"Master, I have a bad feeling about this," I said to Master Zesh, unease grew in my stomach as...
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An Anomaly in the Force (Star Wars SI)
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Prologue Part 1 - I have a bad feeling about this
The_Exile
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"Master, I have a bad feeling about this," I said to Master Zesh, unease grew in my stomach as we stepped onto the planet of Korriban. The Dreshdae settlement was a hive of scum and villainy that one wondered why anyone would live there. Especially on a planet that breathed the Dark Side of the Force.
That wasn't the only reason why I felt that unease. I remembered Korriban from a lifetime ago. Well not fully. My life before was, mostly, forgotten with the broad strokes of the Star Wars universe being the only memories that were clear as day: Revan, Malak, The Force, Skywalker, Sidious, Vitiate, Light Side, Dark Side, Korriban, Tython, Coruscant etc. The words carried feelings with them, some were good and trustworthy, some were not and full of anger - with a hint of wanting to stay away from them, and others were neutral but gave a basic understanding. I knew that the Jedi did want to help make the galaxy a better place at the core of their philosophy, despite their many, flaws. The problem is that the Jedi can become arrogant and will stagnate, leading to inaction, extremism, and the inability to take the blame. However, when the Jedi are led by the ideal Jedi, like Luke Skywalker from what I remember, was a much better fit as Jedi Grandmaster.
The Sith just wanted to destroy due to the Dark Side's inherent corruptive nature. Like a drug, too much use and you'll destroy yourself.
My Master, Asaak Zesh, a Togruta with intricate grey birthmarks on his face, grey also circled his montrals and lekku. I knew they weren't actually grey but that is what I saw. His face showed a long life, wrinkles and eyes that were filled with an outside calm that I didn't even attempt when the two of us left our respective starfighters.
"Nonsense, my young Padawan." Master Zesh said with cold confidence or was it arrogance? Most of my second life at the time was filled with discipline and always followed my Master's orders. Maybe if more of my previous self survived, I would be more argumentative against my Master - unfortunately, most of my personality was gone. With only flashes of my detail-oriented mind sticking to the new one alongside the words.
"Now." Master Zesh said, looking around the spaceport. "After we have paid the fee we'll need to scout the area to see if anyone has spotted anyone suspicious." Someone came over, a green Twi'lek, middle-aged if the slight wrinkles around the eyes were any indication.
"Ah, how can I help you with Master Jedi?" The Twi'lek asked, eyeing us up.
"Yes, we're just hoping to scout around. Making sure that there weren't any more Mandalorian raiders starting trouble." Master Zesh with a rigid smile, when the alien's eyes turned to me, however, his eyes widened and a fierce weirdness grew within them.
The Twi'lek blinked. "Oh." He said in confusion. "I don't believe I've seen any Mandalorians in Dreshdae."
Master Zesh nodded robotically. "Maybe, but smugglers do exist and these monsters could be gathering to start another raid on this colony."
The Twi'lek now sweating at the thought of the warrior race rampaging, swiftly nodded his head. "Y-Yeah, I-I'll let you g-g-get on with it!" He took a breath to compose himself. The feeling of terror was high within the man, I figured he must have been a victim of the Mandalorian Wars. "The fee to the dock is twenty-five credits each."
Master Zesh nodded and gave the man his payment, paying for both of us. "Come along Padawan."
I followed, though one question did pop into my mind.
"Mandalorians, Master?" I didn't know that Mandalorians came to Korriban but I trusted Master Zesh's direction and guidance.
"The Mandalorians weren't all defeated at Malachor V, some have splintered off and fell into hiding." Just as we were about to leave the spaceport, Master Zesh turned to face me with a stern look. I didn't know why Master Zesh was always cautious around me like I would just start acting like a wild animal. At the time, maybe I should have seen the origin of my Master's distant and professional attitude, but I just wanted to please him.
To be a good Jedi.
The two of us then entered Dresdae properly, the colony wasn't anything more than a collection of warehouses, homes and a singular cantina. The two of us stood out like drops of white in a deep, dark void. Master wearing nothing but the robes of the Jedi Order. While I, maybe scared of dying deep down, wearing an armoured version of the typical Jedi robes: bracers, greaves, a type of spaulder that leaves the area where my torso and arm connected to still give me complete free range of movement, and finally some plates around my front and back torso.
I needed to have free range due to my choice of lightsaber and lightsaber form.
The two of us entered the cantina, the few people who were inside having drinks, playing Pazaak, or watching various holos about different things, all turned silent to stare at us. Some glared, some were confused, and the rest were intrigued. I couldn't blame them, Korriban was notorious for having been the resting place for Sith and the Dark Side. Even if the people didn't know the difference between the two, they at least knew Jedi didn't come to the dark planet.
Master Zesh walked towards the person working at the bar, I followed suit silently this time.
"Greetings, Mr…" Master trailed off, waiting for the Rodian to introduce himself.
"Viss, Master Jedi. Manager of this establishment. Is there something I can help you with?"
"Nothing, much just a couple of drinks for my Padawan and I, and information." Master leaned in a bit, just enough to tell the Rodian at the bar that the latter part of the sentence was meant for private eyes.
"Of course, Master Jedi, anything specific?"
"Non-alcoholic, preferably," Master said, with the type of stoicism that was a clear indication that Master Zesh wasn't attempting humour.
Viss quickly took some glasses and filled them with a clear liquid and handed them to us. Viss turned to another Rodian and called out to them.
"Hey, Mika, sorry to be a pain but I need you to fill in for a second."
Said Rodian walked up enthusiastically. "Yeah, sure Boss."
"Castin." Hearing my name from Master, I turned to face him, his face was stone instead of typical near-emotionless. I should have figured it out then that something was wrong. "See if you can go find any more information from the people here, look at the spacedock worker, from before, again while I talk to Viss. I sense that he didn't talk about the whole truth."
"Yes, Master." I bowed slightly to his order and left the room, leaving the drink on the bar.
However, just before I even left the cantina, a shiver of utter coldness I thought I somehow doused in ice. Just as quickly, the temperature changed, it flipped straight back to the near-humidity it was before.
Swaying around unsteadily back to look back into the cantina. I saw nothing out of the ordinary, just Master Zesh and Viss walking off into a corner of the room, the Rodian Mika now was at the bar, the numerous customers going back to their activities.
I thought I was just tired, training hard the other day on lightsaber combat and practising my force techniques. Including one that I found interesting and useful.
Shaking my head, I turned to go back up the large metal hallway, towards the dock worker.
"Greetings again, Master Jedi." The green Twi'lek said.
"Not a Master yet, Mister…" I trailed off, like my Master just before. It was a basic social cue but a useful one nonetheless. I smiled at the Twi'lek, appearing nice and relaxed was another way to appeal to the average citizen, allowing them to trust you.
"Tal'di Lethan, Mr Jedi." Tal'di said with a practised smile.
"No need for the 'Mr' title Tal'di Lethan." I waved off with a smile. "Just call me Castin, Castin Madell." I gave a hand for a shake, which Tal'di took with a short but firm handshake.
His hand was a bit sweaty, and I sensed he was nervous.
Something was wrong. The Dark Side that emitted from the planet was making it hard for my farsight to see what would happen. I had to rely on my training and instincts.
"Just wanted to clarify if there were any strange or suspicious people that had turned up recently," I asked, not allowing my initial findings to make my face change its expression.
Tal'di shook his head, his smile stuck in place. "No, fortunately, don't think I can handle having a heart attack on a planet like this." He chuckled at the thought. Sensing his thoughts again, I felt his mind quieten down, though that feeling of nervousness was still there.
"No one?" I pressed.
"No-well." He stopped before turning his head in thought.
Another shiver struck me again swiftly, it covered me. It was violent. A wave of pain struck me, my throat constricted, and I felt crushed.
"Well, well, what have we here?" A voice, croaky and old, purred.
I couldn't move. My body froze, but it couldn't stop my vision from reaching out and seeing it.
The thing in the shape of a man was fiery and red. Like a raging torrent on a calm day. It was like nothing I had seen before, compared to my Master, a calming and quiet blue that was patient, that could withstand that battering of a storm.
"Begone Twi'lek, you still have used." The voice ordered, old but powerful. The owner of the voice entered my 'line of sight' and I saw It. It took the form of an old man, fitting. Its uniform was like a soldier's, grey and clean as if it had been put in a washing machine every day for a year.
It wore sickly pale, wrinkly skin, blank eyes, bald with few hairs on the back of Its head. Without my Force Sight and the fact that It was walking around and talking, I would have thought it was dead.
"A Jedi." Its eyes shifted and Tal'di cowered away, tail between his legs. Fear overcoming his shame. "A Jedi Padawan, even. Now, what makes a little Padawan come all this way to Korriban? Stranger that your Master left you, you Padawans were always so helpless without your Masters to hold your chains."
It held up a hand to my face as if to grip it but only held it an inch from the limb's destination.
A slam against my mind caused me to freeze mentally, the battering ram struck against my mental gates with frightening strength. Stronger than Master Zesh had trained me against.
It hummed with a frown. "Your mind is strong, unfortunately, I don't have time to deal with an insignificant scum such as yourself. I wonder what that Togruta Master of yours would think when his Padawan is dead." It grinned maliciously, grasping a lightsaber too long to be an ordinary one from Its hip. A familiar activation that would have instilled hope and safety was replaced with horror. No blue or green, not even purple, orange or yellow sprouted from the hilt - but blood red. The blade sang of death, of pain, of hatred.
I knew then what this monster was.
"Sith," I whispered.
The Thing continued to grin.
"Such a shame that a bright young Force-sensitive will snuff out." He raised his blade for a thrust, only to pause. "Your energy is strange. An anomaly. What are you?" The Thing leaned in as if to inspect my face. It continued to try and force Its way into my mind. "What are you?" It repeated through a whisper that echoed.
Trapped, with no way out.
I was going to die that day. I was sure of it.
Memories of my life replayed.
Of the faint faces of my parents, the love in their eyes.
Two hooded people come to take me away.
Being led to Dantooine.
Growing up with the Jedi.
Meeting my Master.
Protecting fellow students from Kath Hounds.
Losing pieces of myself.
Getting replacements.
Playing in the fields of Dantooine.
Going to planets.
Helping people through the Core Worlds and the Mid-Rim.
A surprise order from Master Zesh to go to Korriban.
I breathed in.
I was letting fear overrule my mind. Letting emotion stop me from realising what my greatest ally was.
My life was one with the Force, all life was one with the Force. You just needed to trust in it, trust in your ally, and let go.
I breathed out and pushed.
It flung backwards towards the wall of the spacedock. My body turned and charged back into Dreshdae, not taking any chances, and didn't even check on the monster. Foolish with hindsight.
The lingering feeling of nails against my skin, my soul shook me. My body was only able to stand thanks to the Force giving me the strength.
Down the hallway I went, the Dark Creature didn't follow, only stayed where it was. I was thankful for that. The Dark Side was insidious, I knew that but I never thought it was so horrible up close. So compressing. I just prayed to the Force that Master Zesh was okay.
I should have prayed for myself.
The first thing I noticed when I entered the cantina was that there was no one there, no people. Where once people were talking or watching holovids or playing Pazaak, now there was no one, not a single person. Cups and plates were all that was left - the food and drinks abandoned. I went to call out to Master Zesh but paused. Thinking that the monster was too far behind, I quickly tapped into the bond between myself and Master Zesh. Hoping to at least find my Master quickly, that he was okay.
Pain.
Pain screamed, yelled, screeched, howled, shrieked.
I clutched my left arm, feeling like it was dipped in molten metal before someone poured salt on the newly made stump.
"Master!" I cried out, and once again I charged. The fast thuds of my feet turned from metallic to crunchy as I stepped onto Korriban's natural surface.
Korriban was dead, a near barren world. The greys of my sight made this world a beauty to behold. On the horizon, broken statues and withered tombs were dotted, Shaking my head from the distraction, I followed the energy of my Master towards a set of ornate doors that barred my way from Master Zesh.
At the doors, I didn't even give the designs of the door any notice and simply breathed in and out slowly. My feet moved into position as I surrendered to the Force once again, hands cupped empty air close to my chest and pulled them back.
"Now!" I ordered myself, throwing my hands forward. The Force came to my aid as the blocks of metal screeched in agony as they were torn from their hinges. I flinched at my hasty and dumb action. Once again, my emotions stopped me from potentially getting in without noise.
I sighed at my failure, knowing Master Zesh would've been disappointed in me, before entering the Sith building, knowing that I had to save my Master from possible Sith further in.
From my belt, I grabbed my lightsaber and pushed it through my right sleeve but kept it just behind my wrist. Hoping to at least surprise any enemies that attacked me.
The blocks of metal flung into a small hallway, denting against another entranceway, the walls were adorned with engravings that depicted people wielding swords or were it lightsabers, above others that were kneeling towards the being. In the end, the hunks of metal had lumps and bumps from the impact earlier. I walked up and pushed them open as well, not caring for the preservation of the Sith, not when my Master was in danger.
Once the second set was blasted open, I saw them and time slowed down for me.
Hooded figures, with lightsabers, varied from standard, two-handed and double-bladed in their hands or clipped onto belts, stood within an octangular room - a low hanging ceiling that bent further to the centre with statues at every two corners.
In the centre was my Master pushed to his knees, at this close range, even I could sense his pain and exhaustion that filled me with worry. My mind worked overtime as my body scanned the room, eight in total: two holding my Master, four standing around the three in a circle.
And two standing in front of them all. As if they were proud conductors for an orchestra.
These two, I had never felt such a massive presence, one was tall, bald and wearing mostly red attire, and strange blue tattoos adorned his head. They were from no species that I had studied before, maybe Malak was from a specific clan that I didn't know about, I thought to myself.
The other, however...was unyielding. A blanket that felt all-encompassing that dwarfed even the tattooed one next to him. The mask was eye-catching, it was Mandalorian with a visor that covered every inch of the face, but I will never forget that stare. I couldn't see the eyes, but I knew he stared into my soul that day.
Time resumed, and the second set of doors, flung forward, cracking walls and scraping against the floor of the crypt.
"Ah, I imagine this is your Apprentice, Zesh?" Malak spoke with amusement, looking down at my Master.
Master Zesh swivelled his head towards me, I had a small inkling of worry that he had cracked his neck from the speed.
I froze when I saw Master Zesh's eyes.
They were full of horror, the unspeakable horror that one meets when one sees their worst nightmare. It struck me to see any emotion on his face, always the unbreakable wall, now kneeling on the ground shattered.
"Leave Padawan! Get away from here!" Master Zesh near frothed as he screamed. The echo penetrated me deeply, for I had never encountered something so visceral, so filled with anger, filled with fear.
"No, no stay Padawan." Malak chuckled, his echo cutting through Master Zesh's like he wielded a vocal lightsaber. He then froze and tilted his head slightly at me. Though me. "You are...different. You are something new in the Force."
"S-Surrender!" I stuttered. My arm, which held the lightsaber, shook with fear as I spoke.
I should have left.
"No, no I don't think we will." Malak then nodded at the four surrounding Master Zesh and the other Sith.
"Bring him to me, alive." The new voice spoke with confidence and even through slight distortion, his voice was captivating.
A voice that came from Darth Revan.
I'm not confident about this, I think I rushed a few parts, to try and get an accurate description of the Dark Side in this. Also yes, SI me as sort-of amnesia. Boo all you want, but I want to try and work with that.
Okay, for this fic I used a Jumpchain, a Jumpchain supplement and two CYOA, one I partially used. I used this to try and build my story.
One CYOA I will not show just yet, as it'll lead to spoilers for the story, I will show if I can get past that section. If I feel like I can't then I'll show it.
That wasn't the only reason why I felt that unease. I remembered Korriban from a lifetime ago. Well not fully. My life before was, mostly, forgotten with the broad strokes of the Star Wars universe being the only memories that were clear as day: Revan, Malak, The Force, Skywalker, Sidious, Vitiate, Light Side, Dark Side, Korriban, Tython, Coruscant etc. The words carried feelings with them, some were good and trustworthy, some were not and full of anger - with a hint of wanting to stay away from them, and others were neutral but gave a basic understanding. I knew that the Jedi did want to help make the galaxy a better place at the core of their philosophy, despite their many, flaws. The problem is that the Jedi can become arrogant and will stagnate, leading to inaction, extremism, and the inability to take the blame. However, when the Jedi are led by the ideal Jedi, like Luke Skywalker from what I remember, was a much better fit as Jedi Grandmaster.
The Sith just wanted to destroy due to the Dark Side's inherent corruptive nature. Like a drug, too much use and you'll destroy yourself.
My Master, Asaak Zesh, a Togruta with intricate grey birthmarks on his face, grey also circled his montrals and lekku. I knew they weren't actually grey but that is what I saw. His face showed a long life, wrinkles and eyes that were filled with an outside calm that I didn't even attempt when the two of us left our respective starfighters.
"Nonsense, my young Padawan." Master Zesh said with cold confidence or was it arrogance? Most of my second life at the time was filled with discipline and always followed my Master's orders. Maybe if more of my previous self survived, I would be more argumentative against my Master - unfortunately, most of my personality was gone. With only flashes of my detail-oriented mind sticking to the new one alongside the words.
"Now." Master Zesh said, looking around the spaceport. "After we have paid the fee we'll need to scout the area to see if anyone has spotted anyone suspicious." Someone came over, a green Twi'lek, middle-aged if the slight wrinkles around the eyes were any indication.
"Ah, how can I help you with Master Jedi?" The Twi'lek asked, eyeing us up.
"Yes, we're just hoping to scout around. Making sure that there weren't any more Mandalorian raiders starting trouble." Master Zesh with a rigid smile, when the alien's eyes turned to me, however, his eyes widened and a fierce weirdness grew within them.
The Twi'lek blinked. "Oh." He said in confusion. "I don't believe I've seen any Mandalorians in Dreshdae."
