Path of Ruin [Star Wars SI]

[Rictus]

Prologue

You would become Sith, or die trying. That's what Overseer Iren said when we landed on Korriban.

Guess I should rewind a bit and explain how I got here.

To make a long story short, I don't know how I came to be in Star Wars. I just woke up one day with a shock collar slapped to my neck on some hellish dust ball. Turned out, it was a cortosis mining camp on a Sith-controlled world and I was a slave.

I didn't get any flashes of memory from another life or anything, so I had to ask around carefully about who I was after I regained control of myself. I got some strange looks, but they told me. Turned out I had a different name and homeworld, yet my body was still physically the same. Minus the brand on my face. I had just arrived, burns still fresh.

Aldrex Zare, former citizen of Brentaal IV. It took a while for me to get used to responding to that name. Well, on the rare occasions when it got used. Most times I was just referred to as "slave" or "hey you."

It didn't take long to figure out when in the timeline I was after a Harrower-class dreadnought stopped by for refueling on its way to somewhere else.

Of course, I was terrified out of my mind. I'd jump at shadows or flinch and cower every time someone approached. I didn't sleep for days at a time. Barely nibbled at food.

One of the other slaves, an older Zabrak, tried to reach out to me. But I ran and hid from him. From all of them. This irrational terror (and that's exactly how I see it now) continued for weeks. I dropped weight like it was made of concrete and freaked out at the slightest touch.

By the end of the first month, I was little more than trembling skin, bone, and poorly-developed muscle barely able to do the work I was assigned.

I think the guards were amused, but their supervisor had them force-feed me to keep me alive. A half-dead slave couldn't work, especially a heavy labor slave. I would appreciate his pragmatism months later.

As Yoda once said, fear led to anger. After I regained proper cognizance, I was angry. Angry at my enslavement. Angry at being afraid. Angry at anything and everything. My temper was on a hair-trigger. I wasn't stupid though, so I didn't try to take out said anger on anyone else. I had no desire to feel what it was like to get an electrical shock directly to my spinal cord. Still, the other slaves apparently sensed it and kept away.

I recovered from my terror-induced stupidity and actually took care of myself, exercised when I could. I was never a large man as I stood a few inches shy of six feet tall, but I was stocky. Heavy labor just made me fill out.

Rage fueled me for a while, but I needed to blow off steam before I did something stupid. Directionless anger didn't help me, so I vented on the poor unsuspecting rocks. It worked for a while, until something happened.

I don't remember what it was that set me off that day, but my anger spiked as I was hammering away. Before my eyes, my jackhammer let out a squeal as giant invisible fingers crushed it into scrap.

I was so surprised that I didn't try to resist when the guards found and beat me later for "damaging equipment." To untrained eyes, it looked like I just went at it with a rock. Luckily, none of the camp's personnel were Sith, so they couldn't tell the difference.

I also didn't mind that I wasn't trusted with power tools after that. I was given a pick-ax and told to get back to work.

My accidental use of the Force snapped me out of my months-long rage. I needed to figure out how I did that. I wanted to learn how to use the Force just for the sake of it. It was something to break the monotony.

So I practiced while mining away from the others, using the Force to crush rocks and pick out the bits of cortosis. I got good at it, too. The guards' expressions of confusion when I brought in the largest haul fueled pleasant dreams for days.

I learned quickly, despite my fumbling. Just getting angry wasn't effective. Anger could be used to give me sudden spikes of power, but it gave me tunnel vision. I had more consistent results when I willed something to happen. Effectively, I metaphysically demanded something. And reality eventually complied.

Telekinesis was easy to learn once I figured out the trick. It was moving progressively heavier things that took effort. I thought about trying to practice other abilities, but I didn't think I could do so safely. What if I tried to read someone's thoughts, overpower it, and accidentally cause a brain hemorrhage? I didn't want to take the risk and expose myself yet.

I acknowledged that it would be inevitable that I'd be found out. I might as well have a really good trick by the time it happens.

I thought about using my newfound powers to help a slave revolt. But when I started seriously considering it, I couldn't bring myself to care. I wasn't attached to any of the slaves. I didn't really hate the guards that much. But above all, it wasn't pragmatic. Even if it was successful, there were no hyperspace capable vessels on planet. Those came to us. The Sith would simply bombard us from orbit and restart the operation.

The odd thing was that I wasn't angry anymore. I could still get angry, but it wasn't a constant state. If I had to describe my mindset in a word, it would be "detached." I wasn't apathetic, at least towards my own well-being.

So a few more months passed. Then the Sith governor paid his annual visit.

I made up my mind quickly. I gave in to the inevitability and let myself be found. When he and his entourage confronted me, the pride and bluster gave way to surprise as he came upon me meditating while lifting four of my fellow slaves. I set them down and presented my hands for the cuffs.

Then, I was out among the stars for the first time in my life.

But if I am to be Sith, it will be defined by a code of my own choosing.

"There is no passion. There is solely obsession.​

There is no knowledge. There is solely conviction.

There is no purpose. There is solely will.

There is nothing. Only me."​

​

Around fifteen hundred years from now, Darth Ruin will base his resurgent Sith Order upon those words. To him, they represented his views of moral nihilism and solipsism, a madness derived from his narcissism. To me, it is a guideline towards endurance.

A Sith requires an obsession to remain focused. Darth Vader, after losing everything, retained his sanity by obsessing over enforcing order upon a chaotic galaxy when blind rage failed him.

A Sith requires conviction to push forward. Darth Bane toppled the Brotherhood of Darkness single-handed by forging his own path against all odds and sense.

A Sith requires willpower to survive. Darth Sion arose from the dead again and again by simply refusing to die, with little more than bloody-minded determination fueling him.

In the end, my path…Others may guide it, but I alone choose where to walk.

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

A/N: Decided to post this over here before I got too far along in the story on Spacebattles.

 

[Rictus]

Chapter 1

Overseer Iren

I couldn't help but sneer as the hopefuls stepped off the shuttle, my facial tendrils twitching slightly at the motion. This was the future of the Sith, apparently. An Empire built on the backs of slaves, and now we attempt to raise them up to be Masters.

They were a motley bunch, to be sure. Only two of the eight were human. None were Imperial.

I let them stand at attention in silence as I reviewed what had been reported about each.

The first was a massive Wookiee brute by the name of Gaarurra. He had been fighting in the gladiator pits of Geonosis for nearly three years before he was noticed by a Sith Lord. Deals had been made and credits exchanged hands to send the beast here. Normally, it would not have even been considered, but we needed to bolster our ranks no matter the source.

I only needed to glance at his two and a half meter height to know that he'd be well-suited for Juggernaut training. Well, if he survived. Of course, he would never rise to prominence even if he did. No Sith would promote him as it would effectively be political suicide. Regardless, I suspect the others will gang up to kill him first.

Next was the Twi'Lek, Kalista. Formerly the pleasure slave of a Republic-aligned crime lord on Tatooine, she "freed" herself by killing him, only to be captured again when Imperial forces raided his hideaway. Her Force Sensitivity was noticed quickly.

The sheer rage in her was simply delightful. Whether she could learn to harness it or not would determine if she survived. If she did, she might make a nice fit as an assassin. Or a bedwarmer. Either one would serve the Empire's needs.

Third was, I believe, the weakest link. A Quarren named Garsh. He had only been on planet for five minutes and he was already starting to look dehydrated. Once I'd seen what species he was, I didn't even bother reading the rest of his file. Korriban was going to kill him before the first task did.

I hope it does. It would save me the trouble.

Fourth and fifth were a pair of Zabrak twins. The male was Terrak and the female Ianna. Born to a household slave on Dromund Kaas, they came into the world with a symbiotic bond with each other. Compared to the others, they were pampered and weak, too reliant on each other. I was not too impressed with them.

Still, Zabrak are renowned for their high pain tolerance, so that may compensate somewhat for their weakness in the Force.

The sixth was a Nautolaun, Qiv Brellen. Like Garsh, he was from an aquatic species, but it seemed that he was tolerating the local climate better. He had been found serving the Hutts on Nal Hutta as a mechanic. His technical skills were of less interest than his strength in the Force, but it was a good indicator of his intelligence.

However, he is too cowardly to be a proper Sith. But fear can turn to desperation. And desperation perpetrates interesting results.

Now, my potential "problem children." Fittingly, they are the only humans of the group.

The first is Olia Fen. A fallen Jedi. Or rather a fallen Jedi Padawan. Her kind are always…troublesome, as they tend to delve too deeply into the Dark Side, too quickly. She is brash, but powerful and skilled. She claims the Jedi held her back from her true potential. An opinion I can agree with. Due to her origins, she will require less practical training and more philosophy. As it stands, she could likely wipe the floor with the rest of them.

I smothered a smile as I notice that her now-yellow eyes keep darting to my belt, where her lightsaber hangs. I would make this a fair competition, though only in that all the acolytes would have the same resources to work with.

As for the other…

I reached up and massaged one of the tendrils on my chin as I circled the group.

If I had not read the report from Lord Durus, I likely would have dismissed him as nothing but a brute. For a mere cortosis miner, Aldrex Zare has proven himself to be interesting, at the very least. While still a lesser being, I do admit that he has shown the greatest Force potential of the group, demonstrating a high level of skill with telekinesis. The reports indicated that he has had no formal training, so the fact that he was capable of teaching himself to this level was astounding.

Still, I have seen greater students fail.

As the silence drags on, I continued watching them. Both to unnerve them and to gauge their reactions to each other.

Garsh seemed to suffocate in the heat, paying little mind to the others. It seems he may die sooner than I thought. Qiv appeared to want to help in some way, but dared not move. That empathy will have to be driven out of him.

Kalista was regarding everyone with a heated glare, while the twins kept their eyes to the floor. Spineless cowards.

Gaarurra simply stared at me, though I could feel his rage simmering beneath the surface.

Olia seemed to have homed in on the fact that Aldrex would be her greatest competition, though the latter seems to be oblivious to her stare.

Understandably, he instead shot the occasionally glance at the Wookiee. Focusing on the physically largest threat in the room. Smart, but perhaps not wise. Power comes from more than just muscle.

Oddly, I am not sensing much from him other than mild curiosity, which makes me wonder what is going through his head.

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

Aldrex

Holy fuck he's huge.

I mean I knew Wookiees were big, but holy shit! The giant furball's about two and a half feet taller than me and probably outweighs me by a factor of two. I come up to his elbow!

He, or I think it's a he, was a remarkably good distraction from both the Overseer and the woman that keeps glaring at me.

Speaking of the Overseer, he's not one I recognize from SWTOR. He's a Sith Pureblood, and the only ones I know of are human. He doesn't have any hair, but his facial tendrils kind of look like a mustache and goatee. He's also got that uniform that all Overseers apparently wear, plus two lightsabers on his belt.

He hadn't spoken yet, just walked around us. Staring.

Finally, he spoke.

"Welcome to Korriban, acolytes," He greeted in a surprisingly pleasant tone. I was half-expecting to get sneered at, "I am Overseer Iren. You have been brought here for one purpose: To become Sith, or die trying. It is my duty to make sure at least one of you survives to fulfill that purpose."

