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Backstory The Rise of Aaric Tritum (Training Journey Chronicles)

Leo Gorgano Tritum

Active member
(This thread is simply to put my entire training journey in the FB group from Acolyte to Knight into a more narrative form. It will combine all the text from related facebook posts with some minor editing to make for a smoother reading. Enjoy!)
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The Path to Vengeance
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Theme Music:
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=dmcKBsJ5-GY&list=PL5n4nHJVIy2Z8PHCqYgKIjVSV6drkcFdK&index=10
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IC: Aaric Etherall Tritum, Acolyte of Vengeance
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156ABYMecrosa Order's Hidden Chambers
House Mecetti Palace
Nyssa, Tapani Sector, Federation space

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In a dark hall, lit only by brands of violet flame, Aaric Etherall Tritum knelt before the current high lord of House Mecetti. Just days before, he had sought permission from the leader of his house to train and further hone the arts of the dark side by attending the Sith Empire's Korriban Academy. Now, surrounded by his fellow members of the secretive Mecrosa Order, he was finally granted leave.

"The decreed hour is come." The high lord's voice boomed from the stone throne of which he sat. "Set forth with the blessings of House Mecetti, Aaric Etherall Tritum. Take your leave and go. May the dark side guide your path."

Aaric rose to his feet and bowed in respect. "Thank you, high lord."

"Remember," The high lord added. "wheresoever you should go, the line of your father and the pride of House Mecetti goes with you."

The mention of his father caused him to clench his fist and twitch in annoyance; something which did not go unnoticed by the current high lord. Tritum XI: The previous Mecetti high lord of many millennia past. His father, his torturer, the object of his hatred. The man who froze him in carbonite in fear of his life for executing his mother for treason.

Oh how he longed to kill his father with his own bare hands! But now he had to live with the fact that he was gone. Having lived a full life while his disavowed son suffered, frozen under the bowels of the palace. It was the one thing he could never forgive himself for. At least house Pelagia still remained... the Jedi-loving scum who cast out his mother simply by association with Tritum XI. He vowed to turn his entire focus into its utter destruction.

"Tritum XI may be gone, but he lives on in your name." The high lord continued. "Hate it if you wish... It will not change the fact that you are undoubtedly his son. That hate will drive you toward your goals, as long as you can control it."

"Prove your power and influence within the Empire; earn your knighthood, then come back to us covertly. From there, the path to House Pelagia's destruction will be at hand. And you will finally know... peace."

Aaric steeled his gaze. "I will not let you down, high lord. I shall return with my chains broken. House Pelagia will crash and burn together with the Federation!"

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Days later...
Sith Academy, Korriban


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The scion of the house Mecetti found himself on an imperial shuttle bound towards the direction of the Sith Academy. It had taken a while, but he finally managed to cross the volatile border from the Federation to the Empire and subsequently picked up by an Imperial welcome party.

Once the shuttle touched down, the Sith acolyte made his way down the ramp accompanied by a pair of troopers. As the cold winds of the planet blasted against his skin and clothes, he marveled at the sight of the Sith Academy, gigantic and foreboding, surrounded by statues of Sith Lords centuries past and banners of the Sith Empire. He could sense the dark force energy saturate the immediate area and relished in it. This, he thought, will be the first step to his ascension as Sith and in service to the Mecrosa Order!

As the soldiers and shuttle left, his stupor was broken, by another voice.

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"At last you've arrived! There is much for you to do and every moment is critical." A tall and lean man, strode towards him, back straight and at attention with dark skin contrasted by short grey hair. Wrinkles could be seen on his face, but Aaric could tell that his demeanor exuded wisdom and experience. "I am an overseer, one of the Sith Academy's staff and posted to house Vassago."

Aaric dipped his head in acknowledgement. "Greetings overseer, I'm..."

"I know who you are acolyte. No need for the formal introductions." The overseer interjected. "You have no need to know mine since I will not be the one administering your trials. I am simply here as a formality to orientate you around the academy."

The acolyte blinked. He was slightly jarred by the way the man brushed him off. However, there was no time to be annoyed. He was no longer a scion of House Mecetti. He was simply another acolyte aspiring for power.

"I see. Thank you overseer." Aaric may have been arrogant, but he knew he had to bow to those above him if he was to advance in the academy. Strength was not everything in the Tapani Sector; it was a combination with guile, wit and skill in politics. He knew it would be the same here at the academy.

"Come, walk with me." It was not a request and Aaric complied, following the weathered Overseer through the main gates. "Your order has seen fit to send the academy administrators your entire profile. Your abilities, skills, strengths... Weaknesses... And so on. Not to worry, I'm sure whoever takes you on as their apprentice will make use of that knowledge to it's fullest extent possible."

Aaric's eyes narrowed. The subtle meaning behind the statement was already glaring enough. He would be tested to his very limits, his weaknesses prodded to test his nature, try to trip him up, get to the heart of who he was. He would be prepared.

"I'm sure you're well aware of the history behind house Vassago?" The overseer continued as they walked. "Unfortunately, you will soon realise that it is the only thing that ties both house Mecetti and Vassago together. Once Vassago was a vassal of Mecetti during it's time in the Tapani sector, now it has become a powerful and influential house within the Sith Empire. So take heed: flaunting your connections to House Mecetti will not make your training any easier nor will it garner you any powerful friends within House Vassago. In fact, it might even make your training that much harder for you."

His eyes narrowed at the revelation. Aaric had hoped his ascension would be a smooth one, but it seemed the will of the force demanded he be tested.

"I understand overseer. Thank you for the warning." Aaric replied. "I have come prepared to not be treated differently from any other acolyte.

The overseer halted abruptly, causing Aaric to stumble a little. His questioning gaze was met by the overseer's deadpan stare. Looking him up and down, he walked around the acolyte as if surveying him.

"Do you now?" The overseer smirked. "Look at yourself. You strut like you own the place, your aristocratic robes and refined mannerisms betray your upbringing to those coming from lesser backgrounds. Just by looking at you I can tell that you subconsciously talk down or patronize others you think are less fortunate than yourself, even if that is not your intention."

The older man's eyes narrowed. "Yes, dear acolyte. You have got a long way to prove that you belong here."

Continuing their walk, the pair eventually reached the main entrance of the academy. As they strode through the dark halls, Aaric was met by hushed whispers and stares of his now fellow academy acolytes. It seemed that he was standing out a little more than he was comfortable with. Perhaps the overseer was right? He would have to find less conspicuous clothing during his training here.

From the corners of his vision, he could make out the knights, lords and darths milling about the academy. None paid attention to him. He was simply an acolyte after all. But he could not shake the feeling that there was at least a pair of eyes on him from somewhere within the shadows of the academy. Finally, they reached the House Vassago barracks.

"You should be aware that House Vassago prides itself on having it's members adhering to a higher standard than the other houses." The overseer explained. "Once they know you're from House Mecetti? The esteemed members of Vassago will most likely judge you harshly... And by harshly I mean fatally."

They reached a small room and the overseer motioned his arm towards it. It was spartan, but had everything essential needed for living within the academy.

"Here is your assigned quarters." He stated. "Until you find a master who is willing to train you personally, feel free to explore the academy at your leisure. I will contact you again when it's time to start your training with the other un-apprenticed acolytes. Otherwise, you will not hear or see me again. Good bye, acolyte."

As the weathered man turned and rounded the corner. Aaric quickly followed suit, fully intent on asking a few questions regarding his stay. But as he rounded the same corner, he was met by nothing but an empty hallway. Mysteriously, his memory of the overseer's face was starting to blur as well. He would not be able to remember what he looked like to try and scour the academy to find him again.

Aaric sighed. It seemed he was alone and free to explore for the moment. Placing his belongings on his bunk, he made left the room and made his way towards the direction of the library with the help of signs dotting the hallway.
 
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Leo Gorgano Tritum

Active member

“You Only Get One First Impression”​

(Becoming an Apprentice)
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156ABY,
Corellia, deep forest

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@Metus
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The acolyte had been summoned; a message sent to him at the Academy on Korriban with coordinates enclosed.

“If you wish to he shown the nature of darkness, hatred and the power they can afford.. Come to me on my home-world of Corellia at these coordinates.”

By the time he’d reach Corellia the last of the days light would be fading from the horizon. If he was as in tune with the force as the Hunter believed, the acolyte shouldn’t have any problem navigating the forest in the dark. All he would have to do is follow the presence that pulled from beyond the shadows.

A member of House Vassago, one with an air of nobility may have been a touch put off by the forest ornaments swinging above his head in the vicious gale blowing through. From the branches hung chandeliers of men dressed only in crude loin cloth. Bundles of corpses in various states of decay, filling the ghastly forest air with the stench of rot and death. The scent growing more powerful the closer the acolyte moved toward a warm amber glow deep behind the trees.

An oppressive aura that burned like a radiant star stretched out to entice the acolyte further in. As Aaric pressed on he would come to a small clearing where a bonfire crackled spitting embers high into the air. Standing there behind the flames stood a figure; shorter than he but an intimidating energy exuded from the man. And despite the fact his face was hidden entirely beneath his hood, Aaric would feel a searing gaze upon him. A low, rich voice flowed from the black space beneath the hood.

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“Acolyte, I’m glad you could make it. Beautiful night, isn’t it?”
Aaric had only been at the academy for a few days at the most. Much of his time there was spent in the Sith library getting himself up to speed on Sith history since the days of Emperor Vitiate's reconstituted Sith Empire. Otherwise, he would be in the training area practising his Makashi and Jar'Kai techniques against the Academy's provided training droids. The overseer that had first brought him into the academy had never contacted him since.

So it was a surprise when the esteemed Dread Knight Metus Aurelius contacted him with coordinates to meet at a designated location at Corellia. Knowing that not just any upper ranking Sith would have called him out to meet in Federation space simply for a wild womp rat chase, the acolyte gathered his belongings and changed to more comfortable travelling gear.

The Mecrosa Order was a Sith sect of force-sensitive spies and assassins. So it was little trouble for Aaric to slip back into Federation space, through Corellian security, into Coronet city and hire a speeder for ride out into the lush countryside. Soon, dusk had taken over and he stopped in front of a forest so thick that his speeder wouldn't be able to continue the journey. So he hid the speeder and continued trudging through the forest on foot.

The initial trudge seemed innocent enough. But Aaric realised more was going on inside the forest as the sounds of nocturnal wildlife slowly began to fade and the leafy trees and shrubbery lost their colour and life. The closer he got to the coordinates, the stronger he felt the familiar pull of the dark side. By then he wasn't looking at his holomap anymore. He simply knew where to go out of pure instinct.

The environment soon gave way to something out of a nightmare. Forest ornaments swinging above his head. From the branches hung chandeliers of men dressed only in crude loin cloth. Bundles of corpses in various states of decay, filling the ghastly forest air with the stench of rot and death. The scent growing more powerful the closer the acolyte moved toward a warm amber glow deep behind the trees.

An oppressive aura that burned like a radiant star stretched out to entice the acolyte further in. As Aaric pressed on he arrived at a small clearing where a bonfire crackled spitting embers high into the air. Standing there behind the flames stood a figure; shorter than he but an intimidating energy exuded from the man. And despite the fact his face was hidden entirely beneath his hood, Aaric would feel a searing gaze upon him. A low, rich voice flowed from the black space beneath the hood.

“Acolyte, I’m glad you could make it. Beautiful night, isn’t it?”

Said acolyte presented himself at attention to the Dread Knight on the other side of the fire and bowed, being careful to keep him just within the corner of his sight just in case he was attacked. He Couldn't be too careful... from what he could gather there was nothing that was off limits to the trials one might have to face.

"I came as quickly as I could milord." Aaric replied, slowly raising his head. "Yes, I believe it is a beautiful night. But I'm afraid the welcome decorations could use a little sprucing up. I have no fear of dead things, unfortunately."

He allowed a small smile to grave the corner of his lips, but his expression quickly turned serious.

"May I ask why am I here, milord?"

A smirk cracked under the Knights hood as he chuckled. “Oh dear, no they aren’t for your benefit make no mistake.” Knight Aurelius waved his hand through the air so lazily he may as well not have done so at all. Immediately men of all manner of shapes and size emerged from the thick shadows of the forest.

Each man carried a spear of seemingly primitive design, stone heads and rough wooden hafts. Dressed in animals pelts and faces painted in colours of red and orange. Some were missing their eyes. They paid no particular attention to the acolyte, they simply stood in place waiting for their next command.

“My eye has been on you for some time. Longer than you would know.” The Knight mused through the fire, his tone bordering on that of a threat. “It’s what I do. I watch. And I know talent when I see it.” Aurelius moved around the fire, edging closer to the tall young man.

The fire light washing up under the dark hood to show the mans face; a glint of golden flame in his right eye. And in the other... where the other should have been there was nothing. “Tell me, before I stroke your ego too much... Yes, you tell ME why you’re here. Why the Sith? Your wants, your needs, desires...”

Well, at least he had some sense of humor, Aaric thought. But then again, appearances could be deceiving. For all he knew he could probably be killed at any moment. As the Sith Knight drew closer round the bonfire, the acolyte caught sight of the slight motion of his hand. Immediately, Aaric forced himself to react no more than a twitch of his hand towards his lightsabers as black humanoid figures appeared out of nothingness.

They looked more like primitive tribesmen of some long dead and forgotten Aboriginal culture. Was Metus Aurelius some sort of necromancer? Or was he simply conjuring hallucinations to throw him off? Whatever the reason, the fact that he could not sense their presence alarmed him greatly.

The Knight stepped close enough for the light of the flames to illuminate the face hidden behind the cowl. Aaric allowed himself a glance, only to meet a mismatched pair of eyes... Or eye. One had a golden flame within, the other eye was missing. It was all Aaric could do to pull his gaze away lest he appeared to be gawking at him.

Needs? Desires?

Then it clicked in his head. This was a test. A chance for Aaric Etherall Tritum, scion of House Mecetti, to prove his quality. He closed his eyes and delved deep into his own heart and mind. Lies would be of no use here...only the pure unadulterated truth.

"Vengeance." He whispered. "Against my dead father, against House Pelagia, their Jedi-loving sensitivities, their hypocrisy! I lost my mother, my childhood, my birthright. The Mecrosa Order and the Sith teachings was all that's left to me."

The acolyte clenched his fist, raising it up to eye level. "I want to gain power. Power to destroy my house's rivals. To do that, I need to hone my affinity with the dark side and rise through the ranks of the Sith!"

Turning and meeting the Knight's hollow stare, he bowed and knelt on one knee before him.

"My desire... Is to become your apprentice and pledge myself to your goals and ideals. To make the first step towards realising my vision... House Pelagia will bend before the might of House Mecetti, the Mecrosa order and the Sith!"

"That is..." He raised his head, gazing hopefully at the Knight. "If you would have me."

The Knight listened intently, about the boys father, his hatred of Jedi hypocrisy. Of how he wanted to gain power in the name of honour. The conventional notion of honour was lost on a Knight of Dreadwar. But the young intrigued Metus all the same.
The acolyte had taken a knee, pledged himself to the Knights teachings and ideals. Admirable.

“You want vengeance against your father.” The Hunter began. “And you say you don’t fear dead things...”

Aaric nodded. The acolyte looked up a the Knight, hope glimmering in his eyes. As immersed in the dark side as he was, to Metus he was still a child.

“I wish only to teach my ideals, not have an apprentice conform to them.” Knight Aurelius turned and motioned for one of the men to come forward. “You will learn why I am; but you will learn to be your own person. You will learn that vengeance and death have consequences beyond your own satisfaction.”

Aaric mentally slapped himself. He was a student of Makashi! How idiotic was it to commit oneself and become a slave to form? As records of the infamous Darth Tyranus had raught, he may have been disappointed at Aaric's choice of words had he been among the living.

The acolyte blinked. Surely killing for revenge was as straightforward as it is? His father was dead there was no two ways about that. But House Pelagia and all who associate with them were definitely to die for their transgressions, even if the ones who did the transgressing were their ancestors.

However, the reason he was here was to learn. The Knight would not have become one if he lacked wisdom and experience. Shackling his mind towards a singular path would do him no good. He would have to expand his horizons if he were to advance along the path of the dark side.

The Sith gripped the man by the back of his neck leading him to the acolyte. The man protested not an ounce. A blank expression hid any fear he held if he did in fact have any. With the slightest movement of Metus’s wrist the man lowered to both knees before the acolyte. The Knight moved his hand from the man neck to retrieve a pristine beskar dagger from his belt. The most unsettling silence crept in. Only the crackle of the fire and the gushing of blood through his veins would be what the young acolyte would hear. The Hunter offered the handle to the acolyte before asking in a sinister playful voice that cut through the otherworldly quiet.

“Have you ever killed anyone?”

Aaric's musing was interrupted by the glint of a beskar blade presented to him and the presentation of one of the black men kneeling before him. Aaric tool the blade and surveilled it's construction. It was easily the work of a master Smith. Steeling himself, he looked Knight Metus in the eye.

"I come from an Order that deals in death. I am not unfamiliar with the concept of killing, and I admit I have not yet killed a man despite my training under them. But I will do whatever that is needed to further my goals." The acolyte stood up and bowed once more. "I will serve. I will be of service."

He then turned the black man, blade in hand. "I assume this... Man... Thing... is to die. By my hand?"

“No.” The Knight replied sharply. “I have my answer.” The acolyte lacked the killer instinct the Knight possessed, the one few things he was possibly truly prideful of. He sensed a quiet and collected demeanour in the boy; something he could chip away destroy. He would unveil the killer inside. Aaric possessed talent and wiles above the average acolyte already, Metus could tell. He was a little off what the Hunter had envisioned his first apprentice would be. But convention and predictability had never been in his repertoire.

The beskar dagger would levitate out of the acolytes hand and back to the native Corellian Sith. “Kneel.” Knight Aurelius growled at the acolyte who stood nearly a full foot taller than him. “Look this man in the eye.”

Aaric did as he was told. He knelt before Knight Metus and stared intently at the man before him. The expressionless, zombie-like look on his face gave away nothing. Was this some sort of ritual, perhaps? Aaric had dipped into the study of Sith Alchemy and force rituals, but such metaphysical aspects of the force did not interest him much beyond the basics compared to more immediately beneficial subjects like war and politics.

Silence reigned over the place. The longer his gaze lingered, the more unsettled he became. There was ringing in his ears, coupled by dark whispers of gibberish that seem to come from no one physically present. He felt like he was being drawn into the hollow of this man's eyes.

Something was going to happen. But what? When?

The Knight could feel a maelstrom of questions and curiosity raging in the acolytes mind. He was no sorcerer. Not a necromancer nor an alchemist. He was an augury and servant of death. A ritual this was but not one to attain power or sight beyond the physical realm. This was pure unadulterated worship. He would bathe the acolyte in death.

A momentary flash would pass the acolytes eyes before he would feel a warm spray on his face. The beskar dagger had caught the fire light and severed the jugular as it plunged into the victims neck. The man would make a horrific gurgle as he inhaled, blood and air mixing. If Aaric tried to look away he would find himself unable. The Knights grip on the acolyte was now unbreakable; as it would be until he became a Knight himself.

Aaric would watch the last signs of life fade from the mans eyes before Metus allowed the corpse to thud against the forest floor. Looking down at the blood soaked acolyte the Knight of the Hunt made his claim.

“You have been marked. Though the blood shall wash away, the stain of death shall forever grace you. Now, rise my apprentice.”

A flash of light quickly followed by a warm spray of dark liquid smeared Aaric's face and trickled down towards his chin and neck.

It was all over in an instant. And as Knight Metus let the now-dead man's body crumple to the ground, the acolyte could only stare ahead and relish in what he now realised was the black man's warm blood.

So... This was what killing a man looks like? Aaric thought. The feeling within him was one of thrill and excitement. Though not dead by his hand, Aaric understood the significance of the ritual: He was anointed. A first step towards being true Sith. He could only hope the next time he felt such lust for blood again was when he could kill with his own bare hands.

Aaric did as he was told. Standing tall, he looked skyward towards the moon and took a deep breath at this new feeling.

"Thank you... Master." Aaric exhaled. "I am forever grateful."

Aaric Etherall Tritum was an acolyte no more.

An apprentice of vengeance, he now was.

The Knight turned no later than the last syllable left Aarics lips. The remaining painted tribesmen receded back into the shadowy underbrush. The Hunter strolling away from the fire toward the darkness. “You’re training will begin shortly.” He said disappearing into the night. Leaving his mew apprentice alone with his thoughts and a corpse.
 

Leo Gorgano Tritum

Active member

An Apprentice's Musings​

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Theme Music:
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IC: Aaric Etherall Tritum, Apprentice of Vengeance
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156ABY
(Sometime before the first task)
Sith Academy Library,
Valley of the Sith Lords,
Korriban
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Aaric had returned to Korriban soon after he was proclaimed as apprentice under Knight Metus Aurelius. If he were honest with himself, he couldn't wait until he was given his first task. But he knew it would be too soon to expect one. Patience was a virtue, after all. He would be called upon when his first task was ready.

In the meantime, Aaric had spent his time conducting his own training, researching on useful force abilities and reading up on Sith history. Most of his time was spent on the latter. Which was why he was currently in the Sith Archives going through holorecordings of past events. For someone like him, a man out of time, it felt as if the more things changed the more they stayed the same.

Before he was frozen in Carbonite, the reconstituted Sith Empire under Emperor Vitiate was locked in a cold war against the Galactic Republic. Now, the Eternal Sith Empire was ruled by both Emperor Darth Dreadwar and Empress Darth Viscretus and existed under a truce with the Galactic Federation, protected by none other than the Jedi Order.

Even the territories that both factions had controlled then and now had largely remained the same plus or minus a few systems.
But one thing that dominated the Apprentice's thoughts were whether the Sith would eventually become the Victor's this time, or would its attempts fail like the many Sith who had attempted to do so for almost four millenia? The archives stated that the only Sith who ever managed to do so was Darth Sidious. This triumph was only matched by it's monumental failure where his own apprentice killed him to protect his Jedi son.

Then again, his short time with this new Sith Empire allowed him to notice quite a few differences to the past empires of old.
While previous incarnations were mostly human-centric and even anti-alien, the Empire under the Emperor and Empress didn't seem to subscribe to this extremist view. Even within the Sith Academy, species and races of all walks of life learnt the Sith ways and advanced through the ranks of the Order without bias or discrimination. It seemed that this new empire had realised that there was strength in diversity and perhaps made the empire more appealing compared to the bureaucratic federation and their hypocritical Jedi scum.

Another difference was the Empire's tough stance against acts of sedition and disrespect towards the hierarchy. Ever so often, the imperial holonet would announce an execution of an offender who tried to make himself more important than he ought to be. Sometimes Aaric wondered if these offenders had somehow spent too much time in one of Korriban's tombs and went crazy from all the dark side emanations.

These executions would usually be broadcasted live and the offenders would be killed in the most gruesome ways imaginable. Though one may think it cruel, Aaric found it to be effective and quelling dissention within the ranks. One only needed to learn from history to know that splitting the empire was a very bad idea. Even Darth Malgus, an esteemed warrior under Vitiate's Sith empire, had tried to create his own empire due to his misgivings against the dark council at the time. His ill-fated insurrection was subsequently quelled by the remaining loyal imperial forces and Malgus himself was killed by none other than the infamous Emperor's Wrath.

On top of this, he had heard that the current reigning Emperor and Empress together with the dark council were a much fairer lot; less individualistic and power hungry. Whereas Vitiate's dark council was plagued by infighting and giant powerplays against each other. There seemed to be more cohesiveness and willingness to work towards the greater good. It seemed that this time, the empire was dealt a good hand. It wasn't everyday that one would find Sith who put the good of the empire above all else like Darth Marr or Sith Lord Lana Beniko.

Aaric sighed and shut his datapad. Perhaps the current empire had a better chance of ruling the galaxy this time? Only time would tell. As the apprentice was about to leave, a droid suddenly came up to him.

"Greetings apprentice Aaric Tritum!" The grey bucket of bolts chirped. "I'm Threevee-Arrate! Messenger droid for the Sith Academy. I bring a message from your master Death Knight Metus Aurelius."

Aaric sat up intently. "Alright then. Go on. What's the message?" He replied.

"Your master wants you to meet him at the training grounds as soon as possible. He will administer his first task there." The droid relayed.

Aaric grinned. His first task! The apprentice thanked the droid and began to make his way when suddenly...

GURRRGLE!!!

A searing pain shot through his stomach and winded down towards his buttocks. Which meant one thing... He had to find a lavatory. And fast! He could only hope his master would forgive his tardiness later.

Now if only he didn't order that mystery meat that was being offered at the academy cantina!
 

Leo Gorgano Tritum

Active member

“Memento Mori”​

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Task 1 for Aaric
Location: Korriban,
Academy Training Grounds
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Metus awaited his apprentice in a training yard, taking in the morning light. Horuset had just cleared the horizon when Aaric of House Vassago found his way to the small baron arena. A lazy wind lapped at the long tattered black robes of the Knight; not enough to blow a disruptive amount of sand through the air. Knight Aurelius salivated over the prospect of beginning the young mans tutelage, though he did an exceptional job hiding his intent when the boy arrived.

Aaric stepped into the training grounds as quickly but also as calmly as he could. He could already see his master waiting patiently for him in the middle of the arena.

Or maybe he was annoyed but didn't show it? The apprentice didn't want to take any chances. There had been too many executions of late for offenses far less and staying alive was the best chance he had in avenging his mother.

Striding up to Knight Metus, Aaric bowed. "Forgive my delay, master. I had a bit of unforeseen trouble. Nothing too vexing. A simple case of ... indigestion."

He grimaced inwardly at how awful that excuse sounded. Aaric was just grateful there weren't any other acolytes of apprentices around to humiliate him any more than he was feeling already. If his master showed any emotion or reaction to his predicament, he couldn't see it.

“Aaric, my apprentice. There is a popular task style that many apprentices either request or enjoy taking on. Known as the ‘learning to lose’ lesson. The truth is, everyone who finds themselves at the steps of this academy has lost something. Many of them even think they’ve lost everything. They’re always wrong. I was wrong. And I can promise you how ever much you think you have lost, I will find more to take away from you. And I will enjoy every moment of it. Today we will duel. And you will learn about losing."

Aaric raised his head and blinked. A flash of yellow appeared and disappeared just as quickly from his irises. What more could he hope to lose? Everything that was important to him was lost! Although he wouldn't say it in fear for his life, he mentally disagreed, emphatically. Revenge was the only thing powering him now.

"You will learn what exactly it is you have to lose. You will learn that survival often is its own reward. You will learn that nothing is a given and everything can be torn away from you at any moment. Todays lesson will be a stark reminder of your mortality. And the beginning of forging your new identity.”

Aaric closed his eyes and breathed deeply. Letting his emotions run amok would do him no favours. He was a nobleman but also Sith! Following in the footsteps of Darth Tyranus and Darth Marr. He would would stand above the rest of the brutes and berserkers that filled most of the ranks of the warrior class!

True, the only thing left to lose was his life. For that, he was grateful. For if he were dead, there would be no one left to pursue justice for himself and his mother. Sure, he would most likely lose against his master; a more experienced and skilled duelist. But that didn't mean he wasn't going to go down without putting up a fight.

"I understand, master." Aaric nodded. "It is an honor to have the chance to duel with you. I am certain by the end of today we will both take away much from this experience."

SNAP-HISS!

Aaric summoned his twin lightsabers and held the crimson blades up pointing towards the sky. Then he swung both blades down in an 'X' shaped flourish: A Makashi salute. A symbolic gesture of challenge towards his master.

Then he waited. He would let his master make the first move as a sign of respect.
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Lukin_Luder 2 - Yeah😈😈😈.jpg
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“I sense a great deal of anger inside you apprentice.” Metus said throwing back his hood to reveal the war paint he’d adopted ever since he slew that Yuuzhan Vong warrior. “I sense defiance. Disagreement... Good.” The Knight grimaced as his robe fell onto the dusted stone arena floor. He wore only black, light flowing pants, boots and his cortosis gauntlets. His torso and arms laid bare under the Korriban sun.

Aaric stood at the ready, falling back on noblemans etiquette he waited for the Knight to give the signal. The boy had more to lose than life even if he didn’t realise it.

Metus unhinged one of the lightsabers hanging from his belt. The blade ignited with a hideous scream. The colour was unlike and saber the apprentice would likely have ever seen; even some more experienced Sith in the Empire may not have seen one. The blade was a deeper red than any regular crystal could produce. It screamed instead of hummed. It wailed when swung in lieu or the flanging whoosh of other sabers.

The Knight walked slowly toward his apprentice.

Suddenly he waved his free hand in an arc in front of him and a cloud of dust would fly into the air obscuring the apprentices vision. “Fight me!” Metus roared as he swung his saber down between the two crossed blades.