Master Zesh nodded robotically. "Maybe, but smugglers do exist and these monsters could be gathering to start another raid on this colony."
The Twi'lek now sweating at the thought of the warrior race rampaging, swiftly nodded his head. "Y-Yeah, I-I'll let you g-g-get on with it!" He took a breath to compose himself. The feeling of terror was high within the man, I figured he must have been a victim of the Mandalorian Wars. "The fee to the dock is twenty-five credits each."
Master Zesh nodded and gave the man his payment, paying for both of us. "Come along Padawan."
I followed, though one question did pop into my mind.
"Mandalorians, Master?" I didn't know that Mandalorians came to Korriban but I trusted Master Zesh's direction and guidance.
"The Mandalorians weren't all defeated at Malachor V, some have splintered off and fell into hiding." Just as we were about to leave the spaceport, Master Zesh turned to face me with a stern look. I didn't know why Master Zesh was always cautious around me like I would just start acting like a wild animal. At the time, maybe I should have seen the origin of my Master's distant and professional attitude, but I just wanted to please him.
To be a good Jedi.
The two of us then entered Dresdae properly, the colony wasn't anything more than a collection of warehouses, homes and a singular cantina. The two of us stood out like drops of white in a deep, dark void. Master wearing nothing but the robes of the Jedi Order. While I, maybe scared of dying deep down, wearing an armoured version of the typical Jedi robes: bracers, greaves, a type of spaulder that leaves the area where my torso and arm connected to still give me complete free range of movement, and finally some plates around my front and back torso.
I needed to have free range due to my choice of lightsaber and lightsaber form.
The two of us entered the cantina, the few people who were inside having drinks, playing Pazaak, or watching various holos about different things, all turned silent to stare at us. Some glared, some were confused, and the rest were intrigued. I couldn't blame them, Korriban was notorious for having been the resting place for Sith and the Dark Side. Even if the people didn't know the difference between the two, they at least knew Jedi didn't come to the dark planet.
Master Zesh walked towards the person working at the bar, I followed suit silently this time.
"Greetings, Mr…" Master trailed off, waiting for the Rodian to introduce himself.
"Viss, Master Jedi. Manager of this establishment. Is there something I can help you with?"
"Nothing, much just a couple of drinks for my Padawan and I, and information." Master leaned in a bit, just enough to tell the Rodian at the bar that the latter part of the sentence was meant for private eyes.
"Of course, Master Jedi, anything specific?"
"Non-alcoholic, preferably," Master said, with the type of stoicism that was a clear indication that Master Zesh wasn't attempting humour.
Viss quickly took some glasses and filled them with a clear liquid and handed them to us. Viss turned to another Rodian and called out to them.
"Hey, Mika, sorry to be a pain but I need you to fill in for a second."
Said Rodian walked up enthusiastically. "Yeah, sure Boss."
"Castin." Hearing my name from Master, I turned to face him, his face was stone instead of typical near-emotionless. I should have figured it out then that something was wrong. "See if you can go find any more information from the people here, look at the spacedock worker, from before, again while I talk to Viss. I sense that he didn't talk about the whole truth."
"Yes, Master." I bowed slightly to his order and left the room, leaving the drink on the bar.
However, just before I even left the cantina, a shiver of utter coldness I thought I somehow doused in ice. Just as quickly, the temperature changed, it flipped straight back to the near-humidity it was before.
Swaying around unsteadily back to look back into the cantina. I saw nothing out of the ordinary, just Master Zesh and Viss walking off into a corner of the room, the Rodian Mika now was at the bar, the numerous customers going back to their activities.
I thought I was just tired, training hard the other day on lightsaber combat and practising my force techniques. Including one that I found interesting and useful.
Shaking my head, I turned to go back up the large metal hallway, towards the dock worker.
"Greetings again, Master Jedi." The green Twi'lek said.
"Not a Master yet, Mister…" I trailed off, like my Master just before. It was a basic social cue but a useful one nonetheless. I smiled at the Twi'lek, appearing nice and relaxed was another way to appeal to the average citizen, allowing them to trust you.
"Tal'di Lethan, Mr Jedi." Tal'di said with a practised smile.
"No need for the 'Mr' title Tal'di Lethan." I waved off with a smile. "Just call me Castin, Castin Madell." I gave a hand for a shake, which Tal'di took with a short but firm handshake.
His hand was a bit sweaty, and I sensed he was nervous.
Something was wrong. The Dark Side that emitted from the planet was making it hard for my farsight to see what would happen. I had to rely on my training and instincts.
"Just wanted to clarify if there were any strange or suspicious people that had turned up recently," I asked, not allowing my initial findings to make my face change its expression.
Tal'di shook his head, his smile stuck in place. "No, fortunately, don't think I can handle having a heart attack on a planet like this." He chuckled at the thought. Sensing his thoughts again, I felt his mind quieten down, though that feeling of nervousness was still there.
"No one?" I pressed.
"No-well." He stopped before turning his head in thought.
Another shiver struck me again swiftly, it covered me. It was violent. A wave of pain struck me, my throat constricted, and I felt crushed.
"Well, well, what have we here?" A voice, croaky and old, purred.
I couldn't move. My body froze, but it couldn't stop my vision from reaching out and seeing it.
The thing in the shape of a man was fiery and red. Like a raging torrent on a calm day. It was like nothing I had seen before, compared to my Master, a calming and quiet blue that was patient, that could withstand that battering of a storm.
"Begone Twi'lek, you still have used." The voice ordered, old but powerful. The owner of the voice entered my 'line of sight' and I saw It. It took the form of an old man, fitting. Its uniform was like a soldier's, grey and clean as if it had been put in a washing machine every day for a year.
It wore sickly pale, wrinkly skin, blank eyes, bald with few hairs on the back of Its head. Without my Force Sight and the fact that It was walking around and talking, I would have thought it was dead.
"A Jedi." Its eyes shifted and Tal'di cowered away, tail between his legs. Fear overcoming his shame. "A Jedi Padawan, even. Now, what makes a little Padawan come all this way to Korriban? Stranger that your Master left you, you Padawans were always so helpless without your Masters to hold your chains."
It held up a hand to my face as if to grip it but only held it an inch from the limb's destination.
A slam against my mind caused me to freeze mentally, the battering ram struck against my mental gates with frightening strength. Stronger than Master Zesh had trained me against.
It hummed with a frown. "Your mind is strong, unfortunately, I don't have time to deal with an insignificant scum such as yourself. I wonder what that Togruta Master of yours would think when his Padawan is dead." It grinned maliciously, grasping a lightsaber too long to be an ordinary one from Its hip. A familiar activation that would have instilled hope and safety was replaced with horror. No blue or green, not even purple, orange or yellow sprouted from the hilt - but blood red. The blade sang of death, of pain, of hatred.
I knew then what this monster was.
"Sith," I whispered.
The Thing continued to grin.
"Such a shame that a bright young Force-sensitive will snuff out." He raised his blade for a thrust, only to pause. "Your energy is strange. An anomaly. What are you?" The Thing leaned in as if to inspect my face. It continued to try and force Its way into my mind. "What are you?" It repeated through a whisper that echoed.
Trapped, with no way out.
I was going to die that day. I was sure of it.
Memories of my life replayed.
Of the faint faces of my parents, the love in their eyes.
Two hooded people come to take me away.
Being led to Dantooine.
Growing up with the Jedi.
Meeting my Master.
Protecting fellow students from Kath Hounds.
Losing pieces of myself.
Getting replacements.
Playing in the fields of Dantooine.
Going to planets.
Helping people through the Core Worlds and the Mid-Rim.
A surprise order from Master Zesh to go to Korriban.
I breathed in.
I was letting fear overrule my mind. Letting emotion stop me from realising what my greatest ally was.
My life was one with the Force, all life was one with the Force. You just needed to trust in it, trust in your ally, and let go.
I breathed out and pushed.
It flung backwards towards the wall of the spacedock. My body turned and charged back into Dreshdae, not taking any chances, and didn't even check on the monster. Foolish with hindsight.
The lingering feeling of nails against my skin, my soul shook me. My body was only able to stand thanks to the Force giving me the strength.
Down the hallway I went, the Dark Creature didn't follow, only stayed where it was. I was thankful for that. The Dark Side was insidious, I knew that but I never thought it was so horrible up close. So compressing. I just prayed to the Force that Master Zesh was okay.
I should have prayed for myself.
The first thing I noticed when I entered the cantina was that there was no one there, no people. Where once people were talking or watching holovids or playing Pazaak, now there was no one, not a single person. Cups and plates were all that was left - the food and drinks abandoned. I went to call out to Master Zesh but paused. Thinking that the monster was too far behind, I quickly tapped into the bond between myself and Master Zesh. Hoping to at least find my Master quickly, that he was okay.
Pain.
Pain screamed, yelled, screeched, howled, shrieked.
I clutched my left arm, feeling like it was dipped in molten metal before someone poured salt on the newly made stump.
"Master!" I cried out, and once again I charged. The fast thuds of my feet turned from metallic to crunchy as I stepped onto Korriban's natural surface.
Korriban was dead, a near barren world. The greys of my sight made this world a beauty to behold. On the horizon, broken statues and withered tombs were dotted, Shaking my head from the distraction, I followed the energy of my Master towards a set of ornate doors that barred my way from Master Zesh.
At the doors, I didn't even give the designs of the door any notice and simply breathed in and out slowly. My feet moved into position as I surrendered to the Force once again, hands cupped empty air close to my chest and pulled them back.
"Now!" I ordered myself, throwing my hands forward. The Force came to my aid as the blocks of metal screeched in agony as they were torn from their hinges. I flinched at my hasty and dumb action. Once again, my emotions stopped me from potentially getting in without noise.
I sighed at my failure, knowing Master Zesh would've been disappointed in me, before entering the Sith building, knowing that I had to save my Master from possible Sith further in.
From my belt, I grabbed my lightsaber and pushed it through my right sleeve but kept it just behind my wrist. Hoping to at least surprise any enemies that attacked me.
The blocks of metal flung into a small hallway, denting against another entranceway, the walls were adorned with engravings that depicted people wielding swords or were it lightsabers, above others that were kneeling towards the being. In the end, the hunks of metal had lumps and bumps from the impact earlier. I walked up and pushed them open as well, not caring for the preservation of the Sith, not when my Master was in danger.
Once the second set was blasted open, I saw them and time slowed down for me.
Hooded figures, with lightsabers, varied from standard, two-handed and double-bladed in their hands or clipped onto belts, stood within an octangular room - a low hanging ceiling that bent further to the centre with statues at every two corners.
In the centre was my Master pushed to his knees, at this close range, even I could sense his pain and exhaustion that filled me with worry. My mind worked overtime as my body scanned the room, eight in total: two holding my Master, four standing around the three in a circle.
And two standing in front of them all. As if they were proud conductors for an orchestra.
These two, I had never felt such a massive presence, one was tall, bald and wearing mostly red attire, and strange blue tattoos adorned his head. They were from no species that I had studied before, maybe Malak was from a specific clan that I didn't know about, I thought to myself.
The other, however...was unyielding. A blanket that felt all-encompassing that dwarfed even the tattooed one next to him. The mask was eye-catching, it was Mandalorian with a visor that covered every inch of the face, but I will never forget that stare. I couldn't see the eyes, but I knew he stared into my soul that day.
Time resumed, and the second set of doors, flung forward, cracking walls and scraping against the floor of the crypt.
"Ah, I imagine this is your Apprentice, Zesh?" Malak spoke with amusement, looking down at my Master.
Master Zesh swivelled his head towards me, I had a small inkling of worry that he had cracked his neck from the speed.
I froze when I saw Master Zesh's eyes.
They were full of horror, the unspeakable horror that one meets when one sees their worst nightmare. It struck me to see any emotion on his face, always the unbreakable wall, now kneeling on the ground shattered.
"Leave Padawan! Get away from here!" Master Zesh near frothed as he screamed. The echo penetrated me deeply, for I had never encountered something so visceral, so filled with anger, filled with fear.
"No, no stay Padawan." Malak chuckled, his echo cutting through Master Zesh's like he wielded a vocal lightsaber. He then froze and tilted his head slightly at me. Though me. "You are...different. You are something new in the Force."
"S-Surrender!" I stuttered. My arm, which held the lightsaber, shook with fear as I spoke.
I should have left.
"No, no I don't think we will." Malak then nodded at the four surrounding Master Zesh and the other Sith.
"Bring him to me, alive." The new voice spoke with confidence and even through slight distortion, his voice was captivating.
A voice that came from Darth Revan.
I'm not confident about this, I think I rushed a few parts, to try and get an accurate description of the Dark Side in this. Also yes, SI me as sort-of amnesia. Boo all you want, but I want to try and work with that.
Okay, for this fic I used a Jumpchain, a Jumpchain supplement and two CYOA, one I partially used. I used this to try and build my story.
One CYOA I will not show just yet, as it'll lead to spoilers for the story, I will show if I can get past that section. If I feel like I can't then I'll show it.
Complications:
Starting Planet:
Origin:
Age:
Species:
Specialisation:
Skills, Powers and Abilities:
Rare and Unique Items:
- Broken [+100]: Your left arm was cut off in a training accident years ago, and replaced with a cybernetic prosthetic. You have full control over the replacement and can use it for basic Force Powers, but it is weak and advanced abilities like lightning or energy deflection will destroy it. You may be able to remove the arm's imitations by upgrading it.
- Blind [+200]: Your eyes were damaged years ago, and couldn't be replaced due to some genetic defect. You can still see by using the Force but your vision is in black and white, and you can't see any fine details in things. Your vision may improve with time and training.
- Aura [+300]: Living things can sense that you're an anomaly in the Force. People will feel frightened and agitated around you, animals will be act hostile towards you, and trained Force-sensitives will see you as an abomination and try to capture you for study. Companions from origins are exempt from these effects, but any companions you have that come from other universes will have an aura applied to them as well.
Starting Planet:
- Roll 1d8 - 3: Korriban, the ancient homeworld of the Sith, this planet is deeply entrenched in the Dark Side of the Force. Korriban is one big wasteland with only a single small settlement. This Exchange has a small presence on the planet, and the old Sith tombs currently lie undisturbed.
Origin:
- Jedi [-50, 1550]: You're currently a Padawan in the Jedi Order. You've spent early your entire life with the Jedi, you have friends, a caring Master, and even a Rival. You start on your chosen planet with your Master.
Age:
- Roll 1d8 + 17: 1+ 17 = 18
Species:
- Human: The most common species in the galaxy, humans in this universe are the same as normal humans in our universe. They can speak Galactic Basic. Humans have the greatest population and the most control in the galaxy.
Specialisation:
- Intelligence: The path of the Jedi Consulars and the Sith Inquisitors. Your mental abilities are stronger and you have an easier time learning skills and force powers. Gain Force Heal as an ability.
Skills, Powers and Abilities:
- Enhanced Memory [Free due to Origin]: You gain perfect photographic memory and instant mental recall.
- Enhanced Physiology [-100, 1450]: Your body becomes incredibly strong, flexible and durable.
- Persuasion [-100, 1350]: You gain a natural affinity to speech and psychology. You can easily make people do what you ask them to, and you get better deals with merchants.
- Piloting [-150, 1200, halved due to Origin]: Give you training in vehicles. You can now pilot starships and you have better control over land vehicles.
- Martial-Arts [-300, 900]: Gives you training in hand-to-hand combat. You know several forms of martial arts, including a powerful Mandalorian style. Your skill with melee weapons is also improved.
- Hardware [-300, 600]: Gives you training in how to operate, repair and improve machines. You can easily rebuild broken droids from salvaged parts, and you'll even be able to fix starships given enough time and equipment.
- Force Stasis [-200, 400, halved due to Origin]: A Force Power that allows the user to temporarily stun organic creatures by trapping them in non-lethal energy fields. This power will only keep foes trapped for a few seconds, but you can improve its length with practice.
- Force Heal [Free due to Specialisation]: A Force power that rapidly accelerates the natural healing process. It can be used to mend injuries and cure diseases.
- Telepathy [Free, comes with Jumpchain]: You can communicate across large distances with your mind.
- Telekinesis [Free, comes with Jumpchain]: You can manipulate matter and energy with your mind.
- Force Empathy [Free, comes with Jumpchain]: You can sense the emotions of people and creatures.
- Force Speed [Free, comes with Jumpchain]: You can use the force to slow down your perception of time and move at supernatural speeds.
- Farsight [Free, comes with Jumpchain]: A Force power that allows you to see events from the future, the past, and the present.
- Force Stealth [Free, comes with Jumpchain]: A Force Power that allows you to hide your presence in the Force, and make yourself less noticeable in crowds.
- Force Sight [Free, comes with Jumpchain]: Improves your visual and spiritual perception and allows you to see through obstacles like darkness and solid objects.
- Mind Trick [Free, comes with Jumpchain]: A Force power that allows you to influence the thoughts of sentient creatures.
Rare and Unique Items:
- Datapad [-50, 350]: A personal computer tablet equipped with a journal, map, digital storage drive, holoprojector, calculator and sketchpad. The datapad can wirelessly connect to any nearby computer network and runs on a rechargeable battery.
- 50,000 Credits [-50, 300]: Galactic Standard currency, tax-free and legally owned by you.
- Advanced Comlink [Free due to Origin]: A Portable Communicator about the same size and weight as a cellphone. Fifty-kilometre range by default. A security system that prevents unauthorized use. Frequency scanner that detects other communication devices in range. Able to connect to satellites for planet-wide range. Powered by a rechargeable battery.
- Armoured Robes [-100, 200]: A Jedi robe with cortosis plates woven in. It can protect against blaster fire, and deflect lightsaber attacks.
- Aurek-class Tactical Starfighter [-200, 0, halved due to Origin]: Republic starfighter. One seat (Pilot) nine-point two meters long. Hyperdrive, weapons, cargo space, and supplies.
