Ask From The Ashes

[Darth Arcanos]

Azar was beyond impressed with the Imperial Knight that carried out the plot against Imperial Czerka. In fact, he even managed to remove Julia Hipori, the prominent CEO and the brains behind a lot of corporate operations. It was a decisive blow that would no doubt see Azar rewarded by the Hutts. The Pureblood could have left the Force user hanging, but the sheer mettle and determination displayed by the potential acolyte drew him out here today.

Azar was no spirit, but he would train the student all the same and break his own rule of never having more than one apprentice at once. This one went far above and beyond to act on Azar's influence.

The Pureblood had reclaimed his house name and now stood as a prominent figure on Korriban as head of the Kressh house. He waited for his second apprentice at the spaceport in Dreshdae, flanked by several Massassi warriors that stood near 7 ft tall and with spears.

Azar was draped in white and with prominent gold and jewels that spoke to his esteemed status in the hot, desert planet. His muscled torso was revealed along with various gold piercings that lined his ears, one in his nose and also his nipples as was tradition for his family. It was not an erotic or provocative display, but one of his culture and age old practices. He would be as alien to this acolyte as when he presented himself as a spirit.

@Alhon

 

[Roman Kallo]

Roman gripped the controls hard as he took the ship down. She was a rickety old thing and the smoke filling the cockpit from the cigarra beneath his lips made her no easier to pilot. But the squire needed some release, he was bouncing off the walls on adrenaline.

He guessed he was not a squire anymore. Like everything else, he would be leaving that rank behind. Blowing up Imperial Czerka had a way of clearing your slate and the freedom he felt right now was both exciting and terrifying. Roman had no way of knowing what exactly he was going to find on Korriban, but he knew one thing for sure. He was going to keep taking everything he could get.

The dark spirit had been so pleased with his work. It had congratulated him and promised him further purpose if he travelled to Korriban, even sharing coordinates for him to land. Roman did not know how, or why, but he had a sense they may be about to meet properly and his thrill outweighed his dread.

He had not forgotten what little the Empire taught of the Sith and their barbaric cruelty. Perhaps one of them really would get him to do all this, only to murder him on sight, but he did not think so. Surely he had shown he could be useful; that had to be worthy of some reward?

Roman landed, stubbing out his cig and actually stopping to check himself over. His short hair was a little disheveled on top and he bore one or two bruises from his scuffles on Raxus. He still wore his crimson armor, for want of anything else right now, though he was ready to be rid of it. The heavy red plating was suffocating in more ways than one.

Slipping out of the ship, he was taken aback by the welcome party. Spearmen bigger than lead oarsmen back home were formed up in a group, looking stoic and deadly. Amongst them, standing out like the sun above, was a red-skinned figure with one hell of a gym routine, adorned in white and gold. Piercings glinted from most places you could think of, and Roman was the kind to think of a few. He froze, mouth a little open, taking it all in.

"You are the spirit?" he said slowly. The guy looked like he could be as dangerous as he was striking, yet Roman felt sure enough to ask. He thought he remembered something of Sith Purebloods having such a look, but weren't they long dead?

He finally let out his breath. Man or mirage, the Sith was nothing he could have expected.

@Sreeya

 

[Darth Arcanos]

If Azar had any opinions on the acolyte that arrived, none manifested in his features. He could already tell the man had an understanding of the Force, so Azar wouldn’t be starting from scratch. His piercing yellow gaze, which were natural and not forged through delving into the Dark Side, studied the human.

“Kneel,” He commanded the man. Once he did so, Azar would step forth. He noticed the weapons and armor still on the man, “Discard the plates of armor,” He commanded, “You are no longer an Imperial. Rise now, acolyte Kallo.”

Once he did so, Azar would bid for him to walk with him. Roman would feel a pulse of power from Azar, not just because he was a Sith Master, but because of a shard of Palpatine’s crown that he now possessed. All of it was possible thanks to the acolyte’s efforts. He would see to it that Roman was rewarded as well.

“You have performed admirably,” He said, leading him towards the great desert city of Dreshdae, “What guided you down this path? What drives your emotions? Or is it because you never belonged?” He asked as he glanced over his shoulder towards Roman. He needed to know why the man did what he did, what made him tick. All of it would inform how he taught Roman.

