First Steps

[Artarion Sekt]

​

Korriban, the ancestral home of the Sith, a place where the force lived and breathed in the very rocks of the planet. The Dark lords of the Sith are buried within its tombs and their power still resonates throughout the planet. It is a place of worship and a place of pilgrimage for the Sith still loyal to the Old Empire.

Acolytes are brought to Korriban to begin their training in the abilities of the Sith. They are tested day and night to weed out the weak and strong alike. Korriban is not a place for the faint of spirit or the disbeliever. There are spirits there that will take their due and break the weak without an inch of compassion. The planet itself appears to have been created to forge the young into strong force wielders for the cause of the Dark.

The Sith Academy resides on Korriban and draws great numbers of the force sensitive to their doors. Only the strongest are able to even gain entrance, much less be trained. Once you complete the academy you must then find a Master or if you are truly fortunate, a Patron, to assist you with completing your training and leading you on the path of power through the Rule of the Strong.

The transmission had been brief and to the point. Artarion recalled that he had been in the fresher in the acolyte’s quarters when it had come in. Stepping out he had almost dried immediately due to the dry heat of Korriban. Pulling on a robe he had made his way to the comm terminal in his quarters and hit the receive message button.

“Acolyte your presence is commanded at 6pm tomorrow eve. You will be present outside the acolyte’s quarters where you will be met by your driver who will escort you to a meeting.”

There was no signature, no sigil, and still no question in his mind that he would go to this meeting. This request was made by someone deep in the Rule of the Strong, or a fool. Either way, Artarion would travel to the meeting and either find enlightenment or sport.

At 5:45PM local time, Artarion stood outside the acolytes’ quarters on Korriban. He wore his best robes and had both of his lightsabers with him. He was immaculately groomed and there was even a shine on his boots, he was sure the slaves had worked tirelessly on them. In fact, he knew they had because he had ordered them whipped until they finished. Slaves was one thing that Korriban had in spades.

As the chrono stuck the hour, a black PL-90 Luxury speeder arrived outside the building holding the acolyte’s quarters. The door opened, and a droid driver came around the front of the speeder and nodded to Artarion. “I am R-93B, I will be your driver for the evening sir. Please enter the vehicle.”

Artarion crossed to the vehicle as if he had not heard the droid even speak. It was a servant and that meant it was beneath his station. He settled into the rich leather interior and looked over the inside of the immaculate vehicle. The door closed and soon the vehicle started moving. There was nothing inside the vehicle to give any indication to whom the car belonged.

The droid drivers voice sounded from the intercom system. “If it please you sir, you are welcome to any of the refreshments in the passenger compartment, compliments of your host.”

Artarion looked over the assembled knicks, knacks, snacks and beverages in the rear passenger compartment. He would not eat any of it yet, he had heard of more than one acolyte being poisoned in the past. He simply sat back into the seat and closed his eyes, meditating on the encounter to come. He tapped his annoyance at not knowing the source of the summons. How dare they. This opened the force to a trickle. Artarion felt he might need the river for this one but held off, waiting to see where they might be going.

Eventually they made their way to a mansion in the far part of the Western wastelands. The mansion was enormous and Artarion was immediately on his guard. The gates to the compound opened on an elaborate courtyard, filled with statuary. They appeared to be great Sith of old, fighting against unseen foes. Artarion took note of as many as he could, eyes scanning everything as they arrived at the front doors of the main mansion itself. Seemingly carved out of the side of the mountain, the front of the building was a masterpiece in architecture and sculpture. Not to mention the fact that it positively oozed with the dark force.

Artarion stepped out of the vehicle when the door was opened and placed his hands behind his back. A young Sith female in the uniform of a guard escorted him into the house proper and led him to a room to one side of the main room. It appeared to be a library of sorts and he was asked to stay there. Artarion placed his hands behind his back and started to peruse the shelves, the collection was quite impressive.

@Mithias

 

[The Storyteller]

DARTH EZRAKI
Governor of Trian

A deep voice from behind him carried the force of authority and demeanor of one not used to any response other than compliance, “Do not touch those. That collection has spanned the ages. I shall not endure their soiling due to foreign hands…”

The voice was amplified somewhat through the sinister helmet the figure adorned. His flowing robes trailed behind him, black as pitch. Gesturing to an elaborate chair facing a massive desk, he commanded, “Sit, Acolyte.”