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Fight Music:
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Aaric was ready for anything. The sudden blowup of dust into his face was nothing new to him... so far. He trained in an order of secret spies and assassins. It was one of the tactics learnt in order to hide oneself during the day when the cover of night was unavailable. So his eyes remained unaffected by the dust.

But when his master's blade clashed with Aarics, the apprentice took an unexpected step backwards as he braced himself against heavier-than expected strike. He knew Makashi was weak against the forms with more kinetically charged strikes. So he had been training his body relentlessly to make up for that shortfall. But even so, this strength was ridiculous!

He had to balance this fight a little more towards his level.

The apprentice sidestepped and broke away from the blade-lock, throwing both palms forward and pushed with the force; creating his own cloud of dust to match his master's, making it even thicker.

Aaric smirked as he stepped into the cloud and allowed himself to disappear into it using Force Cloak. His sight of his master's silhouette still clear to him. He maneuvered behind his master with light footsteps and then charged forwards! Just before he reached his target, Aaric threw one of his sabers at the knight in an attempt to throw off his rhythm. Then followed with a pin-point jab towards his chest in an attempt to skewer him.

The apprentice was adaptive, something that pleased the Knight. The young man broke the blade lock and side stepped before blowing a generous waft of sand into the air. His steps were light, precise and purposeful. Surprisingly quick for someone so tall.

But Metus hadn’t carved out his own eye in offering to the spirit of Kreia for nothing; he wouldn’t have obscured his own vision if he knew he’d leave himself open to the attack of an apprentice. The tell tale hum and whir of the saber flying through the air betrayed the apprentice; the hunter had his prey.

Knight Aurelius turned to deflect the spinning red blade that cracked and sizzled as it bounced off the one eyes mans gauntlet. The saber retracted, spitting plasma in vain as sparks arched from the emitter. The elegant weapon lay lifeless on the ground.
Just as soon as the flying blade had come to a halt a red dot pierced the dust quickly growing louder. Metus deftly side stepped, turned to his right and lunged in on his left foot as to let the apprentices blade narrowly pass behind his head. The Knight, arm outstretched let loose a blast of raging dark energy (Force Blast) at the young mans solar plexus.

Aaric had hoped that his make-shift tactic would work. But as expected, his master was able get away with it. What he didn't expect was his thrown lightsaber to short out the moment it hit Knight Metus' gauntlets. He had no time to ponder, however, as his target swiftly dodged his jab and delivered an almost point-blank concussive blast at his body.

It took Aaric everything he had to speed up his body at the last moment and twist his body away from the arc of fire. But he still got clipped at the side by the strange ability and the apprentice spun towards the ground. Only quick reflexes saved him from slamming into the ground as he shot out his open palm to the floor to break his fall and used his spinning to twirl himself upright again; with the other saber's blade pointed towards his master just in case he tried to press his advantage.

Aaric grimaced. What in the bloody hell kind of force power was that?! It definitely wasn't a force push since the concussive energy was visible. So it must have been some kind of special force ability. Glancing at the lightsaber on the ground, Aaric could only surmise that Knight Metus' gauntlets were made out of a material that could deactivate a saber blade at a touch.

The most likely culprit being cortosis.

There was no time for deep analysis, though. Aaric knew he had to press the attack or else his master's heavy-handed strikes were going to power through his own. He had to take the fight to him.

Centering himself and focusing within himself, Aaric melded his entire being with the force and enhanced his resolve, speed, precision and accuracy. The apprentice once again charged headlong toward his master then turned and spun around him, engaging with a flurry of finely calculated jabs and cuts in an attempt to overwhelm his defenses.

Metus didn’t even lift his saber as his apprentices blades swung and poked at him. The Knight simply stepped back further and further, stepping and leaning away from the flurry of strikes. Metus locked his eye with Aaric, a fault line in the boy began to appear. The young warrior would feel his throat beginning to close, his blood would start to lose oxygen saturation and his muscles would fail soon. Metus merely stared at his student with apparent total contempt as he slowly choked Aaric.

“How did your father ever manage to not kill you? Are you still suffering from carbonite sickness?!” Metus asked, disappointment thick in his voice. “Incompetence and utter failure. I never knew they could be a family trait.”

The Knight lifted his saber to block one of Aarics slashes. Almost effortlessly he deflected the crimson blade before pressing forward. His telekinetic grip on the apprentices wind pipe tightening Metus delivered several crushing blows aimed at the boy, punctuated by his snapping, snarling words.

“Fight me properly, you peasant!”

Aaric always knew there was something special about his master's eyes. there wouldn't be any reason a Sith would give up something essential like an eye if one didn't expect something in return. Which was why the apprentice was shocked to find himself getting slower and struggling to breath while feeling an invisible vice gripping his neck.

Aaric had to think quickly. He had but a minute or so before his oxygen would run out and the fight come to a complete and premature end. This fight wasn't supposed to end like this. He would at least get something through to him! He would prove his mettle! His hate will make him strong!

"ℎ𝑎𝑡𝑒 𝑤𝑖𝑙𝑙 𝑑𝑟𝑖𝑣𝑒 𝑦𝑜𝑢... 𝑎𝑠 𝑙𝑜𝑛𝑔 𝑎𝑠 𝑦𝑜𝑢 𝑐𝑎𝑛 𝑐𝑜𝑛𝑡𝑟𝑜𝑙 𝑖𝑡." Aaric's high lord's words rung through his mind.

"𝑆𝑡𝑜𝑝 𝑢𝑠𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑠𝑡𝑎𝑛𝑑𝑎𝑟𝑑 𝑎𝑡𝑡𝑎𝑐𝑘𝑠, 𝑢𝑠𝑒 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑢𝑛𝑜𝑟𝑡ℎ𝑜𝑑𝑜𝑥!" Darth Tyranus' words followed suit.

Aaric's eyes flashed yellow as he summoned his remaining energy, took whatever little air left he had in his lungs and powered it through his narrowing windpipe and out his mouth in a brief but ear-shattering, force-powered roar right into his master's face. At the same time he threw his arm outwards, clenched his fist and pulled it back towards his body.

Any other person would have thought he was trying to telekinetically pull his master. But what his master didn't know was that his earlier jabs and cuts were purposefully used to drive Knight Metus inbetween the apprentice and his other downed lightsaber.

Said lightsaber rattled and flung itself towards the back of his master's head. Whether it struck home or not, the weapon would eventually end up back to Aaric's hand.

Pitiful, faint and weak is what it was. What escaped his lungs was little more than a breath and with the last of the air expelled from his lungs; Metus, like a serpent coiling around its prey clenched further with his telekinetic grip. Aarics throat was now totally closed off.

THWACK!

A lightsaber hilt smacked Metus clean across the back of the head, breaking his concentration. The apprentices windpipe would suddenly open again as air rushed into his lungs. But the weapon would stop short of Aaric as his master siezed the metal tube with his own telekinesis before launching it back across the arena where it landed in the spectator stands.

Aaric gasped as the vice-like grip was loosened instantaneously and he unceremoniously dropped onto his hands and knees while gasping for breath. His unorthodox move had worked... Somewhat. Now he was permanently handicapped by a single lightsaber for the remainder of their duel.

That is if anyone could call it a duel instead of a one-sided beatdown.

"I was... spared by the grace... of my father's wife's charity." Aaric grunted. "Yes... My father was an incompetent fool... and an utter failure! Having his blood... run in my veins... sickens me to my very being!"

Yellow irises turned to shimmering gold as he growled. "That is why I will rise above him. That is why I'll spit on his grave by redeeming the name Tritum in my image!"

"That is why..." The apprentice snapped his head up with anger and conviction in his voice. "I... WILL RISE!"

In a sudden burst of energy, Aaric ignited his remaining lightsaber, lightning coursing from his arm to the hilt and throughout the blade; lifting himself off his feet and lunging the electrifying rod plasma towards the Knight.

Even if his blade missed, Aaric hoped the lightning forking outwards away from the blade on all sides throughout it's lengths would extend it's range and hit his target.

The Knight listened to his apprentice spit words of resentful venom. His shoulders relaxed and slumped down. The scowl on his face melted as the blood coloured bladed retracted back into the hilt and clipped it back to his belt.

Aarics eyes turned a blazing gold again. Metus sensed a vast well of hatred in the boy as he spoke of redeeming his family name. Knight Aurelius burst into uproarious laughter at the notion. The boys shatterpoint; his pride, his honour. Metus’s sinister cackle turned to silence as the distinct snap of a lightsaber igniting bounced off the stone floor.

Thin blue wisps of lightning jaggedly snaked from the apprentices shoulder down into his arm. Aaric burst forward and thrust his saber toward his master. The Knight stood firm, unlike his apprentice he’d noticed the feeble, untrained attempt at lightning was enough to trip the power cell in his saber.

Aaric would see his mistake as a lifeless emitter pointed at his masters chest.

As if time had slowed in the immense gravity of a black hole, Aaric would see a wicked, unforgiving grin split the Knights face that would suck the hope and confidence from the apprentices very soul. Then in an instant, with unnatural speed the Hunter struck.

Metus lunged in close, his cortosis clad fist striking upward beneath Aarics chin. His left fist followed in a straight heavy blow aimed at the young mans diaphragm. Almost instantly the final strike came from the first hand again, this time drawing the beskar dagger from his belt and thrusting it toward Aarics stomach.

Aaric cursed to himself as his last ditch effort was all gone to waste; his lack of skill and concentration due to his wounded body causing the lightning to short out his lightsaber just as the blade was about to reach his master. He looked up only to see a maniacal grin on the knight's face.

CRACK!!!

Cold metal met bone as Aaric's head snapped upwards.

THWOCK!!!

Another strike to the chest knocked all the air out of his lungs.

SHINK!!!

Only the sound of unsheathing metal and the glimmer of sun reflecting off against it warned Aaric of what the Knight's last strike was going to be. As the master thrust his blade forward, Aaric braced himself and instinctively caught the offending weapon with both his hands wrapped around his master's.

The blade stopped a fraction of an inch from it's intended target. But Aaric was losing ground quickly. He gritted his teeth and his arms trembled as he overexerted his muscles in an attempt to stop the inevitable.

In his mind, the apprentice knew he was going to lose badly. He knew the blade was going to slide into his gut and there wasn't anything he could do to stop it.

But damn it to hell if he didn't go down fighting!

As the tip of the blade slit through his clothes, Aaric put all of his remaining strength in slowing it down.

"GrrrraaaaaAAAHHHH!!"

In vain Aaric struggled against his master as the beskar steadily slid through his flesh. He felt the cold steel slide into his guts, but for some reason it stopped and didn't go any further. Was this it? Was the duel over? Had he made an impression on his master?

Metus wouldn’t push the blade any further; a superficial flesh wound would do. Instead the knights free hand lashed out like a viper striking at its prey to grasp the apprentices collar in his iron grip. The more senior warrior thrust with the dagger enough that his apprentice would brace against it, a distraction as he threw his fiercely painted face forward; his forehead aimed to break Aarics nose.

KRAAKK!

Aaric saw stars. Time seemed to slow to a crawl as he fell backwards. It was then he knew that the duel was truly over. The look his master gave him reminded him of his father's. The look that suggested he was weak... unimportant. His body succumbed to his injuries and physical exhaustion.

He was out like a light before he even hit the floor.

Metus kneeled down beside his apprentice, examining the knife wound in his gut. The Knight was no medical man but he was confident the blood trickling from the gash would clot soon. Metus’s cloak and Aarics sabers floated to his hands. He laid the sabers beside his apprentice and went about tearing a swath of fabric from his cloak to pack the wound. The Sith sat silently with the boy until the bleeding stopped.

Aaric would awaken to find himself alone under the Korriban sun.
 

Leo Gorgano Tritum

Active member

Seeking a Seer

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Theme Music:
"Weightless" - Twelve Titans Music https://youtu.be/UqViw4nrVRQ
"A Final Sacrifice" - Luke Richards https://youtu.be/K9tLAH0Z0pA
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IC: Aaric Etherall Tritum, Apprentice of Vengeance
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156ABY
(Shortly after the first task)
Academy training grounds,
Sith Academy,
Korriban
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"Acolyte? Acolyte, wake up!"

Aaric's eyes snapped open as he jerked upwards, gasping for breath and surveying his surroundings. He hissed as his sudden movements caused his wounds to flare up in pain all over his body."

"Are you so desperate to sunbathe you simply find any open spot to sleep on?"

The apprentice looked up to see a familiar face: The academy overseer. Memories quickly came rushing back to him. He fought his master and lost, badly. Looking down and around himself, he saw that his stab wound had been patched up and his twin light sabers placed neatly beside him.

"No!" Aaric replied sheepishly. "No... I... I was dueling with my master."

"Ah... so you've found a master then." The overseer exclaimed. "My apologies, apprentice."

"Yeah. I, uh... I lost." Aaric stated dumbly.

"Apparently." The weathered man chuckled. "Otherwise I doubt you would have celebrated your victory here instead of drinking yourself silly in the academy cantina."

The apprentice could only look on embarrassingly at himself at how dirty, unkempt and bloody he looked. He sighed. This was the first time in his life that Aaric had been beaten to this extent. Still, he silently thanked the force that while seemingly to be a harsh taskmaster, Knight Metus at least had some decency to apply some basic first aid before leaving him on his own.

"Now, you should leave." The overseer stood, seeing that Aaric was alright. "I have a class of acolytes coming for some combat training."

"Yeah.... Sure." Aaric replied, taking great pains to stand up on his feet. "Thank you, overseer."

Said overseer simply nodded and looked off into the distance as he waited for his students to arrive. The apprentice hobbled off back to his quarters. Already forgetting that the man was even there once he turned his back away from him.

-------------------------------------------------

Aaric had taken time off from training to nurse his wounded body and pride. There something that had to be said about the Knights of the Sith Empire. If all of them were this strong, then the Galactic federation and the Jedi would be hard-pressed should conflict arise again.

Although a few sessions in the bacta tanks of the academy's medical wing was more than enough to heal his wounds, the phantom pains remained and it would be some time before Aaric was confident enough to train again without fear of injuring himself. Thus, he continued his personal studies of the force and conducted light calisthenics to ensure his muscles didn't atrophy while he was recovering.

It was during this time that Aaric also spent time in the cantina. Not to drink himself silly, but to keep an ear out for rumours, myths and legends around the academy. One thing which stuck in particular was about a mysterious Sith Seer living inside the tomb Ludo Kressh.

Rumours said that she would only appear to those she deemed worthy and of true need of her abilities: Dark Sight. Which was to foresee various possible futures and then use that knowledge to manipulate certain events in order to achieve their desired outcome.

As a man of politics, science and logic, Aaric was a little skeptical about such force abilities. He believed that one's destiny was up to each individual to achieve. Following what someone told them to do just because he or she claimed to see the future was just ludicrous. Still, it did not diminish his interest in seeking out this seer. Perhaps there was merit in looking at his future from another perspective.

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A few hours later and the apprentice was spelunking inside Ludo Kressh's tomb. Compared to the other more renown like Marka Ragnos, Tulak Hord and Darth Vader, this one was a less visited tomb of its era since Naga Sadow was the chosen Dark Lord of the Sith of his time over Ludo Kressh. That meant more of Korriban's creatures making a home for themselves since it was less likely for apprentices and acolytes to enter and hunt them down for a challenge or sport. Aaric mostly ignored these creatures unless they purposefully put themselves in his way. Even for them, Aaric was able to cut the offending animals quickly and quietly.

Visiting a tomb was no leisurely affair. It wasn't some tourist destination either. The entire planet of Korriban was rife with the dark side. But it was especially strong inside the tombs surrounding the academy. For Ludo Kressh's tomb in particular, it was said that the forces inside it seemed to have a life of its own. Testing... changing from within whoever dared to step inside. So Aaric was quick to sense that it had already affected him to some degree. Already he moved through the halls instinctually as if knowing his path would lead directly to what he sought.

A couple of hours pass and eventually, Aaric found himself in the epicentre of the tomb; where the dark side energies was the strongest. The silence was deafening. In the middle of the hall was the sarcophagus of Ludo Kressh himself. But Aaric didn't know what to do from here. He wasn't going to disturb or open the sarcophagus lest the spirit of Ludo Kressh awoke to haunt him. Perhaps he needed to do something to call out to this Sith seer? Or maybe she didn't exist at all and was just a figment of a crazed acolyte's imagination?

"I assure I am anything but."

Aaric turned towards the direction of the voice and laid his eyes upon a woman dressed in red robes. A veil covered her head and her eyes, leaving her nose and mouth uncovered. She looked youthful and, if Aaric dare say out loud, maybe even beautiful.

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"And you are?" Aaric inquired, cautiously keeping his distance.

"The one whom you seek." The woman stepped forward, almost graciously as if floating towards him. "I knew you would come, long before you were born. Aaric Tritum."

So this woman was the Sith Seer the rumors were talking about? Aaric thought. How unimpressive.

"And you would know who I seek?" Aaric scoffed. "You think just knowing my name will convince me? Anyone can find out my name with a little time and patience."

The woman simply smirked. "Aaric Etherall Tritum. Son of Tritum XI, High Lord of House Mecetti and of Lady Evelyn of House Pelagia. Your mother was framed and executed for treason against your father."

The apprentice raised a brow. No one within the Sith Empire knew his story besides his master. And his master was definitely not the sort to blabber such things to anyone.

"Your father wanted you dead." She continued. "But his wife, Viscountess Mireya sought to bring you in to their order and serve."

"Alright I'm convinced." Aaric admitted.

"But your vengeance could not be quelled." The seer didn't stop, even as Aaric grew uncomfortable. "You secretly plotted to overthrow Tritum XI and destroy House Pelagia yourself. But you were discovered."

"That's enough, Seer." The apprentice growled.

"Like your mother, you were accused of treason and were about to be executed yourself. Only for Viscountess Mireya to intervene and save you again... to freeze yourself for all eternity until your house required your talents once again."

"I said enough!" Aaric snapped. "I came here to seek out possible futures, not a summary of my past."

The lady's smirk dropped. Replaced by a gently, pitying smile. She stepped closer to Aaric and slowly reached for his hands. Aaric allowed her to do so, but kept himself ready in case she tried anything funny. As the seer brought his palms facing upwards, Aaric felt a strange power coursing gently through him. They remained in that position for at least a minute or so before the woman let go of his palms and stepped back, looking away from him.

"If you stay with the empire, you will find... Not peace..." The seer explained. "But some satisfaction of sorts. You will find a wonderful woman. You will have a family and have sons and daughters, and they will love you. And when you are gone they will remember you. But when you are on your deathbed, you will regret for all eternity of your revenge gone unanswered. When your children are dead and their children after them, your vengeance will go incomplete, forgotten and lost...washed away with the wind."

The apprentice could only scoff. He wasn't going to stay here forever. There was no time and place to find a wife, much less a lover.

The woman turned towards him and ghosted up to him. "If you go back to the Tapani sector, vengeance will be yours. Your house will write stories of your victory for hundreds of years. The entire sector will remember your name."

Unexpectedly, a gentle hand cupped his cheek. It was lukewarm. It felt almost... motherly, he daresay.

"But if you go back to the Tapani sector, you'll never return here." She proclaimed. "For your vengeance walks hand in hand with your doom. And the empire will see neither hide nor hair of you forevermore."

The apprentice simply scoffed. "If that's what it takes to complete my vengeance then so be it."

"No." The woman declared. "No matter what you do. Your sworn enemies will continue to exist even long after you're gone."

"What did you say?" Aaric spun, narrowing his eyes dangerously. Anger rising to the fore. "That is the biggest pile of shit I've ever heard. Make no mistake, seer... I will make sure every last member of House Pelagia pay for their transgressions against me! For killing my mother!"

The seer simply shook her head. "And how many mothers will you sacrifice in your path to vengeance? How many cousins and daughters and sisters and wives? How many o'brave Aaric Tritum?"

"YOU DON'T GET TO LECTURE ME ABOUT SACRIFICE!" Aaric roared "YOU KNOW NOTHING ABOUT ME!"

He slowly strode towards the woman as he lifted his arm and clenched his fist. "ONCE I EARN MY KNIGHTHOOD I WILL GO BACK TO THE TAPANI SECTOR AND BATTER DOWN THE GATES OF PELAGON! I WILL RAZE THE ENTIRE PLANET AND THEIR PATHETIC HOUSE TO THE GROUND! I'LL BUILD MONUMENTS OF VICTORY ON EVERY CITY OF EVERY PLANET! I WILL CARVE THE NAME AARIC ETHERALL TRITUM IN THE STONE!"

Aaric panted as the woman remained silent. "My name... My vengeance... will last through the ages. House Pelagia's name is written in sand... For the waves of change, that is I, to wash away."

"Then you better be careful great warrior." The seer replied. "For first you need victory. But remember, though powerful the Sith are, there can never be shadow without light."

The apprentice had heard enough. This was going nowhere... these weren't the futures he thought he would hear. He was going to prove her wrong. Prove everyone wrong! Sneering at the seer in disgust, he left the chambers without a word of goodbye.

He didn't see her slowly fade away into the shadows. He didn't accept the seed of doubt now planted in the back of his mind.
 

Leo Gorgano Tritum

Active member

“What’s in a name?”​

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Of Titles Old and New​

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Task 2 for Aaric
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"My apprentice, there are many things I see in you. Many lessons I ache to impart on you. But our time is limited so I must choose the most important ones.

This Empire is a meritocracy. Status and prestige are earned, not freely given.

I personally take a hard leaning approach to this tenet. I despise false grandeur. It turns my stomach to see acolytes and apprentices prance around with self aggrandising, ill deserved titles bestowed upon them by none other than their ‘great’ selves. “Such and such of terror” “Slayer of this” “Destroyer of that”. It’s peacocking and nothing more.

As such, as your master I strip you of your cosmetic title “Apprentice of Vengeance”. I will award you a new title when or if you earn it, as my master did with me. It’s time for you to truly forge your identity, your own path. Please change your name to reflect this in all chats. Of course you may keep your house demonym.

And so your second task is this: I want you to pick one Sith Lord from our long and glorious history past who held an appellation; and one Sith of Master rank or higher from within our current Empire. You will research both of these Sith and how they came to attain their titles. I want to see what you do under your own volition."

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156ABY
Tomb of Ludo Kressh,
Valley of the Dark Lords,
Korriban
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WHAM!

"Nerf-shit!" Aaric cursed as he plowed a gloved fit into the wall of Ludo Kressh's tomb. "What does he know? Is it not wrong to call myself an avenger?! Is that not the sole reason why I am here? He knows my story! He knows what I went through! Why does he spit on my convictions so?!"

Leaning next to said Sith Lord's sarcophagus was the same Sith Seer that Aaric had spurned earlier. She had not the slightest idea why she appeared before him just to listen to his ramblings but she guessed the force worked in mysterious ways. Still, it didn't stop her from getting the urge to roll her eyes... That is if anyone could see her eyes at all.

"Perhaps there is a lesson to this task?" She sighed. "I'm sure your master would not do this if it would assist in your ascension as a knight."

"Perhaps he just gets off on holding me back!" The apprentice spat. "Seeing me suffer! Have I not suffered enough? Haven't I endured enough pain-"

The seer had enough. "SILENCE!" She snapped. "I've had enough of your ridiculous ranting and I would not hear another word lest you incur my wrath!"

"Wrath?" Aaric raised a brow. "For all I know you're just a spirit or hallucination. You can't hurt m- GAHHHH!"

Aaric fell to the floor as violet lightning shot out from the Seer's fingertips and struck the apprentice.

"Now you think because your mother was executed... murdered even, you know about the dark side of life, but you don't!" She spat. "You've never tasted desperation. Have you ever been to Make Hurts or Nar Shaddaa? Apart of your mother, you're still the son of High Lord Tritum XI! You're basically a prince of House Mecetti! You'd probably have to go a few systems away for someone who didn't know the name Tritum! So don't come down here with your anger, frothing and preaching to nobody in some vain attempt to prove something to yourself! There are people out there in the galaxy who have lost more than you... and they don't have the dark side at their backs to exact the very vengeance you swear upon."

Aaric could only look up at the crimson clad woman in stunned silence.

"You think you know pain?" She continued. "You think you know all there is? You know nothing! If you truly want to know what pain is all about... What it can drive people to do, then go to the academy archives. Darth Sion may have an answer for you."
With that, she walked off. Fading and disappearing into the depths of the tomb.

-

A couple of days passed and one would find Aaric poring over the archives to know more about this Darth Sion. He eventually read all there was to know about him, but the information he got wasn't what he expected at all.

Darth Sion was given the title because he lived an unnaturally long life solely by concentrating his hate, bolstering it with the dark side and keeping his crumbling body together as he aged. He was one of the three Sith Lords that made up of the Sith Triumvirate together with Darth Traya, Lord of Betrayal and Darth Nihilus, Lord of Hunger. Both Sion and Nihilus served as apprentices under Traya. But both grew tired of her abstract teachings and overthrew her by cornering her and stripping her connection to the Force.

Again and again, Sion managed to win every encounter he had with the Jedi simply by bringing himself back to the living through sheer force of his will and hate even after being cut down multiple times. It was only when a Jedi managed to convince him to let go of his pain did he finally die.

"I didn't know there was a way to be immortal through such extreme methods." Aaric exclaimed, once again in Ludo Kressh's tomb sharing his findings with the seer.

"Yet, true." The seer affirmed. "In the words of Kreia: 'Of pain he has learned much. But of knowledge, of teaching, he knows nothing.' Inside of him was nothing but pain fueling his existence. A half-life. A cursed life. Think about it... Pain was his sole reason for existence. What happened when he finally let go of his pain?"

"There was..." Aaric paused. "Nothing else. Meaning he must have died as his body turned into nothing but ashes and dust. Such an awful way to die.

"And having accomplished nothing." The woman sneered. "Leaving behind no legacy to follow with. Is that what you want? To hold onto your pain so dearly that it becomes your very will to live? That it becomes the only that dominates every thought and fiber of your being?"

Aaric stayed silent. His gaze stuck to the cold stone floors. Darth Sion's pain was one of physicality, not emotion. But the seer still made a valid comparison. Emotions could be just as debilitating to ones body compared to physical injuries.

"Perhaps someone within this current incarnation of the empire would know of your pain even better than yourself: Darth Vesper." The seer elaborated. "I won't go into details... Only she herself can grant you permission to know about her past."
And once more, the seer faded away and left Aaric to his own devices.

-

Aaric took heed of the Seer's advice and had sought permission from the esteemed Darth Vesper herself to study her history and titles before beginning to pore through the records. The more he studied the one thing became apparent to him:
Lady Vesper's titles were not earned directly through glory and bloodshed, but borne through trials and tribulations filled with false hope and heartache. Of course there was no mistaking that her ladyship was powerful in her own right and that she did earn her current position entirely through her own efforts on top of a string of successful Kaggaths.

The apprentice returned to the seer and relayed his findings. The seer simply nodded and affirmed his suspicions.

"While she had to endure the suffering of being apart from her loved ones, always worrying about their safety and welfare, always scratching at the back of her mind." She said. "You don't have such a weight constantly weighing you down. At least the dead have had their peace. No one can touch their souls ever again."

The words stung. The truth stung even more painfully. Compared tk the trials and tribulations Lady Vesper had experienced, Aaric's seemed like a walk in a park.

Aaric sighed. "Lady Vesper... She's gone through more than I did. Her mother died at childbirth. Her father tried to sell them off but was murdered himself. Her lovers weaving in and out of her life. Her children's safety constantly on her mind. Being pulled between them as well as struggling through phases of light and dark sides of the force. Yet, through such torment and injustice she didn't seem to seek revenge against anyone. I don't understand... How did she do it? How did she endure such pain?"

"You could go ask her yourself." The seer replied.

"No." Aaric shook his head. "Lady Vesper was kind enough to grant me access to her records. I will not cross the line and attempt to pry further. I believe she already has enough of her past on her plate without an lowly apprentice like me trying to question her psyche. I'm Sith, not a psychologist."

The crimson veiled woman simply huffed. "I do not presume to know Darth Vesper initmately or understand fully what she went through. But I know that to go through such a life and still come out still more or less in one piece takes an incredible amount of patience, willpower and courage. Much less talk about earning such a powerful position in the Empire."

The apprentice meekly stared at his own hands while he twiddles his thumbs ashamedly. Was his suffering merely worth so little? Had he come this far only to be told his convictions were worthless?

The seer pinched the bridge of her nose seeing Aaric in such a state. It wasn't her intention to discourage Aaric, but he needed to know all was not lost in life and there was more to it than just petty revenge.

"You're stronger than your father." She declared.

Aaric looked up and narrows his eyes at her. "You didn't know my father and you still don't know me."