@Alhon

 

[Roman Kallo]

The command was an answer in itself and the voice was the same. Roman slowly lowered himself onto one knee, bowing his head. It was surprisingly easy despite his new cocksure confidence. He had still spent many years respecting a hierarchy and there was no question that this Sith was above him, in every sense.

Acolyte Kallo. Yeah, that could work. He rose at the red Sith’s gesture, unbuckling his armour and discarding it. His tank top and cargo pants were a poor outfit, but at least they were cooler in the hot sun. Hopefully the Sith had no rules against tattoos.

Roman trailed alongside his new teacher, awkwardly flexing his fingers as he wondered what to do with his hands. The red man was a Pureblood, he was sure now, noticing the facial features. He still remembered little of their ways though, except a nagging feeling that they looked after their own kind and enslaved the rest…

“Thank you…Master” the word was still unfamiliar on his tongue, but he could get over that. He even managed to stop himself smiling at the words of praise, though his eyes went wide the mention of belonging. How could the Pureblood know that already?

“Yes“ he admitted, wondering if the Sith could read minds. “I did not belong on my world, or with the Empire. I wanted to master my power, but the Empire were not the people to teach me. They do not have the fire, Master”. The Pureblood had already driven Roman to achieve more than he ever had in years of Imperial service.

”I am hungry for it” he added, trying to say it simply. He did not know yet if his Master was a talker or a man of little patience. Roman was desperate not to put a foot wrong.

@Sreeya

 

[Darth Arcanos]

“How do you hunger for something you have never tasted?” Azar asked with a smirk. Roman had performed incredibly, but he was still naive. He didn’t care about the man’s response, his focus already on the city before them. The gates opened to reveal a grand city that had remnants of old ruins here and there. There were clear class divides with run-down houses in some of the districts and pristine and majestic spires further ahead to designate where the wealthy dwelled.

The streets were lined with markets, shops and music. The crowds were bustling and trade took place. This city in particular had a mix of many offworlders and native Sith alike. Roman would spot several Massassi Sith that lumbered by, some measuring nearly 8 ft tall and carrying spears and lanvaroks on their biceps.

Azar led Roman away from the main hustle and bustle of the city, walking up an incline towards an arid field that had a temple in the middle of it. He would bid for Roman to remove his shoes, and he did the same. He stepped into the temple and Roman would feel an almost oppressive presence abruptly. He would hear the distant whispers of ancient spirits and a place that was alive with the Dark Side of the Force.

The Pureblood reveled in this, but it would be almost torture for the human. He would feel as if a crushing weight was collapsing his chest inward. He would feel the weight of his actions - he would see Julia’s face as she realized she was dying. He would see her thoughts drifting to her family, her children, before that explosion took her. He would see that guard he fought, also a man with a family that was left abandoned on the floor before the entire building exploded. The true weight of everything he had done, every detail, every ripple effect, would suddenly assault his mind.

Azar knew what was happening, and for a moment he calmly observed, a cruel smile tracing his lips, “Fire is tantalizing, but it does not discriminate on who it burns,” He said, “Embrace the fire both when you unleash it and when it envelops you,” He said as Roman’s emotions would overwhelm him with the reality of his actions.

@Alhon

 

[Roman Kallo]

The Pureblood’s reposte only spurred Roman on more. He knew he had not tasted true power yet and it was exactly what frustrated and motivated him. He should be so much further on.

Korriban was nothing like he had imagined. Roman had always pictured the Sith as twisted, creeping things, probably living in dark caves or holes in the ground. But as the gates of Dreshdae yawned wide, he was bowled over. The place was massive and thriving, with stuff going off down every street he looked down. He saw more Purebloods and dozens of the big spearmen from before, but lots of other species too. He wondered briefly is this was the sort of place he would spend his time now, but no doubt he would find out.

They headed to a temple and Roman slipped off his shoes as instructed, warming to the place at first. It had a quiet, calm atmosphere, just what he had always preferred for communing with the Force. The Knights had given little thought to providing such spaces.

Then he realised they were not alone. Ancient spirits swirled all around, the Dark Side of the Force rising up and descending on him, falling like a blanket of steel.