Not even seeing if his command was followed, he came around the desk and sat on the throne-like chair. His gloved hands ended in metallic claws that began rapping on the desktop. The figure stated, “I am Darth Ezraki, Governor of the planet of Trian…”

Pause. The Darth leaned in with the orange lights seeming to take on a life of their own with the next words, “Your recent actions have garnered my attention. But I have also heard you lack the capacity to follow orders, believing you know better than the True Empire…what say you to my accusation?”​

 

[Artarion Sekt]

As the voice sounded behind him, Artarion turned and looked at the figure entering the room. He looked the figure over, not recalling seeing him before. The sense of the force was strong with him through, the darkness that followed him seemed a vortex. The mask was expected and even appreciated for its craftsmanship and functionality. This was a Sith who cared about appearances as well as ability. The nights conversation would be an interesting one.

“Do not touch those. That collection has spanned the ages. I shall not endure their soiling due to foreign hands…”

Artarion simply kept his hands where they were, behind his back. He did not remark at all, this was not his time to speak and he knew it. The figure pointed to an elaborate chair, 8th century Sith in manufacture if Artarion recalled correctly and ordered him to sit.

Although the mysterious man did not wait to see if his orders were followed, Artarion sat as bid. The adherents to the Rule of the Strong know when they are in the presence of a stronger entity. Placing his hands in his lap, in full view, Artarion sat in the chair, back straight and eyes on the figure as he sat behind the desk and introduced himself.

“I am Darth Ezraki, Governor of the planet of Trian…” said the figure behind the desk, then paused.

In the space of the pause, Artarions mind raced. Trian was a planet in the Trianii space sector of the Outer Rim. Known to be the epicenter of a small empire of several worlds previously owned by a race known as the Trianii. The Trianii were a race of cat people that were known to be fierce warriors and conquerors. The area was a hot bed of activity with in that region of space. “Why would its governor be here?” he wondered.

The figure spoke again, addressing Artarion directly, “Your recent actions have garnered my attention. But I have also heard you lack the capacity to follow orders, believing you know better than the True Empire…what say you to my accusation?”

The accusation was a tactic that had been used on him before. Place the other party in the conversation on the back foot and establish dominance. The Rule of the Strong was indeed with this Darth Ezraki. “I can only agree with your accusation my lord. To deny it would prove your accusation correct regardless of my words. Thus, I must agree.”

Artarion did not expound upon his answer. There were still too many variables here at play for him to make an informed deduction. Watching the mask closely he kept his hands in his lap and visible, waiting for the Darth to expand upon his accusation at his leisure.

@Mithias

 

[The Storyteller]

DARTH EZRAKI
Governor of Trian​

“I can only agree with your accusation my lord. To deny it would prove your accusation correct regardless of my words. Thus, I must agree.”

The Darth tilted his head to the side and quipped, “Oh? It is not always the case that you ‘can only agree’. What if you knew that I would have your skin flayed from your bones for your guilt in this instance…would you agree then?”

Without allowing the acolyte time to respond, Ezraki answered for him, “No…you would not. You would lie to keep from dying in such a fashion…who wouldn’t?”

The Darth gave him a moment to respond, listened to his answer, then continued…

“Enough about that. We are here to discuss you. I am in need of an Apprentice. So before you get yourself killed from your presumptuous, independent decision making, I would like to determine your worthiness, to see if you are even worth my attention and can be salvaged. Does this appeal to you, wretch?”

The entire time speaking to Antarion, the Darth had hardly moved at all in his seat, as if a living statue was speaking to him…

@Critas

 

[Artarion Sekt]

The Darth tilted his head to the side and quipped, “Oh? It is not always the case that you ‘can only agree’. What if you knew that I would have your skin flayed from your bones for your guilt in this instance…would you agree then?”

Without allowing the acolyte time to respond, Ezraki answered for him, “No…you would not. You would lie to keep from dying in such a fashion…who wouldn’t?”

Artarion paused to ensure he was to respond before doing so. This had become a game of verbal cat and mouse and he was not quite sure who was who yet. Instead of answering he kept his mouth shut, this was not an argument. There had been no formal charge, so the Darth was attempting to toy with him, to deny his passion. He would play the game and wait.

“Enough about that. We are here to discuss you. I am in need of an Apprentice. So, before you get yourself killed from your presumptuous, independent decision making, I would like to determine your worthiness, to see if you are even worth my attention and can be salvaged. Does this appeal to you, wretch?” said Darth Ezrakai.

