling taste of its power, letting us grow like blossoming vines capable of shaping its will to our own. And as such, like the Force exists symbiotic with Nature, so do we with the Force. 

 

************************************

 

Mi'lan's cyan gaze opens, her slim form rising from her meditations on Master Hu'lak's humbling words. Before her hung the curved saber of her Lording as Darth Sirena, its blade pulsating with life as it balanced in mid-air before her. Her life as a member of the Hapan Consortium was long behind her, having grown past the need for titles and the weakness they presented and only holding the title of Darth has a testament to her true self now that she had surpassed her meek potential. Her time on Korriban had long craved away such weakness and now the Galaxy stood ready and awaiting her will. A smirk crossed her flawless face as the thought crossed her mind, and her gaze shifted out on chamber toward the Temple across the valley. Today was the day of her departure for Onderon and the Dark King Exodus, a new Lord ready to make his dream a reality. No longer was she an Apprentice. Now she was Sith. Reaching out, her prosthetic hand grasp the hilt and deactivated the blade before clipping it to her hip. It was time.

 

Darth Sirena

Edited by Chaotic Tranquility

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In life, one must sometimes pursue paths they would rather not even be near, in order to reach their ultimate goals. It was a simple idea that led to dozens of strategies around the idea of separating a battle from a war, usually losing a battle so that one may win the war. For Roran, it was having to stop at Korriban to refuel. While it may sound overdramatic, Roran was not prepared to fight any force-users, nor was he skilled enough to deal with their nonsense. He had been a simple soldier, not some crazy dangerous mandolorian who has the technology and skill to defeat numerous jedi. Thus, stopping on Korriban was a dangerous endeavor, but a required on as well. His ship was designed for speed and durability, not for sustainability. A flaw he would one day solve, but not yet.

 

Regardless of his mental ranting, refueling was quite simple, and he had managed to avoid having to deal with any sith directly thus far. He had no real issue with them, but he also did not like dealing with people who could snap his neck from across the world. At least they were not jedi, using those horrifying mind tricks to rid their victims of free will. He would rather die, thank you. Regardless, he had spent enough time on this world, despite his interest in the lightsabers these warriors had. He wondered if he could buy one from them, or bribe them into making one for him. It was not like he was friendly with the jedi, so he would be completely okay with having to hunt one of them, so long as he could use his less risky strategies. The only reason he would be willing was because how out of the way he would be in those strategies, far enough that no one would know who had done it, or why. More importantly, far enough that no Jedi would be able to retaliate without first getting in a ship and into the vacuum of space.

 

Roran grunted as he finally made it through the hangar area, towards where his ship was supposed to be. Not that he could do much if it was not, but he was fairly certain he could bribe a sith, or someone else high ranking around here, to force these people to find his damn ship. Luckily, it was there, as expected, in all it's... mediocrity. At least, it appeared that way. Not many ships so small had hyperdrives. Even less lacked life support, but his armor made up for that. The armor he was currently wearing, which made him look like a hulking monster of a man covered in some incredibly dense material, was actually just specialized towards survivability, particularly in space. Now that he thought about it, perhaps his armor was why so many seemed ready to go with what he wanted here, asking almost no questions besides the obvious. That, or it was a sith planet and thus questioning anyone was unlikely to go well.

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The trip back from the chamber was fraught with wind and sand, the coverage of her cloak and leathered armor keeping most it away from her form and out the gyros of her prosthetic limb, her mind drifting toward the path that now laid ahead of her. She was now Sith, an apprentice no longer, and as such, had surpassed even her own potential and set her destiny upon an unforeseen path. Such was the fate of those whom had had evolved beyond their original intent. She had contemplated a few ideas, but none had called upon the tug of her heart. And even as she approached the Temple and made her way indoors, her mind raced across infinite possibilities. What would be her place among her brethren, and what would be her purpose within the Order? She supposed only time would truly tell.

 

"Lady Sirena...." A voice echoed from beside her, a Imperial Trooper making an approach to her right. Removing the cloak from upon her head and shaking the dust from upon its cloth, she pinched her nose in slight frustration. "What is it Lieutenant?" She questioned in return. "An unexpected visitor recently made an arrival in the ports without authorization. I was just on my way to find Master Hu'lak." Sirena smiled, her blue gaze shifting toward the Lieutenant with pride. "Master Hu'lak has joined the Force and now resides within the Tombs, my stature having risen to the rank of Lord." Her gaze and words spoke all that needed to be said, the Trooper nodding with understanding, even if a semblance of fright ran its course up his spine. For some Sith, this was just simply the way. "Milady. The infiltrator is this way."