The Sith gestured, "Follow me."

It wasn't much of a walk, just to the first room off the landing pad. In there was a single table with eight short swords on it. I don't mean vibroblades. Sword swords. No electronic parts. There were also eight bags next to each.

"You will be facing a series of trials over the next several years as you train. This can include delving into the tombs, searching for some trinket or sculpture, or it could be something more scholarly, such as translating an ancient text," Iren's yellow eyes panned over each of us, "They can be extremely dangerous. More often than not, an acolyte perishes in pursuit of one of these trials. I do not expect more than one of you to survive to graduate."

He pointed a hand at the table, "For now, these are the only pieces of equipment you will have access to for your first task. Take one of each now."

There was a moment's hesitation as we looked at each other, waiting to see who would move first. Turned out, it was the Wookiee, as he just walked up and grabbed one. I quickly followed suit and examined my weapon.

Not being an expert, I was satisfied that there were no cracks in the blade.

Once everyone had gotten their weapons, the Sith continued, "Each of you will now be assigned a different task, which you are expected to complete before setting foot in the academy itself. You have been given three days worth of food and water. It is a two day walk to the academy. I suggest you do not tarry long."

"Now for your assignments. You may leave after you have been briefed," He turned to the Wookiee and I, sneering at the former, "Beast. Zare. Both of you will be venturing into the tomb of Ajunta Pall, though you will have separate tasks."

"A squad of soldiers was assigned to clear out an infestation of k'lor'slugs in the east wing. They have not been heard from in several days and the pests remain. Taking care of that will be your task, beast," The Wookiee's lip curled at the continued insults. Overseer Iren ignored him and looked to me, "As for you, there have been reports of looters in the west wing. Your assignment is to remove them and collect any artifacts that they may have recovered. You are dismissed."

 

[Rictus]

Chapter 2

"So…what's your name?" I asked as soon as the Wookiee and I were out of earshot of Iren.

The titan next to me said nothing, but turned a curious eye towards me.

"I'd rather not just call you "Wookiee" or "Hey you," I shrugged. I wasn't even going to mention the word beast, since that seemed to piss it off, "I'm Aldrex."

What do I know of Wookiees? Very strong, very tough. Force Sensitive Wookiees are extremely rare and the ones that do exist tend to be on the "holy shit" side of the scale of power. But they are also usually honorable to a fault, even the crazy ones like Hanharr. Once their loyalty is earned, it's damn near ironclad and they will go beyond reason to keep to it.

I want it on my side.

As the furball opened its mouth to reply, I raised a hand to interrupt, "I don't know the language of the people of the trees."

The Wookiee's eyebrows shot up at my use of the literal meaning of the name of its species. Suddenly a bit more animated, it crouched down and used a finger to draw in the sand, spelling out "Gaarurra" in Basic.

"Nod once for male, twice for female. I reckon it's difficult to tell for non-Wookiees unless they know what to look for," I replied. Gaarurra nodded once.

The fact that Gaarurra wasn't fitted with a vox box means that the academy didn't see the expense worth it…or it was an act intended to isolate him. Most apprentices wouldn't bother trying to establish communication, as all they would see was another, albeit very powerful, rival. Why bother talking to someone you were just going to end up murdering?

I would like to think I'm not nearly so short-sighted.

In this period, Wookiees were rarely seen off of Kashyyyk, though they were a known quantity and almost always as slaves. As a result, knowledge of their language would not have been widespread. Who knows how long Garurra went without talking to anyone because no one would make the effort.

I cast an eye back to the landing pad, watching the other acolytes exit and head to their tasks. The yellow-eyed human noticed and sneered at me. I gestured for Gaarurra to keep walking.

"I have a proposal," I started quietly, trying to make sure my voice doesn't carry. I grimaced as I shade my eyes. Damn desert sun, "Simply put, we work together on our tasks."

The Wookiee plodded along in silence, though I could tell he was listening.

"Our skills complement each other. You seem more comfortable with that sword in your hand, indicating that you've had martial training. Meanwhile, I'd be lucky not to slice off a foot," I continued. I've only been here a few minutes, but I think I completely understand Anakin's hatred of sand, "On the other hand, I don't think you've had much chance to use your Force abilities, while I've been experimenting with mine for the past year."

Of course, I lied on the first part. I have had training, but with my hands and a quarterstaff rather than a sword. I could easily pummel someone into unconsciousness with my fists. Just not a Wookiee or a k'lor'slug.

But there was no need to tell Gaarurra that.

"Iren is probably expecting us to kill each other to thin out the herd, so to speak. We work together, we keep something stupid from killing either of us. In that case, he'll just kill the weakest one of the remaining acolytes and we get to live just that much longer," I finished.

Gaarurra looked me in the eye for a long moment before letting out a soft woof.

I interpreted that to mean he agreed.

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

The landing pad was constructed at one end of the Valley of the Dark Lords, with the towering citadel that was the academy visible in the distance. On a side note, it's a lot bigger than any game has indicated. There aren't just four big tombs here. No, there are hundreds, maybe thousands of structures, stretching for miles.

With the directions provided by Iren, our trek took about five hours. Or at least it felt like it. Hard to tell time when you don't have a clock. In that time, the skin on my face, arms, and chest were already starting to form blisters. The rags I had been provided with as a slave did little to protect against the sun beating down on me.

Only consolation I have is that Korriban's heat is a dry heat, so I'm not sweating much because it evaporates as soon as it leaves my pores rather than soak my clothing. I hate feeling sweaty.

I don't know how Gaarurra felt because we haven't stopped walking long enough to have a "conversation." I can't imagine that all that hair is comfortable in the heat. Though I do recall that Kashyyyk has swamps, so he might be used to muggy hot climates and find this pleasant. Still, I don't know where he was before Korriban, but I'm not bringing it up in case it was something unpleasant.

Ajunta Pal's tomb was less of an actual mausoleum and more of a crumbing fortress, which actually fits how his ghost described how he died. The tomb didn't look like it was originally built as such, but renovated after his death. It was the only structure built in the center of the Valley, with the rest of the tombs built into the walls. It overshadowed the rest with its immense size. Even the tomb of Marka Ragnos, whose massive statue could be seen even from here.

This was a monument to the First. And no Sith Lord after him dared presume themselves greater by building their tombs upon his domain.

Considering how long he stuck around as a violent ghost, it may very well have been a reasonable precaution.

Thankfully, Revan took care of that issue centuries ago, so the only dangers should be of the mundane variety.

I sighed in relief as we passed into the shadow of the ziggurat, the burning sun finally off my skin. Before venturing inside, we stopped for what felt like the fiftieth water break. Out of six canteens of water, I'd gone through one and a quarter to get here. Iren said the trip to the Academy was two days on foot from the Valley of the Dark Lords, and it took most of an afternoon to get here. Unless I binged on water, I should have enough to get there, but just barely.

Walking into the yawning darkness, my nose scrunched up as a coppery smell mixed with dust hit me. Garurra growled something from behind me.

My eyes adjusted to the gloom as we moved further in. We weren't given any lights to use as we move in, so we'll have to find something.

As we walk, I brushed my fingers around the edges of a scorch mark on the wall. An examination of the rest of the corridor showed more such marks, along with claw marks gouged out of the stone.

"Looks like this is where the fighting started," I remarked, "No bodies though."

Gaarurra huffed his agreement. I think. It might have been something else.

Not much else to do except go deeper, Gaarurra in front. Luckily, someone had dropped glowrods as they had moved in, likely the soldiers.

Each of us picked one up before moving on. The signs of battle only grew worse the further we went. The Imperial squad had started taking losses. Half of an Imperial helmet here. An armored hand there. A lot of blood all over the place. But not enough pieces to make a whole person.

K'lor'slugs likely ate them in the past few days. Snap gulp.

As we crossed through a bigger chamber, something with a lot of teeth screeched and lunged towards my head before finding itself pancaked against a wall with enough force to crater the stone beneath it. Ichor splattered everywhere as the sack of flesh exploded. I lifted my glowrod over it to get a better look.

Oh yeah. That used to be a k'lor'slug. Hatchling by the look of it. As its remains slowly slid off the wall, something clattered to the ground.

Picking it up, I found myself with a single gray metal vambrace. Little beastie must have eaten a soldier's arm.

It was covered in bite marks and stripped of paint by stomach acid, but it was solid and still had straps. After wiping off the goo and dumping a quarter of one of my canteens on it to wash the stomach acid off, I strapped it to my left wrist. At least I had something to put between my face and k'lor'slug teeth for the next time.

Gaarurra and I listened for a moment to make sure we weren't about to be swarmed. When we didn't hear anything, we continued, but not before the Wookiee gave my find a glance and a nod of approval.

At the end of the next chamber, we came upon a grisly sight. I bit back the bile trying to come up my throat.

Nailed to the wall was a male human body at about Gaarurra's chest height, naked as the day he was born. Six metal spikes had been driven through each of his hands and up his arms, keeping him suspended. From the knees down, his legs were simply gone and looked like they had been gnawed off. Blood pooled under him from his collective wounds. The least gruesome thing done to the man was shaving his head and cutting up his face.

I quickly realized a horrifying fact as soon as the light from our glowrods shined on him.

He was still alive.

He groaned as his eyes cracked open and his cracked lips parted, "Come to torment me more, you cretins?" He squinted as he focused on me in the dim light, "Wait, no…an acolyte? Thank the stars…"

"Gaarurra, get ready to hold him up," I stated, "I'll try to get him detached. Don't pull on him until I tell you. We need to keep the wounds plugged or he'll just bleed out faster."

The Wookiee hesitantly nodded his assent and placed a hand under each of the man's armpits.

Closing my eyes, I reached out with the Force, grasping the end of each spike. Rather than trying to pull them out, I concentrated on crushing the tips of each so that we could simply pull him away from the wall without causing more harm. The screech of metal being compressed echoed throughout the room.

I hoped that didn't carry too far.

One by one I worked until all twelve were crushed. I nodded to Gaarurra, "Alright, pull him away, then set him down."

I used the Force to hold the spikes in the man's wounds as my companion pulled him gently away from the wall. It wasn't perfect and the sharp metal wriggled a bit, eliciting a groan of pain from him. But we managed it.

I took off my tattered shirt to use as a mat before Gaarurra laid him gently on the ground, trying not to aggravate his injuries. Closer inspection of the man's stumps showed that they had been cauterized, but only around where the artery would be. He must've had some field treatment before he was strung up.

"Can you hear me?" I asked him quietly.

"Yes, my lord," He replied, keeping his voice just as low. He tried to salute, but I stopped him, "Sergeant…Sergeant Cormun, Fifth Infantry platoon Korriban regiment. I'd say "at your service," but I don't think I'll be much help in my current state."

I tore off strips from the parts of the shirt that he wasn't sitting on and some from my pants legs to try and make some makeshift bandages. Didn't need him dying before he can give us the whole story.

"You're part of the squad we were supposed to find," I commented.

Technically a lie. Iren sent Gaarurra to kill the k'lor'slugs. But technically, finding out what happened to the squad could be considered a secondary objective.