"But I know the rage that drives you." The woman shot back. "That impossible anger strangling the grief until the memory of your loved one is just... poison in your veins. And one day, you catch yourself wishing the person you loved had never existed so you'd be spared your pain."

The apprentice kept quiet. It was true, there were times he felt exactly as the seer said. His gaze turned into one of questioning as her demeanor began to soften, becoming melancholic.

"I wasn't always here in the tombs." She explained. "Once, I had a lover. My great love. He was taken from me. Like you, I was forced to learn there are those without decency, who must be fought without hesitation, without pity. Your anger gives you great power. But if you let it, it will destroy you... as it almost did me."

"What stopped it?" Aaric questioned.

"Justice."

"That's no help to me." Aaric threw his hands up exasperatedly. "What difference is there between justice and vengeance?"

"Of course there's a difference!" The seer snapped. "Vengeance is what you are now! A single, driving force to strike down anyone that crosses your path whether be it friend or foe, without reason, logic or thought! That's the way of a brute, a beserker... Like Sion. Not a refined noble gentleman such as yourself! Haven't you always prided yourself as one?"

"Justice is righting a wrong and bringing closure for yourself. Right now you're being chained by your hate. Putting your past to rest can free you from those chains. Sound familiar?"

Aaric chuckled at the wordplay with the Sith code. But it still didn't make the situation any less painful.

The seer sighed, keeling beside the young man and cupping a hand on his cheek. "Why, Aaric? Why can you not let go of your pain? What do you truly fear?"

"I don't fear anything." Aaric replied, though half-heartedly.

"Maybe you don't even know or just haven't realised it yet." She gave a pitying smile. "But I think that what you really fear is inside yourself. You fear that you'll forget the memory of your mother. At the same time you also fear your own power. You fear your own anger... the drive to do great or terrible things all in the name of vengeance."

The seer stood back up and began to fade away. "Give yourself some time. I'm sure you'll figure things out soon enough."
Once again, Aaric was left alone to ponder by himself within the silent tomb.
 

Leo Gorgano Tritum

Active member

“The kill and the consequence”​

-
Task 3 for Aaric
-
156 ABY
Dungeons
The Dread Fort
Oricon
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ZGBZWdR.jpeg
-​
Aaric stepped out of the Imperial shuttle in trepidation as it touched down at the landing pad next to the Dread fortress on Oricon. He wondered what was the next task that his master had for him. None of what he could think of was good.

Once he received the Knight's message, the apprentice decided to do some research on where he was going. Oricon was the headquarters of House Dreadwar. But even more importantly, it was home to the legendary Phobis artifacts. The same ones that the former Emperor Vitiate ordered his Sith Lords to study and whom eventually became the infamous Dread masters. Sith Lords who wielded the power battle meditation and struck into the very hearts of entire armies and navies alike.

Eventually, Vitiate's withdrawal from active running of his Empire led to the Dread Masters rebelling and trying to create their own empire. However, their insurrection was short lived and they were eventually defeated.

This was almost four millennia ago... Yet as Aaric marched closer to the fortress, the dark side emanations became stronger. But instead of feeling strength and power, he felt invisible tendrils attempting to dig into his psyche and draw out his inner, worst fears. Aaric could only shake his head and place mental blocks with the Force to keep the harsh whispers out of his head.

He entered the fortress without any complaint from the guards who let him in without hesitation s long as he surrendered his weapons. His master instructed him to go down into the dungeons of the fortress, and so he did. As he travelled downwards via a turbolift, his suspicions were confirmed: There was a dark power sleeping within the fortress depths...

The Power of Fear.

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The turbolift finally stopped and the blast doors slid open. Aaric stepped cautiously into the dungeon and let the force guide him through the dark and damp prison. Dark shadows seemed to lash out from behind steel bars in attempt to latch onto the apprentice. But a simple blast of his presence scared away any further attempts from the unknown creatures.

As he progressed through the dungeon, a single voice emanated from across the halls. A sound so tiny and weak it couldn't belong inside the dungeon at all...

Metus’s eye was fixated on the woman and her child; a young boy. They huddled together under the feeble light of the dungeon cell commanded by House Dreadwar. Sickly green flame danced from several small sconces that hung loosely from the cobbled walls. Throwing shadows that morphed into jagged claws, reaching as if to lash and take the mother and child before receding as quick as they came. The boy clutched at his mothers sandy blonde hair, pulling his face tight against her chest and balling his fists. “Mommy, mommy, mommy” he sobbed over and over and over...

Aaric stumbled as memories of himself crying over his mother's body flashed through his mind. His breathed hitched in his throat, his heart pounded. He had to go to the voice and quickly. As he picked up the pace, more voices could be heard.

The mother, fiercely shielding her boy from the terrible shadows and groaning of the shuffling undead guardians of the undercroft. Her arms formed a protective cocoon. She was no stranger to darkness, fear. She’d lived it most of her life so he wouldn’t have to; a secret life of strife and violence.

But here she was losing the battle, this was fear like no other; she stared into the hypnotic dark ready to defend her child viciously to the last breath. The inky blackness was pierced only by a single golden amber flare.

“Just, please. Let him go.” She half snarled, half begged. Her voice breaking, betraying her resolve. A little head of loose brown curls turned, rather bravely but hesitant as the slow thud of boots on stone echoed through the room, the man growing nearer.


“Don’t hurt my mommy.” He sniffled. Metus lowered himself, knees bent sitting on the toes of his boots.

His jog turned into a sprint. Rounding a corner, Aaric stopped short of a small cell and peered inside it, noticing his master kneeling next to a frightened mother hugging her child in a protective cocoon.

“That’s not for me to decide little one.” He said.

A clanging on the door made the captives jump. Knight Aurelius stood upright again. His apprentice had arrived. He would have left all his weapons behind if he’d followed his masters instruction. It was time for Aaric, the apprentice seeking vengeance to make a decision.

"I have arrived, Master." Aaric announced, striding into the cell and stopping next to the trio. He bowed in greeting. "I came as quickly as I could. What is thy bidding, master?"

Metus exhaled slowly keeping his eye locked on the two captives. “To see that actions have consequences.” Aarics master replied, his voice chilling and laden with malice. The Sith took a half step toward the mother and child and looked down. “You know, I was your age when my mother was killed; you’ll be fine.”

The frightened screams of the woman and her boy met that of the Knights lightsaber igniting. The blade washing them in blood red light, mixing into the green flames glow to show the plague of terror that had befallen them.

“Stay back! You... You devil!” Came the mothers cry. If she tried to scurry backward she’d only fall over herself, not that there was anywhere to scurry to. All she could do was remain there defiant of the mans sinister intent. “Don’t you touch him.” Her voice hoarse and breaking on every other syllable. “Let him go, take me.”

The boy howled in anguish, breaking down entirely at the mere thought of his mother dying. Yet not old enough to be brave enough to offer his own life as his mother had. “What do you think apprentice?” Metus asked turning his head to face the young warrior. “You’re the honourable type aren’t you?” Metus began to pace around the three of them. “Tell me, how many mothers would you sacrifice on your path to vengeance?” The Knight stalked like a ravenous tuk’ata, his pace quickening.

“What’s it all worth to you? How many children would you orphan? How many fathers would you have bury their sons?!” Knight Aurelius seethed. “Your path to learn what it takes to truly be a killer starts here!” His words bounced off the walls and then hideous quiet filled the room. Save for the crackle and shriek of the idle red blade at the Siths side. Metus had stopped behind the woman and boy, his gaze burning at his apprentice.

“It’s simple Aaric. Tell me which one gets to die.”

Aaric stared at his master incredulously. His fists balled up tightly as memories continued to flash through his mind. Honourable? Him? He always imagined himself cutting down scores of Pelagian troops as he led the Mecettian armies burn down the capital city of Pelagon.

But this? Killing some unknown woman or child just to prove a point? It was nothing less than preposterous!

"Master..." He began cautiously. He couldn't let his emotions get the better of him now. "Who is this woman and child? What have they done to deserve such a punishment that requires either one to die? Even if I do choose one, what will happen to the other?"

The apprentice would try to hide his emotion but Metus could sense it. The crystal that powered his saber amplified negative emotions. It drew them in, burned them up and fuelled the ‘star burning within the heart of the force’ as he’d been described by someone in the tomb of Ludo Kressh...

This boy, for all his cunning and talent lacked blood lust. He lacked something fundamental. Something Metus had seen in another apprentice; the other that had belonged to Dark Lady Traya. Something he had loathed.

“What does it matter?” Metus spat. “Innocents die in every war.” The Knights voice took a sudden blood curdling timbre. “You come into this Empire calling yourself the acolyte of vengeance and now, when someone opens a path for you to attain the power and fortitude to do what you so sorely seek, you ask irrelevant questions.”

Aaric would feel the haunting chill of wrath and death flowing from his Master.

“How many times, when you sack Pelagon do you think you’ll stop to ask yourself ‘Whose son is this? Whose brother? Husband; father’...”

The hunters voice crescendoed into a sinister, primal growl.

“When there’s a knife at your throat and your life depends on it will you ask questions of innocence then?!”

Metus raised his saber to point it at his apprentice. “And your life does depend it.” The knight whipped the shrieking blade back down past the womans face to rest near her shoulder, the tears streaming down her stoney face gleaming red under the weapons light. “If you don’t choose they both die. As for their crime; what was yours? You mothers? Existing. Getting in the way. These two stand between you and your vengeance. What happens to the survivor? Maybe nothing. Maybe I train them myself to exact vengeance on you the way you wage it against your own ghosts. Now choose.”

Aaric flinched as his master verbally flung his apprentice's convictions against himself while accusing him of being a hypocrite at the same time. Harsh truths brought his idealistic notions come crashing down to the ground. Those same words stabbed deep into his heart as a whirlwind of emotions clashed against each other.

Aaric's head tilted downwards, letting the shadow of his hair cover his eyes. His balled fists relaxing and his shoulder slumped in defeat.

His imaginings of glorious combat against the Jedi-loving Pelagian scum didn't include women and children; Scared, helpless and weak. Wasn't he, essentially of noble birth, above sullying his hands with the blood of the innocent?

No... How could he have been so arrogant? Just as commanders and generals throughout history have ordered civilians to be killed, their hands were no less bloodied than the men below them who committed the deed themselves.

His master was right. Aaric had deigned to fully commit himself to this path of vengeance and destruction. If the High Lord of House Pelagia himself were to surround himself with women and children as meat shields, then damn him to hell he would have to wade through rivers of their blood to get to him!

Aaric fully understood now. Whoever was left alive would know it was by his word that the other died. The survivor would go through the same emotions he did and eventually come to hate him enough to seek revenge. Along the way, who knows who he or she would kill to ensure his Target's death? And the loved one of those killed would also seek vengeance.

When one sought revenge, one must dig two graves.

Aaric chuckled ruefully. "Revenge... vengeance. Heh... I see. What a vicious cycle."

He raised his head and locked gazes with the frightened mother and child. Knight Metus wasn't torturing him for his own amusement.

Okay... Maybe he was.

But he was doing this to teach his apprentice this very lesson, albeit extremely harshly. There was no room for compassion. It was a quality that his enemies would not share. He, of all people, should have known better than most.

He steeled himself. He had made his choice.

Stepping towards the pair, he knelt down and used the precious few seconds he had to remember the looks on their faces. The child's fright, the mother's scared but angry glare. Was this what himself and his own mother went through when she was killed?

"Let him go, take me." The mother pleaded. "Please."

"So be it." Aaric replied.

The apprentice shot out his hand, grabbed the boy tightly by the arm and yanked him away from his mother. As Aaric stepped away, the boy could only struggle and scream bloody murder in vain at what was to come. A firm hand clasped around his mouth, muffling his desperate pleas as his captor knelt down once more and grabbed him tightly in a bear hug.

"Remember this day, boy." Aaric whispered harshly. "For it will be yours to haunt you... For all time. Remember her love for you. Remember her sacrifice... And that you were powerless to stop it! Watch as the life in her eyes fade into death's embrace. Hate the men here today who killed your mother. Hate them with all your might. That hate will make you strong... And one day you may grow up strong enough to kill us all."

These words Aaric were uttered to the boy. But deep down he knew he was uttering them for himself. His shivers were masked by the boy's own. This was it... It was time to relive the moment once more. To face his fears head on. There was no more running.

Aaric gazed at the mother. She wasn't frightened anymore. Her expression was replaced by one of relief, peace and tranquility: that at least her son was safe. Her last act of motherhood before her death. Meeting it with a smile.

That smile. The same smile his mother wore before her life was snuffed out before his very eyes four millennia ago. It broke something inside him. The last vestiges of innocence he had unknowingly been holding onto for so many years.
Gritting his teeth. He locked gazes with his master...

And nodded.

The blood red saber retracted with a crackling hiss and snap. Metus’s body relaxed, the tension in his shoulders loosened and the contorted look of fury on his face fell away.

“Good, my apprentice.” He said. The woman looked up at the Sith then to her boy, still too frightened to move.

Metus began to move forward, around the woman and straight for Aaric and the boy. What could be confused for finality in the task as Metus sheathed his weapon crumbled as Aaric would feel not white hot rage now; but an oozing malignant darkness pour from his masters being.

The Knight locked eye to eye with his apprentice once more to utter two words that might make Aarics stomach churn more than anything Metus had said so far.

“Do it.”

So that was what he wanted. For Aaric to do the terrible deed himself. The apprentice pulled his gaze away from his master's and locked with those of the mother. The woman looked resigned to her fate. What difference did it make who killed her as long as her son was safe?

"I understand." The apprentice answered. He pulled the boy to the side and ordered. "Stay here, unless you want to forfeit your life as well. Do not let your mother's actions been for nothing."

Aaric moved forward until he stood just slightly off to the woman's side so the boy could get a clear view of her. He now knew what his master was trying to do: to focus all of the boy's emotions onto this very moment, onto the single person responsible for destroying the only loved one he held dear.

Raising his right hand and arm upwards, the woman briefly shrieked in fright as an invisible force lifted her off the ground and float just about a metre from the floor. Slowly, he clenched his fist and willed the force to close upon the woman's windpipe, choking and suffocating her. The mother's eyes widened as she realised that the evil men before her were not going to grant her a quick, merciful death. They would slowly kill her and let her son witness the life drain from her eyes.

Hacks and gurgles could only be heard as Aaric increased the pressure on her neck. Bruises started to form as the woman could only kick and writhe uncontrollably, the lack of oxygen driving her brain into fight or flight mode. She clasped her palms around her neck and opened and closed her mouth, nothing but unintelligible sounds coming from her oral cavity.

Even as she slowly choked to death, her eyes still continued to lock gazes with her son. Tears streamed down her face; her eyes pleading in sadness for her son to look away. As if apologizing for letting him see such a horrifying sight. Aaric turned to the boy. Himself also tearing at his mother's needless suffering, powerless to stop it. Crying over and over to let his mother go.
Even when his own mother died, at least she had a swift death.

Aaric had enough.

*KRICK*

With a flick of his wrist, the woman's head snapped to the side and her body went limp. The apprentice lowered his arm, the woman's body following suit and laying down on the ground gently.

"It's done." Aaric declared with his back still facing his master.

Silently Metus observed as the deed was done. The warrior crouched down and whispered into the boys ear. A slight of hand gifting him with a weapon of vengeance.

“Go!” Metus snarled behind the boy, the child rushed forward and a bloody red plasma blade howled to life and was swung at the apprentices knees.

Hate.

It was an emotion that Aaric was all too familiar with. It had governed almost every fabric of his reason to live, his reason for existence. It was a feeling that was something I let unique to himself that he could feel.

But this hate he felt was not his. It was someone else's. And it was heading straight towards him together with the pitter patter of small footsteps and the hum of an all too familiar weapon. The apprentice could only shake his head slowly as the boy highly telegraphed swing attempted to strike his leg.

Aaric dodged at the last moment and turned around, thrusting an arm and lifting the boy into the air with the force as he thrashed and yelled in frustration in a vain attempt at killing his mother's murderer.

"I let you live and yet you seek to forfeit your life?!" Aaric hissed. His irises turning gold. "You have the chance to escape and return another day to kill Meyer you willingly throw it all away?! If that's what you want then so be it!"

Closing his fist once again, he started to choke the boy in mid-air just like he did his mother.

Metus observed his apprentice with complete indifference. Either Aaric was falling further into darkness or he was calling a bluff that didn’t exist. The childs body hung in the air, legs flailing, shrill screams fading to wispy scratches as his wind pipe sealed off. “So much more of your father in you than you’d care to see, I suspect.” The Knight crowed, followed immediately by the jarring snap of the childs neck echoing through the room.
 

Leo Gorgano Tritum

Active member

The End of All Things to Come​

-
Task 4 for Aaric
-
156 ABY
Dungeons
Dread Fort
Oricon
-
(follows immediately from task 3)
-​
The lifeless child's head bounced off the floor when he fell. Blood trickled from his nostrils and ears onto the cold stone; dead by Aarics hand. The lightsaber levitated with little resistance from the boys still tightly curled hand to the Knights before he clipped it back to his belt.

“Congratulations, you followed your first kill swiftly with another. One a difficult choice; the other easily avoidable.” Metus’s eye narrowed at the apprentice and a wicked grin cracked his face. “You need to learn to control that temper of yours.” He jabbed at Aaric, knowing the mixed signals would likely infuriate the young man even further.

“You relived one of the hardest moments of your life today from the opposite side. You showed that you do possess the callous resolve of a killer; something needed on a path of vengeance. And you showed that you’re not that different from those you seek vengeance on.”

The Knight paced between the apprentice and his victims, the mother and child, surveying the death Aaric had wrought. “Your next task begins immediately.” Metus’s head snapped up moving his haze from the floor to meet his apprentice.

“I want you to reflect on todays events. I want you to come to a decision; pursue your path toward vengeance or move your focus toward other endeavours. There is no wrong or right answer, you must simply decide.”

The Sith struck Aaric with a knowing look. “The ghosts of Ludo Kressh’s tomb won’t help you this time.”

Metus turned and headed for the door of the dungeon cell. “I fear that I’ve been too easy on you Aaric...” he sighed. “And so an additional portion will be added to this task. You will face a test I underwent myself, one I set for myself..” Metus turned to face his apprentice again, his eye glowing bright against the dark of the cell.

“You will overcome the final consequence of death. The force that will eventually take hold of the entire universe.” Swiftly the Knight stepped outside the door, grasping the handle with one hand.

“Now suffer the decay!” He roared as he slammed the the great metal slab shut. Leaving Aaric in the sickly green fire light.

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Day 1
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As the door slammed shut and the locks engaged to seal Aaric inside, the apprentice could only look on in shock at the sudden turn of events as his master's words replayed through his head.

The mother was dead. Chosen to die by his will and hand alone by his master's orders. But the boy... He could have spared him, force pushed him away, knocked him unconscious. Somehow his anger clouded his mind and he went straight for the kill. His master was right. Aaric had a choice and he killed the boy anyway because he could not control his temper.

'The ghosts of Ludo Kressh's tomb won't help you this time.'

His eyes widened. Had his master known about his sessions with the seer in the tombs? How?! He made sure there as no one following him the entire time! But it didn't matter now. He was stuck in the bottom of the Dread fort for the next few days... or forever if his master decided to leave him here.

Aaric expanded his senses and felt no other presence. He was finally alone. Just him, two corpses, the dungeon and the darkness. Slowly, the apprentice fell to the ground on his knees. He raised his hands and gazed upon them... hands that were now stained with the proverbial blood of the woman's death as well as her son's.

He did it. His first kill. But not one of his enemies, but of innocents in cold blood. But why did he not feel satisfied? Where was that same rush when his master first anointed him with the blood of an unknown man across his face? No, this wasn't a glorious kill. This was a lesson about collateral damage. What it would take to ensure his vengeance would be complete.

What would it take? For him to become a monster?

Tears formed in his eyes as he clenched his fist and gritted his teeth.

"What... have I done?" He repeatedly whispered to the darkness. "What have I done? What have I done?!"

It was his father's fault. House Pelagia's fault. They made him who he was. But ultimately it was Aaric himself who made the choice. Hate boiled underneath his skin like the lava rivers of Mustafar like never before.

Hate... not for others. But for himself. For his weakness.

"GrrrraaaaaAAAHHHHHHHHHH" Aaric let out a force-powered roar as it shook the foundations of the dungeon.

The entire ordeal had been draining for him not just physically, but mentally as well. Sobbing over the pair of bodies in front of him. Aaric slid onto the warm, mossy ground and cried himself to sleep.

-
{Day 2}
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*Flashback*
[Aaric: Age 7]
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"Good morning Aaric." A smooth and gentle woman's voice roused a young Aaric from his sleep as she sat to the side of the table where the latter was fastened securely to by his hands, legs and torso.

The moment he realized where he was and what happened to him. The boy suddenly thrashed about and roared. "W-what have you done to me? Let me go! I'll kill him!"

"Quiet down now, little one." The woman cooed. "All will be explained in due time."

Aaric could only give the woman a heated gaze. "All I need to know is my father... That man, killed mother! Release me! I'm going to-"

SLAP!

A stinging sensation whipped across his cheek as his head snapped to the side. The boy was shocked into silence as his brain caught up with him. A better look at the figure in front of him managed to jog his memory. He had seen his mother being killed right in front of his eyes by one of his father's guards... then everything was a blur of red.

This woman was Viscountess Mireya of Vjun. High Lord Tritum's wife. The boy shivered. He had admitted his desire to kill her husband. Was she going to kill him? Or worse... torture him to death?

"Come to your senses yet?" The Viscountess hissed. "Think carefully Aaric Etherall Tritum. I, no, the Mecrosa Order just saved your life. If not by my will, you would be six feet under together with your mother."

Aaric sagged at his hapless situation. He was at the mercy of the viscountess. All he could do was to accept his fate. "At least I would have been with mother in the afterlife." He whispered.

"Foolish child." The woman scoffed. "There is no afterlife. There is only the force. And the force is the reason why you're still alive... And me, of course. Lord Tritum wanted you killed immediately. But I dissuaded him otherwise."

Aaric scrunched his brows in confusion. "The force?"

"Think, child!" Mireya snapped. "Those acts you performed in the execution hall. You think you did all that by strength of will alone?! No, the force is strong with you, Aaric Tritum. With that strength you can become powerful beyond your wildest dreams! With the force, anything can be accomplished."

Aaric thought long and hard at the implications. Even for his young age, he was astute and being able to read between the lines was something he picked up along the way. "Even if... if I want to, I can destroy Lord Tritum? Me?"

Instead of lashing out in anger at the mere question of killing her husband, Aaric was shocked when she returned a foxy grin. "Of course not now as you are. You will be inducted into the Mecrosa Order as an adept. The order is under my command and my dear husband won't be able to touch you. You needn't fear for your safety."

The boy furrowed his brows. This woman was Lord Tritum's wife and yet she thought little of a bastard child killing her husband? "But... Why? My mother was his mistress. Why not let me die? Why protect me?"

"Simple." Mireya shrugged. "Because I deem it not to be. Now, are you going to be calm and do as I say?"

Aaric gazed upwards as his mind ran a mile a minute. Lady Mireya was giving him a second chance. And she more or less tacitly gave him permission to kill her husband once she deemed him powerful enough. He would be able to avenge his mothers death.

Despair gave way to anger, hate and determination. Lord Tritum's wife smiled as she sensed those very emotions pour out of his being like a waterfall.

"Yes... Yes, Lady Mireya." The boy acquiesced. "I submit myself to the Mecrosa Order and it's teachings.

"Good." The woman chuckled evilly. "We may make a good Sith out of you yet."
-
*Flashback End*
-​
Aaric startled himself awake with a gasp. His eyes whizzed in all directions as he tried to get his bearings. Yes, he was still trapped in the dungeon with the corpses of the woman and the child he killed. The only lights flickering a sickly green from the wet mossy walls.

The apprentice sat up. How long had it been since he was locked inside? It was hard to tell in the darkness. Would his master even deem to return? Was this simply a trick to raise his hopes only to crush it under the heel of his boot and not come after the promised fifth day?

He shook his head. Now was not the time to think of such things. Whether his master returned to him would only be a matter of fate. If he were to die here, then there was nothing he could do.

Grooowwllll!

"Kriff..." Aaric cursed. There was no food or water for him to consume. If this continued, he may not live through the fourth day. Gazing upon the bodies of his victims, the apprentice scoffed and turned in disgust at himself. How would he ever even think to desecrate their bodies by eating raw human flesh? He might be Sith, but he wasn't some blood thirsty cannibal. If he were to die, it would be with dignity.

His master said he would simply have to choose. Revenge... or to put his concentrations into something else and leave his hate behind? The apprentice shook his head. How could it be so easy as choosing?

As he replayed the scene in his mind, Aaric wondered how long had it been since he last had that dream. Viscountess Mireya had disallowed him to be killed. Why? Simply because she deemed it not to be. No more, no less.

Sure, there was some motivations behind letting him live. But all in all it boiled down to one thing:
Choice. The problem was choice.

Was Aaric ready to make a choice because he deemed it so? To put away his emotions, his feelings and make a decision based on logic alone? Maybe if he had done so, the boy would have lived by his hand. But why was it so hard for him to make that choice?

The apprentice shuffled himself until his back hit the wall. He leaned against it and relaxed. He had to conserve his energy if he were to last the full five days. He only hoped that his master would return as promised. Closing his eyes, Aaric once again fell into a deep sleep.

-
{Day 3}
-
*Flashback*
[Aaric age 17]
-​
In the Mecetti palace main hall stood Aaric Etherall Tritum, bound and in chains as he directed a hateful gaze at his bastard of a father. There was no crowd to be seen here. Only Lord Tritum himself and his trusted guards. The older man stepped down from his lofty chair and stopped a few metres away from him just in case his wayward boy tried to attempt some last ditch assassination attempt.

"My son." He hissed. "My own flesh and blood. How am I not surprised that you would stand here before me accused of treason, just like your mother?"

"At least my mother was framed!" Aaric spat. "She did nothing wrong! You were the one who seduced her and when she came to you pregnant with me you spurned her and I like some sort of plague!"

"Enough!" Lord Tritum barked. "I've heard the story far too many times than I can count and I will not have you continue to live so you can disrupt my rule! If you wish to meet your mother so urgently, then so be it. Take him to the execution chambers!"
The guards dragged the younger Tritum away as he flailed and kicked against his captors.

"DAMN YOU, TRITUM! YOU SACK OF WINE!" Aaric roared. "I WILL HAVE MY VENGEANCE, IN THIS LIFE OR THE NEXT AND I LOOK FORWARD TO THE DAY I LOOK DOWN ON YOUR CORPSE AND SMILE!"

-​
SLAP!

A familiar stinging sensation graced Aaric's cheek as he knelt in front of Viscountess Mireya still bound by his hands. The older woman sported a menacing glare at her protege.

"Foolish boy! What were you thinking?!" She hissed. "Plotting to overthrow Lord Tritum and then launch an all out attack on House Pelagia?! I thought I trained you to be better than that. Your methods were much too rushed and sloppy! It isn't a wonder you got caught."

Aaric coughed, spitting out blood to the side. The guards had brought him to a secret part of the palace to be killed, but the Mecrosa Order's assassin's came to his rescue and killed them. For all he knew, he was damned lucky to still be alive now.
"I used what you taught me and did what I could to get my revenge." Aaric retorted. "Tritum would come first then House Pelagia would fall after I seized control of the throne!"

Mireya could only shake her head ruefully. "Even after so many years, you still haven't learnt your lesson. I cannot save you now, Aaric. But at least you won't die."

Aaric narrowed his eyes. What was she insinuating? "What do you mean?"

"Tritum wants you executed." She sighed. "I, however, have different plans for you. You shall be frozen in carbonite and locked within the deepest bowels of the Mecetti palace until the time comes when your talents may be required."

The younger of the two didn't like what he was hearing. "And when will that be?" He growled.

Mireya shrugged as two assassins emerged from the shadows by her sides. "Maybe in a few years? Maybe after millenia? Maybe never. Who knows? The point is at least you'll be alive. Your talent is far too strong to be wasted in death."

Aaric could only throw a searing, hate-filled look as the assassins grabbed him by the arms and tugged him towards the carbonite freezing chamber.

"I can only hope whoever decides to release you from this prison will benefit from my actions. Goodbye, Aaric Etherall Tritum."

-
*Flashback End*
-​

Aaric woke up with a start once again as he found himself face first on the cold floor. Somehow during his sleep he slid from the wall and landed cheek first on the cobblestone.

Another dream. Aaric thought. This was the second time his dreams were reflections of his past. Could it be the dark side energies within the dread fort influencing his mind somehow? If so, why did it show him those particular memories?