 

The Trooper motioned for Lady Sirena to follow him, the Lady of the Sith falling in behind him as they made their way toward the Ports with haste, her mind curious as to whom the visitor was and why he chose such a dangerous task of making Korriban their latest destination. If they were Alliance or the false Empire, Onderon seemed more sensible. And if they were Jedi, she gleamed at the idea of such a test. She silently prayed that her enemies did not possess such ignorant operatives. But as they arrived and a small detail of Troopers falling in line, she moved to the front and the hangar doors opened with a foreboding hiss.

 

The air went silent as she stood at the forefront, the detail assigned to this investigation spreading outward in a fanning pattern, weapons drawn and aimed toward the visitor @Psychosis. Sirena simply stood there, her blue gaze falling upon the hulking armor that hid the being within with subtle interest. Given the size of his small fighter and the area of Sith space they were located, the suit was likely for atmospheric purposes, as the older design didnt hold hyperdrive capabilities, suggesting the only possiblity he even got here in the first place meant a gutted job. And as she opened herself to the Force, allowing empathy to search his intent, she felt no level of threat coming from him... or at least, at the moment.

 

Sirena held up her arm and closed her fist tightly, signaling the detail to hold, before she made her approach toward this being. Getting close enough to talk, her blue eyes seemingly piercing the veil of the armor's helm, she spoke but a single question. "What brings you to Korriban, traveler?"

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There were few things as concerning as being surrounded by armed soldiers, and one of them was definitely being surrounded by armed soldiers and an obvious Sith. Still, he kept his expression neutral, though he did feel the rare twinge of concern and curiosity. He did not remember doing anything to bother the Sith, so it was likely a misunderstanding, but then Sith were not known for being the most understanding of beings. He rather hoped he could just charisma his way out of whatever mess he ended up in, but it would be difficult with Sith. Soldiers were simple, they followed orders and usually did not let personal emotions effect them. Sith were basically walking bags of emotion. Given a choice between the two, Roran had more respect for the Sith, but would rather deal with the soldiers. 

 

"I was simply refueling. Is there a problem?" His voice came out slightly distorted and mechanical due to his suit, but the even tone remained even through such changes. He knew better than to show anger right now, he was not in a position where it would benefit him. Well, he might, but that would only impress the sith if anyone, and the soldiers might take it as a sign of hostility and fire. He loved his armor, but it was not meant for taking multiple rounds. 

 

Still, he realized he needed to display that he understood the position he was in. With slow, deliberate movements, so as not to startle the soldiers or sith, he reached up and took his helmet off, before placing it on his belt, held by what would normally hold grenades. His face was that of a young adult, obviously healthier than a civilian due to his line of work, but not scarred either. His red hair and golden eyes were a bit strange for a human, but it was a wide galaxy, with many stranger than him. "Well, I suppose I don't mind a welcoming party." He chuckled lightly. "But truly, what is this all about? I may be a mercenary, but I have not done any work here, if that is the concern. I know better than to get involved with Force-users." The slightest hint of bitterness came out in his tone, but beneath the surface, his memories of his rare dealings with jedi came to the forefront, making him burn in rage, even if he refused to display it. 

 

@Chaotic Tranquility

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"A wise choice...." Sirena let slip from her lips in return to his his mention of not getting involved with Force Users, her curiosity as to the voluntary emotional rage within him subtly emanating from his thoughts, the Sith Lord encircling him as she inspecting the crimson haired lad. "But the problem is, is that Korriban is closed to outsiders, only open to members of the Sith Order and its Imperial Armada."

 

Stepping back to his forefront, she turned and faced his, her blue eyes gazing deeply into his golden eyes, searching for the feeling of curiosity she had recieved from him. He was definitely sensitive to the Force's touch, that much she could feel. But was he worthy? His rage spoke of the possibility, but it was wild and untamed. And rage alone could not substantiate simple praise. He could be a simple walking time bomb, waiting to explode and destroy everything around him. Yet, she wouldnt completely dismiss the potential within him. He held some control at least.