"So they did notice," Cormun chuckled, though his eyes were starting to droop. I'm not a medic, but I think he's stable, so he likely just tired now. He probably didn't get a chance to sleep for the past few days, "I'm guessing you're here to finish what we started since we didn't report in," At my nod, he continued, "We couldn't eradicate the slugs conventionally, they bred too fast, growing to fighting size inside of an hour. So we targeted the egg chambers, planted bombs. Didn't have time to set up a remote detonator."

"Did you managed to set it off?" I pressed. I'm not feeling like charging into a k'lor'slug nest. Sure it looked easy in SWTOR, but there are probably a LOT of k'lor'slugs in there.

The soldier slowly shook his head, "We were split. Most of us were firing at the queen to keep her distracted, the rest kept the k'lor'slugs off the demolitionist. But we were flanked."

"By what?" I wanted to ask about the "queen," but I figured that would be something I should already know about. I'm going to assume BIG FUCKING K'LOR'SLUG considering that it took most of the squad just to keep it "distracted."

"Blasted tomb robbers. They snuck in behind us and killed our bomb tech before he could set the timer. I took a bolt in the back. My armor absorbed the hit, but one of those monsters got my…" He gulped and tried not to look down," …got my legs."

"Thank you, Sergeant. Go ahead and rest. We'll see about getting you out of here," I promised. He's a tough sunnovabitch to have survived this long in this condition. It'd be a shame to just leave him. Slap a new pair of legs on him, and he'll be ready to go kick ass.

With a relieved sigh, he did just that. I waited until his breathing evened out to talk, "Well, seems like we should go after the looters first. Don't want a repeat of what happened to the soldiers."

Apparently, I've been making a good impression on Gaarurra since he didn't seem to challenge it.

I glance at the two exits from the chamber. If I didn't get turned around, left is west, "Alright, I'll scout ahead. Could you stay here and make sure a k'lor'slug doesn't eat him?"

Gaarurra woofed in agreement. I think I'm getting the hang of this now.

I fiddled with the settings on the glowrod to dim the lighting before moving deeper into the tomb.

 

[Rictus]

Chapter 3


It was probably a bad idea to go on by myself, but the Wookiee was not subtle at all. Things were already different from canon as I knew it. There had been no queen k'lor'slug and Cormun and some of his squad should have been holding out at the entrance with the help of two Sith instructors.

But maybe that was it. We had no mention of any other Sith deployed here. Or they'd already been eaten by the queen before the soldiers showed up. Whatever the difference was, it happened and now I needed to deal with it.

So here I am, stalking through a dark and creepy, though thankfully not haunted, tomb. Storming the camp right now would be a terrible idea. I had no idea how many looters there were and I had no desire to find out what a blaster wound felt like, much less multiples.

If the looters had at least a modicum of survival instinct, they would have posted sentries, maybe even patrols. My plan for the moment was to capture one to get some information.

I'm not trained in interrogation, so if I can't persuade them then I can just start crushing limbs piece by piece. Starting with the fingers and toes.

I shivered in the cold. In direct opposition to the exterior, the interior of the tomb was bone-chillingly cold. It didn't help that I was wandering around in only a pair of pants-turned-shorts and boots.

Note to self, after interrogation, steal the potential prisoner's clothes.

My walk through the dark hallways was quiet, with my footsteps being the only sound. Panning my glowrod around, I could barely make out a few shapes in the darkness. Closer inspection showed that they were dead k'lor'slugs. The looters seemed to be trying to keep their part of the tomb clear of the monsters.

My nose scrunched up in disgust at the stench. I didn't know if they were decomposing or if they smelled like that normally. Either way, it was bad.

I stuck a finger into the ichor. I'm no expert on the innards of monster centipedes, but this feels fresh. A patrol must have been through recently.

Continuing on, I took the time to really look around me. On the walls above, three frescos depicted scenes from ancient battles. One showed a warrior of great stature, double-bladed sword held up in victory. Another showed two armies clashing before transitioning into one of them walking away, hands in chains.

These murals were likely as old, if not older, than human civilization on Earth. And they were marred by recent scorch marks. I could see square-shaped disturbances in the dust that indicated where statues once stood. A feeling that I quickly identified as rage started simmering in the back of my mind. My pride as a historian burned at the blatant disregard for history, even one as twisted as the Sith's.

I let the anger stew, but not boil over. It wouldn't help me if I was blinded by it.

Instead, I intended to find something to vent on.

The faint echo of voices came from further in. From what I could hear, there were three distinct tones. At least three targets. Or three plus anyone that was keeping quiet.

I clicked the glowrod completely off as I didn't want to alert the incoming patrol and slipped into the darkness, feeling my way along the wall and following the sound. Eventually, there was a literal light at the end of the tunnel. Creeping to the corner, I peered around to find my guess was correct.

Three men dressed in worn, but sturdy desert gear and armed. Two of them were about average height and build, but the third guy was big and walked like he knew how to use it. The smaller men had blaster rifles and the large man had a vibroblade and a pistol.

Bodybuilder Man seemed to be the one giving orders. So he was the one I needed to "talk" to.

Three on one tended to be terrible odds.

I slowly raised both of my hands and started curling my fingers inwards. Sudden movements stood out more than careful, deliberate ones.

The smaller men started looking uncomfortable, pulling at the collars of their clothes. Gasps for air soon followed as they sank to their knees. Bodybuilder Man turned around to see what was wrong.

I twisted my hands suddenly. Two loud snaps followed as the looters' heads unwillingly rotated one hundred and eighty degrees.

Three on one are indeed terrible odds. But the Force is a hell of an equalizer.

Startled, Bodybuilder Man stumbled back, mouth opened to shout. That wouldn't do at all.

With a thought, the looter's mouth shut with a tooth-jarring snap, causing his yell to come out as a whimper. With a bit of effort, I levitated him half a foot off the ground. Hand held out towards him, I circled the now-sweating man.

Technically, the gesture was completely unnecessary. I could accomplish the same just by thinking hard. Rather, it was a bit of self-hypnosis to subconsciously associate the gesture with the action to lessen the amount of concentration required to maintain the action, allowing me to multi-task more easily.

"Well hello, my new large friend," I grinned, "You and I are going to have a chat so I can make some more friends. But first…"

I knelt and examined the corpses, trying to see if one was my size. Nodding, I quickly relieved one of their shirt and pants before emptying the contents of their bags into my own. They only had food, water, and a few assorted bits of gear, the latter of which I'd sort through later. Any artifacts that were collected were probably held back at their camp anyways.

"An apt display," An aged voice commented as I slung their blaster rifles over my shoulders. It was a scratchy ancient thing, like the sound of an old scroll unfurling, "Unrefined, but acceptable for a mere acolyte."

I whirled around to face the source of the voice, only barely maintaining my grip on the looter. In the light of the glowrods, I could only just make out the form of an emaciated figure emerging from back the way I came.

But in the gloom, a pair of glowing yellow-orange eyes stood out brightly from a dark brown hood.

I was preparing to attack before I remembered there was supposed to be someone else in the tombs. I inclined my head in a short bow, "My lord."

I did not take my eyes off him. While he may be a hunched over old man that looked like a stiff breeze would do him in, I knew full well that he could probably kill me with the slightest twitch. One did not live comfortably in the monster infested tomb without being very capable of wrecking your shit. The fact that he's both Sith and old set off a lot of red flags as well.

Spindrall examined my face before glancing at my prisoner. Those sulfurous eyes came back to me as the ancient robed man's face split into a malevolent smile, "You are wary…Good. You may live longer than most."

He seemed to search for something before continuing, "How is it an acolyte only recently arrived to the sands of Korriban knows of this old hermit enough to react with fear?"

Crap.

"Overseer Iren mentioned that you might be in the area," I replied before wincing internally. Attempting to lie to an old Sith Lord was a poor idea to begin with.

An unamused look was the response, "If you are going to lie to my face, boy, at least have the decency to do it well."

"I apologize, my lord. I merely did not want to seem as though I were stooping to rumormongering. I learned of your presence here from another acolyte," The best part was that it's technically true. I knew he was somewhere in here from Lord Kallig's time as an acolyte.

Either he believed me or he just didn't care, because Spindrall merely stared before turning around, "Follow me."

"My lord?"

"I wish to watch you work," He answered, "I do have a vested interest in your task, after all. I ordered it because the looters were disturbing my meditations."

I left the question "well why didn't you take care of it yourself" unasked. I liked living, after all.

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

Spindrall's "chamber" was the burial chamber, with Ajunta Pal's sarcophagus right in the middle of the room and dimly lit by candles. I bet he'd be pissed if he were still floating around.

Something was cooking over a small fire in the corner. There were only two things to eat in this tomb. I didn't want to think much about either possibility.

Skullface and the other acolytes weren't here. Either Kallig already passed through here or the failed acolytes hadn't arrived yet.

A familiar bark got my attention. I blinked, "Gaarurra? What are you doing here?"

Lo and behold, my furry acquaintance and our newly-found paraplegic friend were off to one side of the room. Neither were anymore damaged than the last time I saw them. Cormun was somewhat covered now as the remains of my old shirt had been turned into an improvised loincloth.

"I found the beast and the broken soldier before I came upon you," the old Sith replied. The Wookiee growled, but did nothing else. His self-preservation instincts must be going nuts right now. Spindrall turned to face me again, "Sound will not travel far from this room. Do as you will."

There was only a slight pause before Bodybuilder Man was sent hurtling into a wall. Dropping my other acquisitions on the floor, I walked over and crouched next to his slumped over form.

"As I was saying earlier, we're going to have a chat," I began, "Whether that chat is friendly or not is up to you, my large friend."

It was a bit strange to see a man that large cower in front of me, but then I did just shadow-kill his two buddies in only a few seconds. He seemed to find some small well of courage as he glared at me in response, "You're just going to kill me anyway. There's no point!"

"True. You aren't going to get off this planet alive no matter what you say," I admitted. The whole "why threaten to shoot him when you're just going to throw him out of the plane" argument comes to mind. But I have an answer, "What's the point then? The point is that if you talk now I don't have to get creative. The point is that there will be a difference in how you die. Quick and painless. Or in horrible agony as I pop your extremities and limbs off bit by bit, one at a time. Then I move onto the face, starting with the eyes."

I paused, tapping my chin in thought, "Or I can still pop your limbs off, but then leave you out for the k'lor'slugs and go find someone more willing to talk," Shrugging, I continued, "Are they really worth that much to you that you'd endure excruciating pain for them?"

All of which I said with a cheerful smile.

Now, I don't like torture. Too inefficient and they'll say anything to make it stop. If I actually have to resort to it, then I've failed on some level. But the threat of torture on the other hand…

Suffice it to say, he broke down quickly without me having to touch him. No honor among thieves when pain is on the line, it seemed. Through the blubbering, I learned there were about thirty of them total and armed to the teeth. Twenty-seven now. Still, I assumed he'd lie to spite us, so I mentally doubled that number. Better to be over-prepared than under-prepared.

They did have a cache of artifacts, but it was directly under their boss's supervision. That was fine, we were planning to kill them all anyways. They had enough of a haul that they'd require transportation to get it all out. That was when I learned they had speeders nearby and a smuggler ready to take them off world. I filed that last little tidbit away for later.

