Fate Tempted, Lesson Learned [Flashback]

[crab]

Kaarl’s breaths came haggard as he stared down his foe from across the platform. It had been a hard fight, evident by the several dark red slashes that crisscrossed his body under his now-ruined black armor. His eyes burned with a fury that was missing in his tired, broken body. With his saber raised in a defensive stance, he slowly shuffled backwards. I can beat him! These words burned themselves into his mind. He is a mongrel!

Yet Kaarl knew that he was too weak to continue this fight. It was a miracle that he was still moving, considering his wounds. He glanced back for a second, seeing a small shuttle parked on the landing pad. It pained him to even consider it. It was either that or die, and in this moment he was seriously considering the latter.

“SKROG!” He roared, turning and limping towards the shuttle as the rain finally began to relent. He made his choice. It was by far the worst choice he had ever made in his life.

@Dark child

 

[Dark child]

The boy relished the sight of the broken man. It made him whole deep within. He could almost see the faith slipping from Kaarl's eyes. The fact that the Sith was alone and cut off just as Xanthier had been his entire life brought him comfort. There was no Empire. There were no reinforcements on the way. Kaarl had failed what he had thought would be an easy task. Rain fell on the scorch marks left in the Sith's armor by the youth's saber, causing steam to rise amidst the lessening downpour. The red hot gashes soon snuffed out by falling droplets of rain, but the pain wouldn't be. No, such burns would torment for ages after they left their mark in skin, Xanthier knew this fact all too well. To say that the youth had purposely left the wounds shallow was false, he would have driven his blade through the Sith had he not been so hasty to deliver the strikes, Kaarl was fast enough to redirect the feral boy's strikes before the real damage could be done. It was odd perhaps, that the burns pleased Xanthier more than the Sith's dead body ever could have. The fact that Kaarl would suffer before death made him feel all the more wonderful.

Sound was beginning to return. It had been for quite some time. A sense of joy overcame the boy as his ears took in the sound of the water droplets hitting the deck of the dock once more. Thunder crackled in the distance. The storm was not over, but it's intensity had decreased. Xanthier felt the cold wet undergarments against his skin. His core temperature had lessened in the freezing wind, skin an almost bluish hue in the cold. Inside he felt warmth, but it was the comfort of hatred and anger and did nothing to prevent the steadily increasing chill that would cause hypothermia to set in.

The brute advanced, but even before he turned to limp back towards the ships, Xanthier knew that Kaarl was through. He could not continue. The little fox of a boy had proven to be too much for the enraged bull.


"Throw yourself back into the Empire's arms! Do you think all you've lost will be forgiven?! I am your forgiveness! All the mercy that the Sith have to offer!"
Xanthier spat out the words through bloody teeth.
He could still feel the sting of Kaar's fist when it had bared down on his jaw moments before.

Xanthier refused to let let this go so easily. The Sith would pay for depriving him of his senses. The Empire could not be allowed to track him further. Xanthier would be long gone from Mygeeto before they ever arrived, but Kaarl's survival would only mean that there would be more Imperials coming to look for the wild black haired boy..

His hand snapped outward, pale fingers contorting as he willed the force to ensnare Kaarl's legs. Concentrate. Concentrate they had said...

The boy had never before focused all his rage in this way. Serenity within the chaos that racked his core. He wanted to stop the Sith dead in his tracks. Lashing out with lightning was too easy. He wanted more. A more fitting end.
Concentrate said the Empire.
And now...the black haired youth had listened.​

 

[crab]

Without warning, a great vise-like grip afflicted his legs. Kaarl’s eyes went wide as he realized that the boy was using force powers. Snarling and thrashing about like a cornered bull, he began to force his powerful, muscled legs forward. His bones began to crack and bend as the two forces acted upon each other. With a beastial howl, he broke from the influence of his foe, but not before a loud SNAP emanated from his weakened left leg. The giant of a man fell forward, his right hand catching the lip of the shuttle’s door. Using the last bastions of his strength, he pulled his shattered body up and inside the abandoned vessel.

Using the force, he acted upon the door panel, closing it behind him. The soaked, twisted parody of Kaarl dragged itself to its one good leg using an adjacent bench as leverage. His mind was clouded by the searing pain emitting from his left leg, all he could do was grit his teeth and growl in agony. He hobbled down the row as fast as he could manage, making his way towards the cockpit. Bags, datapads, and other items were strewn about, hastily forgotten during the initial confrontation.

Haunching over the shuttle’s command terminal, he engaged the ship’s autopilot, directing it towards the nearest Imperial outpost in the Agamar system. He hissed in pain as the landing gears disengaged and the vessel jostled to life, rising slowly from the platform.

 

[Dark child]

The Sith had escaped his grasp.

More than that, the Sith had escaped death.

To call this a victory would be a lie, and Xanthier knew this. Far too often those that survived death came back with a vengeance that transcended the hatred that they had felt before. It consumed them, just as it had done to the black haired boy. Xanthier would never be satisfied. Every Sith that he killed, every Imperial who's life had been snuffed out by his hand only made him want more. He craved death. Xanthier would die feeling as though he had only just begun. The fact that he could not bring anguish to all under the Empire's flag would haunt him till his last breath. No amount of bodies would ever soothe the anger burning within his soul. The Sith would pay for what they had done to him, but in the end it was they who would win. The galaxy would never be free of them, it never had been and it never would be. They would cower and run just as Kaarl had done.

The Sith can never be killed. In darkness and doubt, new Empires would arise to replace that which held power now.
The boy's mind was not deluded. He did not believe himself to be any better than the ones who had placed him in chains.
He was everything they had hoped for him to become, and now, they would taste that power.

The youth's pale hand still remained outstretched even after the Sith escaped in the shuttle. Grey eyes watching as his grip was broken along with the man's legs. Now, the hand lingered there, his arm did not shake as it had almost twelve years ago. His mind remained focused on one thing and one thing only. Fear did not drive his actions any longer, it had no place in his thoughts. The shuttles sub-light engines engaged, leaving a small glowing trail on the youths retinas, which slowly faded, just as the ship did as it made it's way out of the atmosphere.

For a brief moment, Xanthier stood there. Numb to the cold and the pain of the growing welt on his face from where Kaarl's fist had struck. He let the rain pour over him, once again reached out with the force.

The black helmet of the Imperial shock trooper levitated towards him. Rain streaking off it's glass-like surface, reflecting only the light projected from the red blade still held in Xanthier's right hand.

The boy's fingers closed into a fist, withdrawing his left arm backwards so forcefully that the helmet flew towards him at immense speed, and in one fluid motion, he cut the helmet right in two.

End of Thread​