 

"And you are neither." She spoke, this time in a playful and coy manner, the small detail attached to her curiously wondering what he hold up was. "So standard operations dictate that a small detail attached to a Sith Lord investigate and rid ourselves of such transgressions." At those words, still playfully expressed, gave the Troopers behind her to turn their rifles from stun to semiautomatic and take aim, Sirena signaling them to remain their hold. She approached one last time, a devilish smile gracing her face as she stood upon her tip toes and whispered into his exposed ear. "And you're not dead yet either."

 

With that said, Sirena leveled her feet and spun around as she stepped away, signaling for the detachment to lower their weapons, a rather confused look from each only hidden by the helms they wore as they did. After stepping away a few feet, she spun back around. "So I'll ask you again traveler, what brings you to Korriban? Are you perhaps a prospect, hoping to become an initiate in the ever growing Empire of the Dark King? Or are you here just for refueling?"

 

Her smile never leaving, Sirena simply remained staring at the young lad, her eyes revealing her true intent if read correctly. Would he choose life? Or would he choose death? Either way, she intended to have a little fun with the boy. After all, he did wash up on her shores.

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The rage vanished as quickly as it came, that earlier sense of curiosity flooding back with a renewed intensity. He had little doubts she could tell what he felt, if nothing else, but he had no idea how deep it could go. For all he knew, she knew every bit of his past, and the very mindset he operated with. Even so, such a thing only made him more curious. The movements and voice of the sith lord indicated she was being playful, but there was still a thick tension in the air, though that could be because the soldiers had not disarmed. Even so, something about how she spoke seemed... pointed. As if she was trying to dig at something he was hiding, but that seemed doubtful. Besides the obvious choice between dying by a bunch of blaster fire, and training to become a sith, there seemed to be nothing else implied, yet his instincts spoke otherwise. Perhaps he was just in enough of a stressful situation as to not see what else could be implied, but it was at least enough for him to make an obvious choice.

 

Frankly, since his life as a soldier ended, he had no purpose. He more or less did whatever he could to survive and had no long term goal. Mercenaries were not known for long lifespans, nor for influence. Sure, a few earned reputations enough to change things on the larger scale, but that took equipment and training he simply did not have. He was smart, sure, but there was only so much you could do without tying yourself down to an organization such as the Hutts. As potential allies went, the Sith were his best bet. If he could rank up enough to gather his own army, he would be able to train them all the point of loyalty...

 

Beyond that, the Sith actually embraced change, whereas everyone else seemed to resist it at all cost. The Jedi were bad enough, but corporations and governments always tried to maintain power above all else. Well, if nothing else this was certainly a better way to be recruited than having been kidnapped as a child and indoctrinated into a cult. The implications of him being force-sensitive did come as a surprise, but it at least explained why the jedi he met had been so weird around him, betrayals not withstanding. He had heard of the sith's cruelty towards even their students, but he had little choice here. Even so, a bit of pain for the kind of power he sought... He was alright with that.

 

"Well, what can I say? What better way to garner enough attention to become an initiate than this?" He lied as easily as he breathed, knowing she knew the truth as well as he did. Whether or not the soldiers knew was a different story, but as long as they obeyed this woman, then there would be no problems. "I heard the Sith appreciated skill above all else, so what better way to introduce myself?" In truth, it was likely some computer error that let him land without clearance, but he was not going to waste a chance like this either. Whether or not his lies impressed her was unimportant, they would at least serve as a way for her to make sure there was a cover story, unless she decided to end it here, in which case, there was little he could do. Were he not already mostly surrounded, he may have been able to deal with, or at least escape, the soldiers. The Sith was another story entirely, though. How irritating, to be under the whims of another so firmly. It was only mildly irritating, but enough to be noticed, he assumed. Hopefully she was not the irrational type.

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"Just as I thought..." She smirked, her form turning toward the Troopers stationed behind her. "False Alarm. It's simply another Intiate for Dark King Exodus. Report your findings to your superiors Lieutenant." She spoke, dismissing the detachment and waiting for her and the crimson haired boy to be left alone before she turned back to him, the smirk having left her face and now a stern look met back at his. "You were clever to catch onto my ruse, and even wiser to heed it."