"Thank you for your contribution to the Sith census," I replied glibly. I savored the look of brief confusion on his face before snapping his neck with a jerk of my wrist.

"There you have it," Spindrall remarked with a nod of approval, "You know your enemy. All you need do now is crush them."

"Thank you for the use of this chamber, Lord Spindrall," I gave a short bow before turning to my companion, "Gaarurra, take your pick of the gear. We'll hit the camp when you're ready."

I quickly stripped myself of the tattered clothing I arrived in before dressing myself in the clothing I scavenged earlier. My sense of modesty had died months ago and I was freezing.

I also took Bodybuilder Man's belt, shirt, and pistol. While I would probably ditch the rifle I already had before I reached the academy, the pistol could be more easily concealed for a later advantage. I twisted the shirt into an improvised hood.

Gaarurra claimed the man's vibroblade and one of the rifles, which I did not contest. Not only was he a lot bigger than me, he'd be better able to keep people and monsters from killing me.

Blaster packs and other miscellaneous gear we split evenly between ourselves. Gaarurra gently hefted Cormun onto his back. We'd find someplace to hide him on the way.

"A question before you go, acolyte," the Sith Lord's cracked voice wheezed. I turned to hear it, "Why do you spare the soldier? He will only slow you down."

I thought about it for a minute. The old me would have just claimed it was the humane thing to do. But I wasn't that man anymore. I had a different answer.

"Because his perseverance impressed me. True, his squad failed to accomplish the objective they set out to do, but he held on long enough through horrific injuries to warn the next group of the dangers ahead to increase their chance of success," I looked Spindrall in the eye as I continued, "I wish to see that kind of tenacity and dedication nurtured," I allowed a smile tinged with a hint of malice and lowered my voice so that Gaarurra wouldn't hear, "And if he decides to use said dedication in my service…well, all the better."

Spindrall's dry chuckling echoed in the chamber, "Acceptable reasoning," He gestured to a small mat off to the side, "Leave the soldier here. As I said, he will only slow you down. I will ensure that he does not perish as you complete your tasks."

"Thank you, my lord," I nodded my head towards Gaarurra, who placed Cormun back down.

As we left, I thought I heard Spindrall say, "Far be it from me to curb the ambition of a Sith…"

 

[Rictus]

Chapter 4


Finding the looter camp wasn't difficult, just a long walk. Most of the interior of Ajunta Pal's tomb had collapsed from wear and tear, only leaving a few open pockets. The majority of the little winding corridors that split off from the main hallways ended in fallen stones and foul smells.

My capture and interrogation of Bodybuilder Man only took maybe twenty or thirty minutes. But I had to assume that they were somewhat intelligent and knew a patrol went missing. Not wise because, you know, they decided raiding Sith tombs was a brilliant idea.

Contrary to my earlier assessment, Gaarurra was eerily silent and hard to see as we stalked through the dark with only a dim glowrod to guide us. I'd only half-hearted suggested we take out as many as possible from stealth, part of me expecting him to eschew hiding as soon as possible.

Wookiees are a mixed bag when it comes to this. I wasn't sure if Gaarurra was a hunter or a berserker, so I would withhold my thoughts until I'd seen him fight. But based on this? I think we stood a good chance of effectively whittling them down before he went nuts.

And we did. We encountered three more patrols, made up of three or four each. In total, we killed ten looters. That left seventeen in the camp, including the boss. We didn't use our blasters, as the sound they make would carry. No, we used blades and the Force.

Necks snapped in my grasp. Crisp, clean and with no mess.

Gaarurra literally tore a guy in half. Blood and guts everywhere. Less said, the better.

I killed a lot of people, probably enough to give me a life sentence back home. Maybe I was expecting to feel something, to have an existential break at breaking a taboo. But I didn't. At least I didn't feel pleasure from the act.

I could only describe what I felt as…mild irritation. They were in my way. Nothing more, nothing less.

With a trail of broken bodies behind us, we made our way to the camp. They were based out of one of the remaining central chambers, a cavernous room supported by pillars as wide as a locomotive. Honestly, it kind of looked like something straight out of Moria. The camp was protected on three sides by collapsed pillars, which they had turned into an improvised palisade.

Given that they had to sneak onto the planet and how small the corridors were, they could only bring what they'd be able to carry themselves. With their numbers, this translated to dozens of sleeping bags and a few tents, food for a small army, and enough gun to make problems for a pair of potential Sith. I spotted four toting blaster cannons.

Pistols, rifles, and blades? Easy enough to get. Heavy weaponry? That suggested someone with cash or influence was bankrolling them.

Glancing at Gaarurra, it seemed he was connecting the same dots. His furry "eyebrows" were furrowed as he scanned the camp.

"Yeah, I see it too," I muttered, to which he replied with a low woof, "This is a bit more complex than we thought. Let's keep an eye out for datapads. Might tell us who their backer is."

I looked around at the higher elevated spaces. If they had heavy guns, they might have had snipers too. When I didn't spot any, I turned my eyes back to the camp itself, noting to keep my head down just in case. With nearly half their number missing, the looters were definitely on edge. While only half of them were actually on guard, none of them were out of arm's reach of their respective weapons.

Despite the openness of the chamber, the rubble strewn across it gave a lot of cover.

"You see anything I don't?" I asked quietly. At the Wookiee's shake of the head, I continued, "Alright, way I see it, we'll have to take out the heavy gunners first. They haven't seen us yet, so we can probably take down at least two of them before the bolts start flying. After that, I guess we just go wild and move from cover to cover."

With the setup of their camp, there really wasn't a choice beyond a head-on assault. The pillars were too big to climb over without dedicated climbing gear. While Gaarurra might be able to do it, that would leave me to handle the "frontal" part of the assault solo and weather the majority of the blasterfire. Not an option I liked.

My furry companion looked over the situation himself before shrugging. With our inability to communicate beyond body language, I suppose it would be a bit difficult to elaborate on anything he disagreed with.

I slung my rifle off my back and lightly slapped Gaarurra's shoulder, "Good luck."

I soon found myself face-first on the ground, air blown out of my lungs and back stinging.

"Ow," I wheezed.

Gaarurra had a sheepish look on his face when I got up. I quickly waved it off and got moving.

I shifted to another piece of cover so that if one of use got bombarded, the other could fire and take some of the pressure off. I slowly peeked over it and levered my rifle so I could look down the sights. A glance back showed Gaarurra doing the same. I nodded when his eyes darted to me.

Carefully, I took aim at one of the burly fellows lugging a blaster cannon.

Breathe in. Breathe out.

Two flashes of red light briefly lit up the room, followed by a pair of bodies slumped to the ground with smoking holes in their throat and chest, respectively. Contrary to my expectation, blasters actually do have a bit of recoil since they fire magnetically-contained plasma bolts instead of lasers, so they do have some mass. Not at the same level as firearms, but noticeable nevertheless.

I readjusted and downed the third heavy gunner before I had to quickly duck as the guards on duty sent a hail of blasterfire across the cavernous chamber.

Three down. Fourteen to go.

Instead of sticking my head up out of cover, I sent some blindfire back at them. Someone screamed in the distance.

Thirteen.

A closer-sounding blaster sounded off. Gaarurra was doing his part.

Breathe in. Breathe out.

I tumbled out of cover and broke into a sprint to the next pile of rubble. A stream of red lights followed me the whole way. Molten chips of rock flew in all directions as bolt after bolt slammed into my cover.

Alright, I wasn't sticking my head out into that. Looking around, I spied a particularly large rock, around ten feet wide and twice as tall. I grinned. That would do.

Taking a hand off my rifle, I stretched out a hand to it and willed it to move. Slowly, the stone rose into the air. Grimacing, I placed my weapon on the ground so my other hand could be brought to bear. I underestimated how heavy this was, though it still wasn't the heaviest I'd lifted. I rotated it so that it was horizontal.

With a grunt, I sent it hurtling towards the source of the blasterfire. I couldn't count how many panicked shouts there were, but a lot of them went real quiet, real fast as the boulder crashed into them. The ones that were left knew what was coming.

"SITH!" One of them cried before being silenced by Gaarurra.

I leaned against my cover to catch my breath for a moment. I didn't know what power category I was in, but I definitely wasn't Skywalker tier. Moving stuff that big was tiring as all hell.

Breathe in. Breathe out.

Edging around my cover, I counted six visible looters. The boulder had carved a trench through their camp, crushing a quarter of the tents under it before being stopped by the downed pillar. I grimaced and hoped that hadn't destroyed anything important. Thankfully, it missed the most expensive looking tent.

My rifle fired two more times, dropping two more looters. Before I came to Star Wars, Dad used to take my brother and I shooting when we were younger. He'd gone through Secret Service training since he used to work at Camp David as a park ranger and he figured we should know how to use a gun. I was a decent shot, but I never expected to actually use those skills.

I wasn't military trained, but neither were these guys, apparently. Their shots were going wild now, more so that before. They were just shooting randomly and hoping they hit something.

I hadn't been keeping track of Gaarurra since I moved, so I was a little surprised when he roared and charged out of cover, vibroblade in hand.

…Fuck it.

I walked out from behind my cover and steadily moved forward. By this point, my large companion had their full attention, so the four that were left pretty much ignored me in their mad scramble to get away from the furry juggernaut. Only one managed to move fast enough to avoid getting carved up like a Thanksgiving turkey, but I quickly put him down with a bolt in the back before he got very far.

As the cavern fell silent at last, I gave Gaarurra a wide berth. Wookiees have a tendency to enter blood-rages in combat and I didn't know if he was in one. After a few minutes, he seemed to calm down.

We picked through what was left of the camp. It was…gruesome. The boulder had crushed five and injured a sixth before rolling through the tents. The sixth had been quickly put out of his misery since he was too far gone to talk.

Looking over them, I thought it a bit odd that all the looters were human. Given that they were likely Outer Rim folk, I was expecting at least a few aliens among their number.

Putting aside that mystery for the moment, Gaarurra and I policed what gear was still intact. Eleven blasters of varying sizes and the blaster cannons were piled up on a grav sled, which the looters had helpfully brought with them. There were some bits and pieces of Imperial equipment too, but not as much as I thought there would be. Still, I managed to find a matching vambrace to put on my unarmored arm and a mostly intact breastplate.

My assumption about the boss's tent being the fanciest one was right, though I have no idea which one of the corpses was him. Relics, ranging from statues to shards of murals, were haphazardly piled up in the middle of the tent, which angered my inner historian greatly. With Gaarurra's help, I carefully packed them up using blankets scattered around the camp.

Surprisingly, there wasn't much else in the tent besides a cot and a locker. I frowned at the latter object. I didn't have the code to get in and crushing the mechanism seemed like a poor idea. Shrugging, I decided to load it onto the sled with everything else. At the very least, Iren might be interested in its contents. Maybe there's a datapad inside.

All in all, it only took us an hour, most of which was getting the artifacts ready for transport. That was one task done. Just one more to go.

 

[Rictus]

Chapter 5


After clearing out the looter camp, Gaarurra and I navigated the dark tunnels to return to Spindrall's chamber for a moment to drop off the artifacts and supplies we had scavenged. I used some of the medical supplies we purloined to patch up Cormun as best I could. Mostly, that meant I disinfected the wounds and changed bandages.