Colour Crystal:
Lightsaber Design:
Lightsaber Casing:
Lightsaber Form:
- Green: After blue, the other most common lightsaber colour. Unlike blue, it does have somewhat of a reputation for being wielded by the more studious members of the Jedi and for some reason I do not fathom, Wookiees. Still pretty normal f you ask me.
Lightsaber Design:
- Double Bladed: Stick both crystals into one long hilt and project the sabre beams out of both ends instead of just one. This is one of the more common types and is good for dealing with multiple opponents. Either end may be deactivated to use as a standard lightsaber.
Lightsaber Casing:
- Beskar: Better known as Mandalorian Iron, don't ask its origin.
Lightsaber Form:
- Form VI - Niman: The diplomatic form, Niman is named so because of its focus on ease of study and mastery and its creation for Jedi less focused on blade work than other pursuits. Niman is a style that does not have any major weaknesses, but also few strengths.
Build:
Athlete [-100, 500]: Athletes forego a buff physique with rippling biceps in favour of lean muscle, agility and flexibility. They can't lift as much as a bodybuilder, but easily run circles around them. Athletes are much more suited for hit-and-run tactics, staying mobile and out of the line of fire. Compared to bodybuilders, an Athlete will take much less of a licking before they stop ticking.
Stats:
Strength:
Endurance:
Speed:
Dexterity:
Appeal:
Shape:
Sense:
Perks:
Flexibility Lv1 [Free due to Body Type]: This makes you extremely flexible, at the physical limit of your body.
Athlete [-100, 500]: Athletes forego a buff physique with rippling biceps in favour of lean muscle, agility and flexibility. They can't lift as much as a bodybuilder, but easily run circles around them. Athletes are much more suited for hit-and-run tactics, staying mobile and out of the line of fire. Compared to bodybuilders, an Athlete will take much less of a licking before they stop ticking.
Stats:
Strength:
- Lv2 [-100, 400]: Bench press 250 lbs. Muscles are visible and moderately sized.
Endurance:
- Lv3 [-150, 250]: Run a marathon, sleep 10 hours, and run another one.
Speed:
- Lv2 [Free due to Body Type]: Run at a constant 15 miles per hour.
Dexterity:
- Lv3 [Lv2 Free due to Body Type, -50, 200]: Keep your balance on a tightrope, riding a unicycle.
Appeal:
- Lv2 [-100, 50]: No acne. Ever. Hair is clean, has volume, and doesn't get oily or greasy easily.
Shape:
- Lv2 [-100, 0]: Choice of leg to torso ratio, the ratio must be humanly responsible.
Sense:
- None: Average eyesight.
Perks:
Flexibility Lv1 [Free due to Body Type]: This makes you extremely flexible, at the physical limit of your body.
Last edited:
Grimmouse197
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He's going to become forced to become a sith isn't he?
Prologue Part 2 - The Return and the Fall
The_Exile
Lurker on QQ, Newbie at writing on QQ
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The four hooded men nodded immediately and unhooked their lightsabers. Six blades of red shot up from them. Two had a single blade, another had a double blade and the last held two single-bladed lightsabers.
Instead of drawing my own, I simply left it in the sleeve and stood straight to gather myself.
Breathing deeply. Slowly. My eyes closed for two reasons, to calm myself - to make sure the growing fear and anger wouldn't overcome me, but to banish them, bury them deep into my being, and the other?
To surrender my body, mind and will to the Force.
'The Force is my ally! And it will not abandon me here!'
"Move, Jedi filth!" One Acolyte said. His red blade rose to point at my neck.
Instead of moving forward, The Force acted with a Push, throwing the one in front away, and before the Force's opponents realised what happened It threw my hands towards two others, which soared as well. The third, the one with two blades, sprung into action and leapt at me with lightsabers drawn. One of his lightsabers came down with a thrust, the Force moving my torso and head to the side, letting the blade pass me by. Catching his wrist - and gripping it tight - the Force pulled the heretic's arm straight only to drive my elbow into his.
Like a hammer striking a thin piece of wood, the Acolyte's elbow cracked and his scream of pain echoed throughout the room. I didn't stop there however and the Force sped my being forwards, wrapping an arm around the Acolyte's throat tightly before he could even have a chance to respond. Cutting off the blood flow to his brain, and in his confusion and anger, I rested my free hand against his head - inducing drowsiness into his mind. The feeling of panic and pain from his injury and my blood choke allowed me easy access to the Acolyte's mind.
"Sleep," I whispered, my voice echoing within my opponent. Normally a blood choke needs five to ten seconds for the receiver to go unconscious but should get up not long after. Though if you held on long enough the choke would lead to brain damage, even death. However, I didn't want to kill, only subdue. The Force can do many things, even make someone fall asleep. Maybe what I did wouldn't be considered right for a Jedi to use, but I needed a way to take the Acolyte out without killing him.
I guided the Darksider to the floor, cradling his head so at least no further damage would be caused by the fall.
The Force screamed and It rolled my body forwards in response, narrowly missing a lightsaber swing that scraped across the floor. The sharp crackling sound wailed and the smell of melted rock struck my senses.
Back to my feet, I could see the Acolyte that was pushed away had joined his other two compatriots.
"Typical Jedi mercy." One Acolyte sneered. Don't know which one it came from, they all wore the same clothing.
"You say it like a bad habit." I said back.
"Huh, this Jedi has a sense of humour, come on Jedi, you can tell all the jokes you want after Lord Revan and Lord Malak are done with you." Another said.
"I've got one for you now but it seems like I don't need to, I have three right in front of me." My hand waved in front of me, indicating my opponents.
I just hoped the deep void in my stomach wasn't discovered. The ensuring growl from all three was kind of satisfying, I will admit.
"Are you fools done embarrassing yourselves?!" Malak demanded, voice . "Capture the Padawan!"
Fear radiated from the Acolytes, one shuddered before strengthening his resolve. Then all at once, the three men charged my position.
I pulled my arm from the remaining sleeve, unsheathing my lightsaber along the way. Green bathed my body from a single blade, reflecting off my cortosis armour, as it deflected two strikes as the Force jumped away.
Landing on a plinth beneath a statue of a man holding an urn of some kind, I automatically switched to one of many Niman stances - the blade held in two hands at head height, angled upwards but slightly inwards, and my dominant foot forward.
Niman, the Diplomat's Form or the Moderation Form, was meant to be just that. A form of moderation at everything, moderate at speed, defence, offence, footwork etc. However, Niman isn't good for a combat form, only used by Jedi that didn't want to focus on the blade but wanted to study diplomacy or on the Force itself. However, because of that focus and the fact that Niman wasn't popular during the Mandalorian Wars, actually training to learn the Form didn't exactly adhere to my fellow Younglings and Padawans - who had heard legends and stories about the Mandalorian Wars and wanted to train in the other specialist forms. I disagreed with this philosophy, I just did, maybe it was something from my previous life that influenced my decision but I felt that Niman was a perfect fighting form. Especially in the aftermath of the Mandalorian Wars, a Jedi needed to know offence and defence to survive in a war-torn galaxy. My state of mind was one of aggression and defensiveness, not moderation.
A Form of Versatility, if you will.
The council would probably order me to stop this philosophical variant of Niman, but I would not care.
It still pains me when I think back to Master Zesh's look of disappointment at the description of my variant.
"This is a corruption of Niman, aggressive and so far removed from what a Jedi is. It will lead to the Dark Side, like Exar Kun before." My Master said, his tone almost condescending but one that came from someone that lived their life by the Jedi Code.
Of course, Master Zesh didn't need to know everything.
"Come, Acolytes of the Dark Side." My confidence grew enormously as I slid back into the comfortable combination of the Force and my form six variant.
The duel truly started; my heart was a drum, sweat started to pour down, with my back and armpits formed patches of the fluid. I knew that I was in the fight of my life. I had to catch these Acolytes off-guard. I wouldn't be able to do that again. Not even telling about Revan and Malak, who I knew as Alak, and the other two Acolytes holding Master Zesh.
'My last fight.' I thought with grim acceptance. 'Let's make it a good one.'
The three Acolytes charged as one, one was high in the air, an Ataru user from what I remember. The others simply ran towards me from either side.
The three did use a good strategy, they covered me from all sides, I had three options; wait until they came to me but that option would have led to me being overrun. The other option was what I chose to do.
Jumping onto the statue's knee as a platform, I then launched myself at the Acolyte in the air. Our blades met in the middle and sparks of light brightened our faces. My momentum continued and I landed behind all three Acolytes but they didn't give up and turned around to charge me again.
This time I didn't run and stood my ground, switching to another Niman high guard - and waited.
Using Soresu's defence and footwork, alongside Shii-Cho's aptitude for multiple opponents, I was able to block the first three strikes - one from each Acolyte - and jumped backwards against a thrust. Now that the three were working together, their attacks came in quick flashes of red, making it harder to parry, even with my combat-focused Niman.
Their attacks came one after the other, applying team attacks and feints. One thrusted or swung, I parried the attack away and another strike came immediately after. I was being pushed back, and my feet went backwards and tapped a wall. Staring at their attack patterns, I felt them, the beat of their blades falling into a drum-like pattern. The beat of war. The same as my heart, beating like it was responding to theirs, becoming in tune like a song.
My vision narrowed and time became inconsistent; fast, slow and everything between those two points.
I loved it.
I loved fighting.
At that moment, I just focused on that, on the fight. Not my Master, not the two holding him, not even Malak or Revan. It was just me, the tomb and the three Acolytes.
Eyes followed the hand of an Acolyte swinging, my emerald blade turned the crimson away for the first beat, then to the left for a second, before finally on the third to guide the thrust to the side.
In-between those beats was an opening. I just had to find it.
Beat.
Beat.
Beat.
Beat
And restart.
Beat.
Beat.
Beat.
Beat
And restart.
Beat.
Be-
A green light hummed sharply. An Acolyte screamed in pain, two red lights disappeared as his lightsaber staff clanged against the floor - a hand followed it with a splat.
The two other Acolytes broke off, and a feeling of fear and trepidation rose in them.
The Acolyte, whose hand I detached from his body, fell to his knees, holding onto the stump where his wrist used to be. My palm met the top of his head.
"Sleep."
The groaning man fell backwards, unconscious.
"It seems the Padawan has some teeth after all." Malak spoke up once again, the former Jedi, as I knew what Revan and he had become, his tone was more amused than concerned for the Acolyte's condition. "Who knew that Zesh had such a promising student?"
I said nothing, words would mean nothing but give additional weaponry to an enemy. A deep burn in my chest halted my assault, my body was giving out, and I imagined I looked pretty pathetic, with nearly all of my body's water escaping out of my skin like water cracking through a hastily made dam.
The last two, one duel-wielding and the other holding a single blade, both charged side by side. Rage and fear were clear in their motivation, however, their pause gave me enough time to trap the single-blade wielder inside an energy field generated by the Force.
Meeting the two-sabre holder with the fast, wide swings of Ataru and the strong parries of Djem So, I couldn't help but notice from his parries that he studied Djem So and Ataru as well. Of course, I studied Niman and was not well versed in the two other forms like my enemy, it would only be a matter of time before he got the upper hand.
And he did so.
Clipping my lightsaber blade, enough to give himself an opening, he thrusted his off-hand forwards. Aiming for the heart, for the kill.
'Guess it wasn't just I thought was absorbed into the fight.' I thought.
I imagined my enemy thought he was victorious. He had killed a Jedi, a Padawan sure, but still a Jedi.
A riposte using a lightsaber hilt was a move that no sane Force user would ever conceive as an ability. After all, lightsabers can cut through anything due to the extreme heat the blade emits.
Well, almost anything.
The thrust was thrown away as sparks erupted from my hilt, and the red-hot glow quickly faded.
"What?" Yelped the Acolyte. Not an unexpected reaction, but one I counted on.
Another green blade exited from the other end of the hilt, the Acolyte's body realised the danger but his mind did not. A desperate wide strike was easily deflected to the side, leaving him open and a green blade cut into his thigh, not enough for him to lose the limb, but the pain still pulled the man to his knee.
A hand, another command of 'Sleep' and I was done with another opponent.
Before anything, before I could attack, defend or roll. Blue entered my vision, steam emerged and the smell of burning meat caused my stomach to react violently. Cries of such magnitude, such pain seemed, so far away. If you asked me at the time, I would've said the scream was a mile away. If you asked me a moment later, I would have realised my mistake.
The cries of pain came from me.
"Enough!" Malak's roar easily overpowered my own.
The lightning stabbed at me, clawing its way into skin, muscle, organs, nerves, bone and marrow. The world, the universe, became nothing. Nothing but the blue, the tearing, and the agony.
The blue stopped, and I collapsed with whimpers. Such fury, such power was too much for me to overcome. The Acolytes were not Sith, but mere Dark Jedi that played with the Dark Side.
In those minutes, Malak was different. Terrifying, and inescapable. The Dark Side was truly powerful.
"Zavros, bring that Padawan! Now!"
I did not know who picked me, dragging me towards Malak and Revan without care. Only that in one second, I was on the ground, twitching, and the next I was next to my Master.
Eyes searched for help, for comfort, except it would not be given. My Master would not even look at me.
'How scared must Master Zesh be?' I wondered, looking back at this point. 'To be so struck with fear that he would not speak up in defence of his Padawan?'
The silence was around us, three Acolytes still slept, with three still standing. Malak towered above my Master and I with his physical presence - but he in turn was dwarfed by Revan's sheer might in the Force.
Sounds of leather against rock pulled my eyes forward, meeting black boots, and looking up, I was face to face with Revan himself as he held my lightsaber in his hands
"Beskar?" Revan hummed to himself, turning the hilt this way and that way as if valuing its worth. "You are an unusual Padawan."
Struggling to kneel, I attempted to open my right hand, except the Force had seemingly abandoned me for the third time that day, as it fizzled and sparked - sending shocks up my arm. The replacement had been made redundant by Malak's lightning.
Once again, I searched for comfort from Master Zesh, hoping to at least be one in the Force when the blow came.
I didn't sense comfort.
Zesh radiated something no Jedi should feel.
Anger, pain and guilt.
"You sense it too, Padawan?" Revan spoke as he knelt. "The guilt and anger? What a poor Jedi." The Dark Lord then turned to Master, his voice turned harsh. "What don't you tell the young Padawan why you came to Korriban?"
"H-He said w-were hunting M-M-Mandalorians." My words felt hollow then, I wasn't sure why I spoke up, I just needed to protect my Master, hoping to at least shield him from Revan's attention.
"Is that what he told you? I knew the Jedi did not care about the well-being of the galaxy, but to think that they would lie to one of their own." Darth Revan turned to me one last time. "No, Padawan. You were not brought here to find Mandalorians. You were here to die."
"Silence!" Cried Zesh. pitiful and desperate. Spit flew from his mouth. He was not a Master of the Jedi order then, but a frothing animal.
I stopped. I could sense the truth in his words, Zesh's reaction and feelings were clear to even me. The bond we shared was loosening strand by strand, not from me, but from Zesh; my Jedi Master was trying to save face, not because he wanted to spare me pain, but because he didn't want me to find the truth.
It was too late.
"Y-Y…" Stammering and spluttering at the revelation, tears climbed out of my eyes and slid down my cheeks.
My Master was going to kill me, and leave my corpse to rot in this place.
"Why?" The whisper took hold and the tight grip on my own emotions was obliterated by my Master's betrayal.
Revan responded first, pulling up a gauntlet and pressing a few buttons.
"Master Zesh, take your apprentice to Korriban, there you shall send him into the Force." I heard Master Vrook Lamar through the gauntlet.
"Turn it off!" Demanded Zesh only to be ignored, the Acolytes holding him more fiercely with the Force.
"Are you sure, Master Lamar?" My hope was raised by Master Zesh's question.
"Yes, his presence is an anomaly. The Force strikes fear into the other Padawans, and you have even informed me about his actions and philosophy. I sense a great darkness coming to the galaxy and I know Padawan Madell will play a role in it. He cannot be allowed to infest the galaxy."
"Yes, Master Lamar."
My lightsaber arrived in my working hand, a blade of green rose and fell.
A scream of hate. A grunt of pain. A thud of a body against rock.
Master Zesh laid there. Unmoving. A mark of blackened and cauterised flesh, from shoulder to hip, was clear.
I fell to my knees.
Agony and betrayal fell into my heart, infecting the defences of the light until it became dark.
I tossed away the teachings of the Jedi, my own Jedi Master and a member of the High Council wanted me dead because they were afraid. Of what I am, of what I could become.
They did not trust me. Did not think to help me steer in the other direction.
Revan showed me the truth.
Turning to him, eyes in pain and heart burning with loss. I pushed a knee forward and bowed.
Revan simply offered a hand.
Looking back at Zesh's body, I couldn't help but think of my time as his Padawan.
All those looks, all those condescending words. They weren't him teaching me. They were him scouting me for any use of the Dark Side.
For any accepted reason for my death.
My choice was obvious.
I took Revan's hand without a second look to Asaak Zesh, to my past.
Right, I'm rusty with this fic so please tell me if there are any mistakes in grammar or spelling.
Next chapter I will show my last CYOA as there will be a time skip.
Reviews and discussion are welcome.
Instead of drawing my own, I simply left it in the sleeve and stood straight to gather myself.
Breathing deeply. Slowly. My eyes closed for two reasons, to calm myself - to make sure the growing fear and anger wouldn't overcome me, but to banish them, bury them deep into my being, and the other?
To surrender my body, mind and will to the Force.
'The Force is my ally! And it will not abandon me here!'
"Move, Jedi filth!" One Acolyte said. His red blade rose to point at my neck.
Instead of moving forward, The Force acted with a Push, throwing the one in front away, and before the Force's opponents realised what happened It threw my hands towards two others, which soared as well. The third, the one with two blades, sprung into action and leapt at me with lightsabers drawn. One of his lightsabers came down with a thrust, the Force moving my torso and head to the side, letting the blade pass me by. Catching his wrist - and gripping it tight - the Force pulled the heretic's arm straight only to drive my elbow into his.
