Korriban - FNG

[Alcmaeon]

Planetfall was never pleasant in his opinion.

He'd fought on a hundred countless worlds, since he was old enough to hold his blaster, gaining and losing ground for the Imperium. Never an end in sight, the war had raged, and ahead of the marching heavily armed shocktroopers had scuttled grunts like him; Militias, conscripts, children, and mercenaries. With every planet lost or taken, there'd been a corresponding pair of trips on a shuttle or freighter. A liftoff, and a landing. Being in space was quiet, and peaceful in a way. He could think. Leaving a place had always imparted him with some mild sense of adventure, the knowledge that he was going somewhere new, somewhere he might not have been before. A place where, even though his job was to kill the enemy, he might get to see something he was searching for.

He'd only recently realized what that thing was all along.

But landing was different. Everyone became nervous, the pilots concentrating, the soldiers or marines on board hoping they didn't encounter effective anti air, anticipating a hot touch down in the teeth of a prepared enemy, and he picked up on it in a way that he was beginning to understand was beyond what normal people could grasp. It wasn't the focused telepathy of his kind, but the force, feeding him the impulses of those around him, the fear.

So he had been told, right before the Sith had ordered him dispatched halfway across the galaxy. He didn't much care for the ideals of the Empire or the Jedi or the Mandolorians. He was a soldier. He followed his orders, he fought, he slept, he did it all over again. If he was to be trained in the ways of the Sith, then fine. He would learn. But this time would be different. He would grow strong, he would break free of the shackles that had oppressed him since he could remember, and leave a life or servitude behind.

The shuttle bucked beneath him, breaking him out of his self reflection with a jolt of turbulence. He glanced out the viewport, tuning out the nervous titters and machismo of the other acolytes and the legionaries being transferred to the Sith academy on the same boat as he, examining what he was told would be his home for now. It looked like just another desert to him, a bull of rusty silicate with a few buildings clinging precariously to the bedrock.

He hated sand. It got everywhere, into the crevices of his armor, the action of his rifle. The rifle always had to be clean. Sidrin set a hand on it gently, reassuringly almost. It hadn't left his side for the last fourteen standard years, it was a part of him now. A symbol of what he was running from.

The landing was nothing special, bereft of fanfare and ceremony. The troops offloaded with typical Imperial precision, though they lacked the combat discipline he was used to seeing. No perimeters were set, no security pulled, just soldiers moving from one place to another. The acolytes were more a nervous gaggle. Some had masters awaiting, others were like Sidrin, thrust into the void of the Sith and left to sink or swim. Somewhere in between both, he descended the ramp, squinting his eyes against the setting sun. He wasn't built for sunlight either.

A flight officer checked his data pad for assignment, and his own pad chimed with the received information. Being on the holonet was new to him, and it took him a few moments to figure out the interface. It referenced a dorm number, on a floor, in the large temple before him. A dorm. He got his own room and everything? Wild.

The Draethos shrugged, tightened his grip on his carbine and shouldered his meager ruck of supplies, hesitantly taking a few strides towards the academy, before realizing he didn't have any orders awaiting. Report to his dorm. End. What would he do next? He stood, his mind clicking along. He knew he needed to reach his dorm. From there he would decide on a course of action. Sidrin picked up his pace again, moving towards the stairs to his future.

@Andrewza

 

[Andrewza]

Mortem watched the shuttle craft land, it was nothing special just a routine personal transfer. Some solders from the front routed to the rear and when it left it would carry solders to the front. The only group that mattered where the new sith acolytes, they where in 2 groups. Those with masters waiting, easy to spot since they look around expecting for the face they knew the rest where dropped of because they had talent or where gifted in the force but had no master, easy to spot by the fear and confusion they milled about seemingly lost. Then, then there was him, a acolyte that seemed oddly composed for being dumped on a new world. He intrigued her.

Following him was not hard for her, she kept a distance but most of the trip was through busy halls but once they got to the dorms the crowds thinned out and the pace slowed. "mmmm he is new" she thought to her self as she watched him try and find his dorm as she followed behind. She was not hiding but still wondered if he was paying attention. In the simple acolyte robes she wore she blended in before but there where not many people to blend in to with.

@Alcmaeon

 

[Alcmaeon]

It was a lot to take in. As Sidrin wound his way through crowded hallways and corridors, he scanned constantly, reading signs, eyeballing rooms, but mostly watching the people. So many different people, from different places, and all seemingly united in their mutual distrust of one another. Yet despite the press, it was eerily quiet.

Not to the ears, one would have been hard pressed to identify this place by sound alone. Though there was a general hush, there were still sounds. The rustling of pages and clicking of datapads from a library, the ominous humming of an ignited saber and the clash of blades in a training room, someone weeping in a bathroom, all combining to form a general sense of a rustling insect hive. There was much occurring, but not much to be said. Where the silence was, came to his mind.