Gaarurra had swapped out his rifle for one of the blaster cannons. If it wouldn't have weighed me down so much, I would have done the same. If what I suspected about the queen was true, we were going to need the firepower. Hopefully, the Force would compensate.

Instead, I fiddled with my rifle until I figured out how to change the power pack until we headed out.

We didn't get far before we hit the first wave. In a place as silent and enclosed as this tomb, sound carries a long way. Our firefight with the looters must have stirred up the k'lor'slugs. Without the patrols to keep them down, they came in dozens. Most were hatchlings, but there were adults scattered amongst them.

Breathe in…breathe out.

I raised my rifle to my shoulder and fired one shot at a time, trying for one shot one kill. Beside me, Gaarurra tore through six at a time with each shot from his blaster cannon.

There were no tactics involved. They came at us in a solid wall of gnashing teeth and squirming flesh. We answered with plasma. We barely needed to aim.

I had to switch my rifle to full-auto simply to keep up with the numbers, but eventually the horde slowly whittled away. After we mopped up the last, I swapped out power packs again. Though the barrel of Gaarurra's blaster cannon was glowing red hot, we didn't stop to let it cool down. We left a trail of ichor in the shape of our footprints behind us as we ran. According to Cormun, new k'lor'slugs would be born and at fighting size inside of an hour.

We didn't bother with stealth as we made a beeline for the egg chamber. We didn't stop to engage groups, though we did shoot the ones that got in our way. The faster we got there, the less we would have to deal with in the long run.

As we got closer, I could see signs that indicated something big passed through regularly. Claw marks on the ceiling…and massive pitch-black tunnels carved through the ancient stone.

When we arrived, I noted how SWTOR was yet again inaccurate. Instead of a small chamber, we found ourselves in a cavern the size of a football stadium with a ceiling so high I couldn't see it. And it was completely filled with eggs.

Not a few dozen, like shown in the game. Not hundreds. Thousands. Possibly hundreds of thousands. Before my eyes, dozens started hatching. In the center of all this with a cluster of eggs built up around it was one of the bombs. The rest were presumably buried around the room.

There were less guards than I thought there would be. Just a few full-grown k'lor'slugs that were quickly dispatched with a few shots. That said, there was very little doubt that the queen was nearby judging from the massive holes in the walls and floor.

Gaarurra gave me a questioning look.

I shook my head, "I don't know how to arm it."

The Wookiee nodded in understanding. I didn't need to say anything else. We both knew our jobs. He would arm the bomb while I held off the k'lor'slugs.

I quickly glanced around the room and grimaced. There weren't any good choke points.

"I'll set up here," I stated as I gestured to the doorway we were standing in, "They'll only be able to come at me from two directions instead of all around."

Gaarurra made his own assessment before nodding in agreement. He fiddled with the blaster cannon for a moment before deploying its attached tripod and gesturing for me to take it.

I immediately understood his intent. I slung my rifle back over my shoulder and took command of the weapon. He wasn't going to be able to use it if he was arming the bombs. I assured him I was ready by firing a shot at the biggest cluster of eggs I could see.

As ichor and bits of shell splattered, hundreds of screeching cries rent the air as k'lor'slugs of all sizes started pouring out of every crevice. Garurra drew his vibroblade and charged towards the central bomb, hacking at anything that got between him and it. His enormous hands and feet smashed the eggs around the bomb before he got to work.

That was all I was able to see before I had to get busy. The rest came for me, as I was making the most noise and causing the most damage. The blaster cannon jerked in my hands with each shot, but with the horde coming to me, aiming was irrelevant. A few got too close, but were quickly turned to paste with well-timed Force Crushes.

Things started blurring together. Shot after shot blew up entire groups. The barrel of the blaster cannon started smoking, but I couldn't stop or else I'd be overwhelmed.

Several screeches coming from behind me caused me to briefly unsling my rifle and quickly hose down the hallway behind me with blasterfire. I missed more often than not, but I still managed to put down the group that tried sneaking up on me before turning back to the cannon.

Eventually, it stopped firing as safety protocols overrided the firing mechanism. As much as I wanted to cuss up a storm, I couldn't hesitate long enough to do so. Instead, I drew my sword and pistol.

Now, my knowledge of swordplay could be simplified as "stick the pointy end in the other guy." But with animals like this, skill could be replaced by strength. I didn't need a fancy technique to start carving my way through them, just enough muscle power to drive sharpened steel through flesh.

The hatchlings were easy to kill. Hell, I could get two or three with one wide swipe. The adults had tougher skin, so I used the blaster on them.

Killing them wasn't the problem, but their numbers. If this continued, I'd be overwhelmed.

Note to self: get a flamethrower at first opportunity.

Instead of holding my position, I started carving a path to Gaarurra. I could just barely see his furry form hunched over the bomb. With me making so much racket, the k'lor'slugs were all but leaving him alone.

Suddenly, all of them froze and scattered as the ground started shaking.

Before I could react, a massive brown shape burst out of the stone floor, devouring both Gaarurra and the bomb whole in a single gulp.

"Well…shit," I remarked aloud.

The k'lor'slug queen was indeed big. Much bigger than I was expecting. Like stack two double-decker buses on top of each other big.

I had a peashooter and a piece of sharp metal and there wasn't any rubble big enough to squish her with nearby. This was probably not going to end well for me if I stayed to fight her.

But damn it, she just ate the Wookiee and the bomb!

I fired my pistol at her a few times, only to watch it lightly scorch her hide without doing any real damage. The queen let out a keening screech before barreling towards me. I dove to one side as she charged past. I tried to swing my sword at her, but it only succeeded at making a loud noise as it scraped against her. I tried to crush her with the Force, only to have my power slough off her.

So I ran. With her blocking the exit, I had to run deeper into the cavern and hope I found something useful. She screeched again and the chase was on. I vaulted over egg clusters, though she crashed right through them uncaringly.

I used the Force to throw small rocks at her face, only to watch them bounce off harmlessly. Despite my inability to actually harm her, I was doing a fairly good job of keeping away from her.

Or I was until I slipped on a puddle of ichor.

I gracelessly tumbled and rolled until I came to a stop against one of the cavern's walls. Despite the world still seeming to spin for a moment, I could still see the meat-grinder that called itself a mouth coming straight at me.

Despite this, I wasn't afraid. Oh sure, there was some fear, but I wasn't terrified. I closed my eyes and waited.

And waited.

I cracked open my right eye to see why nothing had happened and I was greeted by the sight of a small piece of glinting metal sticking out of the monster's belly as the creature froze in place. As I stared, the metal moved, crudely carving a hole through the beast's hide. Once it was big enough, a familiar shaggy head poked out as Gaarurra pulled himself out, vibroblade in hand. Covered from head to toe in wounds, blood, and guts, the enormous Wookiee made for an intimidating sight.

I breathed out a sigh of relief.

However, Gaarurra didn't seem nearly as happy to see me as I did him. He pointed at the exit and roared before running.

I blinked. Then the pieces clicked and my eyes went wide. I scrambled to my feet and bolted after him.

The queen had eaten the bomb too.

Sluggish from pain, she tried to chase us, but we were long gone before she would have made it halfway across the chamber. When the bomb detonated behind us, the tomb shook beneath our feet.

And I laughed all the while.

 

[Rictus]

Chapter 6


The walk back to Spindrall's chamber was a quiet one. Without the queen to direct them, the remaining k'lor'slugs had started turning on each other and allowing mindless hunger to take over. The few groups we encountered were too busy tearing each other apart to notice us.

Considering it was entirely possible that the beasts were made with Sith Alchemy, it's likely that they had a sort of hive mind. Killing the queen must have thrown them into disarray and caused the rest to default to "feed."

All in all, it was a good day. While we did lose my rifle and Gaarurra's blaster cannon, neither of us were seriously hurt. Even if Gaarurra did stink to high heaven.

Spindrall was exactly where we left him, meditating in front of the sarcophagus.

"It's done, Lord Spindrall," I stated as I approached, stopping just outside of arm and weapons reach. Not that it would stop him if he wanted to murder me.

"Finally," His aged voice cracked, "At last there will be quiet."

The Sith Lord then went silent long enough that I was starting to wonder if he'd dropped back into meditation. I had to force myself to keep still. Walking away at the wrong moment might get me fried.

"Impressive. Both of you yet survive," the old man commented. Though his face was turned away, I saw the edge of a smirk, "Truly, I wonder how that came about. A lack of proper Sith attitude…or the presence of a proper one," He paused again, "Nevertheless, you have performed adequately and your Masters will be satisfied."

I waited.

One red eye turned in my direction, "You may leave."

And leave I did, though not without a feeling of frustration brewing in my gut. No words of wisdom? No reward?

This adventure sucked. At least there was loot.

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

Gaarurra and I found the looters' speeders hidden nearby. After loading up Cormun and our gear, I had Gaarurra wrap himself up in the dead men's clothing.

We followed our former prisoner's directions and quickly found their escape ship, a modest sized light freighter. Disguised as the looters, we had no problems getting on board and quickly subduing the smuggler. A fast interrogation showed that he didn't know much other than an interesting little hole in Korriban's defenses.

After getting the access codes to the ship, we executed him, despite his begging. While it may have been smarter to leave him alive, I had no way of ensuring his loyalty.

As neither Gaarurra nor I knew how to fly a ship, we decided to hide it until either of us acquired a reputable pilot, along with our stock of blasters. After closing up every hatch and covering all intakes, I used the Force to cover the vessel with sand. I then placed a distinctive rock on top, then shot it twice with my pistol to make it more distinctive.

There was a possibility that the wind would uncover the ship, but even if it did it would not be connected to me.

After that, we loaded back up on the speeders.

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

As we sped across the desert, I noticed a splotch of black standing out from the endless sea of sand. Upon maneuvering closing, I saw that it was the Quarren from earlier, collapsed on the ground and half-buried. The sun had not been kind to him, causing his skin to blister and crack from the heat and dryness. Leaning over him, I could see that he was still breathing, if only barely.

I looked to Gaarurra to see what he thought. The Wookiee shrugged.

"Fat lot of help you are," I muttered unkindly.

In the end, I overturned one of our many canteens of water over the Quarren's head and telekinetically dumped him in the back of the speeder.

At my companion's questioning look, I replied, "If he completed his task, he's one more body between us and Iren. If he didn't…well, he'll die anyways."

The squid probably wasn't going to last long, regardless of our help. Callous, yes. But callousness had helped me survive the past year.

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

Unlike our hours long trek to the Valley of the Dark Lords, getting to the academy only took ten minutes rather than the two day walk we had been looking forward to. Then again, we were probably clocking in somewhere around one hundred and fifty mph. But hey, we got there intact.

We dropped Cormun off with some soldiers and dumped the Quarren out on the ground before heading inside.

This complex was supposed to house and train thousands of potential Sith, as well as serve as the headquarters of the Dark Council itself. And it showed. Despite its dust-covered exterior, the academy itself was impressive with how expansive it was, extending far beyond sight. I'm certain there were areas never shown in the game, like the soldiers' barracks and various storage rooms. While most of the occupants were humans and red-skinned Sith, there were a few aliens scattered throughout.