 

Sirena began walking back toward the boy, occasionally bending her ankle and heel as she walked, her hands intertwined behind her back, and giving her a slight limp to her walk purposely. When she stood before him, her gaze peering into his above her, she gave a small chuckle. "Your death would have been useless." Offering her hand, her blue eyes fluttered. "I am Darth Sirena, Lord of the Sith. Who might you be?"

 

Sirena was a Assassin of the Seductive nature, having been taught to use her charm and beauty as a Hapan to her advantage. So much so, that life had became a game of cat and mouse to the young Lord, whether her toys be friendly or foe. But such was the way of the Sith, to take one's true nature and guide them to become it. And even the truest of Assassins did not need to take a life to end one, just as she had did with the boy that stood before her. He was now an Initiate of the Sith Order whether it fit him or not, and now he was her's. She chuckled once more and turned away. "Follow me, little one."

 

Her first stop upon the tour she was bringing him upon was his registration, where he filed the proper paperwork and signed away to his life to the Order properly. And then she would take his through a guided tour from the Ports and into the Temple where his new life would begin, past many Initates and Acolytes just like him, before she brought him to his assigned quarters. Inside, laying upon the bed would a change of clothes, a set of Robes and Boots, a scarf for the windy terrain of Korriban, and a simple datapad. Upon the Datapad would be the basic teachings of the Sith philosophy, as well as a map of the Temple and surrounding areas of which included the Valley of Tombs. He would fill in the rest later, just as Sirena had once did when she still bore the name Mi'lan. 

 

"Go in and change. I'll be outside when you are ready." She spoke softly, almost with an understanding voice as she placed her hand upon the bio scanner and opened the door. "Welcome to your new life."

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Roran stood silently until the soldiers left, listening to the sith's response. "If that is all it takes to be considered wise, I will excel." He spoke in jest, doubting she was in any way impressed. Whether or not it was impressive for a normal initiate was unknown, but despite his awareness of his skills, Roran had a habit of overestimating everyone else, and thus giving the impression of underestimating himself. Even so, he felt slightly nervous and cracking such a joke allowed him to break though that nervousness without issue. It was a common thing for people with similar issues to do, though most of those people were not in front of a dangerous Sith Lord. Hopefully, she liked his humor.

 

"I am Roran. Mercenary. Or, former I suppose." A hollow laughed echoed from his lips. He was still processing the radical change his life was now going through. From her limp, and her words of his death being useless, he came to the conclusion she was, in some way, threatening him. Likely, if he did not show promise, she would consider his life useless, rather than his death. More than that, it became clear she now, in some form or another, owned him. It was... shocking, to say the least, and mildly concerning, but pride had never been a problem for Roran. The life of a soldier, let alone a mercenary, disallowed for such trivialities. Still, he had the feeling she would discard him in a moment if she felt like it, and so he decided he would do his best to excel. Whether or not she had the rank to pull what she had done, she had indeed stuck her neck out for him, which, subconsciously, started a feeling of loyalty towards her. It was barely noticeable right now, but it existed regardless.

 

The paperwork was easy, likely because sith hated the boring parts of their jobs as much as he did, and they were ruled by their passions. Still, during the entire tour he was mostly focused inward, despite memorizing the layout. Despite his rather callous detachment to his lifestyle, it was still rather jarring to be suddenly thrust into an entirely new lifestyle in less than a day. All because he ran low on fuel in the wrong area, too. He noticed the odd looks he was receiving from many of the people they passed, likely due to his armor, and potentially because of who he was with. He was not aware of any reason why that would be so, but people, be it jedi, sith, or anyone else, were curious by nature. 

 

Heeding her words, Roran quickly went into the room and replaced his armor with the robes, mildly uncomfortable outside of his armor. Perhaps he would be allowed to integrate it into his wardrobe later, but for now it would not fit with the robes. Strange how the robes fit at all, but perhaps this place was simply that efficient. Stepping outside to where Sirena was, the difference became obvious. The armor added a few inches to his height, and bulk. He looked far younger without it, as well, and perhaps less like a warrior than was accurate for him. The datapad was clipped onto his belt for quick use, mostly because as he went to move it, it displayed the sith code, and Roran became interested enough in the basic principle that he decided he would study into it more when he had the chance. "I'm ready for... Whatever is next."