Like a hammer striking a thin piece of wood, the Acolyte's elbow cracked and his scream of pain echoed throughout the room. I didn't stop there however and the Force sped my being forwards, wrapping an arm around the Acolyte's throat tightly before he could even have a chance to respond. Cutting off the blood flow to his brain, and in his confusion and anger, I rested my free hand against his head - inducing drowsiness into his mind. The feeling of panic and pain from his injury and my blood choke allowed me easy access to the Acolyte's mind.
"Sleep," I whispered, my voice echoing within my opponent. Normally a blood choke needs five to ten seconds for the receiver to go unconscious but should get up not long after. Though if you held on long enough the choke would lead to brain damage, even death. However, I didn't want to kill, only subdue. The Force can do many things, even make someone fall asleep. Maybe what I did wouldn't be considered right for a Jedi to use, but I needed a way to take the Acolyte out without killing him.
I guided the Darksider to the floor, cradling his head so at least no further damage would be caused by the fall.
The Force screamed and It rolled my body forwards in response, narrowly missing a lightsaber swing that scraped across the floor. The sharp crackling sound wailed and the smell of melted rock struck my senses.
Back to my feet, I could see the Acolyte that was pushed away had joined his other two compatriots.
"Typical Jedi mercy." One Acolyte sneered. Don't know which one it came from, they all wore the same clothing.
"You say it like a bad habit." I said back.
"Huh, this Jedi has a sense of humour, come on Jedi, you can tell all the jokes you want after Lord Revan and Lord Malak are done with you." Another said.
"I've got one for you now but it seems like I don't need to, I have three right in front of me." My hand waved in front of me, indicating my opponents.
I just hoped the deep void in my stomach wasn't discovered. The ensuring growl from all three was kind of satisfying, I will admit.
"Are you fools done embarrassing yourselves?!" Malak demanded, voice . "Capture the Padawan!"
Fear radiated from the Acolytes, one shuddered before strengthening his resolve. Then all at once, the three men charged my position.
I pulled my arm from the remaining sleeve, unsheathing my lightsaber along the way. Green bathed my body from a single blade, reflecting off my cortosis armour, as it deflected two strikes as the Force jumped away.
Landing on a plinth beneath a statue of a man holding an urn of some kind, I automatically switched to one of many Niman stances - the blade held in two hands at head height, angled upwards but slightly inwards, and my dominant foot forward.
Niman, the Diplomat's Form or the Moderation Form, was meant to be just that. A form of moderation at everything, moderate at speed, defence, offence, footwork etc. However, Niman isn't good for a combat form, only used by Jedi that didn't want to focus on the blade but wanted to study diplomacy or on the Force itself. However, because of that focus and the fact that Niman wasn't popular during the Mandalorian Wars, actually training to learn the Form didn't exactly adhere to my fellow Younglings and Padawans - who had heard legends and stories about the Mandalorian Wars and wanted to train in the other specialist forms. I disagreed with this philosophy, I just did, maybe it was something from my previous life that influenced my decision but I felt that Niman was a perfect fighting form. Especially in the aftermath of the Mandalorian Wars, a Jedi needed to know offence and defence to survive in a war-torn galaxy. My state of mind was one of aggression and defensiveness, not moderation.
A Form of Versatility, if you will.
The council would probably order me to stop this philosophical variant of Niman, but I would not care.
It still pains me when I think back to Master Zesh's look of disappointment at the description of my variant.
"This is a corruption of Niman, aggressive and so far removed from what a Jedi is. It will lead to the Dark Side, like Exar Kun before." My Master said, his tone almost condescending but one that came from someone that lived their life by the Jedi Code.
Of course, Master Zesh didn't need to know everything.
"Come, Acolytes of the Dark Side." My confidence grew enormously as I slid back into the comfortable combination of the Force and my form six variant.
The duel truly started; my heart was a drum, sweat started to pour down, with my back and armpits formed patches of the fluid. I knew that I was in the fight of my life. I had to catch these Acolytes off-guard. I wouldn't be able to do that again. Not even telling about Revan and Malak, who I knew as Alak, and the other two Acolytes holding Master Zesh.
'My last fight.' I thought with grim acceptance. 'Let's make it a good one.'
The three Acolytes charged as one, one was high in the air, an Ataru user from what I remember. The others simply ran towards me from either side.
The three did use a good strategy, they covered me from all sides, I had three options; wait until they came to me but that option would have led to me being overrun. The other option was what I chose to do.
Jumping onto the statue's knee as a platform, I then launched myself at the Acolyte in the air. Our blades met in the middle and sparks of light brightened our faces. My momentum continued and I landed behind all three Acolytes but they didn't give up and turned around to charge me again.
This time I didn't run and stood my ground, switching to another Niman high guard - and waited.
Using Soresu's defence and footwork, alongside Shii-Cho's aptitude for multiple opponents, I was able to block the first three strikes - one from each Acolyte - and jumped backwards against a thrust. Now that the three were working together, their attacks came in quick flashes of red, making it harder to parry, even with my combat-focused Niman.
Their attacks came one after the other, applying team attacks and feints. One thrusted or swung, I parried the attack away and another strike came immediately after. I was being pushed back, and my feet went backwards and tapped a wall. Staring at their attack patterns, I felt them, the beat of their blades falling into a drum-like pattern. The beat of war. The same as my heart, beating like it was responding to theirs, becoming in tune like a song.
My vision narrowed and time became inconsistent; fast, slow and everything between those two points.
I loved it.
I loved fighting.
At that moment, I just focused on that, on the fight. Not my Master, not the two holding him, not even Malak or Revan. It was just me, the tomb and the three Acolytes.
Eyes followed the hand of an Acolyte swinging, my emerald blade turned the crimson away for the first beat, then to the left for a second, before finally on the third to guide the thrust to the side.
In-between those beats was an opening. I just had to find it.
Beat.
Beat.
Beat.
Beat
And restart.
Beat.
Beat.
Beat.
Beat
And restart.
Beat.
Be-
A green light hummed sharply. An Acolyte screamed in pain, two red lights disappeared as his lightsaber staff clanged against the floor - a hand followed it with a splat.
The two other Acolytes broke off, and a feeling of fear and trepidation rose in them.
The Acolyte, whose hand I detached from his body, fell to his knees, holding onto the stump where his wrist used to be. My palm met the top of his head.
"Sleep."
The groaning man fell backwards, unconscious.
"It seems the Padawan has some teeth after all." Malak spoke up once again, the former Jedi, as I knew what Revan and he had become, his tone was more amused than concerned for the Acolyte's condition. "Who knew that Zesh had such a promising student?"
I said nothing, words would mean nothing but give additional weaponry to an enemy. A deep burn in my chest halted my assault, my body was giving out, and I imagined I looked pretty pathetic, with nearly all of my body's water escaping out of my skin like water cracking through a hastily made dam.
The last two, one duel-wielding and the other holding a single blade, both charged side by side. Rage and fear were clear in their motivation, however, their pause gave me enough time to trap the single-blade wielder inside an energy field generated by the Force.
Meeting the two-sabre holder with the fast, wide swings of Ataru and the strong parries of Djem So, I couldn't help but notice from his parries that he studied Djem So and Ataru as well. Of course, I studied Niman and was not well versed in the two other forms like my enemy, it would only be a matter of time before he got the upper hand.
And he did so.
Clipping my lightsaber blade, enough to give himself an opening, he thrusted his off-hand forwards. Aiming for the heart, for the kill.
'Guess it wasn't just I thought was absorbed into the fight.' I thought.
I imagined my enemy thought he was victorious. He had killed a Jedi, a Padawan sure, but still a Jedi.
A riposte using a lightsaber hilt was a move that no sane Force user would ever conceive as an ability. After all, lightsabers can cut through anything due to the extreme heat the blade emits.
Well, almost anything.
The thrust was thrown away as sparks erupted from my hilt, and the red-hot glow quickly faded.
"What?" Yelped the Acolyte. Not an unexpected reaction, but one I counted on.
Another green blade exited from the other end of the hilt, the Acolyte's body realised the danger but his mind did not. A desperate wide strike was easily deflected to the side, leaving him open and a green blade cut into his thigh, not enough for him to lose the limb, but the pain still pulled the man to his knee.
A hand, another command of 'Sleep' and I was done with another opponent.
Before anything, before I could attack, defend or roll. Blue entered my vision, steam emerged and the smell of burning meat caused my stomach to react violently. Cries of such magnitude, such pain seemed, so far away. If you asked me at the time, I would've said the scream was a mile away. If you asked me a moment later, I would have realised my mistake.
The cries of pain came from me.
"Enough!" Malak's roar easily overpowered my own.
The lightning stabbed at me, clawing its way into skin, muscle, organs, nerves, bone and marrow. The world, the universe, became nothing. Nothing but the blue, the tearing, and the agony.
The blue stopped, and I collapsed with whimpers. Such fury, such power was too much for me to overcome. The Acolytes were not Sith, but mere Dark Jedi that played with the Dark Side.
In those minutes, Malak was different. Terrifying, and inescapable. The Dark Side was truly powerful.
"Zavros, bring that Padawan! Now!"
I did not know who picked me, dragging me towards Malak and Revan without care. Only that in one second, I was on the ground, twitching, and the next I was next to my Master.
Eyes searched for help, for comfort, except it would not be given. My Master would not even look at me.
'How scared must Master Zesh be?' I wondered, looking back at this point. 'To be so struck with fear that he would not speak up in defence of his Padawan?'
The silence was around us, three Acolytes still slept, with three still standing. Malak towered above my Master and I with his physical presence - but he in turn was dwarfed by Revan's sheer might in the Force.
Sounds of leather against rock pulled my eyes forward, meeting black boots, and looking up, I was face to face with Revan himself as he held my lightsaber in his hands
"Beskar?" Revan hummed to himself, turning the hilt this way and that way as if valuing its worth. "You are an unusual Padawan."
Struggling to kneel, I attempted to open my right hand, except the Force had seemingly abandoned me for the third time that day, as it fizzled and sparked - sending shocks up my arm. The replacement had been made redundant by Malak's lightning.
Once again, I searched for comfort from Master Zesh, hoping to at least be one in the Force when the blow came.
I didn't sense comfort.
Zesh radiated something no Jedi should feel.
Anger, pain and guilt.
"You sense it too, Padawan?" Revan spoke as he knelt. "The guilt and anger? What a poor Jedi." The Dark Lord then turned to Master, his voice turned harsh. "What don't you tell the young Padawan why you came to Korriban?"
"H-He said w-were hunting M-M-Mandalorians." My words felt hollow then, I wasn't sure why I spoke up, I just needed to protect my Master, hoping to at least shield him from Revan's attention.
"Is that what he told you? I knew the Jedi did not care about the well-being of the galaxy, but to think that they would lie to one of their own." Darth Revan turned to me one last time. "No, Padawan. You were not brought here to find Mandalorians. You were here to die."
"Silence!" Cried Zesh. pitiful and desperate. Spit flew from his mouth. He was not a Master of the Jedi order then, but a frothing animal.
I stopped. I could sense the truth in his words, Zesh's reaction and feelings were clear to even me. The bond we shared was loosening strand by strand, not from me, but from Zesh; my Jedi Master was trying to save face, not because he wanted to spare me pain, but because he didn't want me to find the truth.
It was too late.
"Y-Y…" Stammering and spluttering at the revelation, tears climbed out of my eyes and slid down my cheeks.
My Master was going to kill me, and leave my corpse to rot in this place.
"Why?" The whisper took hold and the tight grip on my own emotions was obliterated by my Master's betrayal.
Revan responded first, pulling up a gauntlet and pressing a few buttons.
"Master Zesh, take your apprentice to Korriban, there you shall send him into the Force." I heard Master Vrook Lamar through the gauntlet.
"Turn it off!" Demanded Zesh only to be ignored, the Acolytes holding him more fiercely with the Force.
"Are you sure, Master Lamar?" My hope was raised by Master Zesh's question.
"Yes, his presence is an anomaly. The Force strikes fear into the other Padawans, and you have even informed me about his actions and philosophy. I sense a great darkness coming to the galaxy and I know Padawan Madell will play a role in it. He cannot be allowed to infest the galaxy."
"Yes, Master Lamar."
My lightsaber arrived in my working hand, a blade of green rose and fell.
A scream of hate. A grunt of pain. A thud of a body against rock.
Master Zesh laid there. Unmoving. A mark of blackened and cauterised flesh, from shoulder to hip, was clear.
I fell to my knees.
Agony and betrayal fell into my heart, infecting the defences of the light until it became dark.
I tossed away the teachings of the Jedi, my own Jedi Master and a member of the High Council wanted me dead because they were afraid. Of what I am, of what I could become.
They did not trust me. Did not think to help me steer in the other direction.
Revan showed me the truth.
Turning to him, eyes in pain and heart burning with loss. I pushed a knee forward and bowed.
Revan simply offered a hand.
Looking back at Zesh's body, I couldn't help but think of my time as his Padawan.
All those looks, all those condescending words. They weren't him teaching me. They were him scouting me for any use of the Dark Side.
For any accepted reason for my death.
My choice was obvious.
I took Revan's hand without a second look to Asaak Zesh, to my past.
Right, I'm rusty with this fic so please tell me if there are any mistakes in grammar or spelling.
Next chapter I will show my last CYOA as there will be a time skip.
Reviews and discussion are welcome.
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Forgottenpain
Making the rounds.
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You might be a little rusty but it was still a good chapter.
Ghostcraft19
Not too sore, are you?
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Interesting
The_Exile
Lurker on QQ, Newbie at writing on QQ
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Yeah, sorry about the long wait, life sort of got in the way, and then when I was good and ready to do this again, a muse for another series took root.
Question for everyone: If you had to choose to learn either Makashi or Juyo/Vaapad, which would you prefer to learn?
Question for everyone: If you had to choose to learn either Makashi or Juyo/Vaapad, which would you prefer to learn?
The Overlord
SCIENCE! both mad, mundane, and perverted
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Depends on my abilities, Makashi if im strong in the force to make so a form going the other direction would help cover my bases, id alternate between useing the force sparingly but when I do go full ham and otherwise use various utility abilities to supplement lightsaber combat. Or forging lightsaber combat to go full Palpatine style focus on the force against a opponent or opponents.
If weak in the force Vaapad, useing the dark side to supplement my power and use the force to fully supplement lightsaber combat capabilities or various tricks to use in any openings in a opponent.
Taris Part 1 - An ocean, a star, a heart
The_Exile
Lurker on QQ, Newbie at writing on QQ
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Just an introduction chapter for Taris, I think I am going a bit too quickly through this but I don't know how to stretch it out. So *insert shrug emoji*
"Nekorian, your thoughts are distracting you." Master's voice clawed my mind away from the past. His saber flew through the air with controlled frenzy strikes which were directed away by efficient parries and blocks by my own blade.
"Apologies, Master."
"Are you?" His teeth were visible, eyes glowing with orange, both rotted with corruption, showing a weak-willed mind to have fully lost himself in the dark.
Nothing more was said and Master Zavros become all aggressive, falling into a pure Juyo form. His attacks became chaotic and erratic, fast and strong with seemingly no discipline in his movement. That was the point of Juyo however, becoming so overwhelming that your opponent cannot comprehend what to do. Except if you know its main drawback, Juyo was all offence with no application for defence.
If you match the opponent's Juyo with your own then it can become a violent dance, if you mix in Shien or Djem So into your fighting form then you could theoretically beat any Juyo practitioner. Of course, that depended on your knowledge of Form VII and the Form V variants.
Luckily, I had all three, adding Juyo to my library of Niman allowed me to dance with Master Zavros on an equal playing field. Except I had an ace up my sleeve. Juyo was great, the problem is its taxation on your body. Tiring out the user and then leaving you open to a death blow.
Like Niman before, I too started construction of a variant around Juyo. Form VII must be fought while surrendering yourself to your emotions, but never letting go of your mind as you would just become an animal infected with rabies. There is always that all-encompassing danger every time you fight. I would not take such a risk. Mine was a different philosophy, instead of using my own emotions, I would use my opponents, sending those attacks straight back at them.
A perfect counter for a Dark Side user.
I could beat Master Zavros with my new Form VII, I knew it in my heart but the time was not right. His teachings were…educational, and the fighting techniques and Force powers were good, for someone of his calibre. Zavros was nothing compared to me. I couldn't wait until the right moment to strike. Zavros was weak. It was clear as day except for my Master. He was just too blind to let me access his private collection, sure he let me see the mild texts but those artefacts locked away would be more than enough for me to become a true lord.
It was frustrating, knowing that I couldn't pass the final obstacle just because of a six-letter word. His mind was too well defended to breach.
So I played weak, until this waste of space that would follow Malak instead of avenging Revan.
My lightsaber escaped from its resting place and landed not too far away.
"It seems my lesson hasn't gotten through your skull!" Was the only warning I received before lightning pierced my nerves.
Pain was an old friend.
It felt like being pinched, the agony of Force Lightning became subdued after all of these years.
I screamed for the performance, naturally. Calling upon my experiences from that day, and the subsequent ones after that, I could near enough fake being engulfed in my Master's rage.
Huffing on the ground, I feel my Master's disgust before a scoff came from his mouth. Leaving with no further words, but as soon as the door to the training grounds slammed shut, I pulled the acting back and stood to my feet, using the Force to accelerate my healing. The anger coiling around my stomach at the continued game I was playing grew every day, and I knew that the Dark Side will take over and take control unless I released it on something or someone. Unfortunately, no viable option came to mind. I could not take it out on the soldiers, for they are needed to maintain control of Taris; and I could not bring someone to my bed, for they might maintain a sense of importance which, in turn, would create unnecessary problems down the line.
Scowl firmly on my face, I exited the room - the guards on either side stood to attention - and immediately marched to my personal chambers.