Once again, when his father sentenced him to death, Lady Mireya made the choice to shield him. Now, many millenia after they were gone, Aaric was still alive thanks to her. Even when he disappointed her numerous times throughout his training and when he went behind her back to orchestrate a coup. She could have let her husband kill him, yet she decided not to.

Again, through her will, her choice. Aaric's life was not to end that day.

Perhaps... perhaps there was merit in making choices without being blinded by emotion and passion.

Grrrowwwlll!

The rumblings in his stomach were getting louder now. His mouth was dry. But all he could do was swallow his spit, not that it helped much anyway. The bodies of the mother and son before him were beginning to stink and swell. He surmised that the bodies had been there for at least three days for the sort of decomposition to occur.

Three days. Aaric scooted as far away from the bodies as he could. Even if he chose to consume raw flesh now, he would definitely have gotten sick and be dead even before the five days was up. No... he had to endure. He was already doing his best to minimize his movements as much as he could. If only he could somehow slow down his body's metabolism...

Aaric growled to himself. During his studies in the academy archives, he came across a force technique that was mainly practiced by Jedi: Hibernation Trance. An ability that allowed Force-users to go into a very deep hibernation state. It slowed the user's metabolism and breathing to a standstill, causing the individual to only use one tenth of the air of a normal individual.
As much as he hated the Jedi as much as he did House Pelagia, if he were to survive he would have to learn to meditate and use the technique to prolong his survival. Then again, if Kreia was able to use such a technique, what was stopping him from doing so?

Sitting himself upright and leaning slightly backwards so that his back was supported by the dungeon wall, Aaric closed his eyes and regulated his breathing; tuning out all sounds and concentrating his mind and focus on his own breathing.

The race against time had begun.

-
{Day 4}
-​
How many days and hours had it been? Aaric couldn't tell anymore, not that he cared. All he could think about was survival. His gamble with using the Jedi meditation trance had only seen some success, and even then he couldn't sustain the state of mind for very long. Not that he had any way to tell how long he had entered into each session.

It helped that the dungeon was totally silent other than the crackling of green flames. But other than that, the smell of the bloating corpses and Aaric's own hunger pangs that were increasing in intensity made it all that much harder for him to concentrate.

By this time, the apprentice had opted to lay down onto the ground instead of sitting up to conserve whatever little energy he still had. He felt weak. His throat was dry. What was he to do other than think?

Looking back at his entire life up till now, Aaric wondered... If he truly were to die here, then why had he worked so hard and overcame such adversity only to be deemed unworthy?

Was it really worth throwing away his entire life to the pursuit of revenge? What would he do after House Pelagia was gone anyway? Wouldn't be be like Darth Sion then... Withering away his self without any sort of direction.

But giving up on his hate altogether would be betraying everything he stood for. His mother would never be avenged and he would have to live with the fact that he failed her... Failed himself, his oath. That kind of dishonour would be unacceptable as well.

Unless... It was possible to find a compromise between the two? Aaric's eyes widened. Why had he not thought of it before?!
His incessant pursuit of revenge would only put him on a headlong path to self-destruction of which a single mistake could cost him his life before he could see house Pelagia destroyed. But giving up entirely was not an option he would take.

He was still young by galactic standards. Where was the rush when he could take his time putting the pieces in place and finally realizing his ultimate goal? Darth Bane's rule of two culminated in Darth Sidious' destruction of the Jedi order and the almost complete domination of the galaxy. With patience and planning, he could recreate the feat in a much smaller scale and destroy house Pelagia by subterfuge and surprise.

With regards to the slain woman and child still laying in the middle of the dungeon, Aaric had not forgot about them. Knight Metus' lesson was clear: There would always be collateral damage in conflict, but there was always a choice in how one would conduct himself in war.

There will be death, but there needn't be slaughter. Blind rage would only return to haunt him later in more ways than one. Getting what he wanted while ensuring as little death and damage as possible was something he could manage as long as he learnt to temper his anger and bend it to his will. That was not to say he would be compassionate. That was a Jedi trait. No, he would be merciful where needed only if it suited his goals.

Whoever said Sith warriors couldn't be flexible and cunning?

He made his choice. Revenge was still on the cards. But for now, he would bide his time and focus on other endeavors to strengthen his own power, his position within the Empire, then use whatever means available to raise enough military strength to crush House Pelagia beneath his boots. Patience and careful planning was the key.

His master orchestrated the task for him, but it was also through the sacrifice of the mother and son that allowed him to reach this point.

Using up every ounce of strength he had, Aaric pushed himself off the ground and dragged his feet towards the two cold corpses. Ignoring the stench coming from their bodies, the apprentice gently placed the boy's corpse on top of the mother's and wrapped her arms around the boy's body as if shielding her son even in death.

"May your souls rest in peace." Aaric whispered as he closed his eyes and gave a small prayer. He no longer feared killing, he would do it again in a heartbeat. But never again would he slaughter unnecessarily.

Aaric collapsed onto the ground as fatigue took over frlm his recent exertions and darkness claimed him once more.

-
{Day 5}
-​
Am I going to die here? Aaric thought as he laid in the cold hard dungeon floor.

He had no longer any strength to move his limbs other than breathing. Ever so often, pain would wrack his entire body as if consuming his very flesh from inside out to keep him alive. He felt delirious, like the entire dungeon was spinning all around him. He was hearing whispers in the air as if the dungeon was alive. He did not care for the stench from the corpses nearby. The apprentice was too tired and he was already used to it anyway.

His master still had not come for him. Was this the end for Aaric Etherall Tritum?

"I told you, didn't I? That if you returned to the Tapani sector, only death awaits you there. Why continue your vengeance?"
His vision was a blur. But Aaric could make out the silhouette of the seer. Standing over him. Was his forced fasting affecting him this much that he was hallucinating? The apprentice chuckled, but he still deigned to reply what could be just a figment of his imagination.

"No... no." Aaric whispered hoarsely. "It's not about revenge anymore. It's about.. sending a message. It's about... Justice."

"What do you fear?" The hallucination asked.

"I... fear of failure." He rasped to himself. "I fear dying in here, and not being able to realize my greatest wish. To prove myself worthy... And above the name of Tritum."

With that the silhouette faded into darkness and Aaric was alone again.

He was so tired. His eyelids being forced closed form the extreme fatigue and lack of nutrition. Whether his eyes would open again, he did not care in the slightest. He just needed to rest.

“Wake up!” The Sith Knights roar bounced of the cobbled walls of the dungeon cell. The fetid stench of decay tickled Metus’s nose as he stood in the door way. He didn’t take any notice of whether his apprentice stirred or not before storming forward.

“UP! NOW!” He bellowed. Metus stopped between the young man and the rotting corpses. Aaric hadn’t perished, the Knight could sense the boy’s presence. Maybe he’d gone catatonic in the confines of the room, been left for too long. Not cut out for the ways of the Sith...

Aaric couldn't move. Was this a dream? The voice sounded familiar. Maybe he was in some kind of afterlife. Was he dead? He definitely didn't feel like it. He could still feel himself breathe shallowly. The sound of footsteps tapping nearer to him caused his facial muscles to twitch.

This voice... belonged to his master! His master had finally come for him. He wasn't going to die after all. He had survived and completed the task. All that was left was the choice.

Stirring from his position, Aaric forced himself to pull his eyelids open. Using up every ounce of strength left in his body, he flipped onto his stomach and pushed himself off the ground on his hands and knees. Lifting his torso and hands away from the ground and into a kneeling position, he addressed his master.

"I... Have done as you asked... Master." He spoke hoarsely. "I have... Made my choice."

"I choose... To continue pursuing my vengeance." The apprentice declared. "but... No longer will i charge blindly to my death. I will... Take time... To focus on endeavors... That will increase my powers, consolidate support... For my cause. And only when... The pieces are in place... Will I exact my revenge. House Pelagia... Will not be destroyed... Not down to the last man, woman and child. But I will make the high lord suffer. It's not about slaughtering Innocents... It's about... Sending a message."

A tired chuckle escaped Aaric's lips, slowly gaining volume until it turned into racuous evil laughter.

A wry smile spread across Metus’s face while his apprentice lay there cackling. He’d cracked, just as the Knight planned; though he’d arrived at a conclusion the warrior himself wouldn’t have. This young man was not Metus. He had a code. A code that had been bent, almost broken but a sense of conduct nonetheless.

The Knight reached into a small pocket inside his cloak, a stim canister he’d found left over from one of his own tasks. He tossed it over to Aaric, the light clanging bouncing through the room.

“That should get you through the ride back to Korriban. The ship you brought here is where you left it.”

The Knight turned and left his apprentice to his own devices, leaving the cell door open.
 

Leo Gorgano Tritum

Active member

“Knowledge is power”​

-
Task 5 for Aaric
-​
My apprentice, you’re arduous stay in the Dreadfort dungeon left you somewhat broken... But no matter, for you came out the other side stronger. You have now ascended in strength.

I want you to research the two new abilities you intend to add to your repertoire and present your findings to me at my home on Corellia. Additionally, you will research a further one ability that you may want to aid you in your quest for vengeance. And an ability you think could be used effectively against you.

There is no due date for this. But if you’re taking too long, I will nudge you... Do not take advantage of my good graces, Aaric. Good luck.

-
Aaric found himself on Corellia again. This time kneeling in front of his master to present him his findings. He was tasked to research on force powers he would like to acquire and also what his Jedi-loving enemies would try to utilize effectively against him. The time spent in the academy archives was significant, but it yielded results as well as allowing him to rest and recuperate from his ordeal back in the Dread fort.

The apprentice wouldn't admit it out loud, even to his master. But being stuck in the dungeon had lifted some weight off his shoulders somewhat. There wasn't the same blinding rage that clung to his psyche every time his father or House Pelagia was mentioned. He felt calm but energized and focused. He was able to think more clearly.

Aaric nodded to himself. He would find a way to show his gratitude to his master for strengthening his mental fortitude and providing him with the foundations to become more powerful. For now, he had a task to complete. Placing a holoprojector on the floor, Aaric stood next to it and began his presentation.

"It is done master. I hereby present to you my findings." Aaric declared. "I shall elaborate on the two force powers I will be acquiring. First off is force Stun and it's more advanced stages: Force stasis and Force stasis field."

"At its most basic level, Force Stun is self-explanatory." He continued. "It incapacitates a target by preventing most of their movements and deadens their senses temporarily. Though it is used by the Jedi mostly to flee and enemy or apprehend them, I find it a complete waste of it's true potential under Sith hands. Though I chose to be a warrior when I stepped foot into the academy, I was still trained in stealth by the Mecrosa Order during my younger days. I can sneak past security with force cloak and use force stun to disable, kill and hide the body of anyone whom I cannot bypass. With a high enough mastery, Force Stun can be applied to multiple targets. Though each one will need to be targeted and focused upon within one's line of sight. In combat with non-force sensitives, stunning an entire group will allow me to kill them with ease."

The holoprojector sprung to life as it showed a brief Holo of the traitorous Mara Jade using Force Stun against a rebel trooper. Aaric sighed inwardly. Such a shame that a deadly and beautiful Sith such as her would be swayed to the light side by Luke Skywalker.

"The next level would be Force Stasis and subsequently Stasis Field. Stasis allows me to induce the target into a catatonic state and freezing movements entirely, not unlike a statue. Though this might not seem to be much different than Force Stun visually, it is important to note that Force Stun can be resisted by individuals with a strong enough willpower. Force Stasis will ensure that each and every target regardless of their willpower will be frozen with enough time for me to take their miserable lives away. Stasis Field is basically Force Stasis but covering a targeted area and freezing everyone in place. Of course against Jedi this power may still be less effective on them. "

The holoprojector switched scenes once again and showed a Holo of a person once known as the Jedi Exile using Force Stasis against four opponents. It was a pity that this power was used mostly by Jedi. It would have been satisfying to have a Holo of a sith using it.

Aaric smirked. "Extremely useful for me when using it in confined spaces. Say for example... An entire room full of Pelagian delegates and their high lord signing a farce peace treaty."

"Moving on," Aaric gestured. "Force Stun will help me in dealing with non-force sensitives. House Pelagia has long since been an advocate and supporter of the Jedi order since the days of the Old Republic. It would be fair to assume that they have a handful of Jedi around to serve as protection in the guise of taking leave of absence from the Order."

"To deal with them, Force Suppression should be adequate. It is a mind-affecting power that breaks down a Jedi's mental defenses and subliminally causes the targets to be convinced that they have been cut off from the Force. This will cut them off from a vast range of their force powers, or at the very least diminish their effects to a manageable degree. With enough time, I should be able to prevent them from using their force powers altogether and follow up with Force Stasis before striking them down."

"An advanced version of this power is called Force Breach. Not much information could be found on it, but I can guess that it acts more like a fast acting poison compared to Force Suppression. I will have to train in the power continuously and find out for myself how far the effects of Force Breach will go."

"That ends the first part of my report on the powers I wish to acquire. Is there anything you would like to inquire of me, master?"

Aaric took his master's silence as a sign to continue. The apprentice nodded and slowly paced around the holoprojector.

"Searching for a force power that could bring the most impact to my quest for vengeance was not easy." Aaric explained. "People need dramatic examples to shake them out of apathy and into fear and I can't do that with my current repertoire of powers. As I am right now, I can simply be seen as just another run-of-the-mill Sith. I can be ignored, I can be destroyed. But with the right ability, I can become a symbol... A corruptive presence... everlasting. I needed something elemental, something terrifying. Most force powers were either too passive or were powerful but only targeted a single individual. I needed something which would strike fear into the hearts of my enemies en masse... Not unlike the dread master's of yore. To show as many of my enemies as possible that I, and thus House Mecetti by association, are not to be trifled with."

With a wave of his hand, the holoprojector materialised a Holo of a group of Jedi in throes of despair and agony as an unknown Sith behind them smirked from the blackness that enveloped him and moved away from him and towards his targets. The environment was darkened as if a solar eclipse had been set upon the area.

"Thus," Aaric concluded. "I have settled to take time to learn how to conjure Waves of Darkness. This ability uses Sith magic to conjure up literal waves of black accompanied by deafening roars that blinds opponents and shakes them to their very core. Targets of this ability are compelled to feel intense confusion, fear, despair and utter hopelessness. It is said that even persons nearby can be affected by the mere presence of these waves as they notice the atmosphere becoming dark or feel negative energies thickening all around them. Victims would hear whispers from the dark side in their head and play with their psyche on top of the dread they already feel. Even Jedi have been recorded as feeling as though their connection to the force was being stifled or smothered."

"Records have shown that this power can be nullified by a Jedi skilled in battle meditation. However, I doubt there would be many in the current Jedi Order who would be proficient at it, much less any Jedi from House Pelagia. I reckon any of them would prefer to deal in more martial aspects of the Force. They will not expect a Sith to forgo blindly attacking them and instead use sorcery against them."

"Of course, that is not to say the Pelagian Jedi would not have someone who had an ace up his sleeve." Aaric frowned in frustration. "The proliferation and expansion of the Jedi Order mean there are more of them who are able to dedicate their time to other pursuits besides trying to prepare for a re-ignition of hostilities through martial means."

Another wave of his hand and the scene changed to a Holo of a robed Jedi with light emanating from his hands as he purged the dark side from a Sith adept, screaming as though in burning pain. "This may be a stretch, but a Jedi wielding Force Light may be able to prevail against me. It is a powerful ability that, depending on a Jedi's proficiency, can either weaken or permanently purge the dark side from one's target. Though I am reluctant to say this, it will be a perfect counter against Waves of Darkness. Many well-known Jedi have used Force Light before ranging from Nomi Sunrider to Luke Skywalker and his descendants. Even if they are few and far between, the more Jedi there are, the higher the number of them will be from House Pelagia and the higher the chances that even one of them can wield Force Light with at least a useable degree of efficiency."

The holoprojector cut out and Aaric knelt before his master once again. "To ensure that never happens, I will simply assume that any Jedi I engage may be able to use Force Light at any time. I will make sure to kill or at least incapacitate them as quickly as possible so they won't have to time or focus to use it against me."

"That is the end of my report, master. I hope it has been up to your expectations."

"As a supplement to my force powers, I will also be striving to learn the martial art called Teras Kasi. I have read that it is designed to be used against Jedi... So I will be taking personal time to research on this and maybe even find a master to teach me."

”Mmmm waves of darkness..” Metus mused under his breath, leaning forward from his seat to look upon his apprentice. “An ability I’ve been on the receiving end of. Difficult to get out of. And definitely a symbol of power when learned properly.”
The Knight leaned back into his seat. “Tell me Aaric, at what rank would you have to be to use the higher tiers of force stun?”

Aaric took on a thinking pose. "I suppose by the time I am able to use Force stasis on a single target I would already be a knight. But to use Force Stun to target multiple enemies in an area would be enough by then. To use Force stasis on a group of enemies I believe I would need to train until I'm a master."

”You suppose? Or you know?...” The Knight raised an eyebrow. “Who, if anyone, did you consult on this matter?” Metus lowered his head to stare at Aaric, each knuckle on his right hand slowly cracking one after the other as his fingers curled into a fist.

The cracking of knuckles did not go unnoticed by the apprentice. It seemed his answer to his master's question had been found wanting. But he stood his ground anyway.

"I apologise if my answer was inadequate, master." Aaric explained. "I was simply executing your instructions. You wanted me to research on two force powers to be learnt immediately, one power to be learnt over the course of my apprenticeship and one power that my enemies may use against me. I believe I have delivered on that adequately. Thus, I was unprepared when you asked me about what rank I would have to be to use the higher tiers of force stun since I had not researched on that yet."

Aaric knelt and bowed his head in submission. "Then again, it is no excuse for me not to have thought of extrapolating from your original task and researched on my own in anticipation of you asking such a question. I should have been more critical in my thinking. For that, I have failed you and I submit myself to any punishment you deem fit, master."

A stiff snort escaped Metus’s nostrils as he suppressed the urge to chuckle. Arguing semantics was a fruitless endeavour.
“I asked you these things, yes. However...” the Knights voice descended into a rasping growl. “You took it upon yourself to go that extra step and present the higher offshoots of force stun, as I knew you would..”

Metus sat back in his seat, voice dropping the gruffness. “I thought you would have had the foresight to assess how powerful you would have to be to pull off these abilities. This is YOUR path of vengeance, is it not? Everything I do, everything I ask of you is for your benefit. I’m not angry Aaric, I’m disappointed.”

Metus rose from his seat. “You can come back to me with the answer in your own time. You may go.”
 

Leo Gorgano Tritum

Active member

The Consequences of Choice​

-
Closed-Oneshot RP
-
Sometime after the conclusion of Task 4
156ABY
Tomb of Ludo Kressh,
Valley of the Sith Lords,
Korriban
-​
Aaric had returned to the Korriban after a couple days travel from the Dread Fort on Oricon. The leftover stim that his master had left him was enough to give him energy and help with the pain to hitch a ride on an imperial transport and get off the lava-encrusted planet.

He spend the first few days of his return eating at the academy cantina. He didn't care that the food there sometimes gave him the runs, he was just glad to have food and drink to consume after the five-day forced fasting while trapped inside the dungeons of the Dread fort.

And whoever said that suffering builds character? Well Aaric probably had that person to thank.

After he recovered from looking at every morsel of meat like some grand buffet and resting inside his quarters he knew he head to visit the Tomb of Ludo Kressh again and talk to the seer. For some reason, the apprentice felt like as if a weight had been lifted off his shoulders. His anger and hate no longer tried to consume his mind each time his mind thought of his late father or of House Pelagia.

His vengeance was still strong, mind anyone, but it was as if his emotions had been tempered. He was able to think logically and focus clearly. Aaric had to relay his new findings to the seer. So he left the academy and travelled to the Tomb of Ludo Kressh once more. Once again, the dark side energies seemed to guide Aaric towards the very sarcophagus of Ludo Kressh where he always met the seer.

"Seer?" Aaric called out. "I'm here! I wish to speak to you! Reveal yourself to me!"

"Is that really necessary? Given what has transpired since your time away?" The familiar voice echoed behind him.

Aaric turned to face her. Confusion evident on his visage. "I don't get your meaning."

"You return here, dripping with the blood of Innocents on your hands." She replied, malice dripping from her words. "I can feel it. Already I can tell you have already set your mind on the path of destruction. You have chosen... Death."

Ahh so this is what it's all about? Aaric thought.

"No." Aaric declared. "I have chosen to control my own destiny. I will not be bound by your visions. House Pelagia will not be destroyed, I assure you. I won't slaughter any man woman and child. But what I plan for them... they will be the feeling the effects of my wrath for many years to come. They will not be wiped from the galaxy, but they will be crippled. They will learn what it is like to suffer helplessly as everything they covet falls around them... And that will be enough. That is where my vengeance ends."

A long silence reigned between them. Finally, the seer relented and backed down. "That is... different from what I envisioned."

"Then perhaps your visions aren't all that accurate aren't they?" The apprentice smirked.

"No... I suppose not." The woman retired a smirk of her own. "Strange, I can't sense your future anymore. It is clouded... hazy. As if whatever lies before you has become uncertain. What did you do while you were away?"

Aaric winced. The mother and son he outright murdered in the depths of the Dread Fort on Oricon was still fresh in his mind. It was a lesson taught by his master that he won't ever soon forget. But it was still an important lesson nevertheless. It was the reason why he had grown stronger.

"Simple... I made a choice." Aaric bit his lip. "I realised not everything is black and white. I didn't need to let my anger and hate consume me. All I need to do is to send a message. Nothing more. Nothing less."

His words were somewhat cryptic. But the seer smiled and understood all the same.

The seer smiled. "I see. It seems you have grown young Sith. I was wrong to think you would choose either extremes as my vision had foreseen. You do not need my services anymore. I wish you well in your vengeance. Farewell, Aaric Etheral Tritum."

"Wait!" The apprentice called out. "It's partially due to your wisdom that I have made it this far. Thank you for your guidance."
The crimson-clad woman smiled and nodded.

"And one last thing." Aaric pipied up. "I seek ways to stay one step above my Jedi enemies. I have read of a martial art called Teras Kasi that's designed to fight against Jedi. Would you know where I will be able to find someone who can teach me?"

The seer took on a thinking pose. "On Tatooine there is a tribe that calls themselves the Sons of Palawa. It is said they are among the many refugees who were off-planet when their home planet of Palawa was destroyed by the machinations of the Jedi Council. If you seek to learn Teras Kasi, there is where you will find them. We will not see each other again. Goodbye Aaric Etherall Tritum."

With that the woman faded from view, leaving Aaric alone within Ludo Kressh's tomb. The apprentice dipped his head and offered a prayer of thanks. He had ascended a step towards Knighthood. Now he just needed to keep the momentum going.

Tatooine was next.
 

Leo Gorgano Tritum

Active member

𝙂𝙝𝙤𝙨𝙩𝙨 𝙤𝙛 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝘿𝙚𝙨𝙚𝙧𝙩​

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Closed-Oneshot RP
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Theme music:
Tatooine, The Desert Sands
https://youtu.be/Y63QfXBf6D8
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Sometime before the start of Task 5...
156ABY
Mos Ila
Tatooine
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Mos Ila. One of the first few settlements that was raised since the discovery of the planet many millennia ago during the Old Republic. By now, one could say this settlement was more of a relic and it showed. The entire place had never expanded past it's old border walls save for a few squatters that left it vulnerable to sand storms and womp rat infestations. The population was noticeably few and very little in the way of shops and entertainment remained save for the local marketplace and Siltshift Cantina: A bar as old as the settlement itself.

Interestingly enough, like Vitiate's Sith Empire before it, the current Eternal Sith Empire still deigned to keep a garrison present on the planet even though there was no strategic value in it. Aaric surmised it could be to keep check and ensure the Galactic Federation did not try to persuade the Hutts, who were unofficially in control of the planet, to allow them to take advantage of the nearby hyperspace lanes in the event of a re-ignition of hostilities.

Still, it meant that in the current peacetime any Imperial officer or bureaucrat who was posted to Mos Ila would most likely be as a punishment in of itself or to get rid of someone annoyingly incompetent.

Unfortunately for Aaric, it was the latter. Which was why the moment the imperial transport, the only one to arrive at Most Ila for any period of time, the apprentice was suddenly invited to a meeting with the local governor to which the troopers who were sent to escort him had strongly encouraged he do.
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"It is a great honor to have you visit us, milord!" The short and lanky officer exclaimed cheerfully as he poured the apprentice a hot cup of tea, clearly ignoring the deadpan look on Aaric's face. "As you can see there's nothing worth of import here, but if I can help you in any way, please do not hesitate to let me know!"

Aaric sighed. It was obvious that the man was pandering to him in hopes that he would file some sort of report that appreciated his contributions and get him off the sand-blasted planet.

𝘖𝘩 𝘸𝘦𝘭𝘭... 𝘐𝘵'𝘴 𝘯𝘰𝘵 𝘭𝘪𝘬𝘦 𝘐 𝘩𝘢𝘷𝘦 𝘢𝘯𝘺 𝘐𝘯𝘵𝘦𝘭 𝘰𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘗𝘢𝘭𝘢𝘸𝘢𝘯𝘴 𝘵𝘰 𝘨𝘰 𝘰𝘯. Aaric thought. 𝘐'𝘭𝘭 𝘩𝘢𝘷𝘦 𝘵𝘰 𝘳𝘦𝘭𝘺 𝘰𝘯 𝘣𝘶𝘧𝘧𝘰𝘰𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘵𝘪𝘮𝘦.

"As a matter of fact, I believe there might be something that you could help me in." Aaric replied.

The governor's eyes lit up like a kaiburr crystal. "Of course! Anything milord!"

Aaric rolled his eyes before continuing. "I'm looking for a certain group of people. A tribe called the Sons of Palawa. Ever heard of them?"

"Hmm... Can't say that I have, milord." The governor rubbed his chin. "However there have been some sightings and skirmishes recently with some humans. They aren't Tusken Raiders, mind you, those masked, howling, growling barbarians are already a menace to anyone not native to Tatooine. But these men were definitely unmasked and anyone who was unfortunate to meet them up close and personal were never seen again. Some of the locals and even some my men have been calling them 'ghosts of the desert' seeing as they always attack and disappear without anyone knowing where they came from."

Aaric furrowed his brows. "Any idea where the attacks usually occur?"

"Most of it seems to be concentrated on the Jundland wastes between here and the Dune Sea." The governor explained, bringing up a holomap and showing Aaric the designated areas. "This area to be exact, within the canyons. It's because of them that any caravans traveling through the wastes have to go around them just to avoid these people."

"I see." Aaric smirked. "Then that's where I'll head then."

The governor sat up and sputtered out his tea. "W-what?! Are you sure milord? I can spare some of my men to escort you just in case-"

"An escort will not be necessary governor." The apprentice interjected. "I'll have to go alone. If you want to assist then loaning me a speeder bike with a few days worth of supplies will do."

"B-but..."

It was clear that the man wanted him to come back alive. But not out of concern for the Sith, obviously. Aaric had to admit that he was helpful, the weasel that he was. If he died, who would write a glowing report for him and get him a ticket out of this hellhole?

"That'll be all, governor." Aaric exclaimed with a tone of finality. "I'll be taking my leave. Let me know once the preparations are done. I'll be staying at the Siltshift Cantina if you need to contact me."

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At dawn the next day, Aaric stood next to the speeder bike and supplies prepared for him next to Mos Ila's entrance while the governor stood nearby with a couple of his men to see him off.

"Are you sure you want to go alone, milord?" The governor pleaded. "I beseech you to reconsider!"

"Your concern is appreciated, but unwarranted governor." Aaric waved offhandedly. "Mark my words... I will return."

With that Aaric sped off, blasting sand into the trio's faces. The apprentice wanted to get to the relative safety and shade of the canyons before the planet's twin sun's came out in full force. With luck, he would present himself as a lone target and bait the Palawans into attacking him head on.

After an hour, the fledgling Sith managed to reach the edge of the canyons of the Jundland Wastes just as the sun's had risen and started beating down mercilessly on the land. Checking his sensors, he was surprised to see something pinging back on his screen. There was some building nearby, but it was pinging from inside the rock. Aaric slowed down his speeder as he travelled towards the position highlighted on his holomap.

Minutes later, his curiosity was answered. Getting off his speeder, he gazed at an old abandoned outpost dug into the body of the canyon. The entrance was unshielded and was flanked by what seemed to be flag posts, but whatever that was hung on them seemed to have torn off and blown away by the planet's unrelenting climate.
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Aaric spread out his senses and reached out with the Force. There was a very faint dark side presence coming from within, but it was accompanied by something almost... ancient? Otherworldly? He couldn't put his finger on it but it was faint all the same. Probably leftover from whoever or whatever inhabited the outpost from who knows how many thousands of years ago.
Keeping his guard up, Aaric stepped foot inside the outpost.