Roman fell to his knees, a sudden force seizing him, driving the breath from his body. He had felt something similar, back when he had been attacked by the dark spirit on Ando Prime. Trying to fight back then had nearly got him killed, so he resisted his instinct to do the same now.

Images of Julia Hipori, the guard and others he had harmed to get here assailed him, with the Dark Side fanning guilt and shame in his heart. His Master was speaking of fire and Roman tried to take his advice on board. Was he just to let these feelings course threw him? Was there a way to use them? But let fire envelop him?

”I….” he stammered, trying to weather the mental assault “I don’t regret it Master. I will embrace the fire”.

@Sreeya

 

[Darth Arcanos]

Azar watched the acolyte crumble to his knees, pressed under the weight of his choices. The Pureblood stood calm and watched, his yellow eyes studying how the other man reacted to the assault. While there was much to learn for the man, Azar was pleased he didn’t stray from the path. As it was early enough in their training, if Roman wanted to walk away, his exploits at Czerka would at least earn that luxury. However, the boy decided to stay instead.

“Good,” He said simply, bidding the acolyte to follow him deeper into the temple. This particular temple was outfitted specifically for training. Where normally training areas had dummies, this one had grotthu in chains. They were lined up along the walls, prepared for the sole purpose of training acolytes. As the slave class and mutated variants of Pureblood, they knew no life outside of this. The despair and sadness was in their eyes all the same as they gazed at the two that walked in.

Azar’s face remained impassive, “The Dark Side of the Force pulls from emotion. Your intent is what separates you from the weaker Jedi that have to quarrel with their own hesitations,” He explained, “I want you to coil the Force around the grotthu’s neck and do not ease off until he is dead,” Azar said simply as if he wasn’t talking about a very alive individual standing before them. It was training unlike anything Roman had ever faced before, and it would push him past all his human limits.

@Alhon

 

[Roman Kallo]

The Sith seemed satisfied with his answer and the spirits bearing down on him seemed to retreat as they walked on. Roman gritted his teeth and took deep breaths through his nose, trying to conceal the considerable effort it took to feel half normal again.

It was clear from way that the Pureblood walked the halls without a care that he was master of this whole place. It was exactly the kind of exalted position Roman had dared imagine the Sith would hold. This was what he wanted. What he was sure he deserved.

The first chamber had been a lot, but the next was even more to take in. Most of the creatures chained to the walls were mauled and misshapen. Roman could not even make out what half of them had been, before whatever had happened had been done to them. They were tragic things, with a morbid look in their eye he could barely stomach.

He swallowed hard when his Master stopped in front of one of the things and told him what to do. He looked from the Sith to the grotthu and back again. But there was no joke in those yellow eyes. This was serious. As if the guy had actual living things killed just to teach a lesson. He really was way up there.

Roman steeled himself. “Yes, Master” he turned to face the creature “no hesitation”. He was not a cold-blooded killer, not yet, but he was determined. Growing up on Vaynai had taught him how harsh life could be and the reality that sometimes it was kill or be killed. No amount of Imperial moralising could knock that out of you, and the Knights employed targeted violence in any case, not none.

The acolyte reached out, extending his fingers toward the beast. He would think of it as a beast, nothing more. Roman channeled the Force, remembering what the Pureblood had said about his emotions. He had never choked anything to death with the Force alone, but he took hold of his anxiety and let it flow through him. The grotthu began to choke.

He could do this. He must.

@Sreeya

 

[Darth Arcanos]

Azar watched in silence as the acolyte began to compress the Force around the grotthu’s neck. While it seemed easy enough, Roman would soon hear the Grotthu gasping for air. However, in here it would go a step further. Roman would get hit with the wave of emotions and suffering felt by the attack and what he was doing. He would be keenly aware of the life draining away and the twisted, pained face that Roman couldn’t look away from.

“Intent,” Azar reminded Roman, “You want him to die,” He said, “The desire for it must come from within and manifest into action.”

Most failed in the first attempt, mainly because they were never prepared to see the slow impacts of their actions both physically and mentally all at once.