Entering with no words, I quickly gathered up a pile of clothing and shed my smoking robes, dressing up like any other Taris citizen before walking out. Corralling the Force to obscure my presence and simply walked out of the military base.
Taris was an almost recreation of Coruscant, the high-rise buildings and the sounds of workers shipping off crates to Force knows where except for several things that could put Taris above the Capital World. There was no crime on the upper levels, everything would be meted out on the spot by the highest-ranking soldier. The biggest problem was the lower levels and the disguised rats below.
Looking back to the clear sky, the memories of that fateful day revived within my mind, as they had always done for four years.
Four years.
One thousand, four hundred and seventy-three days, five hours, and thirty-five minutes since Asaak Zesh betrayed me; when the Jedi Order plotted my death because of their fear.
Battlefields became drugs, pain from bones being shattered was embraced, burns and scars healed, and the worlds of the Republic either fell or surrendered when the might of Revan's Empire surrounded the planet - and I was there alongside the troops. The men and women who fought beside me were nothing short of brave. Most never survived, but they died with the truth in their hearts.
The Republic is ending.
"Revan." His helmet popped into my mind, the face of my saviour hidden behind a Mandalorian mask.
Lips pulled back and the cloak nearly disapparated as rage reared its ugly head, I breathed and pulled back the cloak quickly. Being discovered outside the military base would do no good for my sanity. The Dark Side was an ever-present voice, whispering niceties in your ear, telling you that killing that civilian there or butchering that squad of soldiers there was give me power - and like anything that promises quick solutions, it would strengthen its hold over you. I could not allow it.
Control now reined back in, and with a quick scratch against my hand, I thought back to Revan's death.
It was reported my saviour died when a Republic strike force infiltrated Revan's flagship, slew Revan, and Malak quickly took control as Dark Lord of the Sith - picking up where his Master left off in revenge and honour for his former Master.
Nothing more than a lie, a bold-faced lie told to the rest of the galaxy by Malak, who had turned on his Master, like the way of all Sith. Firing upon Lord Revan's flagship, aiming for the command deck in a cowardly hope to kill both the strike force and the Dark Lord.
And for that, I would kill Malak and throw his corpse into a star.
Arriving at the nearby cantina, I entered without a fuss from the guards, nor the patrons and sat inside Ajuur the Hutt's little slice of paradise. The Force spread to my table, allowing my area to be engulfed by an air of insignificance as my eyes were glued to the screen next to me.
The Fighting Arena of Taris was a bore but it was the only outlet I could safely use, any other releases that I could think of would cause more problems down the line.
Except...except the cantina and the arena were calming to me somehow, just being in this location lifted my mood. I did not know why then, but I felt like I knew this place, it's layout was mich easier to remember - the first time I ever entered this establishment, I knew where Ajuur the Hutt, the dancers and the live bands were.
Yet, for the life of me, I couldn't recall why I remembered.
It happened similarly to the Sith Governer of Taris. As if an echo of the future reached back into the past and gifted the feelings and blurred images to me. It was not prophetic dreams. They just didn't...feel like prophecy. If that made sense.
"I can't believe we couldn't get arena tickets for this match! Now we'll have to watch the duel on the view screen." Searching for the whining voice, I could see two people - a man and a woman - arguing in front of a screen like mine, with the woman pouting like some child that didn't get their favourite toy.
"Who cares?" Responded the man, I could tell he was just like his female friend - whiny and arrogant - though the lingering lust in his heart, told me the guy didn't want to remain friends. "It's Duncan and Gerlon fighting. It's not like we're going to miss anything good."
"Shh!" The whiny woman pushed a hand to his lips, and that lust in him flared straight up. Force, if this is what the Republic protects, then no wonder organization was failing. "They're about to start, so quit complaining and just watch the view screen!"
Scoffing, I went to face the screen - hoping that the inevitable massacre would alleviate the rage - only to freeze. Massive, deep. A heart that had beaten with the sound of the universe was behind me. It wasn't Malak, he wouldn't dare to lower himself and enter the cantina. It couldn't be Master Zavros, the Twi'lek traitor was a protozoan compared to this star.
'An enemy?' I thought with wide eyes, my palms shook, my legs twitched, and my replacement forearm hurt just being near such a monster. 'An assassin, maybe? Did Malak find out about my traitorous goals?' The greys of the world were violently ripped and replaced by shades of blue and white. 'It could not be an assassin, for what darkness could be found in this ocean? How does Master, how does no one feel this weight?'
"Excuse me?" Slowly, my eyes bore witness to the monster that emitted such strength. "We don't mean to be a bother, but can we sit with you?"
'He's just a guy.'
This man was just that, no serene face of enlightenment, no corruption of the Dark Side. Just…a guy.
Stunned by the revelation that one of the most powerful Force wielders I had ever met was just standing in a slimy cantina, I stammered in my response. My entire persona as a Dark Side user was obliterated just by this one man's presence.
"Y-Yeah, s-sure."
"My thanks." The ocean said, taking a seat.
"Yeah, thanks." The ocean's friend muttered, sitting next to the giant.
"Ladies and gentlemen, I draw your attention to the duelling ring. Here, two combatants will battle for your viewing and gambling enjoyment." The announcer hyped up the match to the best of his ability, but that hype did not reach me - it never did - but that seemed so far away, so far ago. "Now, I hope all your bets are down, because we're ready to roll! In this corner," The camera turned to face a man of moderate height with equally mild looks garbed in a rushed together combat suit. "I give you…Gerlon Two-Fingers!"
The crowd roared at Gerlon, his hand raised and face smiling like the entire universe was watching him - though I imagined he knew only around twenty thousand were watching on the holonet.
"And over here, looking to climb the ranks yet again is the ever-persistent Deadeye Duncan!" the crowed dimmed more than halfway through the announcement, the ageing man simply didn't care, or was too ill-equipped in the head to understand his surroundings, and raised a hand.
The two men stepped forward, as if it were an old holodrama when people still used projectile weapons, stopped and stared. If this were indeed a holodrama, the camera would be close to each of their eyes, music would be tense with strings being strummed in rising intensity. Until, finally, after a full half-minute passed and both men would draw their weapons in a quick and satisfying duel.
"Duncan's going to lose." The ocean roared, deafening in its volume, and I only just resisted the urge to curl up and bow before it.
"What do you mean, Delaan?"
"Just watch, Rekas." The ocean, Delaan, doubled down on his prediction - leaving no room for disagreement.
The two combatants went to draw their blasters, the music would have swelled in a sudden scream, the audience would've been at the edge of their seats, and the climax of the movie would be capped off with a spectacular shoot-out.
Gerlon drew his blaster.
Duncan…dropped his blaster.
Gerlon fired one shot.
Duncan went down.
The crowd laughed and hollered at the comatose man.
"And, to nobody's great surprise, Deadeye is down again. Don't worry, folks - he's just unconscious. As usual. Our medics will have him up and about in a bit."
"Told you." Delaan smiled in victory at Rekas, who just rolled his eyes.
"Well, that was quick, wasn't it? So I give you the winner…Gerlon Two-Fingers!"
The screen's turned off with the final shot being Two-Fingers raising his namesake in the air, the camera zooming in as some sort of 'powerful image' for the fighting arena.
"That was…entertaining," said Rekas.
"I-It isn't anything new." My composure was nearly back in my control, barely holding the gates open with its claws.
"Oh, you know about the combatants?" Delaan inquired with an easy-going smile.
"I mean…" Stopping myself from further embarrassed, I centred myself - not using the Force but through my own strength. One my reasoning was back in my control, my thoughts were easier to direct - and Delaan's words were curious. This man, this ocean, called Delaan and his companion should've at least heard about the competitors or the duelling arena, or some mention of the people involved. They could not be people from the Lower City, for you must be wearing a Sith soldier's uniform and have the passcode to enter and leave; and since we occupied Taris last month, traffic to and from the planet has been denied both ways.
The Republic ship dubbed 'The Endar Spire' had been destroyed a few days ago, and reports did say there had been numerous escape pods falling down to Taris. I knew who these two were.
Especially 'Rekas'. A civilian doesn't sit that straight, shoulders high and wide, with eyes twitching left and right as if expecting an attack.
These two were Republic soldiers, hiding in plain sight.
However, Delaan was an…interesting opportunity. If I could train him in the Force, he would be a powerful apprentice and ally against Malak. We could avenge Revan.
'But how did the Jedi not sense this power? How isn't anyone?' These were my questions.
"Y-You have 'Deadeye' Duncan and Gerlon 'Two-Fingers', wh-who you just saw fi-fight; then you ha-ha-have M-Marl, Ice an-and Twitch." Keeping up the facade of a stammering and pathetic man, I started to explain the fighters.
"Twitch?" Delaan's head tilted slightly, not at all bothered by my stuttering, that thought of him seeing through my disguise was there, but I had to continue now that I was walking down that road.
"I-If you meet him, t-then you s-see."
"Dunc-can is n-not g-great. He has g-gone through fifty-three? Fifty-four? Cons-s-secutive losses. Gerlon is an-an average f-f-fight-ter. Ice is-is an ice que-queen in all-all as-as-aspects. M-Marl has been in-in the a-arena for tw-twenty years, yo-you could talk to him for mo-more?" I shrugged my shoulders with a small smile, hopefully, innocent and not grimacing.
'Delaan' simply gave a teeth-filled smirk, and with a simple hard clap on my shoulder - which I gave a small yelp for - Delaan stood up and walked towards the competitors of the arena. 'Rekas' looked back between 'Delaan' and I for a few seconds, looking comically himself, only to end up chasing after his fellow soldier.
The two argued quietly, so as to not gather attention to themselves, but it was too late. They had my attention.
They needed to escape, I needed to kill Malak.
It would be perfect.
'Rekas' walked back over and slumped into his chair, actually appearing like a civilian. The great sigh wandered out of his lips as a hand reached across his face.
"W-What wron-ong?" I asked.
"It seems, Delaan wants to have a go at being a gladiator." He groaned.
I simply turned to look at the screen, not even ten minutes before the next fight began.
"Ladies and gentlemen, draw your eyes to the centre ring! We have a very special presentation in store for you: You've seen him lose night after night after night. But this time, he's after fresh meat. In this corner, I give you, Deadeye Duncan!" I held my breath, not for Duncan, the old man who would accept reality, but for his opponent who wielded a vibrosword in each hand. "And in this corner, a relative newcomer to the Taris duelling scene. Emerging from the shadows with no history, no past and no name…the Mysterious Stranger!"
With nary a blink, Delaan charged Duncan, who could not even lay the foundations for a defensive stance as the 'Mysterious Stranger' danced around the man, cutting his legs and arms before dropping Duncan with a leg sweep. With such speed and precision in his arsenal, I knew 'Delaan' had to be Force-sensitive, if not trained.
'He has to be!' I pleaded.
"It's over! The fight is over! The Mysterious Stranger has won! But really, are any of us surprised? Deadeye losing isn't news. You have to do better than that to impress us, Stranger!"
Right, how was it? Good, bad? Please review.
Where Your Paths Crossed:
Something Caught His Eyes:
Relationship:
Master's Philosophy:
Headquarters:
Training Focus:
Your Lightsaber:
Fighting Style: 1 Style Point and 1 Blade Point in total
Force Powers: 9 Points in total
Level 1 Abilities (Each costs 1 Force Point):
Level 2 Abilities (Each costs 2 Force Points):
Training Events:
Finale:
Sith Lord Name: Roll 3d20
- Location (N/A): Can't really fill this out as the options since it clashes with the KOTOR jumpchain starting location, and there isn't anything tomb or Korriban related.
Something Caught His Eyes:
- Drive (Despair): It seems like something inside you broke a long time ago. Hope. Joy. A particular event in your life, or the environment in which you lived, has plunged you into a bottomless pit of despair. As they say, fear leads to anger. Anger leads to hate, hate leads to suffering. And nothing in the world leads more quickly to the Dark Side of the Force than suffering. It only took a second for the man who found you to read all this in your eyes, and much more.
Relationship:
- Tyrannical: Like many Sith apprentices, the relationship you had with your Master was based on fear. He took great care, from the very start of your training, to make it clear that he could kill you in the blink of an eye or inflict intense pain at will. He taught you to hate him, and this prepared you for your final test without you being aware of it yet.
Master's Philosophy:
- The End Justifies: Your Master believed that a true Sith should go to any length to achieve their goal, no matter the moral implications of their actions, whether it is murdering colleagues or backstabbing a foe. He taught you countless dirty tricks to use in a fight.
- Credo First: Your Master was a passionate adherent to the Credo of the Sith, believing that the current structure of the organization is the only one possible and that questioning the Sith Code is unacceptable. For him, any divergence was cause for execution.
- Austerity: Comfort and daily pleasures were banished with your Master. During your training, he imposed a Spartan lifestyle and constant deprivation, strengthening your self-discipline, and tolerance of hunger, thirst and pain, and taught you many techniques for surviving in hostile territory.
Headquarters:
- Old Temple: Your Master had chosen an ancient Sith temple as his base, forgotten by all, lost deep in the misty lands of a planet that has never been charted. Its location was untraceable. The place, majestic but sinister, was imbued with the Dark Side of the Force.
Training Focus:
- Force Oriented: From the start of your training, your Master noticed that you had certain ease in manipulating the Force and understanding some particularly obscure concepts. As a result, he decided to train you to develop your Force powers rather than your lightsaber skills.
- Gain 1 Style Point, 1 Blade Point, and 9 Force Points
Your Lightsaber:
- Double Blade: Quite rare among the Jedi, more common among the Sith but still unusual, the double lightsaber is the most difficult weapon to handle and the most dangerous for its practitioner. However, experts in the art of fighting with this type of saber are incredibly more lethal than others and excel in aggressive and fast moves.
Fighting Style: 1 Style Point and 1 Blade Point in total
- Furious Style [-1 Style Points]: This style is probably the one that best incarnates the Dark Side of the Force since it requires its practitioners to let themselves be completely submerged by violent emotions in combat, especially anger. It is the most vicious form of lightsaber combat, filled with both fury and malignant grace. The opponent is flooded with a barrage of chaotic and erratic blows, delivered with a combination of speed and bestial force, halfway between the heavy blows of the Strong Style and the fast aerial attacks of the Acrobatic Style. The challenge for a practitioner of this style is to maintain his lucidity despite the rage that grows as the fight goes on.
- Cold Blood [-1 Blade Points]: In contrast to many practitioners of the Furious Style, you have committed yourself to full days of meditation during your training to strengthen your mind. This allows you to keep your lucidity in combat while optimally exploiting your anger. Your emotions do not control you, you control them, and your movements are closer to those of the Jedi Vaapad than the Sith Juyo.
Force Powers: 9 Points in total
Level 1 Abilities (Each costs 1 Force Point):
- Force Lightning [-1 Force Points, 8]: Emblematic Sith Force ability, consisting in delivering powerful electrical discharges to a target through the user's fingers. The intensity varies according to many factors, such as the user's talent.
- Force Barrier [-1 Force Point, 7]: Defensive technique composed of Force energy, used to block out any potentially deadly elements such as environmental hazards or any type of projectiles like blaster fires. Takes the form of a wall or a sphere.
- Force Sense [-1 Force Points, 6]: Telepathic extension of the user's mind, allowing you to feel the living beings around you - even through the walls - or any movement in a certain radius. Also considerably heightens the five senses.
- Battle Precognition [-1 Force Points, 5]: Allows one to sense and foretell the flows of the Force while engaged in battle. Used to predict an opponent's intentions or the trajectory of blaster shots before they are fired. It also amplifies reflexes.
- Advanced Force Push [-1 Force Point, 4]: Force Push applied with sufficient intensity to lift several men off the ground and throw them over a distance of at least 10 meters, or break down a metal door whose reinforcement is not too strong.
- Advanced Force Lightning [-1 Force Points, 3]: Powerful electric discharge branching out into dozens of smaller forks thus allowing the dark side Force-user to reach multiple targets simultaneously, without any loss of intensity.
- Force Wave [-1 Force Points, 2]: Same as Advanced Force Push but applied as a multidirectional shock wave that violently impacts any object or person around the user in a radius of between 3 and 5 meters.
Level 2 Abilities (Each costs 2 Force Points):
- Heavy Telekinesis [-2 Force Points, 0]: Ability to telekinetically lift, throw and manipulate massive objects such as large groups of persons, spaceships, large trees or heavy boulders.
Training Events:
- Survival: You still remember that damn feral planet you spent months on. A treacherous jungle spreading as far as the eye can see, full of deadly danger. How did you end up there? Did your Master send you there on a mission, or did your ship just crash there by accident? There, you experienced something that changed you fundamentally.
- Law of the Strongest: You managed to survive on your own in this hell, and when you managed to escape from it, you were much stronger, tougher and tenacious.
- The Holocron: As a part of your training, your Master once handed you a strange, dusty, ominous-looking Holocron and locked you in a room with the device, with only instructions to discuss it with the being who lived in it. And that's what you did, anxious but curious. What kind of information was stored in that Holocron?
- The Founder: It was the datacron of one of the earliest Sith Lords. The knowledge of the Force and the dark side he delivered to you is priceless.
- The Ziggurat: How you discovered this temple would be an interesting story in itself. Were you on a mission for your Master? Were you lost on a planet that once belonged to the Sith in ancient and forgotten times? Or was this entire journey just a dream induced by the dark side of the Force? Either way, you found something very valuable in that place.
- The Fountain: The water flowing in it was black as ink. You took a sip and it was enough to permeate your very soul. It was pure Force, in liquid form. An incredible power passed through your veins.
Finale:
- Spoilers
Sith Lord Name: Roll 3d20
- 10/8/8 = Nekorion
"Nekorian, your thoughts are distracting you." Master's voice clawed my mind away from the past. His saber flew through the air with controlled frenzy strikes which were directed away by efficient parries and blocks by my own blade.
"Apologies, Master."