Artarion was truly taken aback. “An apprentice…” he thought. There were acolytes that spent their entire lives without even being considered for an apprenticeship. Allowing his emotions to flow a ghost of a smile flitted across his face at his pleasure. He abolished it almost immediately, the Rule of the Strong was pleased with him and he would not let this opportunity pass him by.

“I do find this appealing my lord.” he replied. He tried to read the body language of the Darth, but it was like trying to read a book with no words. He found the use of the word ‘wretch’ to be distasteful but reminded himself that he had not proven himself to be anything else as yet. He would have to earn a different name should he want one. He knew that the process was not that easy when this relationship was consummated so he waited, somewhat impatiently, for the other shoe to drop.

@Mithias

 

[The Storyteller]

DARTH EZRAKI
Governor of Trian​

“I do find this appealing my lord.”

The Sith simply stared at him for many moments. He stood up and began pacing. Finally, the Sith Lord said darkly, “I find a great many things appealing. I find challenges from Sith to Sith appealing. Lord Vrael will need to prove he is the strongest—much will change if he is not. Lastly, I find good apprentices appealing.”

Pause.

“Tell me Acolyte...why should I spend another moment speaking with you about this? What makes you an adequate apprentice for me?”

@Critas

 

[Artarion Sekt]

Artarion listened to the Darth closely, he looked the mask in where the eyes on the mask would be. He considered patience and allowed the force to flow over him before he answered. The Rule of the Strong tempered his response as he began to speak.

“My lord…I will not insult you by continuing this game of cat and mouse. Nor will I demean myself any further, you knew before I stepped out of that transport who you were summoning. I am not an acolyte straight off the shuttle. I know you have done your due diligence and know exactly who I am and what I can do. Why am I an adequate apprentice for you? The reason is simple, of all the acolytes on Korriban, you sent for me. As I know by the Rule of the Strong you trust your own judgement, therefor I am your apprentice.”

Artarion had started in a low voice, his tone quiet, but like a storm, the Force had raised his tone to where he was practically shouting at the end of his speech. The dark side augmenting his words to where they were impossible to hold within him. He practically seethed with anger at the audacity of the game and the fact that he knew this was exactly what the Darth had wanted. He stood and straightened his back, stiffening his neck and smoothing out the cloth parts of his armor before he spoke again.

“Command me Master, what tasks have you for me?” The Rule of the Strong lay just under his words still, causing the air between the men to almost shimmer much like a mirage in the deserts of Korriban.

@Mithias

 

[The Storyteller]

DARTH EZRAKI
Governor of Trian​

The Sith Lord simply stared at the acolyte as he explained his position and why he was chosen. Impassively, Darth Ezraki looked over the young Sith as he finished and sighed out of annoyance.

“Command me Master, what tasks have you for me?”

The Darth sat up at this question and said, “Finally…you tell me something that is worth listening to. You want a task? Very well. Your task is to live…”

With that the door to the back room opened and a female Sith in dark flowing robes stalked into the office area. The woman peered from underneath her hood, brandishing a double lightsaber in both hands. A slip of her thumb and the double blades bathed the room in red. She stood ready, seeming anxious to fall upon Artarion.

Darth Ezraki stated simply, “This is Tamias. She wishes to be my apprentice as well. Unfortunately, there is only one slot available…”

 

[Artarion Sekt]

Artarion was growing tired of this entire situation. He knew there would be some test to come and he hungered for it. The game of this Darth was one that Artarion had seen played and which caused him to itch with annoyance. The folly of such games spit in the face of the Rule of the Strong in his mind and to Artarion it was the same as spitting in his own face. He truly did not understand why Sith felt the need to jump around the bush like schoolboys at play, when a more direct route was available. He promised himself that when he was sitting in that seat as a Darth, he would do things differently. Only the passage of time will tell on that front.

Artarion sprang as soon as Darth Ezraki finished the word ‘available’. He turned and caught the leg of the chair behind him with one booted foot, spinning the chair and tossing it at the other Sith. As the chair moved, Artarion sprang into action, his own lightsabers igniting as he followed the airborn chair towards his prey. The chair flew at the head of Tamias, Artarion followed low, one blade cutting towards the legs of his target and the other blade cutting across her midsection in a three-pronged strike.

If Tamias were to deflect the chair, his upper saber would strike home, if she used both to deflect chair and saber, then his lower strike would land, taking her legs from beneath her, quite literally.

@Mithias