@Alhon

 

[Roman Kallo]

He was doing it. Roman could feel the Force as an extension of his arm, taking hold of the grotthu's thick neck and squeezing like a vice. He had seldom been more focused than he was now, with a Sith on his shoulder and everything else stripped away. He was touching on channelling more raw power than he ever had and it felt so good.

He flinched when the thing started properly choking and almost baulked when its terror and anguish hit him too. For a moment, he was inside the slave's head, feeling the torture and torment of its life and this end. He hesitated, glancing sideways as his Master spoke.

The Pureblood seemed to loom over him, even though Roman could have sworn he was taller. The Sith was like no one Roman had ever met and up close he was no less mesmerising. His crimson look, glowing eyes and regal confidence made him seem more than a man and what Roman knew to be the Dark Side writhed around him like a cloak.

Roman looked back at the grotthu, sweat beading on his brow. He could kill it, or the Pureblood could kill him. He was smart enough to guess that they were his choices. Killing was outlawed everywhere he had ever been. But not here, not if he was Sith.

Something small broke inside him. It was allowed, encouraged even. His Master saw it already, Roman could be honest. He wanted to kill.

The desire rippled up through Roman, a twisted flame free of years of moral restraint. It burned away the tormented emotions, leaving Roman free to stare the grotthu down. His hand jerked, fingers curling into a fist. The thing gasped a wordless scream and its neck snapped.

Roman stood panting, tattooed shoulders heaving as he stared transfixed at the limp corpse. "I want it Master" he breathed, turning to the Pureblood. A strange ecstasy filled him despite his fatigue. "More...I want to do it again".

@Sreeya

 

[Darth Arcanos]

Azar smiled after the acolyte gave himself over to darkness, snapping the grotthu’s neck. He would never be able to walk back from that, and perhaps Roman didn’t realize it yet. The Pureblood chuckled at Roman wanting to do it again, “Patience,” He said breezily, gesturing for him to follow Azar deeper into the temple.

“What is your understanding of what a Sith is, apprentice?” Azar asked as they arrived at a circular room that had ritualistic sacrifices in the past. There was an altar of sorts and drains below it for the blood. There were statues of old, forgotten gods carved by marble before the altar.

@Alhon

 

[Roman Kallo]

Roman was a little surprised the Pureblood did not let him do it again. The grotthu had not seemed important to him. But maybe they were for more than just killing.

He nodded in obedience, biting his lip and still catching his breath. The act had worn him out and energised him at the same time. It was a strange feeling that made Roman feel slightly queasy.

He followed his Master through into the next room, continuing to marvel at the scale of the place. His heart began to beat a little faster again as he took in his new surroundings though, marble statues and a central altar making the place look like a hangout for some cult. Roman supposed that‘s what the Sith were, in a way, though he nearly jumped when his Master seemed to guess his thoughts.

“The Empire did not teach us much” he answered, getting his excuses in early. ”But to me, a Sith is a dark side follower who uses it to take what they want”. It was the defining feature of every Sith he had heard about, though he had never had much real world experience.

Roman gritted his teeth, praying he was not sounding completely stupid in front of the rippling Pureblood. Killing the grotthu had made him feel slightly more confident, but he was still in a child in a nest of beasts he did not yet understand.

”What is the truth, Master?” he dared, posing a question of his own.

@Sreeya

 

[Darth Arcanos]

“The truth..” He repeated, pondering on the term for a moment, “Being Sith in the way you guess is very different than the way I do,” Azar explained, “Because I am Sith, the very race of Sith,” He held up his three digit hands, “I was born Sith. My eyes are my own, not through corruption, but because of what I am,” He explained, revealing exactly what it meant to be Pureblood - a race thought to be extinct, “For my kind, there is only one way to utilize the Force and that’s the natural state of the Force. Outsiders call it Dark Side. But is it truly Dark if it pulls from nothing but what is already naturally, inherently inside you?”

Azar traced his hand over the altar, the entire room pulsing with power. Roman would hear the whispers of ancient spirits touch his mind, “To be Sith is to recognize your flaws and to turn them into your strengths. Your anger, your pain, even your joy..all of it can be harnessed to interact with the world around you. It can be used to take charge of your story instead of letting others shape it for you.”

He smiled at Roman, “That is what it means to be Sith. To embrace your every imperfection and channel it into your strength. Because I was taught to simply build upon which I was born with. Why should it be any different for you?"