A pair of guardsmen stopped us at the front door, but a quick show of the Force had us inside faster than any key. Only stopping long enough to get directions to Iren, I ignored the glances and sneers on the faces of the other acolytes we passed.

I could honestly care less about their opinions. Right now, I just wanted to find a bed and sleep until next week.

Overseer Iren merely raised an eyebrow ridge at the sight of the grav-sled full of artifacts we were dragging behind us. He leaned forward in his chair, setting aside the datapad he was working on. Thin red fingers clasped together under his chin.

"I trust that your respective tasks are complete?" He asked. If he was surprised to see Gaarurra, he didn't show it.

"The looters are dead," I reported, gesturing to the grav-sled, "This is everything they collected. I also brought along the leader's footlocker, though I couldn't get it open without potentially damaging the contents. Might be something incriminating in there."

The Sith nodded approvingly at my forward thinking before pressing, "How many looters were there? Their level of organization?"

"Thirty total. Solid tactics if they weren't dealing with Sith. They had several patrols of three to four keeping the k'lor'slugs at bay while they took everything not nailed to the ground," I stated, my arms instinctively clasping behind my back as I spoke, "Either they or their backers had access to military grade gear. Four of them had blaster cannons. However, their gear was better than their training. They were terrible shots and broke quickly."

"And the k'lor'slugs?"

I looked to Gaarurra, who opened his mouth to reply.

Iren held up a hand to interrupt us, "It is already blindingly obvious that you two worked together. I would prefer to hear it from the mouth of the one I can actually understand."

Oddly, it didn't seem like he disapproved.

Shrugging, I took up the task of reporting, "The squad sent in before us managed to set up several bombs in the egg chamber, but wasn't able to detonate them before being overwhelmed. Gaarurra armed them while I held off the k'lor'slugs. After setting the timer, he managed to kill the queen before we withdrew from the chamber."

"You managed this…with swords?" The Overseer gave a pointed look to the sword strapped to my belt.

"We scavenged some ordinance from the looters," I replied.

"I see," Iren responded simply.

Seconds ticked by as his yellow eyes examined us. Neither Gaarurra nor I moved or looked away.

"I will admit, I was not expecting to see any of you for at least another two days. And yet here you two are on the very first day," He finally spoke, "Credit where credit is due for using your brains and showing incredible amounts of restraint."

I feel like "for a Sith" should have been added at the end there.

"Despite my misgivings of your species, beast," Gaarurra growled at the name, though Iren continued unperturbed, "You both have done well, despite an inability to communicate and being encouraged to murder each other. While most Overseers would be displeased to see both of you come back alive, I find myself…pleased. While my job is to weed out the weak, that does not mean we should seek to waste Force Sensitives. They are rather rare, after all."

Gaarurra and I glanced at each other with matching perplexed expressions. Holy shit, was this a Sith with common sense?!

"As you have completed your respective tasks several days early, you may do with the remaining time as you wish until the others return. Quarters in the dormitories have been prepared and stocked for your use," Iren explained, "When the others have arrived, you shall be contacted via the datapads waiting for you in your quarters. You are dismissed."

As we turned to leave, the Overseer stopped me, but gestured for Gaarurra to go. Once the Wookiee had left, he continued.

"Lord Spindrall sent a message that got here shortly before you did, requesting a package be delivered to you specifically. I do not know what you did to gain his attention, but it will be waiting in your room."

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

Our "rooms" were organized in pairs. I wasn't assigned to a room with Gaarurra, but I picked up my stuff and moved into his. No way was I risking getting put with the yellow-eyed chick. I'd rather deal with the Wookiee stink over getting my throat slit in the middle of the night.

When the factotum droid complained, I told it where it could stuff it. In hindsight, probably not a good idea.

I immediately claimed the top bunk. Gaarurra may be friendly, but I wasn't comfortable with three hundred pounds of Wookiee hanging over my head.

When I set my bag down on my bed, I heard a sound that wasn't metal shifting around. After digging around, I pulled out a slightly crumpled stack of papers covered in nigh-unintelligible writing. That wasn't something that was…

I blinked and glanced at the package from Lord Spindrall, still unopened. I immediately unwrapped it to find an ancient-looking tome. Carefully opening it, I saw both basic and the same unintelligible writing. It took a moment before I realized that it was a primer for learning Sith Runes.

There was a note tucked away behind the cover:

"While Ajunta Pal started as but one among equals, he came to rule them all in the end. Perhaps you will follow his path, perhaps not. This is but a step, though I look forward to seeing where your path leads, Traveller."

Despite the chill that went down my spine at that last word, I grinned.

I changed my mind. This adventure was awesome!

 

[Rictus]

Chapter 7


The next acolyte to return after us was Yellow Eyes. Despite being caked in sand, blood, and sweat, she had confidently sauntered back to the dormitories the next day as though she were queen of the universe. That quickly turned to shock, then rage, when she spotted Gaarurra, Squid, and I lounging in the common room.

I barely spared her a glance as she stormed off before going back to my book, only noting that my intuition had been correct about room placements. If I actually cared, I would have felt sorry for Gaarurra's former roommate, who would undoubtedly be shoved into her room in my place.

Speaking of Squid, I still hadn't learned his name and he didn't seem inclined to give it. It seemed he was a bit put out at us for just dumping him at the front door or something else, but he wasn't openly hostile and made sure to stay in relative proximity to Gaarurra or I. Unless he tried something, I was content to let him be for the moment…not that I wasn't keeping an eye on him regardless. He may be sluggish from the near-death by heatstroke, but that didn't make him any less potentially dangerous.

After our action-packed day yesterday, I contented myself with reading through Spindrall's primer. Not that there was anything else to do. We didn't have access to the academy's facilities, like the training rooms or the archives. Due to Iren wanting to keep everything "fair," we were basically left to sit and twiddle our thumbs until the others got back.

The Sith Language was incredibly complex and maddeningly non-sensical to the point where I doubted I would ever attempt to speak it aloud. An agglutinative language, it possessed twenty-three phenomes made up of seventeen consonants and six vowels, making it remarkably limited compared to spoken Basic due to lacking "p" and "l" sounds. Translating from Sith to Basic was never perfect and prone to mistranslations due to the absence of certain consonants. Apparently, it was so difficult for non-Sith to learn that even the original Dark Jedi got fed up and created auto-translate amulets. Thankfully, now there are "Sith-to-Basic" dictionaries.

On a morbid note, there are more than forty phrases dedicated solely to describing murdering one's teacher and taking their place. One of the tamer ones involved taking the blood-soaked skull of said teacher and showing it to one's fellow apprentices to establish dominance over them. I felt like that would only result in the galaxy's most dangerous game of "keep away."

And to think, I've only gotten a sixth of the way through the tome and I haven't even gotten started on translating Spindrall's notes. I'm still debating whether it portrays the ancient Sith as hardcore or just fucking nuts.

The sound of metal feet on metal flooring drew my eye up for a moment. Red photoreceptors stared back just as long before the silver-blue droid went back to its duties.

Pissing off the factotum droid wasn't my best decision. It held a grudge and short-sheeted my bed last night, as well as over-starching my spare pair of pants. I'm also going to be checking any food I get from it for poison, just in case. I really needed to remember that while it was a factotum droid, it was also a Sith factotum droid. It probably had assassination functions hidden away somewhere in that chassis.

In my defense, I was really tired and irritable at the time. On the bright side, it's good practice for when I would need to constantly watch my back for assassination attempts from my fellows. Silver lining and all that.

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

The Nautolan was next, arriving on the third day. I didn't know where he'd been sent, but he was followed by a pair of floating orbs made up of what looked to be hastily-cobbled together junk. Like Squid, he wasn't handling the heat very well, but he at least managed to make it to the academy on his own.

I didn't catch his name before he passed out in his room, so I just mentally dubbed him "Tentacles."

The Twi'Lek came in a few minutes after him. While she was covered in cuts and bruises, she was much less haggard-looking. She was even less social than Yellow Eyes, choosing to glare at everyone in silence before retreating to her quarters. Turned out, she was supposed to be rooming with Gaarurra.

I named her "Tails."

By now, I was getting used to my new accommodations. After noting that Yellow Eyes hadn't taken the chance to brutally murder me in my sleep yet, I'd taken the chance to shave and have a long shower, though I kept a knife within arms reach. My captors had been more concerned with keeping us fed and working than clean. As a result, I had nearly a year's worth of sweat, blood, and cortosis dust clinging to me. I thanked my lucky stars that I was only capable of growing stubble instead of a full beard. I came out about an hour and a half later with more than a few cuts on my face, but I felt better.

After a year with no haircuts, my hair was shaggy and hanging down between my shoulder blades. Since I didn't trust either myself or the factotum droid to cut it, I just combed it and tied it back into a rough, low-hanging ponytail. It wasn't new for me and I'd done it before during my "I'm going to try stuff" phase of middle school before I quickly learned that it literally took all day for my hair to air-dry. Though given how ridiculously arid Korriban was, that might be a boon now.

Despite how relaxed I was from the shower, Spindrall's message was still bothering me. "Ajunta Pall's path" could reference a lot of things. Not only was he the first Dark Lord of the Sith, he was one of the first, if not the first, Dark Jedi. His experiments in what would become Sith Alchemy were what started the schism in the first place. Whatever the old man's intent, he wanted me to translate the papers he stowed away in my bag.

Besides that, calling me a "Traveler" had some disturbing implications. Even in SWTOR, Spindrall seemed to know more than he ever let on. Maybe he actually did. Zash did supposedly treat him like a prophet, after all.

What else did he know? Did he know anything? Was he just crazy?

All the same, red eyes haunted my dreams that night.

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

"Horns" and "Spikes," the male and female Zabrak respectively, came in on the last possible day of our allotted time a few hours apart from each other. Horns had a ragged stump in the place of his left arm, though he was outfitted with an ill-fitting skeletal cybernetic prosthetic by day's end. Judging by how he kept accidentally crushing things, it was going to take a while for him to get used to it.

Tentacles and Spikes were roomed together and Horns was paired off with Squid.

I don't know why I was giving everyone stupid nicknames. Maybe it was to make them seem like less of a threat or something. Maybe it was just me getting something to piss them off with later. Or maybe I was just distracting myself from my own frustration at attempting to speak even a single word of the Sith Language.

Translating individual words was relatively easy. Figuring out grammar structures and tenses was another matter. Figuring out how to say a "dz" sound was a separate beast from that.

Besides Gaarurra, Squid, and I, everyone had avoided each other as much as possible. But even without empathic senses, there was a near-palpable sense of suspicion, paranoia, and distrust. If the academy didn't have a "no blatant murder" rule, this dorm would have erupted into a bloodbath by now, if only because of Yellow Eyes. Probably the exact reason they have that rule, come to think of it.

I'll admit I was feeling it too, though it was mitigated by the small feeling of smug superiority at being the only one to come back completely uninjured.