Snap-hiss!

The bright red plasma blade of his lightsaber flooded the immediate area with crimson light and allowed Aaric to see within the dark passageway. He could tell it was many millennia old. Almost familiar. As if it came from his era in time. Just a couple of turns later and he exited the passage way and into what seemed to be a sizeable expanse within the canyon. Large enough that the light from his lightsaber was not enough to illuminate the entire area. Looking around, he saw a large red colored lever sticking out from one of the walls. He went over to it and pulled.

Clanking sounds emanated from above and the entire outpost came to life as floodlights were activated, albeit somewhat dimmed and slightly flickering due to the age of the generators. Aaric surmised the outpost must have been powered by solar energy via panels somewhere outside the outpost. As he scoured the place, Aaric walked up the ramps to what seemed to be the main command panel. Brushing off the millennia old dust from the console, he saw something surprising.

The logo of the Sith Empire.

Emperor Vitiate's Sith Empire to be exact. No wonder he felt some sort of familiarity with the place. Turning on the console, he parsed through the information within. It seemed that most of whatever data the outpost contained were purged when it was abandoned. However, there seemed to be a single log left. Aaric opened it and read it's contents.

𝘓𝘰𝘨 𝘯𝘶𝘮𝘣𝘦𝘳 72665

𝘛𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘦𝘹𝘱𝘦𝘥𝘪𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯 𝘪𝘴 𝘰𝘷𝘦𝘳. 𝘐𝘵 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘢 𝘧𝘢𝘪𝘭𝘶𝘳𝘦. 𝘞𝘦 𝘥𝘪𝘥𝘯'𝘵 𝘳𝘦𝘤𝘰𝘷𝘦𝘳 𝘢𝘯𝘺𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘰𝘧 𝘷𝘢𝘭𝘶𝘦 𝘧𝘳𝘰𝘮 𝘊𝘻𝘦𝘳𝘬𝘢'𝘴 𝘚𝘦𝘤𝘳𝘦𝘵 𝘞𝘦𝘢𝘱𝘰𝘯𝘴 𝘋𝘪𝘷𝘪𝘴𝘪𝘰𝘯 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘸𝘦 𝘭𝘰𝘴𝘵 𝘋𝘢𝘳𝘵𝘩 𝘚𝘪𝘭𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘳 𝘵𝘰 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘛𝘶𝘴𝘬𝘦𝘯 𝘙𝘢𝘪𝘥𝘦𝘳𝘴. 𝘉𝘶𝘵 𝘢𝘵 𝘭𝘦𝘢𝘴𝘵 𝘸𝘦 𝘤𝘰𝘯𝘵𝘢𝘪𝘯𝘦𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘪𝘯𝘧𝘦𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯 𝘣𝘳𝘰𝘶𝘨𝘩𝘵 𝘢𝘣𝘰𝘶𝘵 𝘣𝘺 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘙𝘢𝘬𝘢𝘵𝘢 𝘢𝘳𝘵𝘪𝘧𝘢𝘤𝘵 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘩𝘦𝘭𝘱 𝘰𝘧 𝘋𝘢𝘳𝘵𝘩 𝘉𝘢𝘳𝘢𝘴' 𝘢𝘱𝘱𝘳𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘪𝘤𝘦. 𝘐𝘧 𝘪𝘵 𝘸𝘢𝘴𝘯'𝘵 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘩𝘪𝘮, 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘪𝘳𝘦 𝘚𝘰𝘯𝘴 𝘰𝘧 𝘗𝘢𝘭𝘢𝘸𝘢 𝘵𝘳𝘪𝘣𝘦 𝘸𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥 𝘩𝘢𝘷𝘦 𝘣𝘦𝘦𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘤𝘢𝘵𝘢𝘭𝘺𝘴𝘵 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘢 𝘱𝘭𝘢𝘯𝘦𝘵𝘢𝘳𝘺 𝘰𝘳 𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘯 𝘴𝘺𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘮 𝘭𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘭 𝘪𝘯𝘧𝘦𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯! 𝘐 𝘤𝘢𝘯'𝘵 𝘪𝘮𝘢𝘨𝘪𝘯𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘪𝘮𝘱𝘭𝘪𝘤𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯𝘴... 𝘊𝘻𝘦𝘳𝘬𝘢 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘺 𝘵𝘰𝘺𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘴𝘩𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥𝘯'𝘵 𝘣𝘦 𝘰𝘱𝘦𝘯𝘦𝘥. 𝘐'𝘮 𝘫𝘶𝘴𝘵 𝘨𝘭𝘢𝘥 𝘪𝘵'𝘴 𝘢𝘭𝘭 𝘰𝘷𝘦𝘳. 𝘛𝘩𝘦 𝘚𝘰𝘯𝘴 𝘰𝘧 𝘗𝘢𝘭𝘢𝘸𝘢 𝘩𝘢𝘷𝘦 𝘢𝘨𝘳𝘦𝘦𝘥 𝘵𝘰 𝘢 𝘤𝘦𝘢𝘴𝘦𝘧𝘪𝘳𝘦 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘰𝘸𝘦𝘥 𝘶𝘴 𝘵𝘰 𝘭𝘦𝘢𝘷𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘰𝘶𝘵𝘱𝘰𝘴𝘵 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘭𝘪𝘷𝘦𝘴. 𝘐 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘪𝘯𝘴𝘵𝘳𝘶𝘤𝘵𝘦𝘥 𝘵𝘰 𝘥𝘦𝘴𝘵𝘳𝘰𝘺 𝘢𝘭𝘭 𝘪𝘯𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘮𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯... 𝘉𝘶𝘵 𝘐 𝘵𝘩𝘰𝘶𝘨𝘩𝘵 𝘵𝘰 𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘦𝘳 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘭𝘰𝘨 𝘪𝘯 𝘤𝘢𝘴𝘦 𝘢𝘯𝘺𝘰𝘯𝘦 𝘥𝘪𝘴𝘤𝘰𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘱𝘭𝘢𝘤𝘦. 𝘈 𝘱𝘪𝘵𝘺 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘺... 𝘈𝘭𝘭 𝘰𝘧 𝘶𝘴 𝘸𝘪𝘭𝘭 𝘣𝘦 𝘴𝘱𝘭𝘪𝘵 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘢𝘴𝘴𝘪𝘨𝘯𝘦𝘥 𝘵𝘰 𝘰𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘦𝘹𝘱𝘦𝘥𝘪𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯𝘴 𝘪𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘐𝘮𝘱𝘦𝘳𝘪𝘢𝘭 𝘙𝘦𝘤𝘭𝘢𝘮𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯 𝘚𝘦𝘳𝘷𝘪𝘤𝘦. 𝘈𝘴 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘉𝘢𝘳𝘢𝘴' 𝘢𝘱𝘱𝘳𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘪𝘤𝘦? 𝘐 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘬 𝘩𝘦'𝘴 𝘨𝘰𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘰 𝘨𝘰 𝘧𝘢𝘳 𝘪𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘌𝘮𝘱𝘪𝘳𝘦.

𝘚𝘪𝘨𝘯𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘰𝘧𝘧,
𝘊𝘢𝘱𝘵𝘢𝘪𝘯 𝘉𝘢𝘳𝘥𝘦𝘯 𝘎𝘰𝘭𝘢𝘩

Aaric shut down the console. It wasn't much. But it seemed that whatever this apprentice did, it garnered some respect from the Sons of Palawa. It also confirmed the existence of them and that they're home was somewhere around the area. Now the only thing left was to find them.

Suddenly, Aaric's head shot up from the console and he promptly ducked as a foot appeared out of nowhere and barely missed his cranium, smashing into the screen and leaving a sizeable crack.

Aaric spun around to meet his attacker but was promptly assaulted from another direction. He lifted his arm to block an axe-kick to the head and quickly pushed off the other ambusher with his free hand.

He had no time to rest though. The two attackers followed up and assaulted him with one strike after another, giving him no opportunity to counterattack or draw his lightsabers, driving him towards the edge of the command platform.

At some unannounced signal, both attackers jump and spun delivering a double kick to which Aaric brought his arms up in an 'X' and successfully blocked. But the force of the combined attacks forced him off his feet, into the air...

And off the platform.

The last thing Aaric felt was his body slamming against the durasteel floor before being knocked out cold.

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Aaric woke up with a start and found himself bound by his hands and legs. Looking up, he could see he was surrounded by men and women clad in some sort of ritualistic armor and sporting blades fastened to their backs. All of them were tense and ready to strike should he make the slightest of wrong moves. The wall of warriors at the fore of his vision stepped aside to reveal a balding, white haired elderly man striding towards him.

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"Release his hands." The old man croaked.

A few seconds later, one of the tribesmen came up behind him and cut away the rope binding his hands.

"Please drink." The elder gestured towards Aaric's side.

Aaric turned to see a cup of water next to him. His other hand tried to touch his belt and found his weapons and equipment were stripped from him.

"Don't worry, your weapons and equipment are safe with us." The elder quipped. "Please drink."

The apprentice cautiously took the cup and brought it to his lips. The cool liquid entered his mouth and washed his parched throat. Aaric hoped there wasn't any poison in it. It would be a damn shame if he died from that instead of glorious combat. Once his drink was finished, he placed it back.

"My son." The elder squatted down in front of him. "How have you become so lost?"

"Not lost." Aaric replied. "Looking for you. You're all the Sons of Palawa are you all not?"

"And if we are, why would you look for us despite what others say about us?" The elder questioned. "Do you not fear death?"

"I do not fear death. For I am Sith." Aaric declared. "I know you all came from the home planet of Palawa. I know Palawa was destroyed by the machinations of the Jedi Council many years ago and forced you to relocate to the planet Bunduki. Swearing revenge against the Jedi you created a martial system meant to combat the very people who destroyed your home: Teräs Käsi. I'm here to ask you to teach it to me."

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The warriors surround him bristled and murmured their discontent. It was obvious they were not keen on sharing their precious secrets with an outsider. Aaric decided to press the advantage.

"I belong to the Eternal Sith Empire! Like you, we are sworn enemies of the Jedi and seek their destruction. I ask that you teach me your craft so I may bring down more Jedi in your stead!"

A brown haired and goateed, middle aged man stepped forward with his arms crossed. "How are you any different from those Jedi scum? You may not be a Jedi, but you use the force to destroy everything you touch! We may not be actively participative in galactic affairs, but we have seen the destruction wrought on planets by your Empire's war against the Federation and the Jedi Order."

Aaric smirked inwardly. "Even so, compared to the Jedi Council the Sith Empire has not done anything to warrant the ire of you Palawans has it not? Ever heard the saying? The enemy of my enemy is my friend."

"What you say is true." The old man interjected. "According to our heritage, we originate from the planet of Palawa. It was destroyed by the Jedi Council and we were forced to evacuate to Bunduki. From then onwards we swore revenge against the Jedi and developed Teräs Käsi to fight them."

The elder closed his eyes and sighed. Seemingly looking older than he already was.

"We called ourselves the Followers of Palawa, aiming to keep the Jedi in check so that others would not have to lose their homeworld like we did. However, the Jedi order fractured into two...What was called the First Great Schism. And somehow, we too followed the same fate. In a thirst for revenge against the Jedi Order, many of the Followers split from us and joined the dark side cult called the Minions of Xendor, also known as the Legions of Lettow, who waged war against the Jedi."

"In the end, Xendor and his Legions were defeated. The loss of so many crippled us and we were not able to do what we first sought. The Jedi became the dominant organization of force-wielders for many years to come and we could do nothing to stop them. All we could do was ensure our heritage and culture were passed down from one generation to the next.

Eventually, we came to rename ourselves as the Sons of Palawa, split ourselves up and spread out across the stars. We are one of those groups, coming here to Tatooine to test ourselves against the harsh elements."

"As you can probably surmise, Sith, we have left our revenge behind. There is no use pandering to something we do not have. There is nothing we can do for you, go back to whence you came."

Before the warriors could touch him, Aaric stood up with his legs still bound. The tribals tensed in anticipation of an attack, but none came.

"I, too, was once like your ancestors." Aaric explained. Trying to appeal to the pride of the Palawans. "I fell deep into my hatred and revenge, blindly assailing the seemingly unassailable even if it would lead to my ruin. But I realised that an avenger is just a man lost in the scramble for his own gratification. I seek to destroy the Jedi not out of revenge or for the Empire. I do it to to send a message."

The apprentice could see that quite a few of the tribals caught an interest in what he had to say. All he needed was a little more push!

"And by teaching me your art you too can send a message to the Jedi: That the Followers of Palawa are not dead! They live through their teachings, through Teräs Käsi!" Aaric declared. "Teach me, and your message will be brought to the Jedi through me. Your legacy will live on through others. Don't let it die with your people."

The elder seemed to give his reason some thought, then nodded. "You make a very convincing argument there, my son. It almost made me change my mind. Almost... But your logic has a fatal flaw. When we changed to call ourselves the 'Sons of Palawa' we resolved to keep our martial art to ourselves. At the hands of an outsider, who knows what he or she would do? And what if the Jedi caught wind of this news and learnt it? Then it would go against the very purpose of creating Teräs Käsi! A valiant effort young one. But in vain, nonetheless."

Aaric seethed inwardly in frustration. If he could not appeal to their pride then he would appeal to their code of honor!
"The Sith that helped you destroy the Rakata infestation almost four millennia ago." Aaric exclaimed. "Did you think your tribe properly rewarded him for his services?"

The old man frowned. "I don't get your meaning, young one. What are you getting at?"

"From what I can tell, the Sith who helped you destroy your infected tribesmen could have simply chosen to eradicate your entire group to stop it from spreading." The apprentice explained. "But he chose to leave your uninfected alone and kill the infected ones. Your tribe wouldn't be here almost four millennia later if it wasn't for him. As a representative of the Sith, you can consider me his descendant. You owe him your entire existence and thus you owe me. If you have any sense of honor, then show your gratitude of such an act by teaching me your art."

The tribespeople murmured and whispered harshly amongst themselves. Even the elder narrowed his eyes at him. Aaric knew he was making a calculated risk. By borderline insulting their code of honor he risked angering them and letting them butcher him right then and there. But if he was successful, then they would be compelled to teach him and recover their pride."

"You make a very compelling argument, young one." The elder walked up to him and stared right into his eyes. "Tell me... What is going to stop you from teaching our craft to others?"

"Nothing." Aaric stared back with the same steely gaze. "But you can trust me that I'll never teach another soul your craft. I can't say for sure about others who learnt it through other means."

A long silence ensued. The pair's staring match went on for what almost seemed like minutes. Neither blinking or turning away. In the end, the elder relented and closed his eyes, deeply sighing.

"I will reach you Teräs Käsi." He declared. "But I will come with you back to your Empire to ensure you keep your word."

"What?!"

"Elder, you cannot be serious?"

"What if this is a trap?!"

Echoes of dissent and disagreement rung throughout the cavern that the Sons of Palawa made their home. But the elder raised his hand which silenced them.

"There is nothing for me here now." He reasoned. "I have no sons or daughters to care for. And there are enough masters of our craft here to teach the next generation. I've always wanted to travel to other places. Let this old man have his way for once in his life."

Aaric grinned inwardly and extended his hand towards the elder. "You have an agreement. In that case, gather up your things. We shall leave immediately."

-​

After a long while of tearful and heartfelt goodbyes, Aaric left the Palawan cavern village with the elder following right behind him. Fortunately, the Palawans were nice enough to have brought his speeder bike and supplies along when they captured him. As thanks, the apprentice decided to give most of the supplies away to the Palawans. He needed the extra space for his new passenger anyway.

"I hope you understand..." Aaric said. "I can't exactly call you 'master' since I already have one."

"It's alright, young one." The elder replied. "Just call me 'Old man' will do."

Aaric climbed aboard the speeder bike with the old man doing the same. "May I have the honor of having your name, then?"

"Call me... Drautos Pike."
 
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Leo Gorgano Tritum

Active member

Those That Came Before Me​

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(For the completion of part 1 of Task 6)
Theme Music: The Throne - SWTOR OST
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=nJOERDcQd8w...
Master Tag: Metus Aurelius, Dread Knight of the Hunt
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156ABY
Capital city of Ta'a Chume'Dan
Hapes, Hapes System
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Hapes. The home planet of the Hapes Consortium. A matriarchal civilization where men were subservient and women were the holders of power over all levels of society.

As he stepped out of the spaceport, Aaric marveled at the capital city of Ta'a Chume'Dan. It's architectural style not much different from buildings found in the Tapani sector, but the designs were unique all the same. The Fountain Palace where the Hapan Royal family resided could be seen clearly from a distance away as it sat on a crag overlooking the city.

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But he wasn't here for sight seeing. His master had called him here. Thus, Aaric made his way to the specified coordinates to meet him.

Aaric wondered what his master was doing on Hapes... why did he want to conduct his next task here? It wasn't for the beautiful scenery, he surmised, and definitely not for the beautiful women everywhere who ogled at him like a piece of meat to claim and sink their fangs into. Now he wasn't some sort of handsome celebrity star by any means. But his tall appearance, chiseled jaw and young but rugged look did give other men the run for their money back in the Tapani system.

It would be the only time Aaric cursed his looks for standing out so much. If only his new cape had a hood he could hide his face with...

The apprentice made sure to pin the badges that signified him as a visitor clearly on his newly acquired Mabari armorweave cloak and vest from Sindri Customs. For the first time he was relieved whenever he heard scoffs and clicking of tongues as Hapan women who passed him by noticed his badges and turned away in frustration or disgust.

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Hapans were wary of outsiders after all. Even more so of men a tad more good looking than their own. Soon he managed to find a quiet spot with little foot traffic and waited for his master to contact him so that he wouldn't have to contend with the many looks and glances he would get if he simply stood in the open.

While waiting, Aaric's mind went back to the time he was in the Sith Academy archives poring over records and holos for his master's latest task.

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*Flashback*
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Books, scrolls and datapads piled on top of the table Aaric was on as he studied the three figures that he had chosen to focus on. His master, Knight Metus had tasked him to research on three Sith warriors, with one of them coming from the Eternal Sith Empire. There was no doubt as to the three he had chosen: Darth Tyranus, more well-known as Count Dooku and a noble figure which he looked up to. Darth Malgus, a fierce combatant and unstoppable force on the battlefields of the Great Galactic war four millenia past. And current Empire's very own Lord Reiis Invadator, Head of House Cruor and Marauder General of the Black Legions.

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Count Dooku. Darth Tyranus. The man Aaric Etherall Tritum looked up to above most others.

In the words of Qui-Gon Jinn: "He is a fencer. Leverage, position, advantage; they are as natural to him as breathing". A pure master of Makashi and regarded as one of the best duelists of his time. His skills struck fear into Darth Sidious and Plagueis alike with the latter suggesting Dooku was more skilled than the former. Combined with his mastery over telekinesis and Force Lightning, he had held off or bested a multitude of skilled opponents.

There was nothing he could add to what was already been described. His skill was legend. His bladework, speed, elegance and accuracy was top notch. Dooku's offense was unpredictable, his defense was effortless. Fluid footwork, superior mobility and balance is what he used to feint and trap his opponents and make them chase him. He made use of sudden fore-and-aft charges, abrupt retreats, never meeting opponents head-on and efficiently conserving his energy to unleash fast and fatal ripostes.

Such was his mastery of Makashi, he was able to overcome the weaknesses of the form: being able to hold off up to three duelists despite the form being unsuited to the task, deflecting blaster bolts with ease and also defeating duelists whose style had significantly more power and kinetic energy than offered by Form II by outplaying and outmaneuvering them. Even in his advanced age during the last few years of his life, he skillfully used the force to universally increase his physical prowess and remain vigorous and agile in fights.

To further supplement his skill, he actively used Dun Möch in his duels to psychologically attack his opponents and was also proficient in the use of Waves of Darkness to unbalance them at the right opportunity."

However, as much as he wanted to emulate every fiber of this man, he was fully aware of his weaknesses as well. Ironically, he was a hypocrite. He espoused others to 'use the unorthodox' but chose to conform only to Makashi. Where others synchronize the mix of lightsaber forms to perfect a truly personal style, Dooku had long since plateaued and only used other forms when absolutely necessary. Watching holos of his duels, one could clearly see applications of other forms, albeit in short moments before reverting back.

There was only so much he could do to compromise Makashi's weakness to more kinetically-charged styles and juggernaut-like opponents. There have been multiple instances where he has been overwhelmed by strongmen like Savage Opress and a dark-side fuelled Anakin Skywalker. Thus, proving that singular compliance to a single form would ultimately fail at the right moment.

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Darth Malgus, in his opinion, could be described as the manifestation of the world 'duel' itself. Watching holos of his fights, Aaric could only conclude that Malgus was an almost perfect mix of brutality and elegance, though not to the degree of stylishness like Dooku.

Malgus didn't seem to have conformed to any particular style, but Aaric's own analysis concluded it to be a mix of Djem So and Ataru with a hint of Makashi. His use of Jar'Kai during the re-taking of Korriban four millenia ago was also a testament to his flexibility and talent. On top of that, his masterful combination of brute strength, rage, focus and his frontline battlefield experience made him a juggernaut of juggernauts at the time. Dispatching more than his fair share of highly skilled Jedi.

His duel with Jedi Master Ven Zallow in the Jedi Temple during the Sacking of Coruscant was the best example of his prowess. The sheer strength and fluidity of his moves was almost perfect; with one strike, whether or not it connected, flowing through to the next one and the next one until his enemy could not keep up and was struck. Malgus was also a powerful force user who was able to use it in ways not everyone would think of in the heat of battle. For example, he would counter-push his enemies in mid-air when they tried to leap over to him.

Aaric's observations and analysis also led him to conclude that Malgus was highly adept at tapping in his hate and rage while tempering it with his focus so that he could utilize the dark side to ramp up his strength and prowess to the fullest extent possible. It was rumored that he was once able to draw himself into what others said as a 'calm eye of a storm of hate', becoming one with the force itself.

However, even he wasn't subject to weakness. His Twi'lek slave-turned-lover became an attachment and weakness that his enemies could exploit and cause him to lose focus. Fortunately he realized this after the Sacking of Coruscant and killed her with his own hands. But he never was the same again. Years later his uprising against Vitiate's Sith Empire, which utilized the strengths of aliens in honor of his slave, would be defeated due to him losing control of his anger and letting desperation cloud his mind.

Malgus was the antithesis of what Dooku espoused, but both achieving the same things through different means. Malgus combined forms and styles together to make his own, while Dooku focused on a singular form. Malgus utilized his rage freely but competently compared to Dooku's calm head and precisely calculated moves. Malgus used his strength and the force to shatter his opponent's morale in a swift strike while Dooku used a more personal touch with Dun Möch to crawl his way into his enemy's mind and tear at him mentally from within.

Both were masters of killing with their own personal styles. Both were worth studying by Aaric and it was where both figures influenced his own personal style since he started his training in the Mecrosa Order. When Aaric compared himself to both Sith Lords, the short answer was that he was somewhere between the two in both strengths and weaknesses. Almost like a jack-of-both-trades-but-a-master-of-neither.

Aaric specialized in Makashi albeit not to the same mastery as Dooku yet. But he was fully aware of its weakness against highly kinetic strikes. So he trained his body relentlessly to garner the physical strength needed to directly counter this weakness besides simply trying to maneuver around it. If there was one singular advantage he had over Dooku, it would be physical youth and a creative, energetic mind.

He wasn't a berserker like Malgus either, so powering his way through his opponent's defenses was out of the question. To make up for this shortfall in strength, he had his training in Teras Kasi under Palawan Drautos Pike to thank. Since then, the martial art was slowly beginning to bleed into his saber form and becoming a true personalized style in the making. However it would be some time before he mastered it to a effective degree.

The apprentice also tapped on his thirst for vengeance to allow the Dark side to fuel him, just as Malgus did with his rage. But unlike Malgus, he had no living loved one to worry about endangering. He was free to utilize his emotions however he saw fit against his enemies. Unfortunately, his control over his emotions were not as good as Malgus. Since his task in the Dread Fort dungeons, his head had since been more clearer. Perhaps with time and practice he would be able to keep a cool head on his shoulders and also funnel his emotions into a simmering pool of hate that he could draw the dark side from.

Unlike both Sith lords, Aaric's force powers overall were not a powerful as theirs. Neither was he born with innate talent for a particular ability. Yet, Aaric would make up for this shortfall by thinknig of creative ways to use the abilities he had on hand to use them in unpredictable ways. On top of that, he had his armorweave cape on hand as well. Already he was thinking up of ways to use the cloak offensively in his saber form rather than as a piece of purely defensive clothing.

Soon, he would have a legacy of his own worth following.

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The last person he had to research on was Lord Reiis Invadator herself.

Count Dooku once said: "Stop using the standard attacks. Use the unorthodox!"

And if anyone claimed that the most esteemed General was the physical manifestation of that phrase itself, Aaric would be the first to agree without hesitation!

He had watched holos of her duels with apprentice Kielor and with Darth Cruor. Both were splendid fights that showed at least some of what she had to offer to any opponent. Aaric daresay that with what he had seen so far, she could even give Count Dooku a run for his credits if they ever dueled.

While Count Dooku relied on exploiting a weakness in his enemy's chosen form, there was no form for which Lord invatador had to exploit at all. Her fighting style was calculated, yet seemed random and unpredictable. She utilized her signature force powers of Fold Space and Doppelganger to devastating effect; placing her opponents where she wanted them or confusing them by making her doppelgangers appear as if they were able to touch anything with masterful trickery via telekinesis.

If Aaric were to face her in a duel, even if he ever mastered Waves of Darkness, it would be next to ineffectual against one who was proficient in Umbrakinesis to such a high degree.

But that was not to say that she had no weaknesses... if she ever showed them at all. Her fight with Darth Cruor had shown that her skill and tricks were ineffective against one with an overwhelming well of dark side energies to tap into. She could be overpowered. But who in the galaxy could even match in power to Darth Cruor? Only a great few. And those few would most likely belong in the Empire.

Count Dooku wouldn't be able to outmaneuver her unpredictability and her masterful use of dark tendrils. Darth Malgus wasn't as powerful enough compared to Darth Cruor to try and steamroll through her. She was what both Sith Lords were and were not. A Masterful duelist and a cunning force user more unpredictable than anyone could ever imagine.

Aaric would never be able to emulate her fighting style and force powers. But that didn't mean he couldn't take a page off her book. He would learn to use his existing abilities in ways that others couldn't, as well as learn new ones that would give him the most widest variety of utility in future duels.

He had gotten what he needed to report to his master.

Storing all his newfound data into his personal datapad, Aaric left the archives and began arranging transportation to the Hapes system.

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*flashback end*
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Aaric brought his attention back to the present as his holocommunicator beeped and whirred. His master had finally called for him. Making sure there was no one around, he hid into an abandoned alleyway and activated it.

"Greetings, master. I have arrived on Hapes. Where shall we meet?"
 

Leo Gorgano Tritum

Active member

“What lies within”​

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Task 6, part 2
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156 ABY
Tunnel chamber beneath the mountain palace
Hapes
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Deep in the undercroft of a grand palace nestled comfortably among a cradle of snow capped mountains on Hapes, Knight Metus laid in wait for his apprentice. The air within the room was still and cold and a perverse sense of dread would consume most who entered. This place, the scene of his first task under the Dark Lady Traya. Where his resolve was tested, mind broken and an insatiable appetite for the dark and destruction manifested in a torrent of horrific visions.

Aaric would have received the coordinates and should have been more than capable to sensing his way through the snaking tunnels beneath the palace. Metus had some insight into Aarics mind, his ambitions. But many who passed through the Empire seldom knew themselves well enough as apprentices. Their minds narrow, unfocused and closed to many pathways that their peers had tread; avenues laid out before them to explore.

This day Aaric would learn something about himself.

Said apprentice followed the coordinates until he was outside the city and out into the wilderness. Eventually, it led him straight towards a Palace that was located inside the nearby snow-capped mountains. He circled around the palace until he was walking past the cliff side below the majestic building. True enough, a dark entrance was hidden behind large boulders. Said entrance emanated waves of dark side energies.

This was where his master wanted him to go.

The snaking tunnels were dark and cold. But just like the tomb of Ludo Kressh, the dark side seemed to draw him towards his intended destination. The dark side presence growing stronger was the only thing that told the apprentice that he was going in the right direction.

Eventually, Aaric reached the end of the tunnel and was greeted by a great expanse of reflections: A chamber of mirrors. And right at the centre was his master standing next to a grand and ornately designed mirror. Its glass pane showing him things that could rarely be seen in outer space... Rumbles and deep vibrations could be heard emanating from the glass.

“Welcome Aaric.” Metus said opening his eyes. “Lets get this lesson underway, shall we?”

The warrior stepped aside, the image in the mirror fizzled out and collapsed in on itself; clearing to reflect Aaric standing part way across the room.