@Alhon

 

[Roman Kallo]

Roman had never even noticed the Pureblood only had three fingers. He had been too busy riding the wave of anxious excitement that had coursed through him since landing, so overawed by the big details that he had missed out the small.

He thought he remembered something of the word Sith having come from the species themselves - this species - but in truth he had a lot of learning to do. Fortunately, his Master seemed open to educating him. Roman would lap it up.

"So you start with it like this..." he mused, feeling the power building in the room. He had been taught to understand that power as the Dark, but if Pureblood Sith like his Master felt it that way from the off, maybe it was everyone else that had it wrong. "I wish I'd had that leg up" he smirked, risking a little humour for the first time. It had taken him years to learn the truth.

What he was being told now made sense. The way the Knights had taught him to use the Force, tempered and targeted, had always felt forced, like trying to put a bridle on a seahorse. When he just immersed himself in his emotions, like when he let them free on the grotthu, power and even control came more naturally.

He stepped up to the strange altar, hazel eyes tracing the blood channels and knife marks on the stone. Shackles glinted at either end and whispers of more spirits echoed in Roman's ears. "I want to take charge of my story, Master" he said "but being Human, I guess I have more to wash away. More to cleanse to start anew?". He looked up at the Sith enquiringly. Turning on the Empire had been the first step, using his strength to kill perhaps the second. But he had a feeling so much more would be required.

"Is this what this room is for, Master?".

@Sreeya

 

[Darth Arcanos]

Azar nodded, “You must collect your blood here,” He said pointing to an indented engraving, “This calls upon the spirits of our ancestors,” He explained, “You will be taken to the realm of the Force, one in which you will face your greatest demons. These are the demons that have held you back, the ones that you keep suppressed, the ones you hide under a rug and just hope to forget,” He stared at Roman, “You will be stripped of every layer until only a sliver of your soul remains.”

He gestured for Roman to walk over, holding out a pristine Sith blade for him to use. Apprenticeship required unquestioning obedience, and Azar had faith that Roman would see it through. This was a path he would have to walk alone in the plane of the Force, but one that would hopefully make him stronger coming out the other side.

@Alhon

 

[Roman Kallo]

Roman was not surprised to learn there was another test of sorts, in fact he was half impressed with himself for anticipating it. But he had not expected to be ‘taken’ to anywhere, realm of the Force or otherwise. Bullish as he was feeling, he couldn’t keep eye contact with the Pureblood and had to look away from his piercing stare.

Everyone had demons and he was not eager to face his own. But it could not be harder than killing the grotthu surely?

Roman stepped around the altar slowly, eyes widening at the shimmering blade in his Master’s hand. The determined look he gave the Sith was answer enough. He took the blade carefully, his pale hand against the Pureblood’s dark red putting him in mind of a pact with the devil. Yet the Sith was not the devil, but his saviour. This was the way things were supposed to be.

He held his left hand above the indent in the surface, drawing the point of the knife across his palm and letting a slow trickle of blood pool in the engraved channel. The building power in the room rippled at once, like a flame had been put to oil.

It was all Roman could do to hitch himself up onto the altar as the spirits descended, rocking and blacking out as he was pulled into the Force. He collapsed on the altar, at the mercy of the ritual.

A few moments later and he found himself in the bowels of a hulking sailing ship on Vaynai’s oceans, wind and rain buffeting him through an open porthole. Forcing himself to his knees, he knew what he would face on deck. After all, the Dark had brought him here once before.

@Sreeya

 

[The Storyteller]

“Come on,” Roman would see a faceless boy next to him that was also rowing. He was shirtless, his chest branded, his body impoverished and his back carrying the marks of countless lashings, “We have to keep rowing. Keep rowing or we die..or worse… the slavemaster is always watching..” The voice was distorted in an eerie way, the boy’s face still unrecognizable despite there being hints of familiarity.

Roman would feel that sense of dread, of no land in sight. Korriban was far away and he was in the middle of the ocean. He would taste the salt with every spray of water against the hull. He would feel a hint of nausea from the way the ship moved, tossed about in a storm. And still they couldn’t stop rowing. His muscles would burn, he would feel as if he were on fire, every bit of him burning from agony.