"Are you?" His teeth were visible, eyes glowing with orange, both rotted with corruption, showing a weak-willed mind to have fully lost himself in the dark.
Nothing more was said and Master Zavros become all aggressive, falling into a pure Juyo form. His attacks became chaotic and erratic, fast and strong with seemingly no discipline in his movement. That was the point of Juyo however, becoming so overwhelming that your opponent cannot comprehend what to do. Except if you know its main drawback, Juyo was all offence with no application for defence.
If you match the opponent's Juyo with your own then it can become a violent dance, if you mix in Shien or Djem So into your fighting form then you could theoretically beat any Juyo practitioner. Of course, that depended on your knowledge of Form VII and the Form V variants.
Luckily, I had all three, adding Juyo to my library of Niman allowed me to dance with Master Zavros on an equal playing field. Except I had an ace up my sleeve. Juyo was great, the problem is its taxation on your body. Tiring out the user and then leaving you open to a death blow.
Like Niman before, I too started construction of a variant around Juyo. Form VII must be fought while surrendering yourself to your emotions, but never letting go of your mind as you would just become an animal infected with rabies. There is always that all-encompassing danger every time you fight. I would not take such a risk. Mine was a different philosophy, instead of using my own emotions, I would use my opponents, sending those attacks straight back at them.
A perfect counter for a Dark Side user.
I could beat Master Zavros with my new Form VII, I knew it in my heart but the time was not right. His teachings were…educational, and the fighting techniques and Force powers were good, for someone of his calibre. Zavros was nothing compared to me. I couldn't wait until the right moment to strike. Zavros was weak. It was clear as day except for my Master. He was just too blind to let me access his private collection, sure he let me see the mild texts but those artefacts locked away would be more than enough for me to become a true lord.
It was frustrating, knowing that I couldn't pass the final obstacle just because of a six-letter word. His mind was too well defended to breach.
So I played weak, until this waste of space that would follow Malak instead of avenging Revan.
My lightsaber escaped from its resting place and landed not too far away.
"It seems my lesson hasn't gotten through your skull!" Was the only warning I received before lightning pierced my nerves.
Pain was an old friend.
It felt like being pinched, the agony of Force Lightning became subdued after all of these years.
I screamed for the performance, naturally. Calling upon my experiences from that day, and the subsequent ones after that, I could near enough fake being engulfed in my Master's rage.
Huffing on the ground, I feel my Master's disgust before a scoff came from his mouth. Leaving with no further words, but as soon as the door to the training grounds slammed shut, I pulled the acting back and stood to my feet, using the Force to accelerate my healing. The anger coiling around my stomach at the continued game I was playing grew every day, and I knew that the Dark Side will take over and take control unless I released it on something or someone. Unfortunately, no viable option came to mind. I could not take it out on the soldiers, for they are needed to maintain control of Taris; and I could not bring someone to my bed, for they might maintain a sense of importance which, in turn, would create unnecessary problems down the line.
Scowl firmly on my face, I exited the room - the guards on either side stood to attention - and immediately marched to my personal chambers.
Entering with no words, I quickly gathered up a pile of clothing and shed my smoking robes, dressing up like any other Taris citizen before walking out. Corralling the Force to obscure my presence and simply walked out of the military base.
Taris was an almost recreation of Coruscant, the high-rise buildings and the sounds of workers shipping off crates to Force knows where except for several things that could put Taris above the Capital World. There was no crime on the upper levels, everything would be meted out on the spot by the highest-ranking soldier. The biggest problem was the lower levels and the disguised rats below.
Looking back to the clear sky, the memories of that fateful day revived within my mind, as they had always done for four years.
Four years.
One thousand, four hundred and seventy-three days, five hours, and thirty-five minutes since Asaak Zesh betrayed me; when the Jedi Order plotted my death because of their fear.
Battlefields became drugs, pain from bones being shattered was embraced, burns and scars healed, and the worlds of the Republic either fell or surrendered when the might of Revan's Empire surrounded the planet - and I was there alongside the troops. The men and women who fought beside me were nothing short of brave. Most never survived, but they died with the truth in their hearts.
The Republic is ending.
"Revan." His helmet popped into my mind, the face of my saviour hidden behind a Mandalorian mask.
Lips pulled back and the cloak nearly disapparated as rage reared its ugly head, I breathed and pulled back the cloak quickly. Being discovered outside the military base would do no good for my sanity. The Dark Side was an ever-present voice, whispering niceties in your ear, telling you that killing that civilian there or butchering that squad of soldiers there was give me power - and like anything that promises quick solutions, it would strengthen its hold over you. I could not allow it.
Control now reined back in, and with a quick scratch against my hand, I thought back to Revan's death.
It was reported my saviour died when a Republic strike force infiltrated Revan's flagship, slew Revan, and Malak quickly took control as Dark Lord of the Sith - picking up where his Master left off in revenge and honour for his former Master.
Nothing more than a lie, a bold-faced lie told to the rest of the galaxy by Malak, who had turned on his Master, like the way of all Sith. Firing upon Lord Revan's flagship, aiming for the command deck in a cowardly hope to kill both the strike force and the Dark Lord.
And for that, I would kill Malak and throw his corpse into a star.
Arriving at the nearby cantina, I entered without a fuss from the guards, nor the patrons and sat inside Ajuur the Hutt's little slice of paradise. The Force spread to my table, allowing my area to be engulfed by an air of insignificance as my eyes were glued to the screen next to me.
The Fighting Arena of Taris was a bore but it was the only outlet I could safely use, any other releases that I could think of would cause more problems down the line.
Except...except the cantina and the arena were calming to me somehow, just being in this location lifted my mood. I did not know why then, but I felt like I knew this place, it's layout was mich easier to remember - the first time I ever entered this establishment, I knew where Ajuur the Hutt, the dancers and the live bands were.
Yet, for the life of me, I couldn't recall why I remembered.
It happened similarly to the Sith Governer of Taris. As if an echo of the future reached back into the past and gifted the feelings and blurred images to me. It was not prophetic dreams. They just didn't...feel like prophecy. If that made sense.
"I can't believe we couldn't get arena tickets for this match! Now we'll have to watch the duel on the view screen." Searching for the whining voice, I could see two people - a man and a woman - arguing in front of a screen like mine, with the woman pouting like some child that didn't get their favourite toy.
"Who cares?" Responded the man, I could tell he was just like his female friend - whiny and arrogant - though the lingering lust in his heart, told me the guy didn't want to remain friends. "It's Duncan and Gerlon fighting. It's not like we're going to miss anything good."
"Shh!" The whiny woman pushed a hand to his lips, and that lust in him flared straight up. Force, if this is what the Republic protects, then no wonder organization was failing. "They're about to start, so quit complaining and just watch the view screen!"
Scoffing, I went to face the screen - hoping that the inevitable massacre would alleviate the rage - only to freeze. Massive, deep. A heart that had beaten with the sound of the universe was behind me. It wasn't Malak, he wouldn't dare to lower himself and enter the cantina. It couldn't be Master Zavros, the Twi'lek traitor was a protozoan compared to this star.
'An enemy?' I thought with wide eyes, my palms shook, my legs twitched, and my replacement forearm hurt just being near such a monster. 'An assassin, maybe? Did Malak find out about my traitorous goals?' The greys of the world were violently ripped and replaced by shades of blue and white. 'It could not be an assassin, for what darkness could be found in this ocean? How does Master, how does no one feel this weight?'
"Excuse me?" Slowly, my eyes bore witness to the monster that emitted such strength. "We don't mean to be a bother, but can we sit with you?"
'He's just a guy.'
This man was just that, no serene face of enlightenment, no corruption of the Dark Side. Just…a guy.
Stunned by the revelation that one of the most powerful Force wielders I had ever met was just standing in a slimy cantina, I stammered in my response. My entire persona as a Dark Side user was obliterated just by this one man's presence.
"Y-Yeah, s-sure."
"My thanks." The ocean said, taking a seat.
"Yeah, thanks." The ocean's friend muttered, sitting next to the giant.
"Ladies and gentlemen, I draw your attention to the duelling ring. Here, two combatants will battle for your viewing and gambling enjoyment." The announcer hyped up the match to the best of his ability, but that hype did not reach me - it never did - but that seemed so far away, so far ago. "Now, I hope all your bets are down, because we're ready to roll! In this corner," The camera turned to face a man of moderate height with equally mild looks garbed in a rushed together combat suit. "I give you…Gerlon Two-Fingers!"
The crowd roared at Gerlon, his hand raised and face smiling like the entire universe was watching him - though I imagined he knew only around twenty thousand were watching on the holonet.
"And over here, looking to climb the ranks yet again is the ever-persistent Deadeye Duncan!" the crowed dimmed more than halfway through the announcement, the ageing man simply didn't care, or was too ill-equipped in the head to understand his surroundings, and raised a hand.
The two men stepped forward, as if it were an old holodrama when people still used projectile weapons, stopped and stared. If this were indeed a holodrama, the camera would be close to each of their eyes, music would be tense with strings being strummed in rising intensity. Until, finally, after a full half-minute passed and both men would draw their weapons in a quick and satisfying duel.
"Duncan's going to lose." The ocean roared, deafening in its volume, and I only just resisted the urge to curl up and bow before it.
"What do you mean, Delaan?"
"Just watch, Rekas." The ocean, Delaan, doubled down on his prediction - leaving no room for disagreement.
The two combatants went to draw their blasters, the music would have swelled in a sudden scream, the audience would've been at the edge of their seats, and the climax of the movie would be capped off with a spectacular shoot-out.
Gerlon drew his blaster.
Duncan…dropped his blaster.
Gerlon fired one shot.
Duncan went down.
The crowd laughed and hollered at the comatose man.
"And, to nobody's great surprise, Deadeye is down again. Don't worry, folks - he's just unconscious. As usual. Our medics will have him up and about in a bit."
"Told you." Delaan smiled in victory at Rekas, who just rolled his eyes.
"Well, that was quick, wasn't it? So I give you the winner…Gerlon Two-Fingers!"
The screen's turned off with the final shot being Two-Fingers raising his namesake in the air, the camera zooming in as some sort of 'powerful image' for the fighting arena.
"That was…entertaining," said Rekas.
"I-It isn't anything new." My composure was nearly back in my control, barely holding the gates open with its claws.
"Oh, you know about the combatants?" Delaan inquired with an easy-going smile.
"I mean…" Stopping myself from further embarrassed, I centred myself - not using the Force but through my own strength. One my reasoning was back in my control, my thoughts were easier to direct - and Delaan's words were curious. This man, this ocean, called Delaan and his companion should've at least heard about the competitors or the duelling arena, or some mention of the people involved. They could not be people from the Lower City, for you must be wearing a Sith soldier's uniform and have the passcode to enter and leave; and since we occupied Taris last month, traffic to and from the planet has been denied both ways.
The Republic ship dubbed 'The Endar Spire' had been destroyed a few days ago, and reports did say there had been numerous escape pods falling down to Taris. I knew who these two were.
Especially 'Rekas'. A civilian doesn't sit that straight, shoulders high and wide, with eyes twitching left and right as if expecting an attack.
These two were Republic soldiers, hiding in plain sight.
However, Delaan was an…interesting opportunity. If I could train him in the Force, he would be a powerful apprentice and ally against Malak. We could avenge Revan.
'But how did the Jedi not sense this power? How isn't anyone?' These were my questions.
"Y-You have 'Deadeye' Duncan and Gerlon 'Two-Fingers', wh-who you just saw fi-fight; then you ha-ha-have M-Marl, Ice an-and Twitch." Keeping up the facade of a stammering and pathetic man, I started to explain the fighters.
"Twitch?" Delaan's head tilted slightly, not at all bothered by my stuttering, that thought of him seeing through my disguise was there, but I had to continue now that I was walking down that road.
"I-If you meet him, t-then you s-see."
"Dunc-can is n-not g-great. He has g-gone through fifty-three? Fifty-four? Cons-s-secutive losses. Gerlon is an-an average f-f-fight-ter. Ice is-is an ice que-queen in all-all as-as-aspects. M-Marl has been in-in the a-arena for tw-twenty years, yo-you could talk to him for mo-more?" I shrugged my shoulders with a small smile, hopefully, innocent and not grimacing.
'Delaan' simply gave a teeth-filled smirk, and with a simple hard clap on my shoulder - which I gave a small yelp for - Delaan stood up and walked towards the competitors of the arena. 'Rekas' looked back between 'Delaan' and I for a few seconds, looking comically himself, only to end up chasing after his fellow soldier.
The two argued quietly, so as to not gather attention to themselves, but it was too late. They had my attention.
They needed to escape, I needed to kill Malak.
It would be perfect.
'Rekas' walked back over and slumped into his chair, actually appearing like a civilian. The great sigh wandered out of his lips as a hand reached across his face.
"W-What wron-ong?" I asked.
"It seems, Delaan wants to have a go at being a gladiator." He groaned.
I simply turned to look at the screen, not even ten minutes before the next fight began.
"Ladies and gentlemen, draw your eyes to the centre ring! We have a very special presentation in store for you: You've seen him lose night after night after night. But this time, he's after fresh meat. In this corner, I give you, Deadeye Duncan!" I held my breath, not for Duncan, the old man who would accept reality, but for his opponent who wielded a vibrosword in each hand. "And in this corner, a relative newcomer to the Taris duelling scene. Emerging from the shadows with no history, no past and no name…the Mysterious Stranger!"
With nary a blink, Delaan charged Duncan, who could not even lay the foundations for a defensive stance as the 'Mysterious Stranger' danced around the man, cutting his legs and arms before dropping Duncan with a leg sweep. With such speed and precision in his arsenal, I knew 'Delaan' had to be Force-sensitive, if not trained.
'He has to be!' I pleaded.
"It's over! The fight is over! The Mysterious Stranger has won! But really, are any of us surprised? Deadeye losing isn't news. You have to do better than that to impress us, Stranger!"
Right, how was it? Good, bad? Please review.
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Equalist
Know what you're doing yet?
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Ehh remembering about sith and Revan and not remembering his survival is very convoluted and forced. His journey and the way he shaped galaxy at the time is the main point of Kotor. If you never played it you wouldn't even remember his name as he is random Legend character. And if you played games or read about him its pretty much unforgettable. My point is you either wouldn't know of his existence or importance beyond random sith lord or you would, i don't see how middle ground could exist here.
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D King Hecht
Know what you're doing yet?
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He heavily implied that he knew exactly who 'Delaan' is, but he also knows that currently this is not Revan. He is an entity that can molded.
The Overlord
SCIENCE! both mad, mundane, and perverted
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I Learned about Revan prior to ever playing any games involveing him, there is actually a middle ground as there is more material on him then just the games.
jgwhentworth877
Not too sore, are you?
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The stuttering is a bit much for me, like to the point where I think he has a medical condition instead of just being nervous. Also is he going to be this limp dick for the whole story? I don't understand why anyone would want to read about such a pathetic protagonist. Giving off big soy energy.
The_Exile
Lurker on QQ, Newbie at writing on QQ
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I did write 'Keeping up the facade' as a way to show that he is playing a character that stutters and, is generally, pathetic. He is, at first, taken aback at 'Delaan' and his precence in the Force but he realises his mistake and quickly builds that stuttering, weak man to connect to 'Delaan'.
The_Exile
Lurker on QQ, Newbie at writing on QQ
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I want to say why I did that but I think that might spoil the thing I want to get across, as my own little spin, about someone not from the Star Wars universe starts to use the Dark Side.
K-Ludwig
Getting some practice in, huh?
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This seems interesting. There are far too few Sith protagonists in fiction, and I can barely wait to see how the main character will rise up the ranks, take over the Empire, unite the galaxy under the Sith, and then invade other universes through the Jumpchain. Can you just imagine? In a place like RWBY, he could be seen as a total lunatic or a war hero depending of when and where he appears. Same with most universes, and that could make for a much more interesting story.
A conqueror in his own universe, a liberator in another, a genocidal lunatic in another, a wise mentor in another, etc.
A conqueror in his own universe, a liberator in another, a genocidal lunatic in another, a wise mentor in another, etc.
RikkuEcRud
Experienced.
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The writing is great from a technical standpoint, but I've yet to decide if I'm really interested in the direction the story is going. A fallen Jedi who backstabs his Sith master to go join the protagonists seems like an interesting setup, but I'm not particularly interested in a character who is actually evil, so I guess I need to read more before deciding if this is for me.
Castin Madell
The_Exile
Lurker on QQ, Newbie at writing on QQ
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Name: Castin Madell
Age: 18 (as of Prologue - Part 1), 22 (as of Taris - Part 1)
Born: 3,978 BBY
Birth Planet: Coruscant
Lightsaber Forms:
Age: 18 (as of Prologue - Part 1), 22 (as of Taris - Part 1)
Born: 3,978 BBY
Birth Planet: Coruscant
Lightsaber Forms:
- Form VI - Niman: Hybrid style form of Shii-Cho, Makashi, Soresu, Ataru and Shien/Djem So. No strengths, no weaknesses. An embodiment of the saying 'A jack of all trades is a master of none, but oftentimes better than a master of one'. Mixes in force abilities to fill in the gaps that a specialist of one form would not have.
- Form VII - Juyo (Vaapad Variant): Due to the 'Cold Blood' blade point in the Furious Style, Castin's Form VII resembles the Vaapad variant. An aggressive style that throws unpredictable strikes in any direction, at a tempo of your choosing with power and speed behind them, capable of breaking through a perfect Soresu defence. One weakness, however, is the form offers no defence if your opponent uses the Force against you. Combing the darkness within oneself and your opponent's, adding the power and energy from their strikes into your own, creating a loop where the opponent essentially fights themselves. (A/N: I think that's correct)
- Force Stasis: A Force Power that allows the user to temporarily stun organic creatures by b trapping them in non-lethal energy fields. This power will only keep foes trapped for a few seconds, but you can improve its length with practice.
- Force Heal: A Force power that rapidly accelerates the natural healing process. It can be used to mend injuries and cure diseases.