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

The morning after the twins arrived, the dorms were filled with an unholy racket as everyone's datapads chimed loudly. Nobody said a word to each other as we pulled our clothes, non-descript black robes provided by the academy. As none of them had been tailored for us specifically, I was treated to the sight of Tails practically drowning in her robes and Gaarurra cramming his way into a slightly too small outer robe. I myself only wore the short-sleeved under-tunic, pants, belt, and boots since it still felt too warm for the whole ensemble, even with the academy's climate controls.

Slipping a knife into my boot, I strapped my sword to my belt and headed out with Gaarurra and Squid. We'd learned quickly that it was a good idea to travel in groups. I may have been in the upper tiers of this particular group strength-wise, but I was far from top dog of the academy. The older or more experienced acolytes occasionally let their power go to their heads and tended to pick fights with people they saw as beneath them, which included aliens and new arrivals. I hadn't seen it myself, but I'd seen what the successful groups were doing. If you weren't alone, they wouldn't bother you unless they were holding a grudge or massively outnumbered you.

We got to the Overseer's office without incident, though I felt a shiver go down my spine as we passed through the main hall, but it wasn't from the eyes around us. I didn't dare look up, knowing quite well just what was on the upper levels of the academy building.

Iren greeted us with silence from his seat behind his desk, yellow eyes scanning us as we filed in. They paused for a moment on Horns' cyber arm, then continued without a word.

"Congratulations are in order for all of you," He smiled at last, clasping his hands together under his chin, "It is a rare thing to see every member of a group of acolytes return from their first task. Usually at least one or two go missing, either because they died or they got "lost" in the tombs."

Translation: The acolytes usually off the weakest link before the Overseers get the chance. The fact that no one did was weird for them.

"Now that all of you are here, it is time to discuss your training," Iren stood up and walked around to the front of his desk, "Perhaps contrary to your expectations, I will not be directly responsible for training you. My role is only to supervise the completion of your trials. You will be responsible for making certain that you are up for the task."

He picked up a datapad from his desk and typed in a few commands. The datapads on our own belts chimed.

"You now have access to the various facilities of the academy, such as the archives and the training halls. Make use of them as you see fit," He continued, "You will seek out any teacher you can find. You will search for any scrap of knowledge you can piece together. You will toil until either your bones or your spirit break. Your success or failure, your life or death, will be in your hands alone."

Silence reigned in the office again.

"You are dismissed. When you have been assigned a task, you will be notified."

As the others started filtering out of the room, I stayed put for a moment. I could feel Gaarurra and Squid pause outside the doorway when they noticed I wasn't following.

Iren raised an eye ridge, "You have a question, acolyte?"

"I do," I replied, "Are we being groomed for a particular Lord or are we merely a pool to choose from?"

"The latter," He immediately answered, "That said, it may behoove you to make yourself more appealing and useful for your prospective Master. It will increase your chances."

I said my thanks before rejoining Gaarurra and Squid. While it was a valid question, it was more to gauge the Overseer's reaction. Suffice it to say, I approved. While he was still a snob by default, he was a fair snob. He wasn't an outright ass like Harken or a complete snob like Tremmel.

Whether that made things going forward harder or not was still up for debate. Though he was fair with me, he was also fair with everyone else, minus the racial slurs. He would give just as much help to them as he would to me.

Though I was preoccupied with mulling over this, I noticed that I didn't feel the chill again when we crossed back through the main hall.

 

[Rictus]

Chapter 8


The main training hall was brutally chaotic. I'd been at the academy proper for nearly a week and I still wasn't used to it. There were no orderly duels or set boundaries, save for the fact that it never left the room. Acolytes weaved in and out of each other's paths as they dodged and deflected attacks from the resident training droids.

Venturing into the main hall meant taking your life into your own hands. The skill level of the opponents alternated randomly to simulate the havoc of a proper battlefield, so the droids were occasionally set for the Dark Council's training regimen. I was passing by the hall the last time that happened and nearly got hit with a flying severed arm. I managed to get out of the way just before a flood of acolytes came pouring out of the room, including the guy that lost the arm.

Twelve people still died. Believe it or not, some of the senior acolytes go in there for fun and come out grinning like loons after losing a few fingers. Marauders-in-training, I guess.

There are separate training halls for individual learning, but you had to venture through the main hall to get to them. You also had to hope that they weren't occupied, otherwise you'd be stuck in front of a locked door.

"Shit!" I cussed as Garsh and I ducked under a hail of slugthrower fire directed at our head level.

Side note, I finally learned the Quarren's name. Not that he's said much else besides cussing furiously alongside me as we ran, but it was progress. Ahead of us, Gaarurra ripped the head off an overeager droid before continuing his mad rush to the nearest private training room.

My danger sense briefly screamed at me. I whipped my right arm towards something out of my sight, my hand curled into a fist. Metal shrieked against metal as I used my vambrace to batter a droid's vibroblade aside. If that had been a lightsaber, I would have lost my hand at the wrist. Thankfully, Star Wars armor actually works when used against things it was designed to defend against.

I kicked it full on the chassis, knocking it back into the chaotic melee behind it. I couldn't afford to get caught up in fighting it, so I ran afterwards. Garsh had already passed me, though I managed to catch up. Thankfully, Gaarurra had found an empty training room and was waiting for us with the door open. We practically dove through the doorway as more fire came our way, landing awkwardly inside.

Behind us, the Wookiee closed and locked the door in the face of a Falleen acolyte just before she could slip in. Just before it slammed shut, her eyes locked onto mine.

I looked away.

I heard the crash as she slammed face-first into the door, followed by her frantic pounding against the metal. I closed my eyes and grimaced as it was suddenly drowned out by a long staccato of bangs before something thumped to the ground. I wasn't looking forward to the depressingly common sight that would greet us on the way out.

This was my reality. Careless compassion could get me killed just as easily as unrestrained arrogance. If Gaarurra hadn't closed the door when he did, we'd be just as dead as the Falleen was.

I rolled over onto my back and stared at the ceiling as I tried to catch my breath.

Gaarurra's growl snapped me back.

"I know, I know," I groaned as I hopped to my feet. Beside me, Garsh was doing the same.

The private training rooms weren't really "private," just much smaller than the main hall. Ten people could easily train in here without the risk of hitting each other, though you never saw groups of acolytes that large training together. The largest I'd seen so far was five, though I suspected that they weren't from the same "class."

Despite being an academy for Sith, the Korriban Academy had surprisingly few actual Sith teaching at it. Sith Lords with useful skills or raw power were more often than not deployed out in the galaxy, rather than cooped up here. Blademasters were almost certainly in high demand due to their rate of attrition on the front lines. Those that survived were often promoted into a whole new set of responsibilities. What few Sith were assigned to Korriban fulltime were barely stronger than the students they were responsible for, likely because they were more useful here than anywhere else.

Which made Iren's presence as an Overseer all the more puzzling. A level head like his, especially for a Sith Pureblood, should have taken him far in the Empire. However, that was a mystery for another time.

Gaarurra, Garsh, and I went to our separate corners of the room. Plugging my datapad into the terminal, I typed in the activation commands before stepping back and retrieving a training saber from the weapon rack. The droid plugged into the wall next to the terminal jerked to life and stepped away from its charging port.

It was bipedal droid with gunmetal gray plating and a trio of photoreceptors on the center of its face. Despite its spindly limbs, I knew for a fact that it could easily adjust its strength to match species like Wookiees. I had mine set to natural human levels.

"Greetings Acolyte number two-seven two-seven," It droned tonelessly, "Practice or instruction?"

I found out a few days ago that it wasn't referring to an identification number, but rather that it had dueled with two thousand, seven hundred, and twenty-six acolytes before me.

Due to the lack of instructors, the combat training that didn't involve the Force was overseen by combat instructor droids programmed with the classical lightsaber forms. In the main hall, these droids went nuts trying to tear acolytes apart with blades and live ammo. But in the private rooms, an acolyte could adjust the skill level and control the session.

"Practice. Form I," I replied, sliding my feet into position and activating my training saber.

Well, training saber was a bit of a misnomer. In reality, it was a durasteel stick with a weighted hilt. The weapon itself produced a magnetic field to repel most metals. It only operated inside of the training rooms, shutting off if you try to leave with them.

Now you might be thinking this was a bit too tame for Sith training since you can't cut anything with it. And you would be correct. However, it's less to prevent damage to other acolytes and more to prevent damage to the training droids. They're worth more credits than we are and the Sith want to keep them running as long as possible.

"Acknowledged. Loading combat protocols: Form I," It declared as it drew a vibroblade off its back.

Form I, or Shii-Cho, is simplistic due to being developed when the Jedi were transitioning to early lightsabers. The properties of the weapon required an entire retooling of pre-existing fighting styles as what worked with conventional swords wasn't necessarily applicable, so they had been experimenting with what would work. That said, some basic principles still carried over. Six areas of contact: Head, left arm and side, right arm and side, left leg, right leg, and back.

Additionally, there were two variants of Form I: Ideal Form I and Live Combat Form I. Ideal Form I was used for sparring and basic training, utilizing perfect horizontal and vertical strikes. Live Combat Form I, meant for use in war, was more fluid and used diagonal strikes aimed at the contact areas to increase the pace of the fighting and limit an enemy's movements.

My saber deflected a diagonal strike at my left shoulder.

Of course, Sith training droids used the Live Combat variant by default. They probably weren't even programed to recognize the other one.

After catching the blade, I swept both weapons in a downward arc in an attempt to disarm my opponent. Predictably, it didn't work due to the droid's inhuman grip, but it did leave me in a good position to strike at its left leg. The droid hopped back, but I moved with it to relentlessly continue the assault.

But this was the entire point of the form. Hammer away at the enemy's defenses until they can't defend against you anymore. Shii-Cho was called the "Determination Form" for a reason.

Something screamed in my head. I threw myself back just as the droid's torso whirled three-hundred sixty degrees to try and hit my unguarded side.

Great, it was cheating now.

I continued to fall back as it took advantage of its mechanical nature, attacking from unnatural angles by rotating body parts. I ducked under a slice that would have bisected me from right hip to left shoulder, lashing out with one of my own at its waist. Though it tried to avoid it, I managed to score a light "hit" across its stomach. No actual damage to its frame, but the droid was programed to act as though it had. On a human, I would have inflicted a serious burn if I had an actual lightsaber, but nothing crippling.

Neither of us paused though. On the next strike, neither of us came out unscathed. I took a deep cut to my left bicep. In return, it suffered having its left leg "severed" at the knee. When it dropped to the ground, I quickly whipped my saber around for a "decapitation" slash.

The three red photoreceptors on its face flickered for a moment before the droid went completely limp. I slowly backed away, never letting it out of my sight as I headed for the terminal.

There were several rumors going around the academy that said that the training droids occasionally glitched when "defeated" and got back up on Dark Councilor mode. Those same rumors claimed that around three hundred acolytes had been killed by this glitch since the droids were implemented ten years ago.

Obviously, the Overseers had done nothing to dissuade these rumors if they were persisting after ten years.

I researched the droids' manufacturers before using them and wasn't surprised to find out that they were built by Czerka Corporation. Given their previous track record with droids, those rumors were all too believable. How that company hasn't simply imploded into a singularity of incompetence, I'll never know.