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Aaric steeled himself. His time in the Dread Fort had shown him that his master had an inkling for playing mind games. This time would be no different. Mirrors signified reflection of one self. Perhaps his master wanted him to look deep inside his psyche? Change something fundamental?

No matter. Time would tell. His Teras Kasi training under Drautos Pike had taught him the fundamentals at closing his mind to Jedi and Sith intrusions. But this was no sentient force user. This was an object clearely seething with dark side energies. Anything could happen.

Closing his eyes and taking deep breaths, Aaric centred his mind and willed up the mental walls for his psychological protection. It may not be much, but it would have to do.

"Yes master." Aaric said as he stepped up to the mirror. "I am ready."

“Are you?”

A voice.. no, voices came from the mirror. A man and a woman speaking as one, though they were distorted. “What makes you think you’re ready? Ready for what?” The voices rumbled from behind the glass, waves rippled through the mirror, blackness pouring from the centre like ink through water.

Aaric resisted the urge to take a subconscious step back. He narrowed his eyes dangerously at the shimmering mirror. Something within his mind screamed and urged him to take his lightsaber and smash the mirror to smithereens. The dark side was rife in this object until it seemed to have a life of its own. If it could project voices into his head, then what else could it do?

“What makes you think you’re ready? Ready for what?”

There it was again. The voice of a man and woman twisted together... how perfectly haunting, gripping Aaric's attention and morbid curiosity. Something prodded his mind. Gently. Feebly. As if seeking permission for entry into his thoughts but blocked by the walls he put up earlier. It was warm. Comforting. As if beckoning him to lower his defenses. That all was going to be okay.

And Aaric took it.

“What do you see, Aaric?” Metus asked his apprentice. The silky black of the mirror shimmering as if excited to take shape.

The apprentice closed his eyes and lowered his barriers, allowing the mental tendrils to envelop his psyche and seep deep into his head. Then he opened his eyes once again. This time, his eyes widened as he noticed two figures standing behind his reflection, fire surrounding the trio.

His mother, Lady Evelyn, on one side. His father, High Lord Tritum XI on the other. His breath hitched. Emotions of loss, sorrow, happiness, hate, rage... all coming together at once as tears welled up in his eyes. His fists clenched tight until his knuckles whitened and his nails drew blood from his palms.

"I see..." Aaric spoke through clenched teeth. "My parents. Standing behind me. All three of us surrounded by fire."

A deafening blast filled the room, shards of glass exploded from the mirrors face followed by a plume of scorching flame. Tiny pricks of glass would imbed themselves in the apprentices skin, what ever was exposed. Larger shards tearing through his clothing. The fire coming just short of Aarics nose before dissipating. As the flame receded he would see a hand reach through the threshold of the mirror. Blackened and fragmented like scorched timber, dappled with glowing orange embers. Its gnarled, incorrect amount of fingers curled to grip the mirrors frame. The other hand followed and the flame began to die down.

Aaric would see a burned monstrosity before him. It’s limbs twisted and malformed. It’s entire body segmented and charred, burning like coal. Behind, the apprentice would see the skyline of Pelagar ablaze and the pained shrieks of thousands of lives tormented by plasma fire. The burnt husk before him would crane it’s head up to face him, the only remnant of Aarics parents he would see is their eyes; each set positioned vertically either side of the nose as if to take on the similarity of an arachnid.

The fiends jaw cracked as it opened, ash flaking and falling it began to speak in that dual voice.

“Is this what you seek my boy?”

Aaric could look on in morbid awe as he fell onto his knees; ignoring the pain from the glass which dug deeper into his legs. As the charred creature climbed out of the mirror and into the physical plane, it stood menacingly over the Mecettian and spoke. It's jaws breaking off the charred skin and flesh.

The apprentice could only drop further onto his hands and close his eyes. Blood from his wounds and tears staining the floor.
"Yes." Aaric whispered. "This was what I wanted. House Pelagia's complete and utter destruction. Their pathetic city razed to the ground. Their people annihilated down to every last man, woman and child."

Slowly, the Mecettian raised his head and pushed his hands off the ground. His eyelids opening to reveal gold-stained irises. Hate rolling off his visage.

"That WAS what I wanted." The apprentice seethed. "I know nothing can bring either of you back. To feel your embrace once again, mother. To lay my hands on you and kill you myself, father. There is nothing left except my vengeance."

"I won't kill them all. I will leave the city and the people to be broken and continuing to limp on. Death is too good for them! It would be over too soon!" Aaric raised his voice, almost shouting now. "I don't seek their destruction... I seek their subjugation! The Pelagian survivors and their descendants shall live on and suffer as they see their planets and cities enslaved under Mecettian rule!"

"THAT IS WHAT I WANT!"

“Pathetic.” The fiend of cinder hissed. A sickening series of cracks echoed through the chamber; the chest of the amalgam monstrosity parted. It’s rib cage split and one by one each bone articulated out, lumps of smouldering ash crumbling away. And where you would expect to see lungs, a heart there was another head. Cradled in the blackened rotting sinew was Aarics own face. His eyes were closed, the apprentice would even say he looked peaceful, comfortable and content. A child safe in the embrace of his parents.

The word cut through Aaric's pride like a lightsaber through flesh. But the apprentice kept his cool... Until he looked up and saw the monster straighten itself, it's ribs splitting itself open like a blooming flower and a heap of ash crumbling from it's chest.
What remained was himself; his face more specifically. His doppelganger was smiling, relaxed and content. When was the last time he had seen himself so... peaceful?

“Do yourself a favour... Have the Sith who was fool enough to see something in you, put you out of your misery.” The creatures voice rattled up through its throat. “If the height of your ambition is to see a city burn for the sins of a man long dead; burn yourself along with Pelagar like the waste you are.”

"SILENCE!" Aaric roared as he stood up to face the charred monstrosity. "House Pelagia was always my goal from the start. No more, no less! Once they have fallen, my victory will be complete! Is that not enough?!"

The creature simply stared at him and sneered, unconvinced by his argument.

"Tell me! How many more must die before it is enough?" The apprentice spat. "How many more cities and planets must fall? How long until I can finally know pea-".

The Mecettian cut his sentence mid-way. Realization beginning to dawn on his visage but his mind still attempting to reject the single inevitable truth that he had subconsciously shunned his entire life:

"Peace is a lie." He whispered.

As long as House Pelagia had allies, so did the Jedi. The other houses would see House Mecetti's invasion as a power move to guard against and would make preparations for inevitable conflict. The dust would not settle for long. The momentary peace after the invasion was all well and done would just be a precursor for more conflict. How naive of him to think that everything would end with House Pelagia's fall.

"Peace is a lie." Aaric repeated. "There is only war and conflict... Death. There can never be true peace even if the entire sector is under Mecettian or Imperial rule! Death is the only true peace."

The apprentice would not be able to hide his thoughts, his dwelling on galactic politics and balances of power. “Jedi.” A slow croaking voice came gurgling up the fiends throat. “Nobility. Peace.” The four eyes blinked in unison and narrowed in frustration at the young Sith. Again it spoke, it’s voice gradually lowering, the texture twisting until it became metallic and scalding. Reverberating through the chambers, sending waves through Aarics body. “Death... destruction. These are the ultimates, the constants of the universe. And your pride and honour in names and alliances are what you seek to preserve?”

Before the apprentice would be able to reply the chamber started to rumble. The whole palace sounded as if it were trembling. A luminous red fissure split the creature down the centre. The two halves parting unleashing a gush of terrible heat. The fiend turned outward on itself, the gaping split growing wider until the sounds of agonised scream and violent thunder could be heard. More and more it twisted outward forming a hideous portal that stretched out even beyond the field of Aarics vision. He would find himself now in an all encompassing hell. There was no chamber, no mirror. He stood atop a smouldering rock while below a lake of fire and blood cascaded down a vast black hole. “You lack ambition!” Came a disembodied voice.

Up from the depths of the dark pit came a giant red eye that floated back to set itself against the blazing sky. It stared down at the warrior and a brief flash of gold passed its otherwise light consuming pupil. Suddenly Aaric would feel a debilitating disturbance in the force. The last spark of light was snuffed out and now all that remained in the galaxy was darkness. From the roaring lake below the apprentice could see figure surfacing before bursting into flame or decaying at an unnatural rate.

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“Every Jedi is dead.” The great eye spoke. “Every ally Pelagon had, Pelagon itself are no more.” Aaric would feel a tingle at his finger tips, if he looked down he’d see his own hands beginning to wither, his joints would ache, his senses dull.
“Now what is your purpose?!”

As Aaric surveilled the hellish landscape before him, he looked down at his hands to see his skin starting to turn pale, flesh begin to thin and his bones protruding beneath in front of his very eyes. Unbeknownst to him, his hair had also started to turn white. He closed his eyes.

Every Jedi dead? Pelagon and House Pelagia itself wiped out from existence? Wouldn't that be his dream come true? And if it did come to pass, what then? His vengeance complete and his reason for living no more. Would he wither away, like Darth Sion? Or simply living aimlessly, feeding on what crossed his path, like Darth Nihilus?

No. This wasn't what he wanted. He wanted, no... he needed purpose! There had to be more than just simply destroying a city, a House, a people, a planet!

HE NEEDED MORE!

"Death... destruction. These are the ultimates, the constants of the universe." Aaric repeated. "Peace is a lie. Everything leads to ruin in the end. If there is to be a purpose beyond Pelagia's annihilation, then there is only one thing left for me."

As his body continued to wither, Aaric used whatever strength he had left and stood himself up on wobbly legs even as his atrophying muscles threatened to make him crumple onto the ground. His own now bloodshot eyes and golded irises piercing the one staring at him down from the sky.

"Peace is a lie!" He roared. "There is only death! When Pelagon falls, I will bring destruction to the rest of the provinces, the entire sector and then the entire galaxy! I will be death's herald as I bring war to all I see and touch! War, in all it's glory and all it's horror!"

From the lava's depths, a body extricated itself and levitated towards Aaric. It was his doppelganger, with the same peaceful face the monster had shown him moments earlier. Aaric recognised it for what it was. The last vestiges of his hopes and dreams of closure. There was no more remorse or longing for it... there was only anger and hatred as Aaric shed a final tear for himself.

SNAP-HISS!

The apprentice shakingly stepped forward, his lightsaber drawn, even as his entire body screamed in unbearable pain. An unyielding, invisible tempest of wind blasting him from his front as if trying to stop his efforts. With each step he took closer to his sublime self, his fury built even more than before. Eventually, he dragged himself within striking distance.

A final heave lifted his weapon overhead and with a final cry of triumph swung his blade down.

Everything went black as the saber cleaved the doppelgänger in two. Aarics eyes would open to find himself kneeling before the mirror, his body aching and cramping beyond his ability to block it out. His head would feel as though it was filled with rocks, heavy and difficult to keep straight. Metus sensed that the mirror had nothing more to show the young warrior.

“So?” He began, the Corellians voice was icy. “What did you learn?”

The last thing he remembered was clefting his doppelganger in twain before everything went black. Next thing he knew he was back in the chamber and on his hands and knees, panting heavily in front of the accursed mirror. His head and body feeling heavy as if he was immersed in water.

It was over. He had passed the test. The mirror had taken what was sleeping inside him and tore it out to the fore. For a moment, Aaric wanted to scream in rage and do the same to the mirror just as he did to his sublime reflection. Then he realised that what he did to himself was no one's fault but his own.

The shell that kept him from seeking more than just revenge was destroyed. As he collected his thoughts, the apprentice placed his hands on the surface of the mirror in an attempt to steady himself. When he looked up, however, Aaric was shocked to see his reflection: his hair had turned completely white!
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The apprentice took a deep breath and exhaled slowly. He felt like a great weight was lifted off his shoulders... Even more so than when he was liberated from the dungeons of the Dread Fort. He had found a new purpose with a strengthened sense of conviction.

"For so long, my life has revolved around avenging my mother's death." Aaric explained. "It consumed me just as much as Darth Sion's hate consumed him. It narrowed my vision to the point where I could not see what lay beyond the end of House Pelagia's downfall. Peace... Freedom... I was foolish to hope for such a notion."

The Mecettian looked up and gazed at his new look through the mirror's reflection. "But now I see. The mirror has opened my eyes. As long as life exists there will always be war, death and destruction. Peace is just a construct, a tool that delays the inevitable. Why constrain myself to House Pelagia? Why limit my ambition to something so miniscule compared to the rest of the galaxy?"

"I've always seen myself as a member of the Mecrosa Order and of House Mecetti first, then a Sith of the Empire second. Now I realize that the moment I stepped into the academy I will always be and forevermore a Sith of the Eternal Empire. Conflict is in our blood, war is what makes the Empire perfect. We may be in a truce with the Federation, but that truce will not last."

Pushing through his heavy-headedness, Aaric pushed himself up on shaking legs and stood upright, his golden irises flaring. "I will not stand by and wait until the peace is broken. I will bring war and conflict wherever I go! I will start battles, skirmishes, proxy wars. I will fan the flames that will engulf the entire galaxy in fires of purification and destroy the Federation and the Jedi Order! That is my new purpose now. House Pelagia will just be the beginning... The spark that will light the inferno that is to come."

He strode forward and knelt before his master once again, as he did before those many days ago in the Corellian forest.

"I re-pledge myself to your teachings, master." Aaric bowed. "You have my word that there will be no limits to the lengths I will go to acquire what is needed to complete my apprenticeship. There will be no mercy, no quarter shall be given."

Metus listened with eager ears as his apprentice, seething with new found passionate fire reaffirmed his vow of allegiance and obedience to the Sith. Aaric had grasped the mirrors lesson well; he’d seen the weakness the Sith Knight had seen.. And he’d destroyed it. For the first time the young man reminded Metus of himself in a way. The fire, the appetite for destruction.

“No mercy, no quarter given...” Metus repeated the phrase back to Aaric.

“No, there won’t be.” The Knights foreboding tone cut through the apprentices triumph, the gaze of master and apprentice locked for a moment. Aaric would feel a permanent surge of power fill his being, and Metus could feel it too.

“I look forward to seeing you regret those words Aaric, bastard of House Mecetti...” Metus turned to face the mirror once more and again the raging nuclear furnace burned within the glass. “Todays lesson is over.” He said following with one eye the scorpion that had crawled out of the mirror and now traversed the frame.
 
Last edited:

Leo Gorgano Tritum

Active member

History is Our Greatest Teacher

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Closed One-shot
For the completion of Task 7
Master Tag: Metus Aurelius, Dread Knight of the Hunt
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IC: Aaric Etherall Tritum, Undying Apprentice
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156ABY
Academy Amphitheater,
Sith Academy,
Valley of the Sith Lords
Korriban
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mark-chac-interior-final-08.jpg

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Aaric Etherall Tritum, Undying Apprentice of House Vassago, under the tutelage of his master Dread Knight Metus Aurelius, stood front and center of the stage in one of the academy's open-air amphitheaters. He had decided to present his findings to his master via an open lecture which would be welcome to all who wanted to listen.

As the time of the drew near, Aaric scanned what little of the audience was present to hear him speak in search of his master, but could not see him. But when he expanded his senses with the Force, he knew the Dread Knight was present. If he were honest with himself, he had hoped that more would have come to listen... but alas most of the peons and acolytes of the academy wanted nothing to do with their history unless it was absolutely necessary.

Hell... some only delved into it when required as a task set by their master. But Aaric was different. He would show his master that he was different. No, this lecture wasn't some spouting of facts from memory. This lecture was to prove that there was more to learning history and that one could learn from the past... something which most peons and acolytes did not care to do so before they met their demise.

-​

Aaric stepped up to the Podium and faced the small crowd gathered before him. Besides his master he could not tell who else was watching. But it did not matter... as long as he completed his task and more for his master. Only he could judge the quality of his presentation.

"Three points of our proud, Sith history. Three lessons to be learned. That is what I have come to teach you all today. It is easy to simply remember facts and figures. But to analyse the 'why' from the 'what', 'when' and 'how'... that is something that I would daresay that most of you do not care for. For those who can understand what I have to teach, I can assure you that you will be one step ahead others who are not present and think history is something that needs no attention."

Aaric gave a stern glare, bright golden irises flashing and causing some of the peons and lesser acolytes to shiver.

"I will not be covering our entire order's history. That is some thing all of you should be doing on your own time. However, as aforementioned, I will mention three points in our history that have defined and shaped our organization to what it is now. If you do not know of these three points I highly suggest you go read about them later by yourselves so you can fully understand the lessons that I shall impart from them."

Aaric unsheathed his newly acquired Ciridium-Mullinine sword, using it as a pointer and swinging towards the holo-screen behind him. At that moment, an image of Ludo Kressh and Naga Sadow's duel during Marka Ragnos' funeral appeared.

"First point!" Aaric exclaimed. "The Great Hyperspace War led by Dark Lord of the Sith Naga Sadow. A war which ended in that empire's destruction and causing the entirety of the order to scatter and flee. One such group would hide in the unknown regions and return again under the Banner of Emperor Vitiate. But I will touch on that later."

"This point was significant because both the Republic and the Empire forgotten about each other! To think that the Jedi and the Republic, our sworn enemies, to forget about their transgressions against our ancestors and lavish on their laurels! To think historians called it 'The Golden Age of the Sith'! I call it a golden age of IGNORANCE!"

Aaric roared the last word to make a point. His voice echoing and bouncing off the pillars, reverberating and rumbling the ground beneath him.

"Because both groups forgot about each other, it was only a matter of time before a pair of explorers from the Republic would stumble across Korriban. They would be captured and held prisoner. Because the Sith had no knowledge of the Republic save for Naga Sadow who saw an opportunity to expand the Empire's borders, said Sith Lord defeated Ludo Kressh in a duel, took control of the military and launched an all-out assault on Republic space without any knowledge of their enemy. In my humble opinion, Sadow and his Empire at the time were all fools. And because of their foolery, Sadow's forces were blunted and defeated by Empress Teta of Koros Major. The retreat of the Sith force were pursued by the Republic and eventually led them back here; where they assaulted Korriban and desecrated our homeworld."

"Let this be the first lesson: Never forget your enemies. Always be aware of them. Know their strengths and weaknesses. If they are too strong then infiltrate their governments, compromise their defenses, cut them from below! The Jedi may readily forgive and forget their adversaries, as they have done so countless times in the past. But we, Sith, should never forget. Which leads me to the second point of our history..."

A wave of his sword changed the screen to show a holo of Darth Malgus assaulting Alderaan. The time when Emperor Vitiate's invasion of the Galactic Republic was at an all-time high.

"The Great War. The Resurgent Sith Empire led by Emperor Vitiate who had long cultivated his hidden empire from the unknown regions launched an assault on the Republic that had once thought the Sith long dead. Vitiate had learned the lessons from Sadow's time and before striking they prepared their military in secret, sabotaged the Republic from within and took the legs out from under them in one swift strike."

"But then, after managing to capture Coruscant, with the Republic on their knees... the Emperor decided to sue for peace. Though it was heavily in favor of the Empire, there was no cause to call for a truce when the emperor had the destruction of the Republic's symbol of power within it's grasp. Vitiate, it seemed, had his own designs."

"Soon after the truce was made, he retreated into his own lair on Dromund Kaas and left the running of the Empire to his Dark Council. Without a strong leader present to preside over them, the Dark Council members warred and schemed with each other. Thus weakening the Empire. With their vision clouded by their own hunger for power they did not see that their own Emperor had forsaken everything to pursue his own power and glory; Consuming all life on Ziost and fleeing into the unknown regions where he would return as Emperor Valkorion of Zakuul and his Eternal fleet."

"The Emperor's betrayal and his subsequent destruction threw the entire galaxy into chaos. Eventually, the infighting which seems to always plague the past incarnations of our Empire would bring it crashing down and allowing the republic to prevail once again. Do you see now? The lesson to be learnt here?"

"That we should be wary of the emperor of he tried to go against the Empire?" An unassuming peon exclaimed before a sword planted itself inbetween his thighs and almost skewering his jewels. "YEEK!"

"No you idiot! Emperor Dreadwar and Empress Viscretus are the complete opposite of Vitiate. They ensure that all that is done under the Empire is done for the greater good of the empire itself! There are no power grabs and political infights here. Even if there were any they would either have it under control or have stamped it out entirely with a wave of their hands. For the greater good of the empire. That is the lesson you all should take with you. Yes, we are Sith. Gaining power is our purpose. Waging war is in our blood. Culling the weak is our tenet. But we should never do so at the expense of the Empire itself."

Aaric stepped down from the stage and walked towards the shivering peon whose nuts were almost kebab-ed and yanked the sword out of the ground. The screen swapped holos to show Darth Vader throwing Emperor Palpatine down the shaft of the Death Star before being blown up.

"The third and last point of our history: Darth Sidious' Galactic Empire. The Jedi all destroyed save for a few stragglers. The Sith finally in control of the entire galaxy... A triumph of Bane's Rule of Two only equaled by its monumental failure a mere couple of decades later."

"As much as the Banite Sith have benefited from the secrecy that the rule had provided them, Darth Sidious sought to control the galaxy with only himself and Darth Vader at his side. Although at different points in time was the Rule of Two violated to suit the needs of the Sith at the time, it does not change the fact that the fall of Sidious' Empire was significant because he relied too heavily on the rule and attempted to secure power only for himself with Vader and other dark side adepts as his tools. His fall only gave rise to Darth Krayt's Empire which would be founded upon the Rule of One; a foundation of which our Empire shares with Darth Krayt."

"If Sidious' had been a little more flexible with philosophy, he would have earlier abandoned the Rule of Two and implemented something similar to the Rule of One so as to ensure that the Sith Order would be re-established and spread across the galaxy once more. The lesson to be learnt here... is to be flexible in thought. Being hardline towards a particular set of rules or thinking will eventually be the end of you when certain circumstances favor it. Being nimble in thinking as and when the situation requires can allow you to survive if caught in an untimely situation... or allow you to reap larger rewards."

Aaric strode back to the podium and addressed his audience. "There you have it. Three points of Sith history, their significances and lessons to be learned from them. Firstly, never forget our enemies. Just as we have destroyed them, they have also destroyed us. Do not be foolish to think that should you not see them in a thousand years they will not rise again. Always be prepared and seek to undermine them wherever and whenever possible. Secondly, behave as a Sith should. Follow the old ways if you like. But whatever you do, keep the good of the Empire in mind. If it does not benefit the Empire as a whole, then you should think twice before doing something for personal gain or satisfaction. Lastly, be flexible in both thinking and philosophy. Being hardheaded everywhere you go will get you nowhere eventually."

"We have survived because we have learnt from the mistakes of our ancestors. Let this lecture allow you all to survive that much longer and maybe you may become of use for our Empire. This ends the lesson. Hail the Emperor! Hail the Empress! Long live the Emipire!"

-

Metus lifted his boot from the acolytes shoulder it’d been resting on when his apprentice drew his sword. Leaning forward, drawing on his cigarra and exhaling through his nostrils. The acolyte tried to suppress a cough as the smoke blew across his face with the breeze. Aaric spoke with a fervour he hadn’t seen in the young man yet.

The Knight listened intently while his student enlightened the modest audience with his assessment of three of the most stand out reigns in Sith history. He’d done well, looked at the how and why behind the subject just as Metus had hoped. But no good deed goes unpunished as a Sith.

“Excellent work my apprentice.” Came the warriors voice bouncing off the stone stairs. “I can see something growing inside you.” He said coming within arm’s distance of his apprentice.

Aaric looked up to see his master walk down the steps towards the stage as other peons and acolytes filtered out of the area.

"Master." Aaric bowed. "Your words humble me. I am pleased to know you approve."

Metus held out his hand “Your sword, I’d like to see it.”

Aaric raised a brow at the request but did so unhesitatingly. Unsheathing his sword, he held out the handle towards the Dread Knight. Curious as to what he intended to do with it.

Metus wrapped his fingers around the grip of the sword pulling it toward him and out of the clutch of his apprentice. He eyed it closely, admiring the bevels, the edge work, even the minute pattern in the metal.

“You treasure this weapon.” Metus said twirling the blade into a reverse grip but keeping it close to his side, away from Aaric. “Let’s see how hard you fight to get it back.”

The knight turned and headed back up the stairs, sword in hand. “Not here.” He shouted over his shoulder to quell any fight Aaric might have instantly worked up inside his mind.

“Give it a day or two. I’ll let you know when everything is in order.”
 

Leo Gorgano Tritum

Active member

Angels are calling your name​

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Task 8 for Aaric
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156 ABY
Distant battlefield
Jabiim
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Capture.JPG
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Jabiim. A planet once full of sentients and valuable ores. Then became the site of costly battles during the Clone wars. Now... a dead planet devoid of life ever since Darth Vader decide to glass the planet with plasma fire.

As the Imperial Lambda-class shuttle touched down near where the signal flare had been sighted, Aaric wondered what in the galaxy was his master up to now? Why send him to this planet of endless torrential rains that did little to wash away the remnants of battle droids, clone troopers, rebels and stormtroopers that plagued the land?

The scion of House Mecetti shook his head. There was no use in speculating other than of what may lay before him. On Hapes, he had told his master that he would bring war to the galaxy, with House Pelagia being the first to feel his fury. Thus, he was most likely sent here to experience the consequences of war with his own eyes.

The shuttle's ramp lowered and Aaric stepped off the ship, throwing the hood of his Mabari Armorweave cape over his head to protect himself from the rain. He looked out in the distance... the flashes of lightning and roar of thunder assuming the role of artillery and laser fire that blanketed the wet and muddy landscape dotted with craters and trenches. One could only imagine what hell the troopers had to go through only to let the planet fall.

It was just before dawn. Heavy clouds loomed in the sky, sparse flashes of sheeted lightning illuminating the long gone battlefield. The sight of one of the bloodiest conflicts of the Clone wars. Desolate and muddy. Ridden with craters dug by artillery rounds and trenches carved through the dirt, tall enough for someone to uncomfortably crouch in to prevent their head from poking over the top.

Carcasses of droid and trooper alike littered the field; a stark reminder of the reality of war.

The signal flare was lit to guide the apprentice down to a small transportable bunker. Within there was a company of 25 men: mercenaries. All gathered from various questionable establishments from around Coronet City, Corellia. At the centre of the room was a holo table, though it appeared as if it hadn’t been used in quite some time. The chatter of the men would fall silent as Aaric entered the room. One of the mercs, a tall man with greasy brown hair and a gaunt face looked the apprentice up and down. His eye caught the lightsabers hanging from Aarics belt.

“So, you’re the... one who hired us then, aeh? The Sith.”

Hmm... twenty five men. He mused. That's about four squads or five men each.

Aaric's expression remained neutral. His master didn't tell him what he was going to do on the planet and who he would meet. Right now, he would have to extract the answers from the merc. He strode up to the group of mercenaries, letting his tall figure tower over most of them and gave them a narrowed glare.

"All I can tell you is that, yes, I am 'a' Sith." Aaric replied. "But whether I'm 'the' Sith who hired you all, I am definitely not. I can only assume my master was the one who hired you."

"He has neither told me what I am here for nor who I was to meet." His gaze rested on the man merc who addressed him first. "Now that I know about the latter, I think its about time you told me about the former so we can get this done as quickly as possible and you can get your pay."

Bakkas, the greasy merc eye balled the Sith apprentice that stood just a few inches taller than he. “Seems your master likes to be a but vague then, huh?” His voice portraying his tobbac habit, gruff and strained.

“I’ve got no idea why we’re here. I definitely didn’t know we’d have company...” Bakkas reached behind his back to his belt and revealed a beskar dagger. “All I know is we got assurances of our pay to come.” He said tossing the highly valuable blade onto the holo table. “Collateral. All I were told was we had to retrieve something.” The mercenary glared. “And if half the stories of you lot are true, I’d say it’s probably your head your master wants.”

A wicked grin pulled the mercs lips across his stubbled face as his counterparts chuckled.

Suddenly the holo table burst to life. A life size image of Metus hovered in the air. The hologram projectors sputtered and the images distorted before he started to speak.

“If I wanted his head I’d take it myself.” Said the knight. “Look out the bunker view port. The asset should be landing any moment now.

If they looked out the window as Metus instructed they would see a bright flash from above the clouds followed by the sight of a container of sorts falling down through the air. Debris was sent flying high into the air followed by the boom of the canister impacting the ground. “I suspect it’s approximately 1000 meters from you position. Aaric, you’re in command of these men, go and get it.”

The holo Sith turned to Bakkas. “As was agreed. Your pay is secured safely with the asset. I’ll be taking that dagger back when you’re finished”

Metus turned his attention back to the apprentice. “Oh and Aaric; keep them alive.” He smirked just before the hologram fizzled out.