- Telepathy: You can communicate across large distances with your mind.
- Force Barrier: Defensive technique composed of Force energy, used to block out any potentially deadly elements such as environmental hazards or any type of projectiles like blaster fires. Takes the form of a wall or a sphere.
- Advanced Force Push: A Force Push applied with sufficient intensity to lift several men off the ground and throw them over a distance of at least 10 meters, or break down a metal door whose reinforcement is not too strong.
- Force Wave: Same as Advanced Force Push but applied as a multidirectional shock wave that violently impacts any object or person around the user in a radius of between 3 and 5 meters.
- Heavy Telekinesis: Ability to telekinetically lift, throw and manipulate massive objects such as large groups of persons, spaceships, large trees or heavy boulders.Telekinesis: You can manipulate matter and energy with your mind.
- Force Empathy: You can sense the emotions of people and creatures.
- Force Speed: You can use the Force to slow down your perception of time and move at supernatural speeds.
- Battle Precognition: Allows one to sense and foretell the flows of the Force while engaged in battle. Used to predict an opponent's intentions or the trajectory of blaster shots before they are fired. It also amplifies reflexes.
- Farsight: A Force power that allows you to see events from the future, the past, and the present.
- Force Stealth: A Force Power that allows you to hide your presence in the Force, and make yourself less noticeable in crowds.
- Force Sense: Telepathic extension of the user's mind, allowing you to feel the living beings around you - even through the walls - or any movement in a certain radius. Also considerably heightens the five senses.
- Force Sight: Improves your visual and spiritual perception and allows you to see through obstacles like darkness and solid objects.
- Mind Trick: A Force power that allows you to influence the thoughts of sentient creatures
- Force Lightning: Emblematic Sith Force ability, consisting in delivering powerful electrical discharges to a target through the user's fingers. The intensity varies according to many factors, such as the user's talent.
- Advanced Force Lightning: Powerful electric discharge branching out into dozens of smaller forks thus allowing the dark side Force-user to reach multiple targets simultaneously, without any loss of intensity
Original Midichlorian Count: 19,000
New Midichlorian Count: 17,902, after his arm is cut off and eyes are blinded).
New Midichlorian Count: 17,902, after his arm is cut off and eyes are blinded).
Last edited:
Morkail
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Watched its rough but could be quite good, I think the transition from the past to the start of the game should of flashed out his mindset and power set more. He's playing along with his drunk on the dark side master to gain access his collection of Sith text before killing him?
The_Exile
Lurker on QQ, Newbie at writing on QQ
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You pretty much just said my main problem as a writer. I'm not that good, in fact I consider myself terrible.
The transition was just used because I have a hard time staying in a fic without finishing them, and like I said above, I view myself as a pretty crap writer, so I might flesh out the Jedi Civil War, and the protagonist's mindset, once the main bulk of the KOTOR portion is done, and hopefully my skillset as a writer will have increased ny then.
Basically.
Morkail
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Well your actual sat down and wrote something you posted online which makes you better then 90% of the people online. Keep up the good work flaws and all.
that said The MC is being portrayed as the rare force user who can use the dark side with out going crazy or have his flesh start to rot off his body due to dark side corruption which is not the same thing as actual using the dark side. Err sorta different books,story's and game basically change how the dark side works all the time.
Anyway, him be somewhat "sane" and a veteran of 4 years? Of combat I expect a level of bad ass to go long with that tract record hopefully we get to see that in future chapters.
and I relate to not being able to write tried a few times
my self, they were not good lol.
that said The MC is being portrayed as the rare force user who can use the dark side with out going crazy or have his flesh start to rot off his body due to dark side corruption which is not the same thing as actual using the dark side. Err sorta different books,story's and game basically change how the dark side works all the time.
Anyway, him be somewhat "sane" and a veteran of 4 years? Of combat I expect a level of bad ass to go long with that tract record hopefully we get to see that in future chapters.
and I relate to not being able to write tried a few times
my self, they were not good lol.
Midichlorian Count
The_Exile
Lurker on QQ, Newbie at writing on QQ
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Hey so, I did a Midichlorian Count questionnaire that is on YouTube (I'll post a link) just as something to do.
Then I just made it Castin's potential in the Force, minus his left arm and damaged eyes on a whim.
Was wondering if people wanted to see it or not. If not, then just know it is quite high.
If people do want to see it, I will put it on Castin's Info in the Extra category below his Force Abilities list.
Midichlorian Count Quiz:
Then I just made it Castin's potential in the Force, minus his left arm and damaged eyes on a whim.
Was wondering if people wanted to see it or not. If not, then just know it is quite high.
If people do want to see it, I will put it on Castin's Info in the Extra category below his Force Abilities list.
Midichlorian Count Quiz:
D King Hecht
Know what you're doing yet?
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Sure, that would be fine. You can just spoiler it in case some people do not want to look at it.
Taris Part 2 - A Hole of Terror
The_Exile
Lurker on QQ, Newbie at writing on QQ
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"T-That was amazing!" I congratulated Dalaan as he, Rekas and I exited the cantina - with Delaan being several hundred credits richer.
Taris' sky had turned yellow and orange on the horizon - past the buildings, platforms and ships was a sky that was picturesque. If only the underlying resentment didn't dirty the scene. Coruscant overlayed the sight: same smell, same skylight, and the poor being driven into the lower and under cities, with the only stark difference between the two was the resounding xenophobia across Taris, but it was especially focused in the capital city. Another showing of Malak's weakness, letting the worst of ideals spawn inside his military - depriving the Empire of fewer soldiers, engineers and doctors.
Delaan simply shook his head to my praise. "It wasn't anything special, Relis."
I couldn't help but agree with him. Duncan and the preceding fight against Gerlon were almost comical to watch, as Delaan dismantled the two with seemingly no effort. Though from what I sensed, Delaan felt great shame at his actions.
'Why feel shame?' I wondered, it eluded me then; after all, Delaan was strong, in the Force and in body, and proved that superiority against those fighters. To feel shame in his victory was nonsensical to me.
After all, victory was the ultimate reward in conflicts. You survived, your opponent didn't. A simple law of life.
Memories of Felucia sprung to mind; the humidity, the mud, the strange plant life and the natives.
The blue pools were numerous - colouring the village in their viscous forms.
I tried to talk to them, tried to reason with them, tried to ask for help. They would not speak, they would not listen and they did not give their hand to help but their weapons to kill.
My thoughts were cut short as my communicator. The familiar beeps and pauses forced a frown on my face.
Master Zavros was recalling me.
Pulling the frown away and pushing the meek composure back to the forefront, I spoke to the two Republic soldiers. "S-Sorry, De-Delaan, Rekas, I-I need to le-eave."
Delaan gave a wave. "No problem, my friend. Hope your day is well, oh, and thank you for your help today."
Giving a nod, and after receiving one in response from Rekas, I hurried over the bridge, passed the shop, and charged back to the Sith Base. Once I was out of sight, I pulled the Force around me once again, warping light like a cloak to appear as nothing more than a shimmering, transparent fluid.
Master Zavros contacting me out of the blue wasn't common, only absolute emergencies were the reason; search for a spy that sent information to the enemy, a battle that had turned to the Republic's favour, siege a base that needed conquering, reinforce a position that needed defending and many more.
So it was an eyebrow raiser when I felt Master Zavros' aura building in rage as I got closer to the base as if he were an industrial pipe that was blocked and the metal was rupturing under the pressure. Zavros had never felt this way before when I was recalled for an emergency - more akin to a fireplace that was slowly being grown via wood pieces and oil, little by little until it became an avalanche of power and hate.
The entrance was a curious sight; the secretary, the officers, the soldiers - Force, even the droids were all on edge, seemingly sensing Master Zavros' rage despite not one of them being Force-sensitive or not even made of flesh and bone. Passing them by without a word, the rest of the base wasn't much better - in fact, it was worse. Each person was in a certain stage: the entrance was on edge, the hallway inhabitants were twitching as if expecting to defend their lives, and the barracks and armoury were practically in shambles with soldiers and engineers nearly coming to blows just to alleviate the terror that permitted the base.
Taking a quick detour to enter my chambers, undress, shower and put on clothes that were more appropriate for an apprentice, before following the uneasy line of personnel. I was eventually led to the training room like a breadcrumb trail. The guards weren't responsive, near death but clinging on to life through sheer discipline and will, I knelt down and placed a hand on each guard's chest - coercing the Force into healing them.
The pair groaned, and to my self-disgust, I felt sympathy for them. Some part of me still clung to compassion, even if it was exclusive to the men and women who served under my command - they did not deserve the wrath of Master Zavros, did not deserve death.
I think, deep down, I did not believe in Zavros' teachings, after all, both the Sith and Jedi claim that you need to let go to achieve perfection in some way: the Jedi saying that you need to let go of attachments to be a great peacekeeper for the Republic; while the Sith claim you need to let go of attachments to achieve unlimited power for one's own benefit and power.
Sith, the perfect individual but always alone.
Jedi, the perfect collective but would always be cut off from the rest of the universe in a way.
Blue skin replaced the shine of metal, Felucians lay below me - unmoving with deep blue pools
Bringing myself back to the present, I let go of the soldier's chests and looked towards the room behind the door. I could feel the slimy presence of Master Zavros but someone else as well. A matchstick compared to my star, but a twin to Zavros.
'Ah.' I realised. 'It seems I played my role a little too well.'
Entering the room, I spotted Master Zavros with his unforgettable robes and armour, standing in the middle - back straight and facing towards me - and by him was a human, covered in a mixture of robes and glinting armour, with his hands gripping a weapon uncommon only to a few - the Force-sensitive that hadn't proven themselves to the Lords. A double-bladed vibrosword.
"Ah, Nekorian."
That was all the confirmation I needed.
'Not 'apprentice' then, guess he has found what he thinks is a replacement for his 'weak' apprentice.'
Bowing, I greeted Zavros. "Master, what is thy bidding?"
"Bidding?!" An eyebrow was clearly raised as he parroted my question with rabid anger. "My bidding is for you to arrive when I command! My bidding is for you to learn at my feet! My bidding is for you to be obedient!" He was silent for a moment, his aura infecting the area around him, using the Dark Side in the hope that I would show fear, to be cowed by him. "But it seems that you cannot follow these basic commands. Even after all these years." Indicating to the man next to him, Zavros continued. "However, I have found someone better and obedient."
He was goading me, I knew that, Zavros thought I was still the same apprentice that hadn't moved past being a Jedi, still being held by the laws of the High Council and the Republic. He wasn't completely wrong, I hadn't given myself fully to the Dark Side, even during the worst of the 'Jedi Civil War' - those who could not fight back were spared: civilians, children, workers and the injured; I did not participate in torture and my enemies were killed in the passion of conflict, not when it suited me.
Zavros' anger was indeed a sight to behold, but I had been in contact with Malak and even Lord Revan's aura. To them, Zavros was nothing - but my Master made a mistake, when he released his anger into the surroundings, it allowed anyone who could withstand the pressure, to peer into the deep recess of his mind. In the beginning, Zavros did frighten me, after all, he was a follower of the Dark Side, those who the Jedi Masters would always publicly denounce as monsters and killers - but it was only after my first
With my lips curled a half-centimetre, I could see through Zavros' entire being as if he were transparent. The childish wrath was built on the back of petty jealousy and frustration with the Jedi Order, and the Republic. Sensing that wasn't all, I swam deeper, finding more of his past; the Mandalorian Wars, his fellow Jedi slaughtered around him, with memories of their cries of pain and suffering always replaying in his mind, and, of course, the looks and words spoken behind his back about his apprentice
About me.
'Ah!' A quarter centimetre was added to my smirk. 'I guess my dear Master Zavros cares what people think about him.'
Zavros was embarrassed to have me as an apprentice. The snide comments about how he couldn't train someone properly, do his job correctly, the fear of losing his standing with Lord Revan, and now with Malak.
"Kinorr, kill him," Zavros ordered.
Without even a word or hesitation, Kinorr proved Zavros right. He was indeed obedient - a dog that attacked at his Master's call.
I blinked and Zavros' new prospective apprentice was only halfway to my position - and I couldn't stop the disappointment that rose. As Kinorr thrusted one half of his sword, I waved a hand - pushing the blade to the side and sweeping a leg towards his ankles. The prospective apprentice hoped and curled the double blade around his body to attempt another thrust with the other end.
His strike stopped and Kinorr's body was engulfed in a field powered by the Force - while Kinorr's face was like the ice blocks of Hoth, his feelings were akin to the fires of Mustafar - loud and roaring.
This new 'apprentice' could not stop me from pushing him towards the wall. A loud hybrid of metal and flesh smacking against the back of the room reminded me of a Trandoshan's shrieks - hissing mixed with deep bass.
Fingers flinched, an eyebrow twitched and before I could stop it, the stasis field dropped.
Immediately directing him towards another wall - where another smack awaited the would-be apprentice - I winced as his bones cracked like sticks that had been snapped in half by a rancor, but I could not let that stop me. I needed to play my part and please Zavros - to still have a chance to steal his knowledge. For he was unworthy of such power.
Delivering Kinorr to a different wall, then another, then another. Once the fourth smack reverberated through the room, I could have never dropped him fast enough at Zavros' feet. I imagine, from an outsider's point of view, it looked like I was giving a piece of food to the beast at the top of the food chain as appeasement.
Each impact felt…difficult and it took too much effort to hold the mask over my emotions. Even now I could see the future that could have been. Kinorr was to be my rival for Master Zavros' attention and apprenticeship. Fighting like Rakghouls over some scraps while the leader watched on as he had the pick of the pile. Days would go by while Savros would pit us against each other. Forcing one to kill the other.
His jealousy would strengthen him and Kivorr would reach a height of power he would never have even dreamed of. Only for his story to be cut short.
By me, or by…
The vision shifted, mud mixed into the stream of the Cosmic Force and another person joined the list of Kinorr's demise.
'By…someone else? Bastila?' I saw her, standing with her double-bladed lightsaber in hand, shining a fierce yellow that encapsulated her being.
I could see it again, feel it again. The itch had returned, her stony glare judging me from above at my curled-up body, clutching at my armless stump. Tears streamed down as Master Milanar - a Cathar Jedi that reached his elder years - simply sauntered over and heaved me to my feet. No words were born as the Cathar coldly dragged me to the medical centre - dumping me on a bed before leaving.
The vision shifted once more.
'...and…Delaan?'
My new acquaintance stood next to her, vibroblade in each hand, stained with Kinorr's blood. Sweat cascaded down his face, clothing torn and ripped as if someone took a blade and attempted to cut him one thousand times.
Inside this room, Kinorr will die, but not by my hand - but by Delaan and Bastila.
"Enough!" Zavros snarled and you were brought back to the present. "It seems someone has been holding back, apprentice." The Togruta's strain at his acknowledgement of your title almost created a smile on your face. "Take him to the medical facility." Master pointed to the downed Force-sensitive with a grimace. "The new governor of Taris will need to be in shape to rule over the planet once we've departed."
Zavros then left, his aura now receding back into himself, freeing the base from his wrath.
I couldn't help but sigh, not in relief, but in exasperation. Master Zavros sounded fond of the new governor, a fatal mistake on his part.
'I expected more, Zavros.'
My smile was allowed to reveal itself, Zavros was looking to replace me but had no appropriate reason to.
Completing the objective given to me and handing Kinorr to the medical team - who looked close to collapsing from adrenaline overdose - with a simple command of 'fix him'. I found myself in my quarters to take another quick clean in the sonic shower before I fell into the skin-irritating covers of my bedding.
It was some time before I could finally find a comfortable enough position to allow sleep to embrace me.
My eyes creaked open with the sight of a familiar interior - belonging to a Hammerhead Class Cruiser - I stood still, staring at the memory of Zesh and the me that was once known as Castin, sparring. Away from the ship's officers and soldiers so we could practise in peace.
I had wanted to show Zesh a new technique, one that took me some time to get used to - but one I knew for sure would impress him.
Looking on as the past me moved to attack, combining the footwork of Form II and the aggressive strikes of Form V, striking with strong and fast manoeuvres that aimed for Zesh's shoulder, legs and pelvis, spinning the blade effortlessly with the Force thanks to years of practice, becoming a whirlwind of green - this was matched and surpassed by Asaak's mastery of Form III. His blade of yellow blocked and parried my two green blades with skill that had been honed by decades of training. Even when past me incorporated tràkata, a technique in which a duelist would switch off their lightsaber mid-combat to catch an opponent off-guard - Asaak was still in complete control of the duel despite this. Battering away every thrust and cleave, and practically skipping past the emerald blades to stun my extremities.
Master Zesh suddenly stopped, stepped back and extinguished his lightsaber - past me doing the same.
"Okay, I think that'll be enough for today," Zesh called out, walking forward to press a hand on my shoulder, uncaring of the sweat that erupted from every pore on my skin.
I scowled, confident that the memory would play out just as I remembered - Zesh would scold me right then, claiming that I had used a technique that was 'unbecoming of a Jedi' and that it would lead to the Dark Side to want to win, to defeat your opponent in such an uncivilised manner.
"That was good, Castin. I didn't know you practised tràkata." Zesh scowled, a vein almost popping at the side of his neck.
I blinked. The words did not match the movement of his mouth, the tone did not match the visual of anger on his face.
Around me, the memory became distorted as if looking through the morphed and skewed lensing of a black hole.
"Sorry, Master. I wanted it to be a surprise." My words were filled with a hint of embarrassment, but overcome with satisfaction and happiness, and yet, even my speech didn't match my mumbling and I cowed before Zesh - his kind words somehow causing my younger self to almost curl into a standing ball, as if I were a rat hoping to appease a greater beast.
"It's fine, young one." Zesh glowered, his maw stretching to roar - with it opening and closing in rapid succession after Asaak's voice halted. The Togruta then shot his arm to the side, pointing towards the door. "Why don't you have a shower then go help the soldiers with the supplies? We seem to have an overplus and the captain wants to divide them equally amongst the different destinations."