“You gotta keep rowing or he will..or he will..” The voice faded away and the boy was hastily grasped by hands. He screamed as he was dragged away to the upper deck. Voices were distorted, but the screams were crisp and prominent, cutting through the howling winds and splashes of water.

@Alhon

 

[Roman Kallo]

Roman swallowed hard at the sight of the boy. Faceless or not, he echoed so many that the acolyte remembered. Getting on the wrong side of a big time dealer had seen Roman sold to slavers, but many had been snatched young as children. Roman could not remember one that had lived to rediscover freedom.

The ship pitched to one side and Roman’s head and stomach churned as he tried to focus. His hand pushed and pulled at the oar hypnotically, taking solace in the familiar motion. But no, no. He could not keep at this. He would not.

Shadowy figures appeared on the periphery, reaching for the boy. He was dragged up and away, screaming a warning. Roman remembered how to turn away, how to blot out others’ pain as a way to channel his own. But he had other ways to channel that pain now.

He forced himself to let go of the oar, rising to his feet and shouting at the figures to stop. They paused, shifting into focus, and Roman ran at them, no longer afraid of such lowlife.

His arms passed right through them though and he found himself staggering up the few steps onto deck, the wind howling in greeting. The true tyrant of life on the slave ship lay ahead.

@Sreeya

 

[The Storyteller]

Once he was in the upper level of the ship, Roman would find more faceless figures. However, he would know what or who they were. They were personified representations of his failures. He would see forms that looked like Kalique or other Imperials that believed in him. He would see Julia Hipori. He would see Jace. He would see multiple others that ever crossed his thoughts, all standing as reminders of pieces of his humanity.

The slavemaster was just beyond these figures. They were not demons that would harm him, but they were figures he would have to cut past to seek out his objective. The way of the Sith was to let no obstacles get in the way of a goal. The end always justified the means. With each step that Roman took forward, he would feel strength channeling through him. Strength beyond anything he had ever felt before.

It was strength he would be drawing from himself, from a deep pool that always existed inside but hadn’t been tapped just yet. He would need to draw from that strength to tear past his weaknesses to reach the slavemaster.

@Alhon

 

[Roman Kallo]

As more faceless figures emerged into view, Roman found he knew them all despite their vague features. Their clothes, or their bearing gave them away, even their stance as they looked his way forlornly. Other slaves he had failed to save were there, and people from his time before the ship. His old mate Liam who had helped run the Slick on South Beach, grizzled Captain Niall; a decent employer he had betrayed all too readily. Memories cut him deep.

More familiar faces closed on him. Kalique doing her scrutinising stare, Julia Hipori contorted in shock and anguish, Jace smiling like the devil on his shoulder. They were less intimidating, but still stood in his path, blocking the way ahead, and he knew ahead was the only way.

Julia Hipori was the easiest to push past. Roman had disliked her from the off and she was already dead. The acolyte grabbed her bony shoulders and pushed the woman to the floor, shouldering past.

Kalique was a little harder, for she had been a respectable mentor. But Roman looked at her studious gaze and remembered all the imagined criticism he had suspected went through her mind. She had been a Knight after all, part of holding him back. She had practically told him he overreached.

“Guess I get to do this now” he spoke. She actually blocked his punch, but was too slow to stop his kick too. He was real and she was not. Roman’s knee slammed into the woman’s stomach, the blow amplified by the gathering Force. She doubled over silently, stumbling away, the lack of any sound escaping her lips more frightening than anything yet.

Roman was barely past Kalique before Jace grabbed him. Grabbed him. The green eyed Mando had his hands around Roman’s neck, half threatening, half seductively. As usual, his gleaming gaze and sharp smile gave little hint of which way he would go, as usual. After Telos, Roman could have lost himself in that uncertainty, if he was still that directionless squire. But he had purpose now and the wind and spray helped keep him alert. This was not his Jace.

He gave the reimagined Mando an apologetic look, then head butted him hard, taking a leaf out of the bounty hunter’s own book. Pretend Jace staggered back and Roman drew on the power swirling around him, throwing the man back with an outstretched palm.

The real Jace had helped him find this path. The fake one was not going to stop him walking it.

@Sreeya