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When Sirena heard the hiss of Roran's door, she lifted herself from her perch and met his gaze with her own. Not quite what she expected to see beneath the massive armor he wore, his frame still was bigger than her own. She chuckled at his words as if he truly did not understand the full grasp of what he had spoken yet, but curled her finger to and fro at him as she turned and took off in a brisk walk, heading out the nearest Temple exit.

 

The pathway she took just outside the door led to a large mobile hangar where multiple speeders and bikes laid in inactivity, its gaping maw setting up a picturesque view of the Valley below and the pathway that led down into it. Pulling the cloak over her head, she entered the sand blasted atmosphere just outside and continued on, leaving behind the vehicles intentionally and choosing to instead make the trek on foot.

 

"The Valley below is known as The Valley of Tombs or The Valley of the Sith Lords." Sirena spoke over the whirling winds in explaination, the petite Darth raising her hands in excitement and stretching to feel the rush of the sand enveloping her form. "It seems a good a place of any to begin." She chuckled after that and continued the rest of the trek in utter silence, the occasional twirl and chuckle when the wind picked up in a manic appreciation.

 

When they arrived in the Valley below, Sirena slowed her pace to a slow walked. "So tell me Roran, what do you know about the Force? Do you know only what you've heard, or have you heard deeper meanings behind the subject? Do you believe it to be life? Or do you believe it be like us, an entity, symbiotic with another?" For most, her words would seem of madness, but like all madness, there was always a method behind it.

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As the two passed the vehicles, Roran had a few ideas pass through his mind. He always wanted a speeder, after all, but was so rarely on the same planet. Perhaps he could take a look at them later and see about incorporating the design into his ship so it would be able to traverse land similar to a speeder. Either way, it seemed she wanted to walk instead of ride, which was fine with Roran. He could easily manage this much, especially out of his armor. It was not too heavy, and the heat would bother him even less inside it, but the robes were fairly light and kept the sand from pelting his skin. As Sirena pulled her hood up, Roran took her action as example and pulled his own up, unaware that it only made his eyes stand out more. 

 

Hearing about the Valley of the Tombs, Roran became curious, and had to ask about it further. "How much are we allowed to actually explore then?" He hoped to find something interesting at least, but was aware that it was unlikely given just how long Korriban had existed as the home of the sith. Who knows how many students had thought the same over the years? Still, he felt obligated to check it out, his curiosity overriding his doubts.

 

Her question about the Force was a difficult one, but he had his own ideas about it. "From what I have learned, very little. I can make guesses, such as the Force actually being a fundamental force in the universe, like Gravity or Electromagnetism, but otherwise it is hard to say. However, I do see two possibilities for what it is on a smaller scale. It is either individual life, or an overarching entity itself. If it's individual life, then each person IS the force they use, and thus how they use it would effect them directly. If it is the latter, then it has its own goals, not always in tune with individuals." He hoped she would be satisfied with that for now, he had not much of a chance or reason to look into the aspects of the Force before. Most of his research in that regard was how to deal with force users as a Mercenary. He had, however, come up with those theories during that time, evidence and details only adding on since then.

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"Typical, but interesting... Sirena spoke as she came to a halt near a set of pillars that leaned half buried in the sand, the young Sith Lord hoping upon one and walking up toward it's tip, her arms stretched out against the winding winds and it lashed out against their forms. "Typical in that many propose guesses despite not knowing, but interesting that you responded so closely to my own when my Master, Hu'lak, asked me that very same question. Of course, my answer was the life force of those who came before us.

 

She chuckled as she sat upon the flattened top of the leaning pillar, leaving one leg upon it to steady her balance while letting the other one dangle, her vision gazing off in the distance. "As for the Tombs, explore them at your own peril. They could still possess some treasure left to behold, but you will face many dangers that range from Tuk'ata to Terentateks. Too much to waste such a life over for a small percentage of reward, wouldn't you agree?"

 

Her gaze shifted back to him, her voice echoing across the sands as the howling of the storm began to die down and the dust began to settle, allowing them to remove their protective apparel. Reaching up, she removes the cloak, the small breeze blowing her hair upon its gentle current. "But the reality of the Force is that it is whatever you make of it. For some, it is simply a weapon. Others, it is a philosophy or even religion. And for the rest, it is a mystical energy they know they can never comprehend."