After making damn sure the droid was shut down, I disinfected and wrapped the cut on my arm with supplies from a medkit hidden away in a corner. As I did this, I watched the other two.

Gaarurra was manhandling his droid easily, battering through its defenses like a freight train. Judging from the large number of dents in its chassis, he'd managed several "matches" in the time it took me to finish one. He'd taken to Form V like a fish to water, though he tended to wield his saber like a cudgel rather than a sword.

Garsh, on the other hand, had taken an approach with a bit more finesse. I didn't recognize which form he was using, but I suspected it was either Form II or Form IV. He was dodging and rolling more than blocking or parrying before jabbing at joints or creases in the droid's armor.

My own choice of Form I was…unorthodox, mostly due to the perception that it was an archaic form, long surpassed by its successors. A point I kind of agreed with. I'd have preferred to focus on Form VI, but I realized the situation I might be facing in the future.

There was a distinct possibility that I would be deployed on the front lines of some hellish conflict. While Niman was just as deadly as any other form, it was a terrible wartime form. Meanwhile, Shii-Cho was the opposite. Practically designed for it, in fact. Archaic or not, I'll take any bit of help I can get to stay alive.

Tying off the bandage, I keyed up the droid for another round. I had work to do.

 

[Rictus]

Chapter 9


As I sat in the archives, once more nose-deep into the Sith Language primer as I attempted to push my way through Spindrall's papers, I realized that self-preservation instincts and common sense tended to be hit or miss among Sith. They can also be situational.

When the training droids go "Dark Councilor mode," acolytes immediately abandon the training halls in droves. The only reason people died to that anymore was that they were either too slow to react or they were shoved into the metaphorical meat-grinder by another acolyte to buy time.

The point was: Sith tend to be a hell of a lot more cautious when something was obviously out of their weight class. I'm talking "flashing neon signs" kind of obvious here. The smart ones avoid said risks or manage a clever solution through guile. The dumb ones just apply more force.

Mind you, sometimes the dumb ones were lucky enough to have enough power to steamroll their problems. Which implied a lot about some of the Empire's leadership.

Sith have a tendency to poke at "things man was not meant to know" with startling regularity, overriding the instincts of otherwise surprisingly sensible Sith. I mean, I completely understand the desire to grab as much power as you can get your hands on. I'm doing it myself just to survive. I just believe in taking proper safety precautions first.

Like making sure I'm both pronouncing and translating something correctly before I ever consider trying a spell or ritual with potentially horrific consequences if bungled.

Case A: This dumbass.

Everything had been all nice and quiet. Nobody was bothering anyone else, just content to ignore them. Then he came in. Human because of course my own species had to be the one to set my benchmark for stupidity. I didn't pay attention much to his appearance so much as the way he carried himself. The arrogant swagger in his step, the air of "I'm so much better than you plebians," etc.

This was unfortunately common in acolytes that managed to survive a year. Well, them and the Imperial nobility. I wasn't sure which one he was.

Anyways, he plopped himself down at a reading table with a book. Yes, a physical book. Those are things here.

Everyone in the room perked up for a moment as all of us felt something in the Force as dumbass decided to try something out. Sith Magic, as it turns out. Due to my studies, I could hear the exact moment he screwed up and why.

He mispronounced a word.

I didn't know what the original intent of the spell was, but I'm fairly certain it wasn't supposed to do what it did. Violet semi-ethereal tentacles burst out of the pages, latched onto his face, and pulled him into the book. All in the span of a split-second, short enough that he didn't have time to scream. If I hadn't been watching him, I would have missed it completely.

I had no idea where the hell he went, but I didn't think I wanted to find out.

The archives were silent for a moment until a meek looking male Twi'Lek scuttled by, only pausing long enough to pick up the book. Part of me wondered if the two had been part of the same training group. If so, there might have been some sabotage involved.

Everyone else soon went back to their own reading as though nothing happened. It was almost comedic how apathetic people were to random death in this place. That said, I wasn't much different.

I glanced to my companions to see their reactions.

Garsh was visibly perturbed, his facial tentacles twitching now and then. It was possibly the most emotive that I'd seen him so far.

Gaarurra was giving both the book and the Twi'Lek now holding it a wary look until they were out of sight. He was a Wookiee of simple tastes and didn't have much interest in the more esoteric uses of the Force, though he did have a healthy respect for them.

Good to see that my acquaintances were of the smart variety. Sith Magic wasn't a toy, nor was it something I would even consider glancing at without a master of the art overseeing.

Now drawn out of my reading, I scanned the room, quickly locking onto familiar green skin. Tails was ensconced in one of the darker corners, her hairless brows furrowed. My empathic senses weren't the greatest, but her frustration was obvious. I couldn't quite see what she was reading from where I was, but it was clear that she wasn't understanding it.

Other books were stacked on her table haphazardly next to a datapad. The one in her hands was quickly added to the pile with a snarl. She picked up another, though she only thumbed through the first few pages before discarding it in disgust.

Either she was looking for something specific and wasn't finding it or...

A Twi'Lek in Sith territory was practically guaranteed to be a slave and probably for far longer than I was. The probability of her being taught to read was astronomically low.

It was an opportunity.

The muscles in my legs bunched as I leaned forward to stand up, but I stopped.

She sauntered into the room. She was dressed in the same dark robes that the rest of us were, though she had shucked the outer robe. Every sense I had screamed danger.

Dark-tainted eyes locked onto mine for a moment, a smirk playing across her lips. Frowning, I settled back down into my chair.

It was a missed opportunity.

Yellow Eyes quickly seated herself across from Tails. While the latter was wary, she didn't brush off the human woman.

It seemed that I wasn't the only one playing this game. Like me, she was determined to not be a lackey. I'd managed to pull Gaarurra and Garsh into that role without them seeming to realize it.

She was also smart enough to realize what I was doing. No matter how much she trained, three on one odds made it more likely that she would fall. The same could be said for me and she knew it.

So it was a race to see who could recruit the best of the remaining group.

When her eyes slid towards me again for a split-second, I smiled back, putting a not insignificant amount of malicious intent in the expression.

Challenge accepted. May the best Sith win.

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

Of the three unaligned acolytes, I wanted Tentacles on my side the most. He had a technical aptitude that the rest of us lacked. Until he was secured, there was a very real danger of him reprogramming the factotum droid to murder me in my sleep.

Unfortunately, he was proving incredibly difficult to pin down for a talk. He spent very little time in the room he shared with Spikes, almost the bare minimum needed for sleep. Sometimes not even that. When he wasn't sleeping, the Nautolan disappeared to somewhere in the academy. I tried to stay up one time to find out where he was going, but he still managed to give me the slip. I caught him in the archives once, but he darted off before I could approach.

Spikes and Horns stuck close to each other and didn't interact much with any of the others. Despite their start, they were getting bolder. I even saw them brave the training room a few days ago, watching each other's backs. Despite the recent loss of a limb, Horns had quickly adapted to his prosthetic.

Oddly, the male Zabrak seemed to have a strange sort of camaraderie with Garsh, though I wouldn't count either of the siblings as allies yet.

I couldn't force any of them if I wanted their cooperation free of an eventual knife in the back. Instead, I would have to wait for an opportunity to draw them in. Patience was a virtue that few Sith ascribed to, but one that was necessary now.

However, I couldn't keep my studies on hold.

Now I found myself braving Korriban's sands again. My timing was poor as a wind storm came through, though I came prepared. I was protected from the worst of it by the bulky outer robe I now wore and my face was protected by a scarf and a pair of goggles.

Normally, I would have taken a speeder. However, the sand would have quickly clogged the engines, so I decided to cut out the middle man and set out on foot. Garsh and Gaarurra stayed back at the academy to continue their own studies, but I wasn't too worried about being out here alone. I managed to time this trip to coincide with Yellow Eyes' own expedition into the Valley of the Dark Lords so I wouldn't have to worry about her working behind my back for a little while. Well, more than usual.

I grimaced as the wind battered at me, stinging at the bits of skin not covered and whipping at my robes. The only reason I hadn't toppled over was that I was enhancing my physical strength with the Force.

I finished translating Spindrall's papers a few days ago. Turns out, they were a copy of a treatise on Sith Alchemy authored by Ajunta Pall himself, transcribed by Spindrall. Now, the art itself has come a long way since his time and a lot of stuff in the notes was likely outdated, but it was a treasure nonetheless. However, I wasn't touching it with a ten-foot pole without someone overseeing it.

Hence why I was trudging through a fucking sandstorm.

My foot slipped, nearly sending me tumbling headfirst down a sand dune. I cursed vehemently but managed to regain my balance.

Yellow Eyes had proven herself to be an apt social butterfly, tapping into the academy's rumor mill to keep tabs on the major players while also building up a small support base of her own. I needed something to even the odds.

Sith Alchemy could be that edge. A remarkably flexible discipline limited by only breadth of knowledge and imagination, but one that required extensive ground work. Though Ajunta Pall's treatise was incredibly detailed, I still needed a teacher to avoid making a horrid mistake. With Yellow Eyes' ear to the ground, I couldn't risk asking around without making it painfully obvious what I was doing. Fortunately, I didn't need to.

Out of all the staff of the academy, I only knew of one offhand that might have a background in the subject and might be willing to help. But I would need something to get his attention first.

In the distance, I could see the vague outline of the towering statue of Marka Ragnos. I cleared the sand off my goggles for the thousandth time, spying a cave opening in the nearby rock wall. As expected, it was pitch black inside. There were many hidden nooks and crannies on Korriban, hiding one horror or another.

I had a glow-rod on my belt, but I didn't reach for it. Instead, I quietly knelt at the mouth of the cave and closed my eyes, remembering a half-forgotten lesson from a world I once thought was fake.

'Now, in your mind, reach out, listen for my breathing. Not the sound of it, but the life behind it.'

I listened, tuning out the howling wind behind me as I listened for the breath of my prey. I listened for that necessary cycle, providing fuel to the life within the cave as it slept.

'Imagine its energy, its texture, in tandem with the breathing – and then, in your mind, step back from the image, and see what remains.'

The first thing I saw was the air, being drawn into powerful lungs before being distributed through an equally massive circulatory system. A heart pumping blood. The tingle of electricity as nerves fired.

Slowly and piece by piece, the cave seeped back into sight dyed in black, gray, and white, despite my eyes remaining closed. After all, it was a giant esophagus, pulling air into its belly. In this lightless world, I saw my prey. A massive alpha Tuk'ata hound, slumbering as it waited out the sandstorm. It was alone but well-fed, a testament to its strength.

Tuk'ata were intelligent creatures and were even capable of coherent speech. It made them deadly predators capable of being threats to even Sith. But it also left them vulnerable.

Without stirring from my position, I reached out for its sleeping mind with the Force.

Its eyes flickered for a moment as I slowly shaped a barrier around its mind, a cage around its instincts. At my urgings, it would see me as a friend instead of a meal.

Had it been awake, my attempt would have easily failed.

After agonizing minutes, the last lock snapped into place as my hold was established. I allowed the beast to continue sleeping as I settled in myself to wait out the storm.

I had my offering for Lord Renning.