Being telepathic had its ups and downs. Really it was little different than communicating with his mouth, save that non-telepaths always thought so loud. Being in a crowd of people was akin to standing in the midst of a shouting match, and there was only so much one could do to plug the ears. Here was different however, the minds of the acolytes and their trainers honed and pared to a laser-like focus. Little to no errant thought drifted about, and instead of hearing clearly what thoughts drifted idly around, he heard at best the odd whisper.

The Draethos was drawing close to his quarters when he began to feel a pressure. He couldn't identify it, not outright, though it was familiar. It pushed against his neck, drawing a glance over his shoulder in response. It was elusive, distant, comparable to a polite clearing of the throat from far away, but there. He saw nothing that jumped out at him, just a few other acolytes moving with the same idle purpose as he.

He smirked slightly, pausing to examine a statue, admiring some of the finer details, before he shifted his attention back in the direction he came. If his instincts were right, there would be someone in that direction pretending to be busy.

 

[Andrewza]

Mortem was not pretending to be busy. No she was watching the acoylite stearing at him from beneath her cowl. As he turned the eyes met before she quickly turned the side to retrieve her data tab pretding to look some thing up.


He was diffrent she thought to her self. He was paying attention to his surroundings. Yes he was not some farm boy plunked from some obscure world. Mmm maybe he was a solder or mercenary.

 

[Alcmaeon]

When he turned, he found another staring at him. She shifted her attention away, fiddling with something, likely her datapad. Something told him this was what he had sensed, and she had been polite enough to take the guesswork out of it for him even. He rested his hand on his blaster again, and started walking, continuing onwards towards his dorm. The voice in her head may have been surprising, but maybe not.

'Why are you following me?'

He was still scanning, but now Sidrin was looking for cover, egress routes, ambush points, environmental advantages. His pace hadn't changed, yet there was a slight change in the set of his shoulders. He anticipated trouble, and he was ready for it.

 

[Andrewza]

Mortem watched him approach his hand resting on the a blaster of some kind. He was surly a solder and really new here if a blaster was his choice to bring to fight here. Turning to face him she raised her hands to show she was not armed. Though she doubt she needed one to beat solder boy here.

"following you? I am just curios that's all. You don't look like the rest of them, the acolytes I mean. You don't have that dazed look in your eyes or mind. Yet you must be new here if you went for a blaster over a light sabre"


Mortem noticed his change, both the physical and mental. He seemed to analysing the area for combat and reading his body for a fight. That was good, he was not afraid of combat.

 

[Alcmaeon]

As she presented her hands, his grip changed slightly. The new comer hadn't been holding the weapon in a combat ready method, but his fingers crept back from the trigger stud somewhat, his hand merely resting on the folded stock of the rifle instead of the grip. Sidrin trusted a Sith as far as he could force push an Imperial walker, which currently was a sum number of zero. Granted he was out of his weight class around here, but it wouldn't have stopped him putting up a fight. His advance ceased a comfortable distance away, allowing him to hear her clearly, although he stuck to telepathic communication. She could probably use the force to talk to his mind if she tried, but what most didn't realize was that they just had to think at him to be heard.

'Fresh off the shuttle from the front line.'

Of them, the rest of the acolytes, she had said. Was she fully Sith then? Or something else? She'd dressed as an acolyte. He let the deception slide for now, noting it, but dismissing it. Everyone had secrets.

'It was that or a vibro-knife. I haven't been issued a lightsaber, let alone trained yet.'

He had forgotten to restock after the engagement that had brought him here. He maybe had two recharges for his primary weapon, his sidearm was under two feet of mud a half galaxy behind him, and he was dry on thermal detonators.

'I was transferred here, but not given orders. For all I know, I'm on my own. Sidrin.'

He offered a slight bow by way of greeting, still somewhat discomfited by any kind of proximity.

 

[Andrewza]

mortem giggled a bit and removed her cowl to show her face to the man. "wow talk about from the frying pan in to the fire. I mean I don't get me wrong I don't like battle fields but this place. Any case you cant go waving around some blaster every time you see danger, not here for sure. So how about I help you get set up, I promis I don't bite hard and then we can have a chat. My name is Mortem by the way."

 

[Alcmaeon]

The Draethos seemed to consider her quip momentarily. Considering he'd spent a handful of days enduring mortar strikes, assaulting actions, and an artillery strike, this seemed less immediately threatening to his health. Then again, the Sith had a reputation, and he'd seen one in action up close and ugly to put substance to it.

'Very well Mortem, I accept your offer, though I should warn you.'

He spoke aloud, eschewing telepathy. His voice sounded much more gruff then his thoughts, hardened by shouting, homebrew, and smoke.