I obeyed happily to the Togruta's informal command, though my head bobbed timidly. "Yes, Master Zesh!"
"What…What is going on?" The current me asked, lips turning dry as my tongue flicked out as if I were a snake.
The answer wasn't given, so I asked again, demanding the dream - and the Force - why I was being shown a contradictory memory. I knew my Master punished me.
"He did." I nodded to confirm my own hypothesis, certain that some semblance of regret had survived that day on Korriban. "Let him go." The order seemed to echo within my head.
Everything went still: the sounds, the lights, hyperspace, Zesh, past me and even the small fly in the room's corner - all held in time.
The water turned to ice in my body, encasing me in the frozen liquid, and condensation formed in quick beats that followed my heartbeat.
Then they stretched. Zesh and past me were pulled into a point, a hole of darkness that ate everything in its path.
First went the skin, revealing pink and red meat that had pulsated in two beats.
Bump-bump!
Bump-bump!
Bump-bump!
It took me more than a few moments to realise it was my heart. The meat throbbed in tandem with it.
The flesh went next, tearing and spinning into the black hole - the terrifying force of nature grew with each pound of skin and flesh that was gulped in two. Slowly engulfing the area in its overwhelming hunger.
Once the flesh was ripped, leaving the skeleton bare, then was the hole big enough to see.
To feel.
To cry.
Two pinpricks of light shone through the hole.
And I was grabbed by tentacles that dragged me towards the pins of light.
To death.
To chaos.
A small roar of fear leapt from my mouth. Adrenaline raged through my body. Water lathered my bedding.
Stumbling to my feet, I scanned left and right, lightsaber called to my hands - with the hilt nearly slipping through my palms due to the sweat. The twin red blades illuminated the room only to reveal nothing: no Hammerhead Class Cruiser, no Asaak Zesh, no lightsaber spar, no hyperspace, no black hole and no terror incarnate.
I collapsed to my knees, and the acid that was rumbling inside my stomach clawed its way upwards - spilling onto the floor like a geyser.
"W-What…what in the Force was that?!"
Thoughts?
Taris' sky had turned yellow and orange on the horizon - past the buildings, platforms and ships was a sky that was picturesque. If only the underlying resentment didn't dirty the scene. Coruscant overlayed the sight: same smell, same skylight, and the poor being driven into the lower and under cities, with the only stark difference between the two was the resounding xenophobia across Taris, but it was especially focused in the capital city. Another showing of Malak's weakness, letting the worst of ideals spawn inside his military - depriving the Empire of fewer soldiers, engineers and doctors.
Delaan simply shook his head to my praise. "It wasn't anything special, Relis."
I couldn't help but agree with him. Duncan and the preceding fight against Gerlon were almost comical to watch, as Delaan dismantled the two with seemingly no effort. Though from what I sensed, Delaan felt great shame at his actions.
'Why feel shame?' I wondered, it eluded me then; after all, Delaan was strong, in the Force and in body, and proved that superiority against those fighters. To feel shame in his victory was nonsensical to me.
After all, victory was the ultimate reward in conflicts. You survived, your opponent didn't. A simple law of life.
Memories of Felucia sprung to mind; the humidity, the mud, the strange plant life and the natives.
The blue pools were numerous - colouring the village in their viscous forms.
I tried to talk to them, tried to reason with them, tried to ask for help. They would not speak, they would not listen and they did not give their hand to help but their weapons to kill.
My thoughts were cut short as my communicator. The familiar beeps and pauses forced a frown on my face.
Master Zavros was recalling me.
Pulling the frown away and pushing the meek composure back to the forefront, I spoke to the two Republic soldiers. "S-Sorry, De-Delaan, Rekas, I-I need to le-eave."
Delaan gave a wave. "No problem, my friend. Hope your day is well, oh, and thank you for your help today."
Giving a nod, and after receiving one in response from Rekas, I hurried over the bridge, passed the shop, and charged back to the Sith Base. Once I was out of sight, I pulled the Force around me once again, warping light like a cloak to appear as nothing more than a shimmering, transparent fluid.
Master Zavros contacting me out of the blue wasn't common, only absolute emergencies were the reason; search for a spy that sent information to the enemy, a battle that had turned to the Republic's favour, siege a base that needed conquering, reinforce a position that needed defending and many more.
So it was an eyebrow raiser when I felt Master Zavros' aura building in rage as I got closer to the base as if he were an industrial pipe that was blocked and the metal was rupturing under the pressure. Zavros had never felt this way before when I was recalled for an emergency - more akin to a fireplace that was slowly being grown via wood pieces and oil, little by little until it became an avalanche of power and hate.
The entrance was a curious sight; the secretary, the officers, the soldiers - Force, even the droids were all on edge, seemingly sensing Master Zavros' rage despite not one of them being Force-sensitive or not even made of flesh and bone. Passing them by without a word, the rest of the base wasn't much better - in fact, it was worse. Each person was in a certain stage: the entrance was on edge, the hallway inhabitants were twitching as if expecting to defend their lives, and the barracks and armoury were practically in shambles with soldiers and engineers nearly coming to blows just to alleviate the terror that permitted the base.
Taking a quick detour to enter my chambers, undress, shower and put on clothes that were more appropriate for an apprentice, before following the uneasy line of personnel. I was eventually led to the training room like a breadcrumb trail. The guards weren't responsive, near death but clinging on to life through sheer discipline and will, I knelt down and placed a hand on each guard's chest - coercing the Force into healing them.
The pair groaned, and to my self-disgust, I felt sympathy for them. Some part of me still clung to compassion, even if it was exclusive to the men and women who served under my command - they did not deserve the wrath of Master Zavros, did not deserve death.
I think, deep down, I did not believe in Zavros' teachings, after all, both the Sith and Jedi claim that you need to let go to achieve perfection in some way: the Jedi saying that you need to let go of attachments to be a great peacekeeper for the Republic; while the Sith claim you need to let go of attachments to achieve unlimited power for one's own benefit and power.
Sith, the perfect individual but always alone.
Jedi, the perfect collective but would always be cut off from the rest of the universe in a way.
Blue skin replaced the shine of metal, Felucians lay below me - unmoving with deep blue pools
Bringing myself back to the present, I let go of the soldier's chests and looked towards the room behind the door. I could feel the slimy presence of Master Zavros but someone else as well. A matchstick compared to my star, but a twin to Zavros.
'Ah.' I realised. 'It seems I played my role a little too well.'
Entering the room, I spotted Master Zavros with his unforgettable robes and armour, standing in the middle - back straight and facing towards me - and by him was a human, covered in a mixture of robes and glinting armour, with his hands gripping a weapon uncommon only to a few - the Force-sensitive that hadn't proven themselves to the Lords. A double-bladed vibrosword.
"Ah, Nekorian."
That was all the confirmation I needed.
'Not 'apprentice' then, guess he has found what he thinks is a replacement for his 'weak' apprentice.'
Bowing, I greeted Zavros. "Master, what is thy bidding?"
"Bidding?!" An eyebrow was clearly raised as he parroted my question with rabid anger. "My bidding is for you to arrive when I command! My bidding is for you to learn at my feet! My bidding is for you to be obedient!" He was silent for a moment, his aura infecting the area around him, using the Dark Side in the hope that I would show fear, to be cowed by him. "But it seems that you cannot follow these basic commands. Even after all these years." Indicating to the man next to him, Zavros continued. "However, I have found someone better and obedient."
He was goading me, I knew that, Zavros thought I was still the same apprentice that hadn't moved past being a Jedi, still being held by the laws of the High Council and the Republic. He wasn't completely wrong, I hadn't given myself fully to the Dark Side, even during the worst of the 'Jedi Civil War' - those who could not fight back were spared: civilians, children, workers and the injured; I did not participate in torture and my enemies were killed in the passion of conflict, not when it suited me.
Zavros' anger was indeed a sight to behold, but I had been in contact with Malak and even Lord Revan's aura. To them, Zavros was nothing - but my Master made a mistake, when he released his anger into the surroundings, it allowed anyone who could withstand the pressure, to peer into the deep recess of his mind. In the beginning, Zavros did frighten me, after all, he was a follower of the Dark Side, those who the Jedi Masters would always publicly denounce as monsters and killers - but it was only after my first
With my lips curled a half-centimetre, I could see through Zavros' entire being as if he were transparent. The childish wrath was built on the back of petty jealousy and frustration with the Jedi Order, and the Republic. Sensing that wasn't all, I swam deeper, finding more of his past; the Mandalorian Wars, his fellow Jedi slaughtered around him, with memories of their cries of pain and suffering always replaying in his mind, and, of course, the looks and words spoken behind his back about his apprentice
About me.
'Ah!' A quarter centimetre was added to my smirk. 'I guess my dear Master Zavros cares what people think about him.'
Zavros was embarrassed to have me as an apprentice. The snide comments about how he couldn't train someone properly, do his job correctly, the fear of losing his standing with Lord Revan, and now with Malak.
"Kinorr, kill him," Zavros ordered.
Without even a word or hesitation, Kinorr proved Zavros right. He was indeed obedient - a dog that attacked at his Master's call.
I blinked and Zavros' new prospective apprentice was only halfway to my position - and I couldn't stop the disappointment that rose. As Kinorr thrusted one half of his sword, I waved a hand - pushing the blade to the side and sweeping a leg towards his ankles. The prospective apprentice hoped and curled the double blade around his body to attempt another thrust with the other end.
His strike stopped and Kinorr's body was engulfed in a field powered by the Force - while Kinorr's face was like the ice blocks of Hoth, his feelings were akin to the fires of Mustafar - loud and roaring.
This new 'apprentice' could not stop me from pushing him towards the wall. A loud hybrid of metal and flesh smacking against the back of the room reminded me of a Trandoshan's shrieks - hissing mixed with deep bass.
Fingers flinched, an eyebrow twitched and before I could stop it, the stasis field dropped.
Immediately directing him towards another wall - where another smack awaited the would-be apprentice - I winced as his bones cracked like sticks that had been snapped in half by a rancor, but I could not let that stop me. I needed to play my part and please Zavros - to still have a chance to steal his knowledge. For he was unworthy of such power.
Delivering Kinorr to a different wall, then another, then another. Once the fourth smack reverberated through the room, I could have never dropped him fast enough at Zavros' feet. I imagine, from an outsider's point of view, it looked like I was giving a piece of food to the beast at the top of the food chain as appeasement.
Each impact felt…difficult and it took too much effort to hold the mask over my emotions. Even now I could see the future that could have been. Kinorr was to be my rival for Master Zavros' attention and apprenticeship. Fighting like Rakghouls over some scraps while the leader watched on as he had the pick of the pile. Days would go by while Savros would pit us against each other. Forcing one to kill the other.
His jealousy would strengthen him and Kivorr would reach a height of power he would never have even dreamed of. Only for his story to be cut short.
By me, or by…
The vision shifted, mud mixed into the stream of the Cosmic Force and another person joined the list of Kinorr's demise.
'By…someone else? Bastila?' I saw her, standing with her double-bladed lightsaber in hand, shining a fierce yellow that encapsulated her being.
I could see it again, feel it again. The itch had returned, her stony glare judging me from above at my curled-up body, clutching at my armless stump. Tears streamed down as Master Milanar - a Cathar Jedi that reached his elder years - simply sauntered over and heaved me to my feet. No words were born as the Cathar coldly dragged me to the medical centre - dumping me on a bed before leaving.
The vision shifted once more.
'...and…Delaan?'
My new acquaintance stood next to her, vibroblade in each hand, stained with Kinorr's blood. Sweat cascaded down his face, clothing torn and ripped as if someone took a blade and attempted to cut him one thousand times.
Inside this room, Kinorr will die, but not by my hand - but by Delaan and Bastila.
"Enough!" Zavros snarled and you were brought back to the present. "It seems someone has been holding back, apprentice." The Togruta's strain at his acknowledgement of your title almost created a smile on your face. "Take him to the medical facility." Master pointed to the downed Force-sensitive with a grimace. "The new governor of Taris will need to be in shape to rule over the planet once we've departed."
Zavros then left, his aura now receding back into himself, freeing the base from his wrath.
I couldn't help but sigh, not in relief, but in exasperation. Master Zavros sounded fond of the new governor, a fatal mistake on his part.
'I expected more, Zavros.'
My smile was allowed to reveal itself, Zavros was looking to replace me but had no appropriate reason to.
Completing the objective given to me and handing Kinorr to the medical team - who looked close to collapsing from adrenaline overdose - with a simple command of 'fix him'. I found myself in my quarters to take another quick clean in the sonic shower before I fell into the skin-irritating covers of my bedding.
It was some time before I could finally find a comfortable enough position to allow sleep to embrace me.
My eyes creaked open with the sight of a familiar interior - belonging to a Hammerhead Class Cruiser - I stood still, staring at the memory of Zesh and the me that was once known as Castin, sparring. Away from the ship's officers and soldiers so we could practise in peace.
I had wanted to show Zesh a new technique, one that took me some time to get used to - but one I knew for sure would impress him.
Looking on as the past me moved to attack, combining the footwork of Form II and the aggressive strikes of Form V, striking with strong and fast manoeuvres that aimed for Zesh's shoulder, legs and pelvis, spinning the blade effortlessly with the Force thanks to years of practice, becoming a whirlwind of green - this was matched and surpassed by Asaak's mastery of Form III. His blade of yellow blocked and parried my two green blades with skill that had been honed by decades of training. Even when past me incorporated tràkata, a technique in which a duelist would switch off their lightsaber mid-combat to catch an opponent off-guard - Asaak was still in complete control of the duel despite this. Battering away every thrust and cleave, and practically skipping past the emerald blades to stun my extremities.
Master Zesh suddenly stopped, stepped back and extinguished his lightsaber - past me doing the same.
"Okay, I think that'll be enough for today," Zesh called out, walking forward to press a hand on my shoulder, uncaring of the sweat that erupted from every pore on my skin.
I scowled, confident that the memory would play out just as I remembered - Zesh would scold me right then, claiming that I had used a technique that was 'unbecoming of a Jedi' and that it would lead to the Dark Side to want to win, to defeat your opponent in such an uncivilised manner.
"That was good, Castin. I didn't know you practised tràkata." Zesh scowled, a vein almost popping at the side of his neck.
I blinked. The words did not match the movement of his mouth, the tone did not match the visual of anger on his face.
Around me, the memory became distorted as if looking through the morphed and skewed lensing of a black hole.
"Sorry, Master. I wanted it to be a surprise." My words were filled with a hint of embarrassment, but overcome with satisfaction and happiness, and yet, even my speech didn't match my mumbling and I cowed before Zesh - his kind words somehow causing my younger self to almost curl into a standing ball, as if I were a rat hoping to appease a greater beast.
"It's fine, young one." Zesh glowered, his maw stretching to roar - with it opening and closing in rapid succession after Asaak's voice halted. The Togruta then shot his arm to the side, pointing towards the door. "Why don't you have a shower then go help the soldiers with the supplies? We seem to have an overplus and the captain wants to divide them equally amongst the different destinations."
I obeyed happily to the Togruta's informal command, though my head bobbed timidly. "Yes, Master Zesh!"
"What…What is going on?" The current me asked, lips turning dry as my tongue flicked out as if I were a snake.
The answer wasn't given, so I asked again, demanding the dream - and the Force - why I was being shown a contradictory memory. I knew my Master punished me.
"He did." I nodded to confirm my own hypothesis, certain that some semblance of regret had survived that day on Korriban. "Let him go." The order seemed to echo within my head.
Everything went still: the sounds, the lights, hyperspace, Zesh, past me and even the small fly in the room's corner - all held in time.
The water turned to ice in my body, encasing me in the frozen liquid, and condensation formed in quick beats that followed my heartbeat.
Then they stretched. Zesh and past me were pulled into a point, a hole of darkness that ate everything in its path.
First went the skin, revealing pink and red meat that had pulsated in two beats.
Bump-bump!
Bump-bump!
Bump-bump!
It took me more than a few moments to realise it was my heart. The meat throbbed in tandem with it.
The flesh went next, tearing and spinning into the black hole - the terrifying force of nature grew with each pound of skin and flesh that was gulped in two. Slowly engulfing the area in its overwhelming hunger.
Once the flesh was ripped, leaving the skeleton bare, then was the hole big enough to see.
To feel.
To cry.
Two pinpricks of light shone through the hole.
And I was grabbed by tentacles that dragged me towards the pins of light.
To death.
To chaos.
A small roar of fear leapt from my mouth. Adrenaline raged through my body. Water lathered my bedding.
Stumbling to my feet, I scanned left and right, lightsaber called to my hands - with the hilt nearly slipping through my palms due to the sweat. The twin red blades illuminated the room only to reveal nothing: no Hammerhead Class Cruiser, no Asaak Zesh, no lightsaber spar, no hyperspace, no black hole and no terror incarnate.
I collapsed to my knees, and the acid that was rumbling inside my stomach clawed its way upwards - spilling onto the floor like a geyser.
"W-What…what in the Force was that?!"
Thoughts?
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Vacivus
Know what you're doing yet?
- Joined
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Reminds me of the dream Revan wakes up with on this planet. Changes are weird though. Interesting that Bastilla was the one to cut off his arm, I'm sure THAT'S going to come up later. Sounds like they're leaving taris before they can meet though - wonder if our mc heard anything about bastille being on the ship that got taken down?
Loving the concept, but am curious just how much the paths are going to cross if he's going to be following his master for a while.
Loving the concept, but am curious just how much the paths are going to cross if he's going to be following his master for a while.
Gregory Crey
Magic is of wonder and terror. Life is so magical.
- Joined
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The amnesia and memory loss are growing tiring. Please let this be explained soon, I am not liking this mystery plot device.
Edit: Oh crap, I forgot to check the date of the last post. Still, it is within one month I think. Either way, sorry everyone!
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