 

"I fall into the last category, the only truth I have discovered about it is that it is symbiotic with nature, two halves to a whole. As we are sensitive to feeling and wielding the Force, so is the Force sensitive to the flow of life, death, and existence." Her blue gaze turned stone cold as she looked at him despite her smirk still adorning her face, the tone of her voice growing stern and serious. "Is it sentient? I can not say. But it is guided by nature just as we feel we are guided by it, and vice versa."

 

Sirena jumped from her post and landed gently, walking up to Roran in a slithering motion before she stood at his chest, her small frame gazing up at him. "Peace is a lie, there is only Passion. Tell me what these words bring to mind when I speak them."

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Roran remained quiet until she asked her question, mostly to answer all at once, but also because he had to formulate enough of a response. This was certainly a confusing time for him, but he had always been proud of how quickly he adjusted to uncertain scenarios. This was just another one, albeit much more precarious. He did not remove his cloak as she had, the sun still being uncomfortable for him. Enough time in his armor, he supposed, would make things very different once he was outside of it. The heat, the sun's light, the sand, the windchill, all of it was negated in his armor, but in this cloak, he felt all of it. Despite this, he found himself enjoying the feeling, to an extent. He loved his armor mostly because it was meant to be unique to him, something ridiculous that few would bother to even try to recreate, even if he hated how it sealed him away from the world. It was necessary for his line of work, and likely for his new life, but in moments like this, he could enjoy being out of it. The world around him was... different to any planet he had been on before, and he could only truly appreciate it outside of his armor. Which reminded him, first thing he needs to do is upgrade his armor, probably get an automatically retracting and deploying helmet, and definitely increase the durability.

 

"Peace is a lie, there is only Passion..." Repeating her words, Roran paused for a moment, taking the phrase in. He began to speak, this time directly from his heart. His words held no deception, nor attempts at manipulation, yet they held a certain intensity to them as well. "In reality, no one is at peace. We are fueled by our passions, guided by them. To lose that is to become less than a wild animal. To seek utter peace is to refuse your individuality, your very soul. Passion is what makes us alive, and peace is the opposite, so naturally it would be the same for death. The living move with passion, the dead lie with peace. Even worse, peace breeds stagnation, while passions, and conflict, create growth. A man without ambition will sit at home for his entire life, while a man with passion for something will go through hell to achieve his goals." He coughed lightly, realizing he may be rambling at this point. "In shorter terms, Passions are what give us life, Peace is for the dead."

 

He genuinely believed that, too. It was not some vague attempt to earn favor, or impress, it was close to his own philosophy anyway. Close enough that it was easy to relate to it without changing much about his mindset. In fact, he would say that it seemed perfectly aligned with his mindset, though it would likely be different for others who were more... dogmatic in their approaches to the Sith Code. Regardless, Roran had not lied yet, having enough loyalty towards Darth Sirena that he refused to lie to her. She had, after all, saved his life, or at least avoided his death. Unlike most Sith, Roran valued loyalty very highly, something that may cause him to be viewed as an outcast one day. It was safe to say, however, that once you earned that loyalty, it did not go away very easily. 

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"Good." Sirena spoke, stooping down to sit upon the sands and revealing her prosthetic arm that she kept hidden beneath her cloak as she reached for the ground beneath them and positioned herself cross legged upon the dirt. "Then you have a general grasp upon life. Now sit with me and let's see if you can sense it too."

 

Sirena offered him the ground before her, bringing her hands together in her lap, her artificial hand cupping the one of flesh and bone as she closed her eyes and took a long inhale of the air through her nose and exhaled very slowly from her lips. For Sirena this was but a simple task, her daily meditations consisting of this very beginning.  "Some believe Sith to grasp at only two passions, selfishness and anger. But no one is so simple minded. We are complex beings, and though our passions may differ, there are as many within us as their is in everyone. The difference between us and those of the Jedi Order is a single line, we live through ours rather than fight to suppress them."

 

She grinned as she felt the pressure of the sand before her shift. "To feel the Force is like any other sense. But like many beings throughout the Galaxy, those of us that aren't born without its sense, can tend to use our primary ones over it and using it without training can be as destructive to our own selves as those around us, just as any tool can be without proper instruction and yield."

 

"I want you to focus yourself inward, look inside yourself and envision your life. Find your deepest passions, and know them. But instead of knowing them with your thoughts, try and focus the gift the Force has granted you in order to find them. You may find them to remain the same as you thought, or you may find yourself finding hidden passions that you had never known before. It doesn't matter. Only that you learn them and understand them through the Force's knowledge and not your own." Sirena inhales and exhales again. "Let everything outside you melt away, including me, and know only yourself."