When his master's hologram finally fizzled out, Aaric sighed and rolled his eyes. Even after going through so much, his master seemed to never tire of trying to push his apprentice to the edge and keep him on his toes. He turned to the mercenaries and addressed Bakkas.

"First off, I would like to apologise to everyone here for bringing you all into this wild womp-rat chase. As you probably know by now, my master likes to put me in all manners of scenarios to teach me a lesson. This is one of them... and I hardly need tell you, if I know my master the way he is, most of us may be getting out of here with more than just a scratch. And you all aren't Mandalorians."

"Well we ain't Mandalorians, that's for sure young'un." Bakkas replied. "But you don't get to be my age without some skill and experience under my belt. I'm sure whatever yer master has planned for ya, my men and I can take it. Losing a man or two's just part of the job."

"Then I'll be in your care." The apprentice nodded and extended a hand. "My master has said I'm in command of your men, but I know you're the most experienced and most well-versed about your men's weapons and tactics. I'll be relying on you as the second-in-command. Aye?"

The head merc eyed the young man's hand warily then, nodded and extended his own hand. The men clasped arms as a sign of agreement and respect.

"Bakkas." The merc grunted.

"Aaric." The apprentice replied.

"All right men. Time's a wastin'!" Bakkas barked. "Move out!"

-​
Oddly enough by the time the entire company had left the bunker, the rain had lightened up a little. Though there was no sun to be had, especially for a planet that had only five dry days each standard year.

Aaric had himself and the men in a high-kneel position; organised with five men per fire-team with two teams on each side of the flanks with himself and Bakkas' team making up the center in a Vee-shaped formation. The old merc nodded in silent approval since the formation afforded good security, speed, command, and control of the entire group. This was especially since they were currently out in the open and were expecting contact.

"Alright young'un." Bakkas muttered while looking out across the war-torn landscape with his macrobinoculars. "We're in position. What do you want us to do?"

"Hold position. A little recon seems to be in order." Aaric replied as he took out his holocommunicator. "Oddball, this is Aaric. Do you copy?"

The hologram of the Imperial shuttle's pilot fizzled into view. "Copy, lord Aaric. What do you need?"

"Take the shuttle and do a recon scan of the area between us and the asset." Aaric instructed. "Said asset being the large container that just dropped from the heavens about a kilometer from our position. Mark our positions and the position of the asset in the data stream and keep your distance from the ground. We don't know what's out there and I don't want my only ride out getting shot down. If we get pinned, we'll need you to do a strafing run. But we'll try to avoid that if possible."

"As you command, milord." Oddball nodded. "Passing overhead in a few moments. Standby your holomap for data stream upload..."

"Alright men." Bakkas addressed his men through his com-link. "Stay in formation and hold position. The client's got a ship coming over to do some recon. Once it's done, we push forward nice and slow until we reach the first trench then we'll change tactics as we see fit."
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“...Keep your distance from the ground...”

“Sir, there’s a shuttle moving down below. It appears to be surveying the area.” Came the report to Metus.

“Is it in range if the flaks?” He replied.

“Yes, sir...” a momentary pause filled the air with tension. “Take it down.” Metus ordered.

As the shuttle completed its recon circuit it would see nothing on the ground, nothing alive or functional anyway. Skeletal remains of troops, rusted shells of droids, walkers and troop transports. The pilot may have gotten a report back to Aaric before the faint distant sound of guns permeated the clouds.

Five flak canon rounds screamed down from the darkest mass of cloud, two exploding in a hail of shrapnel that tore the dorsal sail off entirely. Another made direct contact with the right wing sending fire and smoke into the air. The last two rounds detonating point blank in front of the cockpit, white hot shards of metal eviscerating the pilot before the shuttle went into a deadly spin; crashing in a ball of flame half way across the field.

“Direct hit sir!”

“Good.” Said Metus. “Bring us down. Give them a taste of the light 8’s”

The clouds parted in the most peculiar way. Lightning flashed and streaked across the sky followed by a crash of thunder. The nose of a cruiser tipped down from the clouds, flashes of green light illuminating the sky before a volley of light turbo laser bolts rained down on the group. Four men on the left wing of the V formation fell. One by debris flying through the air from the blast. Anothers leg was ripped violently from his body as the laser found the dirt. Another two were hit centre mass sending scorched organs and blood through the air.

Metus stood at the bridge of the Apocalyptica, his smile one of extreme satisfaction. “Pull around to starboard and bank down. Get an angle on the port side turrets!
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No photo description available.

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(Theme music: 300 - Rise of an Empire: Marathon)
https://youtu.be/eomNCY5fpWY
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At one moment, everything was just starting out fine. The next moment, all hell had broken loose. When the shuttle passed over them, Oddball had jist routed the realtime data to Aaric's holomap on the ground.

"The scans have been routed." The Imperial pilot exclaimed. "Coming back round to... What the hell?"

The apprentice looked up just in time to see streaks of yellow shoot through the clouds and strike the Lambda-class shuttle right in the dorsal sail.

"KRIFF! I'M HIT! I'M GOING D-" Oddball didn't get a chance as the trailing rounds followed through, striking the the right wing then the cockpit twice in quick succession.

Aaric and the mercs could only watch in horror as the shuttle spun and disintegrated into hunks of flaming durasteel before crashing into the ground not far from their position. Before they could even try to comprehend what happened, the ground shook and the air reverberated as lightning streaked across the sky and illuminated a gigantic silhouette hiding within the clouds.

The clouds parted to reveal the nose of what could only be a large cruiser when suddenly streak of green plasma shot down from the sky and barreled down on the still-shocked group.

"Aw, ye have got to be kriffin' kidding me." Ballad cursed and yelled. "INCOMING!"

The entire group ducked and threw themselves to the ground as the turbolaser bolts struck true and completely obliterated four men on edge of their left flank before they could react.

"They got us zeroed!" Ballad hollered through his comlink. "Spread it out! Spread it out!"

Aaric resisted the urge to slap his face with his palm as he recognised the ship that was assaulting their position. He had heard rumors that his master had acquired a personal command ship of his own. But he didn't expect him to use it to bring down a friendly imperial craft no less!

Damn it, master! What the bloody hell are you trying to do?! Aaric thought furiously as he observed the carnage all around him. He shook his head... This wasn't the time to be ranting about his master. He needed to get command and control of the group fast if he wanted to get as many of them to the asset intact.

Seeing the cruiser begin to turn around for another pass at them, Aaric grabbed Bakkas as pulled him along together as he willed the Force to strengthen his leg muscles and propel them towards the direction of the nearest section of the trench system.

"The ship's turning round for another broadside." He yelled through his comlink to the rest of the company. "Get to the nearest trench before it can train it's guns on you! Don't stop until you find cover! Go! Go! Go!"
-​
“They’re fanning out sir!” One of the bridge officers shouted to Metus who stared intently down at the ground. The ship was banking down and the turbo laser turrets coming closer to finding an opportune angle. Within moments the Apocalyptica was in position and holding steady.

“Sir all turbo lasers primed and ready.” Called the weapons officer.

“Light turrets, spread a line of fire behind the trenches, don’t let them retreat!” Metus snarled, his nose almost pressed to the glass; the reflection of his burning golden eye shining back at him. “Turn the heavy’s across the front, 30 metres ahead of Aarics position.” The Sith grimaced into the glass.

Acid green hell fire littered the space behind the group, the laser bolts sending chunks of dirt high into the air. The barrage lasted some 15 seconds or so, edging slightly forward in an attempt to force the party to advance. Metus gave the order to hold the light lasers where they were, ten metres behind the trench, and fire the heavies.

Two quadruple heavy turbo laser turrets hammered the sodden ground in front of the mercs and apprentice. Metus hoped he’d frighten at least a few of the men to jump the trenches and run just to be hit by the heavy assault. The searing plasma rocked the battlefield, slag and debris flying and falling into the trenches. Several skeletal corpses were thrown through the air, one landing far to the left side of Aarics position, landing on top of one of the mercs. The second corpse landing just beside the apprentice himself. The bones clearly showing this wasn’t a fresh body, not one of the crew. But the glowing orange holes where plasma spray had found its mark in the dead troopers armour would he more than enough to give Aaric pause.
-​
There was nothing else they could do except run as green energy bolts continued to streak past the men and hit the ground, spewing mud and corpses, droid and sentient, into the air.

One bolt in particular managed to hit the ground near Aaric and blow chunks of matter all over him and Bakkas as they neared the trench, causing the apprentice to lose his balance and trip. Luckily, he had the sense to throw Bakkas forward so that he landed just before the edge of the trench and rolled down into its relative safety.

A clone corpse landed on top of a merc and knocked him out cold while another slammed into the mud right next to Aaric. The apprentice recognized the armor it was wearing as one of the clones from the old republic. The helmet was gone; exposing the skull of the long dead trooper as its body armor glowed yellow from the holes that plasma spray had found itself embedded in.

Time seemed to slow down for that very moment as Aaric stared into the black, empty eye-sockets of the long-dead clone. As if sending a message to him through death and time. The words that the mirror on Hapes had spoke to him ringing through his mind.

War. Death. Destruction. These were the only constants in the universe. As long as there was life, there would always be death. It did not matter in which form it took. Aaric closed his eyes. One could not be Sith and not have been anointed by blood and fire. This was the lesson Metus was trying to convey.

"Aaric!" Bakkas yelled, snapping Aaric out of his momentary pause. "Get the hell in here!"

The apprentice quickly got into a starting position and sprinted the last remaining distance before dropping and rolling into the trench just as Bakkas did moments earlier just as another hail of turbolaser fire soared over their position. Getting up, he leant next to the merc leader panting and locking gazes with him.

"How many left?" Aaric questioned.

"Twenty plus you. Four dead. One knocked out right over there." Bakkas replied as he checked his holomap. "At least the rest had the decency to seek cover in the trenches than try to jump over it and get shot like sitting Gizkas. What the hell are we going to do now? We cant fight a cruiser. We ain't got that firepower."

Aaric kept silent and surveilled the immediate area. He surmised that the trenches were most likely from the clone wars era.

"Bakkas." Aaric exclaimed. "What are the chances there are any vehicles and weapons emplacements that we can power up and use?"

"It's a stretch, boy." The merc growled. "Even if we found any that are functional they'd need power to work."

"We don't have much time." Aaric ordered. "Get your men to scour the immediate areas for anything large enough for us to return fire and any large enough power source like a power droid to hook up to. In the meantime we should check our holomap and see if this trench system can route us towards the asset."

Bakkas growled. It was a stupid plan, in his opinion, but having one was better than waiting for the ship to go over their heads and blast them from point blank range.

"Alright I'm in." Bakkas nodded. "Let's do this."

As the Merc leader barked orders to his scattered men, Aaric surveiled the holomap praying that Oddball's death would not have been in vain.

The recon scans from the shuttle manifest in in Aarics holomap would reveal nothing but baron and desolate trenches that snaked two thirds of the way across the plain; the remaining distance contained only downed transport ships, walkers and hundreds of decayed corpses. The asset sat nestled among a pile of concrete rubble.

Empty craters and long dead equipment. Anything that was once powered is rusted beyond recognition, let alone repair. The only life on that stretch of land are the company of mercs and the young Sith apprentice. But for how long?

As the mercs fanned out and up the trenches in the vain search for more substantial fire power, a heavy laser bolt struck true in the right hand side, annihilating three of the mercs in one terrible strike. The light lasers behind them began moving forward, Metus had had enough playing now, they would have to advance. For a brief moment the heavy bombardment would seem to stop. The apprentice and the mercs might not have enough time to fully comprehend, a snap decision stood between certain death now and the possibility of survival later.

As Aaric desperately searched the holomap for anything that could be useful, another laser bolt found its way directly into the trench and took out another three men.

"We can't find anything, Captain!" An anxious Merc reported through the comlink. "This place is a graveyard! We got another three guys down and we're getting torn up here!"

"The plan's a bust, boy!" Bakkas grabbed Aaric's shoulder. "We gotta do something or this'll turn into a womp rat shootout in no time!"

The apprentice shook his head in frustration. His master had put him in a position where he was at a total disadvantage with nothing that he could use to retaliate with. Aaric schooled his features. They would have to go back to basics: Use every trick in the book to extend their survivability and reduce casualties.

"Bakkas. You all are mercs. I'm assuming you all have basic soldiering drilled into you?" Aaric questioned.

Bakkas simply looked at the white-haired Sith like as if he was crazy for asking something like that in their current situation.

"I'll take that as a yes." Aaric nodded. The Mecrosa Order had long since trained Aaric to not just ba a killer, but to lead men into battle as well. He wasn't trained to be one of their spies or Assassins. His place was to be in the public eye as his High Lord's right hand man. Though that plan may changes in the future to suit his own needs. At the moment, however, experience was something he always lacked. At the very least, he had to thank his Master for this opportunity.

"Keep your men in the trenches. The cruiser can't accurately fire into it from their height and distance. Stick close to the walls towards the cruiser's direction so there's maximum amount of coverage and minimum visibility."

Cover from aerial fire was the most basic protection. As long as the men stayed in the trenches and kept to the near side of the walls they were less likely to be hit.

"All of us will cover ourselves in mud, head to toe. They may track us, but they can't zero on us if we blend in to the environment. If they got infrared scanners the mud will hide us."

Concealment and disguise was the next step to complement cover. This would reduce their chances of being hit of they had to step out into the open part of the trench system.

"Abandon our heavy weapons. They'll just slow us down. Set the repeater blasters to automatically fire in short bursts towards the ship. We got corpses all around. Put up one behind each gun so they think we're trying to fire back like idiots. Hopefully they'll target those first and buy us some time. Keep two fire teams here to run around this section of the trench and blindly return fire too keep up appearances that we haven't moved. The rest of us will move to the next section of the trench from inside the system. We can't afford to get out of the trench now even with the rain helping us."

Deception was the next step. The cruiser literally had the high ground. They had every reason to feel safe and fire on anything with impunity. He would have to play against his opponent's sense of arrogance and security.

This was all they could do against overwhelming firepower. He wasn't trying to save the mercs out of some false sense of concern, any that survived by the time they reached the asset would simply be a preliminary results for the next time he had to command men in future battles.

"No time for questions." Aaric barked as he started dumping mud on himself to mask his horribly out of place white hair. "Just tell your men to do as I say. Go!"
-​
“Sir, heat signatures are sketchy. They’re cloaking themselves.” The Sensors officer informed the Sith Knight. “And they’re returning fire! What’s going on in their heads?” He laughed at the comparatively pitiful laser bolts barely making a ripple in the Apocalypticas twin shields.

“Something smart.” Metus replied to his sensors operator, his face stern. “Just like I expected. Ignore the ground fire, straighten up and bring us down. Ready the proximity rounds for the flak guns.” The bridge crew got to work in a flurry of commands shouted down comms.

The cruiser ceased fire and banked back to the right until it was level. The nose started to swing around to point down range of the field as the ship began to descend. Inside, the weapons officer would relay that the flaks were set to proximity detonation, within three metres. The Apocalyptica settled at a height of 100m above the ground. On the bridge the Corellian sent the order down, “Fire at will.”

Four flak guns situated on the outer edge of the ship swivelled and rained down shell after shell down into the trenches... More than 800m/s, that’s the muzzle velocity of those guns. Less than an eighth of a second; each round would explode three metres above the ground sending a hail of hot shrapnel bouncing through the trenches before they would even hear the boom of the canon fire. Screams echoed through the concrete walls as five more mercs fell victim to the wrath of the Metus’s capital ship.

A bolt of lightning streaked across the sky and the heavens opened up to dump torrential rain on the field. The ship would appear to be uninterested in the dummy guns, instead focusing on forcing anyone in the trenches out into the open.

-​

As the mercs followed Bakkas' orders, Aaric, Bakkas and the remaining fireteams hurried through the trench system to get towards the asset as quickly as they could. All of a sudden, the thrums of turbolaser fire stopped altogether. The silence of the guns made the whole company stop and look as well.

Aaric cursed. If the ship had continued firing then it would mean their tactics had worked. But the fact that it stopped meant that Metus either suspected something, or worse, he was on to them. Not a good sign.

"FRONTLINE FIRETEAMS CONTINUE FIRING FOR KRIFF'S SAKE!" Aaric roared through the comlink, with the men present with him cringing and trying to find the dials on their communication equipment to turn down the volume.

"Come on, men! We need to get as much distance as possible before the ship starts firing again." The apprentice ordered as he sped off towards the direction of the asset with the remaining men hot on his heels while the ship turned and lowered it's altitude.

Soon enough the ship stopped with its nose pointing towards them. The cacophony of returning laser fire now joined by sudden bursts in the air directly above and around the trenches as hot shrapnel rained on top of the men who were left behind. Screams of pain echoes through the air and the comms as Aaric's group dove for cover a distance away from their starting position.
"What the hell's going on?" Bakkas growled. "Fireteams one and two report!"

"This is team one." A gruff voice coughed. "I got three men down and slugs bursting shrapnel all over my head! Dagget and I are taking cover under some crates. But we're pinned down and can't move!"

"Team two, reporting!" A distinctly female voice followed. "Same here and I got two men down before they could get to safety!"

"Slugs exploding in mid-air? And exactly around the area of the trench?" Aaric hissed. "Damn it... They're trying to flush us out into the open then cut us down with laser fire if we tried. We just have to keep our heads down and keep moving. Teams one and two will hunker down and hold position. If they move from cover, they're dead! We'll have to leave them behind. Everyone else: Staggered column! Space yourselves and follow me! Move, move!"

As the advancing party made haste once again, Aaric checked his holomap to see how much further before they reached the end of the trench system.

As Aaric and the others pushed further along the trenches the dummy guns ceased to fire, flak rounds finding them one by one and taking them out of play. The men they’d left behind cried out as a round exploded above them sending shards of metal down through their heads into their bodies; the screams didn’t last long.

Aaric would see the end of the trench in sight through his holo map. They were there, the end of the trench system. In front of them was a 300 metre expanse of muddy ground that dipped with waist high craters, metal remnants sparsely could be seen in the area. The asset could just be seem in the distance, the Apocalyptica hovering directly over it. The flaks fell silent and the barrels hissed. There was one way from the trenches to the asset; straight forward.

Screams cried out through their comms as the exploding flak rounds hit their mark and put what remained of the two fireteams out of their misery. Bakkas and the remaining men could only look forward and follow their supposed Sith leader.

Once Aaric saw the end of the trench system in front of him, he signalled the men to go prone and hold their position. The air was quiet. Neither the flak rounds nor their own repeaters were firing anymore. It was foreboding to say the least.

The apprentice, still covered in mud, crawled up towards the slope and poked his head out to take a peek. There it was. The asset was right there approximately three hundred metres from their position, if the holomap was right.

Between them and the asset: Nothing but a flat plateau dotted with craters and pieces of large metal sticking from the ground. The ship stationed directly above the asset. Perfect for the ship's gunners to do some target practice.

"Aw, hell." Bakkas cursed as he scooched up to Aaric's position. "No way we're going to survive that. It's too exposed. Even with the craters they'll just pummel us with the exploding slugs if we stay inside them for too long."

"Well," Aaric turned towards the merc captain. "We'll just have to take that chance, don't we? Whoever makes it to the asset alive will reap the larger share of the pay, is it not?"

"Not when death's almost a certainty!" Bakkas hissed. "We can all die and this would all be for nothing!"

"If we stay here we would all die for nothing anyway." Aaric fired back. "A single exploding slug above our heads and we'll all die. We're sitting gizkas here just staying put. We'll all have a better chance reaching the asset alive if we fan out and sprint that last distance together. They can't target all of us at once. Only when we reach the asset are we sure to be alive because the ship's not going to destroy it."

"Oh, and you can't abandon the contract anyway because if you try to escape the ship'll blow you all to smithereens."
Bakkas growled. The Sith made sense. They were in deep now. The only way was to push forward and pray that the force was on their side. Reluctantly, he nodded and the pair crawled back to the mercs.

Aaric addressed the battle-weary men. "On my signal, everyone spread yourselves out and make a run for the asset. Use whatever cover you can find, but only stay in it for a few seconds or else the exploding rounds'll get you eventually. Whoever reaches it will be alive and earn their pay. Bakkas, you stick behind me. There's no way out of this alive other than forward, men. May the force be with you."

After giving them a minute to psyche themselves up, Aaric got into a ready position with Bakkas right behind him.
"GO!"

At that moment, every single man burst forward towards the asset. Their lives depended on it. While most would attempt to zig-zag their way between cover. Aaric took the most direct route and dashed straight towards the asset while speeding himself up with the force just a little bit so that Bakkas could keep up.

At the same time, he activated his personal shield generator. Hopefully the diatium power cells could last long enough and protect both himself and Bakkas behind him until they reached the asset.

Forward the group dashed across the field, darting in and out of the shallow craters. Metus could see his apprentice running straight ahead. Bold indeed. The Apocalyptica began to descend further toward the ground, the flak guns firing mercilessly down range. The shells imbedding in the mud before unleashing deadly shards of metal into the air.

Only the asset stood within Aaric's vision. He sprinted as fast as he could without letting Bakkas fall behind as the rounds exploded all around him. Mud, shrapnel, blood and bones splattering all over himself and sending ripples off of the shield encompassing him in a shimmering blue hue.

One of the mercs swerved toward Aaric, the hired guns face turning into a boney, red mess as hot shrapnel caught hold. Another shell exploded just to Aarics left sending hundreds of ripples through this shield. The hellish sound of artillery fire and anguished screams of men and women being torn apart by weapons of war. One by one they fell in unceremonious horror to lay in the mud, some silent as the grave they landed in and others writhing and wailing as their muscles burned from the inside out, blood mixing with the mud.

The horrific scene made the apprentice stumble but he quickly recovered and continued speeding towards the asset. His brief mercernary comrades, however, were quickly cut down in a hail of slugs.

Fresh blood once again graced the mudflats of Jabiim.

Hope welled up inside the apprentice as he neared the hulking object, but he consciously quashed it. Anything could happen from here until himself and Bakkas reached their objective. The sounds of mud-plodding steps behind him being the only evidence that Bakkas was still alive.

Soon it was only Aaric and Bakkas, closing in the last 80 metres. 70 metres. The ramp of the Apocalyptica opened, the cruiser sitting 20 metres above the ground. A black figure emerged haloed by the interior light. It jumped down from the ramp and just as the two survivors were 10 metres away from the asset, what they now recognised to be an escape pod, Metus landed on the ground; dampening his landing with a powerful telekinetic burst that sent mud flying.

The guns were silent. The sound of the ships engines above them a low rumble.

“You survived.” The Knight said eyeing off the mercenary and the apprentice.

Aaric switched off his shield generator. His left palm raised and facing towards the Synnister Knight, ready to bring a telekinetic push to bear. His right hand remaining close to the lightsaber hanging off his belt and taking a guarded stance just in case his master tried to do anything funny. They technically hadn't reached the asset yet so their objective wasn't complete. For all he knew, his master was there to ensure they didn't reach it without shedding some blood or losing a limb.

Serving as an apprentice to a master with a sadistic streak would make anyone cautious after a while.

"Surprised?" Aaric replied, giving his master a smirk.

“Not at all.” Metus replied dryly, his lips also pulling into a smirk.

“WHAT IN THE KRIFFING HELL IS IN YOUR HEAD?!” Bakkas broke the tension between them, howling like a mad man at the Sith. “You- you’re insane!” His hands clutching at his head staring down at the ground. The merc paced back and forth, his mind only just now fully taking in what had just transpired. “You killed them all! You- you’re not human, you’re an animal!”

“Are you done yet?” Metus’s voice was cold as he turned his focus to Bakksa.

“My pay.” Bakkas growled back, his hand shaking. “Give me my pay and let me go...”

Metus sighed “Very well.” He turned and moved toward the pod. With a wave of his hand the seal of the pod broke with a hiss and slid open. Metus reached in and pulled from the dark a sword, the one he’d taken. He turned and threw it to Aaric. “You did well my apprentice. You earned this back.”

Aaric caught his sword by the handle, giving it a few twirls to see if it felt any different. To see if his master had done anything to it. Finding none, he sheathed his sword into its formerly empty scabbard.

Metus looked back to Bakkas and nodded toward the pod. The marc walked slowly toward the capsule, peering inside he would see nothing, total emptiness. “What is thi-” his words cut short with a grunt as a beskar blade slipped between his ribs. Metus had slid the dagger from Bakkas belt as he looked in disbelief at the empty shell.

The merc fell forward into the pod, lifeless. Metus turned back to face his apprentice. “Boots on the ground, that’s the dirty reality of war. Fighting for nothing. Dying for nothing. This is the fate most who fight are condemned to. The perseverance to fight on in the face of terrible odds. That’s what you need to have in this Empire. Endurance. You need to be a survivor, Aaric. And you have shown me once again that you are just that.”

Aaric could only close his eyes and sigh. What a waste. "Thank you, master." Aaric bowed. "I am relieved to have passed your task."

The Apocalyptica lowered, the ramp edge sitting just a metre off the ground. Metus jumped up onto the ramp. “Don’t just stand there, I’m not going to maroon you here. What do you take me for?”

The apprentice turned back to look at the war-torn landscape once more. It had become no more blasted than it was all those years ago. A testament to his master's words. So many clone troopers died only to let the planet fall to the confederacy. Many more stormtroopers fell only for Darth Vader to decide that glassing the planet in a storm of plasma was the best option in the end.

A quick silent prayer was all he could give to the fallen men and women before he turned towards the Apocalyptica and jumped onto the ramp alongside his master.

"If I may be so bold, master." Aaric replied with knowing grin. "I hope you'll forgive me if I'd thought otherwise. You did maroon me in the bottom of the dread fortress after all."
 

Leo Gorgano Tritum

Active member

The Tempest​

-
Final task for Aaric
-
156 ABY
Metus' Lair
Corellia
-​
There was a faint chill in the air despite the raging bonfire that illuminated a large clearing. Encircled by monstrous trees, the arena where the bastard Tritum would prove his worth of ascension to the rank of Knight, or he would die. His journey would end where it had begun, in a recessed pocket of forest on Corellia. A patch of land haunted by something sinister...

Metus sat on a throne, it’s base form painstakingly shaped from granite by the hand of the wildlings that had come to revere him as some kind of malevolent spirit. Adorned in formations of bone; spines and ribcages, several skulls all of different origin. The bones were dirty, left to rot in the air for days. Some even had fresh muscle and tendon clinging still. Aaric would be arriving soon, following his masters instruction to “Meet me where I claimed you” and to “bring that sword”.

The sun would just be setting as the young Sith arrived. The few rays of light that pierced the forest canopy fading quickly. Creatures beginning to stir in the dark of tree branches. The scent of rot and death just as thick in the air as it was the last time he’d been there. Metus waited, his eye fixated on the dancing flames before him. His mind racing, a momentous task lay ahead for both of them.
-​
Aaric Etherall Tritum, bastard son of High Lord Tritum XI and scion of House Mecetti of the Tapani sector, found himself on the Federation world of Corellia again. He had received his master's message to "Meet me where I claimed you" and to "bring that sword".

If the apprentice's deductions were right, then his master calling him back here could only mean one thing: It was time that his apprenticeship come to an end. Weeks of effort come full circle. For the man to finally be made a knight... or perish.

This was why he had come fully equipped and mentally prepared for anything to come his way. The only difference was that he was wearing black instead of the usual white noble wear.

As he strode through the eerily silent forest, the familiar sight of skulls hanging off from the branches bringing forth a sense of melancholy than anything else. It had been only months ago that he had just become a mere acolyte, then within days he had been snatched up by the Synnister knight and put through tasks that had tested him both physically and mentally as well.

Each time he had managed to prove himself worthy. Some by a large margin, some by the skin of his teeth. But he had proven himself nonetheless so far. Knight Metus would not have called him back if he didn't think he was ready. Whether he managed to clear the final hurdle, Aaric Etherall Tritum would always be forever grateful to his master for his guidance.

The apprentice stepped out into the clearing and walked into the arena until he stood before his seated superior, then knelt.
"I have come as you asked, master." Aaric exclaimed. "What is thy bidding?"
-
No photo description available.

-​
The Knight looked down at his apprentice from beneath his hood. Steadily he rose, pulling the hood back to reveal his face painted in hues of red and charcoal. And a vibrant green streak running down the middle of his face.

“You’ve come a long way Aaric.” Metus’s voice descended from the throne of carrion. “We both have. You’ve risen to every challenge I’ve thrown at you. Proved you’re a survivor.” The sound of boots stepping heavy down from the throne filled the pause between the Siths words. “You have become quite powerful. And I see many great things in your future. But there is one lesson I have yet to impart on you.”

Metus’s eyes peered through the mound of flame to Aaric. “Your final task is quite simple.” The warriors robe fell to the ground revealing the bare torso and simple black pants he’d donned in the apprentices first task. “You will give me something.”