"I doubt I'll taste good regardless of the strength of your bite. What's first?"

His hand had yet to leave his blaster, but it rested on it in the same manner a resting soldier would. Because it was there.

 

[Andrewza]

Mortem shrugged her shoulders though it was nice to finally hear his real voice "mmm I have probably tasted worse. So first thing first lets find your room, you don't want to be lugging around your luggage it screams to the world new guy and will attract unwanted attention" Her own hands had moved to her side as she skipped up to him get rather close as her ears twitched has he spoke "So lead on I will help guide you"

 

[Alcmaeon]

He chuckled, with both voices at once. The two sounds were certainly at odds with one another, but when he spoke it was still in the audible range.

"Doubtful."

His luggage, such as it was, was a small ruck sack and a depleted tactical pack. He had never owned anything, only bringing personal equipment that would be stripped from his corpse upon death from battle to battle. Sidrin considered his data pad for a brief moment, before gesturing off down the hallway.

"Apparently just around the corner there."

He tensed perceptibly as she hopped closer to him, apparently not used to people drawing proximate without ill intent, though he made an apparent effort to relax. The Acolyte maintained his silence as they neared the cell that had been appointed to him, placing his bags neatly at the foot of tthe cot provided, and stripping his tactical vest with a practiced gesture.

The hitch came when he considered the rifle.

Sidrin knew that carrying the thing around was going to draw a few questioning eyebrows his way, but he'd never let it off his person since it had been given to him. It was part of him. He sighed, adjusting the point sling to a clip on the rear, tightening the strap, and hanging it over his shoulder. It would hang under his arm, and in its folded configuration wouldn't stand out as much as a standard weapon. His eyes flicked around the room, taking in the work bench, the small storage cubby, and the cot properly. It was pretty posh compared to what he was used to, but he knew it was meagre means by the galactic standard. The soldier turned sith shifted his attention back to Mortem, eyebrows raised in askance.

 

[Andrewza]

The two voices at once was a bit off but not annoying or off putting, haven listened in to people minds a she could tell the difference between the two voices. Following behind she followed him in side the room. Rather bare but it would get the job down.


Mortem watched his internal struggle around his blaster, he would soon grow to trust the blade more but with out any real training he was better off with the blaster, saver at least. "yes acolytes are not seen very high among the sith, still better than bare ground. Any case you will have some time before the call you in for training and it probably best you got some training in before hand. The instructors can be brutal and not very under standing." Walking out the room and opening her arms to indicate he should leave "so we should go train maybe after wards you can teach me some of your solder skills."


Wait for him to follow Mortem walked and skipped along down the halls to a empty training room before giving a twirl a bow and pointing the way with her arms. "And there we are, some where to be alone."

 

[Alcmaeon]

Fresh meat was never seen very well anywhere. He remembered his first days on deployment with a mixture of shame, dread, and a masochistic longing. The older soldiers had treated the newer and green soldiers... Poorly. It wasn't a place for a child, and it had been hardening. But then again, this was a galaxy of war, perpetual war. The soft had no place here but the grave.

"Something tells me that the Sith idea of brutal and not understanding is a lot worse than the Legion."

He followed her, the skipping throwing him off slightly. She was a strange creature to be honest, but she was more versed in the ways of the life he found himself in than he. Who was Sidrin to judge? He entered the room, his usual scan and sweep an automatic action that had been programmed into him, a hand shifting upwards to touch the blaster again. Always with the blaster.

It was a training room alright. He'd walked by more than a few in his earlier wander, rooms full of sparring acolytes. Against the wall sat a rack containing a row of battered and scarred cylinders he could only assume were practice sabers. His eyes drifted over them in a nonplussed manner. He'd handled his share of close combat weapons in his time, and though he was proficient, the lightsaber was a notoriously tricky weapon to master from what the knew. His gazed shifted back to Mortem, again awaiting permission. He was a soldier, he needed direction.

 

[Andrewza]

Mortem laughed at that "O yes the sith have killed where a sgt may give a beating. Any case I am sure you will be fine, unlike most you can follow orders."


Standing in the middle of the room she raised a hand and one of the light sabres flew across the room in to her waiting hand. Igniting mid flight she moved with a grace and speed that could be bewitching to mean as she struck the new acolyte on the hand resting on his blaster. It was a training bade so it did not kill but it did sting like hell on impact

"This is a training lightsabre, new acolytes like you use these. They cant kill or do much more than sting but they can block a real lightsabre and deflect blaster bolts. This one is will be yours"


twirling it in her hand the blade vanished as she tossed it to Sidrin. "Ok you first lesson will be with how not to kill your self. the blade of a lightsabre as no real weight, in short it is weightless so you need to learn how to swing with out cutting you own head off. This is why it is a tool of a Force user. The force speaks to us and we speak to it. When you strike and move feel the blade position, your position an the target through the force. Trust your gut that feeling you all had that kept you alive that the force trust it."