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Roran sat quietly next to her, listening as she spoke further. Despite himself, he found himself captivated by what she was saying. Usually, it took rather complex topics of the scientific nature to get him this interested, but what she was saying felt... right, for lack of a better term. Perhaps it was because it would be the key to his new life, or because it simply clicked with him like the first part of the Sith Code had, but in either case, he paid the utmost attention to her words. Her words showed an inclination towards respecting individuality, and nothing could align more with Roran's own philosophy. Perhaps all those stories of the Sith being violent maniacs were tales of propaganda woven by the Jedi to discredit the Sith? Well, he had only met one so far, so he would reserve his judgement. Even so, from what she was saying, he would fit right in.

 

As she commanded him to search himself with the force, he obeyed, copying her meditation. Despite having never meditated before, he managed to copy her enough to calm himself down outwardly and focus inwardly. Slowly, the world around him faded, all senses fading to nothing, until he felt as if he were in a void. It lasted a few moments, before his focus finally paid off, however slight.

 

It was only a few seconds, but what he saw, no, what he felt would remain with him for the rest of his life. It was not sight, but what he felt did conjure an image in his mind, that of a shining star. It was a bright yellow, filling the void with an unfamiliar feeling, one he could scarcely recall. The 'warmth' the star provided made him feel reinvigorated, and for but a moment, all the anger, hatred, and self-loathing he had carried since he was betrayed melted away, revealing what his deepest passion was, the very thing that fueled him so long ago, before he had joined the military, back when he was just trying to make a living on Coruscant. It clicked in his mind then, this star, it was a representation of himself, of his very soul. The feeling he could now recall clearly was a simple one, the hope of a young man who wanted to carve his own path, and the warmth from the star was that of empathy, from a man who was tired of seeing people suffer for nothing.

 

The moment ended abruptly, Roran gasping as he had apparently been so focused he had stopped breathing, or perhaps the intensity of the moment had taken his breath away. In either case, it was but a memory now, leaving more questions than answers. It had awoken a part of him long lost, but it had not changed him so much as it had opened a new path for him. Now, however, any concerns or regrets he had about his new situation was gone, that glorious image had been enough. He did not understand all of it, but it became clear what both his passions, and his soul were. Empathy and hope were the two strongest passions in him, born of a brilliant but unfortunate child surrounded by suffering all his life. His soul, however, was... different. It was 'Light', to put it simply. Though, what could be called simple about the representation of someone's soul?

 

He was concerned about his soul not being matched towards the 'dark side' but a part of him felt he had nothing to worry about, thinking of the fact that his 'light' was born of passion, which was called the dark side. Ironic, but he would hopefully learn more about such things in time. He was extremely curious as to the nature of the force, and why he would see such an intense image for such a short time. He heard the force tended to guide people to certain actions, and if so, perhaps that was why he was here, having landed without a problem. If so, he did not know how to feel about it. On one hand, he was overjoyed with what he felt from the 'vision', but he was equally frustrated being manipulated by anything, even a fundamental force of the universe.

 

It took a moment for him to speak, having to debate whether or not he should tell her what he saw, but in the end he saw no reason not to at least explain what his passions were. They might seem ridiculous to most, childish even, but even so, that was who he was. If it seemed naive or childish, so be it. He would deny himself no longer. Besides, she deserved to know the mess of an... apprentice? Whatever he was to her now, that she had picked up. "Hope. Hope and Empathy." His voice came out a bit hollow, that glorious moment having taxed him mentally. In truth, his mind was reeling from the feelings, memories he could not have recalled yesterday popping up, reminding him why those two passions drove him so. From friends losing their homes and lives because of the conditions of Coruscant, to his own inability to help, all those horrible events had shaped him into what he was, until his training. As with most military training, his had been designed to remake him into a soldier rather than an individual. While he had not lost himself entirely, he had lost much of himself. In return, he had left the planet and become a warrior, but was it worth the cost? No time for regrets though, he had to face the future, and the ridicule he was almost certain to face, whether from Darth Sirena, or his fellow acolytes down the line. It did not matter, for he had found his purpose once more.

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