Metus’s voice lowered to a sinister growl. “No...” the boys master stepped into the fire, his boots crushing blazing logs, sending embers high into the night air. Metus emerged the other side before his student. “I will take something from you.” His eye narrowed, burning bright despite the bonfire being now behind him. Metus held out his hand. “Your sword. Give it to me.”

Aaric blinked. His gaze travelled down to the sword of which his left hand was resting on its pommel. His master had stated that the ciridium and mullinine blade was precious to the apprentice. However, nothing could be further from the truth. The sword was simply a gift conveniently given by the now-dead fellow apprentice and traitor Silenius Lune when he completed the Moff kidnapping mission.

It was a tool to be used. Nothing more. There was no sentimental value or attachment he had to it other than its usefulness as a physical blade of which he could channel lightning through it. If his master wanted it, then so be it.

Then again, nothing was ever as simple as it sounded. This was his final trial. If it was only that easy to become a knight then this wasn't going to be the way he would attain it!

"It's been my greatest honour to have served as your first apprentice, master." Aaric stood. The fringes of his hair blocking his eyes from the Synnister Knight's view. "But just as you hold the power to grant my knighthood... as your first apprentice, it is also under my power to grant you the title of 'Darth'!"

The Scion of House Mecetti raised his head to face the Darth-to-be, steeling his gaze from his now-golden irises against his master's own brightly burning eye.

The Undying apprentice unsheathed his sword, the ringing of the sliding metal gracing the evening air, and took a modified Djem So stance based on his Teras Kasi training.

"You can have this sword, master." Aaric smirked. "After you have pried it from my cold, dead hands!"

“Power?” Metus snarled after the apprentice drew his blade. “You think you hold power? You’re alone, in the wilds of Corellia; with me.” The Knight stared into the young man, tilted his neck side to side, audible cracking reaching the apprentices ears. “It would seem you stand quite far from the seat of power, boy.” Metus wasn’t showing an ounce of humour or sport in his face or voice. “Do not mistake my ambitions to peak at the mantle of Darth. There are many things in this universe that matter more than a name...”

Metus scratched at the corner of the socket where his blood garnet prosthetic eye was cradled. “You know nothing of the cost of power. Yet.”

Metus drew the beskar dagger from his belt and immediately flung it tip first into the fire. The blade buried itself in a mound of gleaming orange coals.

“I don’t need you, Aaric. Not anymore.” The Sith kept his nuclear gaze fixated on his apprentice. “What I do now, I do out of curtesy, a gift. I don’t need you.” Aaric would feel a gush of hot air; hot breath on the back of his neck. “But he needs feeding.”

If Aaric turned his head to see what his master referred to, he would see two blazing red eyes belonging to a Tuk’ata. Long ropes of saliva hung from its jaw, it’s multiple rows of teeth glinting in the fire light. “Now, either give me the sword and attain a power beyond yourself.” Metus extended his hand once more. “Or he will take your legs, I will take the sword; then I’ll take your head. After that I’ll take a new apprentice.” Metus hadn’t blinked once the entire time. His face as unmoved as the mountains that surrounded the forest valley where they stood.

-
No photo description available.

-​

“It’s your choice.”

Aaric couldn't help it. Even with the looming Tuk'ata breathing harshly down his neck, the apprentice could only start to chortle which soon gave way to a full blown laughter. He relaxed his shoulders and stood up from his stance, his cackling quickly reduced to mere chortles as he brought himself under control.

"Oh, by the stars, I haven't laughed so hard in such a long time." Aaric sighed as he wiped a tear from the corner of his eye. "As always, master. You have me at a disadvantage. Please forgive my impudence... I've learnt to be cautious around you over time. You did try to kill me twice now, after all."

The apprentice let his cape cover his shoulders and right arm. His left hand held the sword by its blade and extended forward to let the grip rest on his master's open palm.

"By 'power', I meant it in a symbolic manner." Aaric explained. "As my master you are the one who will see whether I am worthy to be knighted or not. But because I am your first apprentice, my actions determine if I deserve the title. Thus, if I fail I would have taken away the chance for you to earn the title of 'Darth'."

Even as Aaric spoke, his right hand hidden from view beneath the cape hovered over his lightsaber. If anything were to happen, he would be able to activate the blade behind him and hopefully skewer the Tuk'ata.

"I know the title of 'Darth' itself means little to you, master." Aaric declared. "If anything, power comes in forms more useful than gallivanting about with a title. Yes, I do not fully understand what it costs to gain power. So as always, please teach me, and I will willingly learn by all means necessary. Even if it means death."

“There is little use for power if you’re dead.” Metus replied bluntly curling his fingers around the grip of Aarics sword. With one smooth motion he hurled it over the fire, spinning several times through the air before coming to a rest, laying horizontal about a foot off the ground. It didn’t float exactly, it didn’t move or bob or shift with the wind. It were as if it simply rested upon an invisible table.

Metus ignored all that his apprentice had said, he was far too focused on the trial at hand. “Aaric” he said turning to walk back around the fire. The tuk’ata stalking around the young warrior to follow its master, curling up and laying at the foot of the throne. Warming it’s scaly body by the fire.

“Tonight you learn about equivalent exchange. Not only is this one of the most important aspects of the process of alchemy. But it applies to the dark side in general. We draw power from the dark, and the dark takes something from us; gradually it consumes us.”

The Knight kneeled before the levitating sword. “Tell me, do you know much of alchemy? Of equivalent exchange?”

The Tapani nobleman's interest was now piqued. His master was going to give him a crash course in alchemy?

"I've only studied it at the most basic level, master." The apprentice replied. "I know that it is used to create powerful weapons which can rival a lightsaber in strength. I know it can be used to conjur spells and create sithspawn to do your bidding like that Tuk'ata. I have a healthy appreciation for its use and that it is a powerful tool for those who can wield it. Unfortunately, I prefer to stick to the more practical and direct applications of the dark side in combination with martial skill and battle tactics. I had have not the time to delve into the more esoteric practices."

"Equivalent exchange..." He missed, rubbing his chin. "It is the first I have heard of such a term. But I would deduce it to mean that in order to obtain or create something, something of equal value must be lost or destroyed."

“Regardless of your interests, alchemy is one of the purest examples of the cost and exchange of power.” Again Metus sounded cold and detached, almost like nothing Aaric could say would sway him from the path he was laying before them that night.

“Sit.” The Knight commanded with a wave of his hand across the flat of the apprentices sword. “You are correct in your assumption. In order to gain power, something of equal measure must be given up.” Metus paused to allow the young man to follow his masters order.

“You have a fondness for the use of lightning.. One that backfired some time ago.” A mischievous smile pushed its way through the dark to light up the warriors face as he recalled the day he and Aaric first crossed blades.

He flinched inwardly when his master brought up the time he tried to imbue his lightsaber blade with lightning only for it to short circuit and allow himself to be weaponless for the duration of the duel.

“I can give you that power, before you’re truly capable of attaining it on your own.” Metus leaned forward, his eyes a reflection of fire and blood. Aaric would be able to sense an aura of tangible terror radiating from his master, one he’d never felt before. The mirror, the depths of the Dread fort. Those things would pale in comparison to the crushing mass of darkness Metus had become. “For your final task I offer you power. My power. To prove you are worthy of the rank of Knight, I ask you what will you give in return?”

The apprentice gulped as an overwhelming pressure bore down on his shoulders. But the Tapanisan held fast and kept his gaze fixed with the Knight's own in defiance and with great effort on his part. Sweat dribbled down his forehead and down his cheel before dripping off from his chin. His master was offering to alchemize his sword, that was obvious enough. But as the question beckoned... at what cost? Aaric laid his eyes on the sword. It's flat surface reflecting the flickering light of the bonfire.

When he was found by the Synnister Knight, he was but an acolyte who thought he lost everything he held dear. But now, he was an apprentice on the cusp of knighthood... having learnt there was more to lose than something as tangible as flesh. His ties to his mother was gone. His revenge against House Pelagia forsaken and replaced by unbridled ambition to stoke the fires of conflict throughout the galaxy.

There was nothing left he could give up. There was only himself and his unwavering loyalty and service to the Sith and the Empire.

"When you took me in, I was blinded by my anger and vengeance. You showed me there was more than what meets the eye." The apprentice explained. "I did not see what was within that was holding me back. What use is my vision if I cannot perceive underneath the underneath?"

"Like you, master, I will sacrifice my left eye. For me, it will serve as a reminder of my past futility and weakness. It will serve as barrier that I shall overcome with my own strength and without your guidance. It shall be an offering... a sign of respect to you and your teachings for bringing me this far. Victory cannot be achieved without sacrifice."

The cycle continues. As sure as the apprentice would take their masters life under the Baneite doctrine, another apprentice in the legacy of Darth Traya would lose an eye in the pursuit of true vision. Aaric had been shown things beyond what the feeble sense of sight could conjure. He’d seen cruelty and horror greater than the petty family grievances he came to the Eternal Sith Empire. Metus listened intently to his apprentice. A mark of respect; a reminder of how far he’d come. That’s what this sacrifice of flesh would be for Aaric.

The Knight reached behind his back, extending it back out towards Aaric. In his hand was a curved blade, fashioned from the horn of a nydak. The same blade Metus had used to carve out his own eye. Silently he offered the blade to Aaric, his eyes burning deep into his apprentices soul. An unflinching vision of the fate awaiting the nobleman.

Aaric eyed the blade. It was made of some sort of ivory if the colour of the blade was anything to go by. Steeling himself, he extended his arm and grabbed the blade out of his master's hand; securing the handle tightly within his grip.
He would have to do this in one smooth motion. No erratic movements. No hesitation. A single cut in the wrong direction and everything would have been for nothing.

The Tapanian closed his eyes and took one last breath.

Finally, his eyelids snapped open and the blade was drawn near to the apprentice's left eye. Slowly, Aaric let the pointed end of the blade slip in between his lower eyelid and eyeball. He felt the sharp sting of pain as the blade scraped against flesh and the ocular organ itself. But that was just the beginning.

As Aaric lifted the dagger to his face Metus unhinged his saber from his belt. The weapon levitated by his side and several components clicked and slipped away from the main body. The furious glow of the blood red crystal inside casting an ominous hue over the Knights face.

The daggers tip dug under the younger warriors eyelid, the qixoni grew brighter. Floating free of its cradle, the gem moved through the air to rest in front of Metus’s chest just over his heart.

Aaric's left vision began to blur as tears and blood began to fill up the surrounding. Aaric dug the blade ever deeper into his socket until he was sure it was deep enough. By now the pain had increased tenfold within that short amount of time. He was gritting his teeth now and using all the willpower he had to stop himself from blacking out.

A qixoni crystal, born in the death and anguish of a star gone super nova holds the dying cries of all that perish with the star; feeds off negative emotion, empowering its master. With every move of the nydak blade, every snap of a synapse that sent pain rolling through Aarics body, Metus felt it too. The Corellian fed off his apprentices pain taking the familiar ritual mutilation into his own being. The components of Metus’s lightsaber reconnected and slid back onto his belt. Metus closed his eye bathing in the torment he’d visited upon his student.

With a final, quick pull of the grip downwards, the pointed end inside his socket lift up and pushed his eyeball out whilst the blade cut through the optic nerve in one clean slice. Fortunately, Aaric had his other hand ready to catch it before it fell onto the ground.

A split second later, his bellow of triumph and pain rang and reverberated into the evening sky. He fell onto a knee, right hand clutching the bloodied organ. His left hand covering his now empty eye socket as it oozed blood and dripped onto the ground.
As the apprentice struggled to bring his breathing back into control, he raised his right hand towards his master and opened up his fist, revealing his ocular offering.

"It...It is done...master." Aaric panted.

Metus looked down at the optic organ laying in the apprentices palm. Without a word the Knight of Syn plucked the eye from Aarics hand and lifted it to his face. “A sacrifice of flesh, given willingly...” Metus muttered. His eye turned back to the young man, his hand clenching into a fist. Aaric would hear his eye pop under the force of his masters grip.

“Close your eyes, Aaric.” Whether it was force if habit to use the plural or Metus taking another dark jab at his apprentices expense Aaric might not be able to tell. “I want you to let your mind wander, back to when you were a child.” Metus opened his hand to look at the glob of jelly. “The death of your mother, being forsaken by your own kin. Feel it like you were a child once more...”

With a long smooth motion Metus spread the remains of Aarics eye along the flat of the blade that floated between them. “The fear of a child, helpless. The sacrifice of a mother. The roaring flames of vengeance you came to me with. Show me in your minds eye how Pelagon will burn.”

The qixoni grew brighter as it hungered for the rage that lay within the young Sith.
-
Theme music:
https://youtu.be/vSwTaoNTcdM
Our hope goes with you - Kingsglaive OST
-
Aaric stripped a long piece of cloth from his inner tunic and tied it around his head in a diagonal manner so as to cover his now empty eye socket. Following Metus' instructions, he closed his eyelids and did his best to visualise and project the very scene he had repeated over and over in his memories.
-
(Flashback)
-​
"GET AWAY FROM HER!"

A young boy dashed out from the crowd and behind the guards. He kicked one in the jewels, sending him collapsing to the ground and moaning. Then he quickly kicked the other behind the knee joint, forcing him to kneel before knocking out the grown man with a well-placed haymaker.

Evelyn panicked at the sight of her eight-year-old son as he ran to hug her tightly "Aaric! No! Get away from here! They will kill you!"

"I won't leave you mother!" The boy cried.

Another guard managed to get close and grabbed the boy by the shoulder. "Get off her stupid boy-YEOUCH! You'll pay for that!"

"You will not TAKE HER FROM ME!" Aaric roared as blood from the third guard's bleeding forearm streaked across his mouth.

"Someone take him down!" Lord Tritum ordered.

"Mother! Are you alright?" Aaric patted down his mother for injuries. "They didn't hurt you, did they?"

"I'm fine, son." Evelyn cried. "You have to leave, now!"

"I'm not leaving you mother." Aaric continued to pull her up. "Let's go before they-"

Before they could do anything, four more guards surrounded them with lightfoils activated. One of them standing behind Aaric decided to take his chance and charged forwards, fully intent on stabbing both in one thrust.

But Evelyn saw it coming.

"Aaric, watch out!" She cried forcefully pushing Aaric to the side and sprawling him on the floor.

The sound of plasma cutting through matter and the burning smell of flesh jerked Aaric to attention. He pushed himself off the ground to see a horrifying sight: A blade stabbed straight through his mother's heart.

And inside the little boy's mind, something snapped.

A surge of power rushed through his entire body as his muscles clenched and he took a deep breath...

"MOTHERRRR!"

A force-powered scream blasted from the boy's tiny diaphragm and out his vocal chords. The force of the sound waves causing a visible ripple through the air which struck the guards and tossed them into the pillars and walls, cracking them badly and causing them to bleed from their ears. Windows shattered and rained down upon the crowd of onlookers as they screamed in terror and tried to escape.

The boy rushed over to his dying mother's side as he cradled her in his arms.

"Mother." He sobbed. "Please... don't leave me. Please don't die."

"Live... my son." She choked, as she struggled to lift a hand and caress her son's face one last time. "Live... and show them... show..."

And with that last breath her eyes went still, and her arm drooped onto her bosom. Tears began to flow like rivers from the young Aaric's eyes as his mind registered her death and he pulled her into her chest and bawled.

Seeing the entire scene happen before his eyes, Lord Tritum decided enough was enough. "Mecrosa Order, heed me! Take the boy into custody!"

Four crimson hooded and black veiled individuals melted into view from the shadows and dashed towards the boy and his now-dead mother.

Aaric, sensing their approach raised his head and opened his eyes to reveal dirty yellow irises. He gently put his mother's body on the ground.

"You will pay. For my mother's death!

-
(Flashback end)
-​
The memory was still vivid even after four millennia of being frozen in Carbonite. Loss and Hate welled up inside him like a volcano as tears slid down his cheeks; the left side of his face mixed with blood and streaked down his face. His hands balled into fists and shaking in righteous vengeance.

Once more, he projected his vision. His hopes and dreams. His ambition.
-​
Aaric would find himself standing on the steps of House Pelagia's stronghold. A Citadel located at the center of the capital city of Pelagar. The sky was orange from the sunset; exacerbated by the fires which sprung within the city. Streaks of plasma rained down from Mecetti ships above, slaughtering any caught in its blast.

Before him, laid the current High Lord of House Pelagia and his council members, struck down by Aaric himself. The city would be sacked and burned to the ground. Whoever remained in the line of succession would be forced to pledge vassalship to House Mecetti.

Aaric's vengeance would be complete.

As the apprentices eye closed Metus laid his palms down to hover an inch above the sword. Reaching out through the dark tendrils of the force that had woven themselves between master and apprentice, the Knight opened his mind. Despair, desperation, hate and fury... Metus could feel the blazing storm, the desire for vengeance tearing off Aaric like great solar flares. The qixoni feeding more on the waves of darkness, filtering into the Corellians own mind. The telepathic bond he’d created working in tandem with the gem; Metus saw all within his students mind. Every memory as vivid and real as though he were there.

From the top of his head down through his arms, Metus channeled the sum of all Aarics pain into his palms and began. Dark energy flowed freely from the Knight of Syn into the blade, bonding the two together as one. A sacrifice of flesh. Hate and pain imbued within the blade. These would be only the foundations of the power to come. As the city of Pelagon burned within the minds of the two Sith Metus extended his hand out to his apprentice. Fingers spread wide. He would now invoke the next crucial component to this ritual; the pain Aaric wished to rain upon his enemies.

“Now, my young apprentice. You will feel the bite of you own ambition!” Metus snarled, jagged arms or lightning ripping across the small space between them to seize Aarics body. He would be incapacitated, unable to fight back against the might of his master. Before he would become powerful he would be powerless. Electricity taking over every nerve in his body until he was left motionless on the ground, trapped in a broken shell with a mind raging with hatred.

Aarics knee buckled landing the apprentice in the dirt while violent energy twisted through his body. The warriors howling cries of pain were met with a sudden screech from the qixoni stone, energised by the apprentices torment feeding once again into its master. Metus felt his body swell with terrible power, one hand remained over the blade releasing a river of darkness that intertwined with the very atoms of the metal. The weapon was primed to receive the final alchemical application.

Aaric lay motionless on the ground save for sporadic twitches as nerves fired through his muscles. “The pain of desire reflected upon the wielder...” Metus said, his voice aloof as though he were speaking to some unseen entity. The Knight rose to his feet, waving his hand two men emerged from the shadows. Dressed in primitive garb of leathers and bones. Each of the hulking figures took one of Aarics arms and lofted him to his knees. “Equivalent exchange, Aaric.” Metus growled. He took the sword from its resting place and kneeled close in front of his student. “This power you want.. You’re not strong enough to forge alone. Yet, the pain, the hatred... the storm that now flows in your veins just might be enough.”

A strong hand took a full clump of hair in its grasp pulling Aarics head back. Immediately the the blades edge was pressed against his throat. “Lets see which is more powerful, your noble blood; or the blood you shed for me.”

A burning line drew across Aarics throat as the blade was dragged guard to tip through his skin. Blood flowed freely from Aarics neck, down to the ground and trickling a short distance in a small stream before pooling at Metus’s feet. The blade plunged point down into the puddle of garnet. Standing freely the blade was flanked by the hands of the Sith Knight. His palms flat almost touching the alloy blade. Aarics life was draining fast, his creeping death breathed in by the qixoni and into Metus.

The Knights body was full, almost ready to burst with potent dark energy. Everything Aaric had been through, in his childhood and what Metus had tested him with. The pain of suffering a storm of lightning, the fear of imminent death; it all lay within Metus. The Knight was a proxy for his apprentice, the body and mind capable of focusing and manifesting the power Aaric had strived to attain.

Metus and the gem resting over his heart screamed in unison. A bright electric blue glow enveloped the blade. Gusts of wind blasted through the clearing sending embers from the bonfire racing through the air. The pool of blood pulled up the blade like a three drawing water from the ground. Lightning arced from Metus’s body. The blade hummed loudly in an ear splitting symphony against the screams of the power of the twin suns; one dead and one burning in the prime of it’s life.

If Aaric managed to open his eye he’d see for the first time a look of struggle on his masters face. Intense concentration. Pure and primal power as he pushed his own life force into the blade. With one final scream a burst of light exploded from Metus’s hands in a cataclysmic surge of energy, a violent and instantaneous transmutation.

Only then did Aaric close his eye to protect his only remaining ocular organ from turning blind by its intensity. Only when it died down did Aaric open his eyelids a little and take a peek of what laid before him now.

The blinding light receded and Aaric would see his master lurch forward to grapple him by the front of his collar. Something glinted passing through the flames and the apprentice would feel the scalding flat of the blade of beskar pulled across his throat. Hissing and crackling filled the air as the searing dagger boiled the flowing blood on contact, cauterising the wound at Aarics neck. One artery was severed, now closed tightly and stinging; the burn now starting to blister. The other side remained untouched. Metus wasn’t going to lose his first apprentice...

Metus let the young man fall back to the dirt and turned back to see the sword arcing small tendrils of lightning along the blade. Aaric had lost a lot of blood... The Knight kneeled beside Aaric and took his hand. Unfurling his fingers Metus placed the qixoni in Aarics palm. “I want this back.”

Metus rose back to his feet moving toward the newly alchemised weapon. He plucked it from the ground and admired his handiwork. “If you want this” Metus said turning to face Aaric once more “come and get it.”

The Knight reached into his robe producing a data pad and a stim. Metus tossed them to the ground just out of Aarics reach. The two men suddenly levitated into the air against their will, bones crunching as Metus applied terrible telekinetic force to their rib cages. They howled in unison as their ribs broke and protruded into their lungs.

Their pain would now flow into Aaric via the cursed crystal he held. Giving him strength enough to make it back to his shuttle. Metus disappeared into the trees with the apprentices sword without another word; not able to be found if Aaric were to look. Leaving Aaric with the two men who now writhed in agony on the ground.

When the nobleman would look at the datapad he would see it bare except for a set of coordinates, to the planet Eadu.
 
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Leo Gorgano Tritum

Active member

The Knighting of Aaric Etherall Tritum​

-
Theme music:
The Mandalorian Season 2 Trailer music, Epic version - Samuel Kim
https://youtu.be/6KRvNw2APUc
-
EADU, EADU SYSTEM
BHERIZ SECTOR,
OUTER RIM TERRITORIES
156ABY
-

file.1.png


-​

Eadu. A storm-stricken planet filled with nothing but rain, rocks and lightning. Fitting, Aaric thought, that the place where he would obtain his lightning blade would be on a planet like this.

Aaric had barely managed to get off Corellia thanks to his master's Qixoni crystal and stim. But he was in no rush to reach Eadu. The apprentice had first returned to the academy to grab some kolto to apply and speed up the healing of the scar across his neck. The efficacy of the outdated drug still meant it was slower than Bacta and that his scar tissue would most likely remain there for the remainder of his life just like his missing eye.

Then he also visited the academy archives to research on the planet and it's history, geography, points of interest. He had to make sure he was prepared for everything and anything. Every scrap of information he could acquire may be useful for the last part of his final trial.

In terms of equipment and abilities, he had more than enough to suffice. This would be a test of both mind and possibly martial skill. If he couldwin.... no. If he could survive, then hopefully that would be enough to show that he deserved the coveted title of knight.

As the Lambda-class shuttle entered the planet's atmosphere and through the storm clouds, the ship shook and rattled but was mostly stable as it neared the now defunct and destroyed Eadu Energy Conversion Laboratory. Once a research station that attempted to unlock the secrets of the kyber crystals to use as part of Emperor Palpatine's Death Star project, now it was nothing more than an abandoned hulk of twisted metal and rust.

"Take us down to the lab's landing pad." Aaric instructed.

"Affirmative, my lord." The pilot nodded.

Once the shuttle safely touched down, Aaric suited up and brought with him only an extra hooded poncho. He checked the coordinates on his holomap. The place where his master wanted him to go wasn't far.

"Stay here until further instructed." The apprentice ordered. "If you don't hear from me in sixty standard hours you may return without me."

Without waiting for the imperial to reply, he strode down the shuttle's ramp and started walking towards the abandoned facility and towards his destiny.
-
123049584_193713879029784_6299243796520394913_n.png
eadu-concept-art.jpg

-​
In the tempestuous night Metus lurked. The sky of Eadu splitting with fantastic electrical dance before a godly rumble rolled over the air. There was only a faint pitter patter of rain on the compacted ground, frequently drowned out by the crack and roar above. At a cliffs edge the Knight stood, at the precipice of ascension. One of them would kneel once more but both would rise.
-
eadu-main_7ebaa60a.jpeg

-​

A sheet of white illuminated the sheer drop down, revealing the heaving waves of the ocean before the cliff.

As Metus breathed in the scent of stormy rain, the frying atmosphere, he felt a twinge at the back of his head. Aaric would soon be there. There was only one way up the coastal mountain; a narrow path of loose slippery rocks. An easy feat for the prodigy apprentice no doubt.

Metus looked up to see the silhouette of the Apocalyptica flashed against the clouds by yet another lightning strike. The rain stopped abruptly in what might be to others an eerie coincidence, Aaric had arrived.

It was a long grudge through the rocky and hilly terrain. Even though the coordinates weren't far, the natural valleys and spires left little room to maneuver quickly. It also didn't help that the exact spot was atop a cliff. Left with no choice, the apprentice had to climb the exceedingly tall spire which seemed to dwarf all others surrounding it while braving the lightning storm which threatened to send him crashing to his death.

Thanks to a combination of skill, luck and determination, he managed to climb to the top within an hour just as the rain stopped once had gained a foothold on the plateau. A flash of lightning got his attention and the Nobleman would look up to see his master standing in the middle of said plateau.

Slowly, cautiously, he allowed himself a minute of rest to regain his breath and strength before striding over to his master.

Once again, and probably for the last time, Aaric knelt in front of his teacher.

"I have come as you have instructed, master." Aaric's voice was still slightly strained due to his neck wound. "I am ready to serve."

“My crystal.” Metus said simply as he stretched out his hand, open palmed. “You have no more use for it. You have survived everything I have put you through. You have sacrificed more than many are willing. You have paid the price in full for the right to power.”

The Knights other hand came to rest on the pommel of a sword hanging by his left side.

"Of course, master." Aaric nodded, producing said crystal from his breast pocket and using telekinesis to let it float from his palm to the one outstretched before him.

Aaric eyed the sword next to the Synnister Knight's side. He recognised it for what it was. It wasn't just a force-imbued weapon. It was to be a symbol of his imminent ascension. A symbol of power. A symbol of his dedication to the Sith, the Empire and ultimately to be the harbinger of war for the galaxy.

His finger closing over the super nova born gem Metus moved his hand to retrieve his saber. Telekinetically he removed the chamber housing and gently placed the crystal back inside. With the weapon once again complete, a flick of this thumb Metus ignited the blade with its pained scream of torment a million fold. The Knight lowered the howling deep red plasma to Aarics shoulder.

“With this blade of anguish and hellfire, I hereby elevate you to the rank of Sith Knight within the Eternal Sith Empire.”

Metus reached across his body grasping the handle of the sword he’d alchemised on Corellia. As the blade slowly emerged from its scabbard the air sizzled and spat as deep blue veins of electricity snaked along the full length of steel. A flash streaked across the sky followed by a deafening crash of thunder. The heavens fell once more in an instant deluge that poured down on the two Sith. With the saber blade still at one shoulder, Metus flanked Aarics other with the sword.

“And with this blade of storms, I bestow on you the title: Aaric Etherall Tritum, the Tempest of Tapani.”

Tempest of Tapani. It sounded almost grandiose. But it was a title that sounded of strength. Aaric would work hard to live up to that title. The now newly instated knight looked up to meet his former master's gaze, then looked down at the handle of his new blade presented to him.

1654069733640.png

The red blade retracted. Metus lifted the sword, gingerly placing two fingers on the blade he turned the blade so the handle faced the young Knight.

“Take this gift Aaric. Use it to bring your enemies to heel. Continue to make me proud, as you have all this time.”

With a firm nod, he stood tall and took the blade of storms with both hands. At a mere thought, the blade lit up with bright blue lightning that sizzled and crackled with more strength and intensity that he himself could conjure with force lightning. He was massively impressed and grateful.

"Thank you, master." Aaric exclaimed. "I will treasure this blade and use it to its full potential. You have my word."

"As for my title, I hope that I can show you how much of a tempest I can be in person." The Undying Knight continued. "I have received word that plans to invade House Pelagia's planet have begun in earnest. I would like to extend an invitation for you to join my side in slaughtering those Jedi scum personally. What say you?"

(This sword is alchemised with the power of level 3 force lightning. It will not grow in level even if your own ability level increases over time.)
 
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