To many sith tried to use the force what Mortem was showing was the way that she knew, the way that kept one a alive. Letting the force use you.

 

[Alcmaeon]

Lethal training? Very well. He was supposed to be among the Imperial elite now, tough beyond special forces even, a force multiplier on the battlefield, the extension of the Emperor's will. If he didn't measure up to the threat of death, how would he measure up to the Jedi and their shattered but determined military.

One of the weapons exploded off its storage, the crimson blade filling the room with a malevolent hissing. Even as he turned, the blaster leaping to his hand, he knew he was too late. The weapon smashed into his hand, a hot kiss searing his flesh. He hissed, but did not drop his weapon, though he made no further move to raise it as she explained the new weapon to him.

His hand darted out with an eerie deftness, relinquishing the carbine and snagging the weapon from the air. He hefted the saber, eyes fixed on her as she spoke, even while he gauged the fit of the thing in his grip. As she finished, he turned his attention back to the training blade. His. His lightsaber. He held it close to his chest in both hands, the emitter pointed away from himself, in a grip that spoke of knife training in the past. The point of his thumb flicked the activation stud, and the blade extended with a sibilant noise, humming in the room.

'Interesting.'

Sidrin pivoted his wrists slightly, and promptly had to bear down on the weapon to stop it from breaking free of his control. The damn thing seemed to have a life of its own, trying to dance from his grip. Air whistled through his teeth as he took a deep breath, and relaxed. He had the force on his side now, and had to rely on it. The Dreathos gave the blade a few experimental flicks, anticipating the gyroscopic effect of the weapon a little better with each motion.

Though it seemed far more complex than a blaster, and unwieldy to boot, he knew that this was the superior weapon. He'd seen bolts deflected by the blades of lightsabers, knew how cleanly they could cut all but the most resilient materials, and with their unique properties they became more than just a glowing sword in the hands of a trained force user. He shifted his weight forwards, leveling an experimental swing at nothing in particular to see how the weapon reacted in his hands.

 

[Andrewza]

Mortem stood watching him flick the weapon about. He had some training in combat so it was not all new to him, but did he trust the force she wondered. "Good good, let the blade and you become one. You can train with that on your own time or try and return the favour" As she rubbed her hand where she had struck him "either way a lightsabre does not make a sith, Strip my naked and I could still kill for darkness is my ally and the force is my weapon."

 

[Alcmaeon]

He may not have been capable of trusting anyone or anything, but he was willing to make an exception and try in this case. He sensed her coming nearer, and allowed the blade to subside for the time being. He placed the blade against a magnetic pad on his belt, where it clicked with a satisfying seal. He normally stored thermal detonators on those, and knew that it would take a concentrated effort to remove it without tripping the disengagement stud.

'Likely both.'

Sidrin decided he would return the favor for his hand, some day, but not today. He listened intently to her as she spoke, unsure of whether that was an invitation or not, and decided to let it slide as well, chalking it up as a figure of speech. Besides, he'd fought naked before, and had not enjoyed the sense of exposure when blaster bolts were flying around. A glowing blade of crimson energy was not likely to reassure him.

'I'm told I have the force, it's what got me here, yet I know nothing of it.'

 

[Andrewza]

mortem skipped backwards again with a feigned look of shock on her face "you mean you know nothing. But ok I under stand. The force is while every thing, the force flows from every where to every where, in binds the universe together. And then there are some who can control it or let it control them. sit down and close your eyes and focus yet clear your mind of your own thoughts. then reach out in your mind and touch this" As she placed a simple datapad on the floor.

 

[Alcmaeon]

Sidrin shrugged. Nothing. He barely had any form of education, let alone any knowledge of the force. He knelt down on the ground, his knees and toes supporting his weight as he sat on his heels, placing his claws on his thighs just below the hips.

Clearing his mind was nothing new to him, he'd often indulged in meditation during his time in the Legion. He'd been a bit of a loner, and there was only so many times you could clean a blaster before you started scoring the metal. The Draethos shut his eyes, and began to take deep slow breaths. He envisioned his mind as air in a balloon, air that needed to escape, forcing his consciousness outwards. Though he had an impression of where in the room he was, and where in relation the data pad was, he needed it to become sharper. His mind probed gently at the borders of his will, seeking contact with things beyond himself.

It took colossal effort, but he began to feel the data pad. Not as if he was handling it, rather he began to develop a sensation of its shape, the small studs on its surface, the chipped corner where it had bounced off of the floor. It was just an impression, but it was there.

 

[Andrewza]

Mortem watched the device shake as the young acolyte felt it through the force. "Yes yez you doing good now try to lift the force arround the datapad and it it. Rember focuse on the force.