Serpent
ComNet Cadet
Imperial Baronet
[VE-NAVY] Petty Officer 1st Class (PO1)
Post Number: 200
Total Posts: 1214
Joined: Jul 2011
Status: Offline
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Serpentor Personal Story: Desert Slave
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January 15, 2012
9:07:38 PM
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Crunda Secundus, 15 Years BTC (Before the Treaty of Coruscant)The planet Crunda Secundus, second planet of the Crunda System. It was a glittering dark pearl of a planet, beautiful in its own way, and a major trade hub for the Sith Empire. The land was a barren desert of sparkling obsidian sand, which reflected the bright light of the nearby Crunda star in dazzling patterns. This landscape was broken here and there by islands of rocky mountains, upon which the Sith had constructed great vertical cities of bridges and spires. Since Sith refugees settled the world a thousand years previous, the planet’s succession of rulers had been strong and respected Sith Lords, though in the planet’s history none had managed to ascend to a place on the Dark Council. The current being to hold that title was the Lord Keedral, a famed Inquisitor who had for the last few years had been serving on the front lines of the war with the Republic. In his absence, the powerful nobles of Crunda Secundus had escalated their ever-continuing struggles and intrigues. While few were ambitious enough to try to topple Lord Keedral himself, they would gladly take this opportunity to bring down rivals and increase their influence. One such person was the Merchant-Baron G’Shan, owner of a large chunk of the planet’s trade warehouses and associated shipping fleets. The Great Galactic War, now entering its thirteenth year, was making G’Shan rich from the arms trade, and his mansion home had grown dramatically as a result. The massive complex, a combination of business and pleasure, was a vast palace of launch pads, storage facilities, dining halls, suites, saunas, and more. All of this required a staff of hundreds of employees and guards, and they were served by dozens of slaves. Ten year old Quum was one such slave. With rich crimson skin and piercing golden eyes, the boy was a member of the Pureblood Sith race. Quum had been born into servitude, his mother the latest of several generations of harem pleasure slaves, his father a simple cook. The two had had a dangerous relationship, their union carried out in secret. Quum had been told that, for daring to get one of the harem pregnant, his father had been executed at Baron G’Shan’s command. His mother had been sold to a noble elsewhere in the Empire, and the young child had never met her (that he could remember). It was early one morning in the slave quarters. Quum lay asleep in his tiny bunk, in a room he shared with half a dozen other youngsters of various races. Like him, none of them had ever known freedom, being born into slavery. As a shared mark of their indentured servitude, all of them had dull grey rings around their necks. The slave collars contained tracking devices, shock givers, and explosives, and were the way that G’Shan ensured that none of his possessions even considered trying to escape. The door to the windowless room (which, in many ways, was akin to a cell) shot open, spilling the golden light and warmth of the Crundan dawn into the room. Silhouetted against the light, a massive Zabrak with skull-white skin stood and scowled at the slaves. “Wake up, wretches!” Bellowed Slave Master Jadezay. “You all know the routine! Get to the showers and wash your filthy bodies, then report to the senior slaves for your assignments. And Quum, don’t forget that you are in the kitchens today!” “Yes, sir,” Said the young Sith meekly, stirring from bed quickly in the presence of the intimidating Zabrak. As Jadezay turned and stormed off to rouse the other slaves, Quum hopped down from his bunk and landed beside the only other Pureblood Sith present. Osax was a couple of years older than Quum, and was in fact the eldest of the children slaves. The two had formed a firm friendship over the years, and were like brothers. “Your big day, Quum?” Asked the elder boy. Like his friend, Osax had the yellow eyes of his race, but his skin was a lighter shade of red and his facial tentacles were a few inches longer than Quum’s (something he tended to tease the younger slave about). “Yeah,” Agreed Quum, his voice betraying his nerves. “I’ve never done anything other than clean floors before. I hope I don’t screw up.” “You’ll do fine,” Encouraged his naturally confident friend. “Come on, let’s go.” The two headed to the showers, cleaning themselves up and donning fresh clothes. The slave ‘uniforms’ were composed of sheer white sleeveless tunics and shorts, simple and unassuming, but at least they were cool in the intense heat of the desert planet. The duo headed on to their destinations. In the slave hierarchy, junior slaves reported to seniors, who were akin to heads of staff in G’Shan’s palace. Some oversaw cleaning, some cooking, the harem, and other sections of service. Osax tended to be assigned to helping out in the hangar, using his mechanical skills to maintain the ships and speeders docked there. Normally Quum was a cleaner, but not today. They passed around the edge of the palace’s massive central courtyard, an open patch of green complete with fountains (very expensive to maintain on Crunda), already feeling the dry heat of the day. The slave quarters were at the edge of the complex, out of the way, and they walked towards a collection of three-story and four-story towers at the centre. En route, they saw a slave hard at work trimming some of the bushes of the courtyard. She was a senior slave, the most senior, being over a hundred years old (a full half century older than her nearest rival). Her name was Grandma Greela, a grey-haired old woman with burning red eyes. Like the two boys, she was one of only a handful of Pureblood Sith among the slaves, and had been like a mother to them both. “Ah, Osax and Quum!” She beamed, seeing the two youths. “How are you boys today?” “I’m okay,” Said Osax, and jerked a thumb at his friend adding, “But Quum is not so good.” “Oh? Nervous about your day in the kitchens?” She asked Quum nodded. “Slave Master Jadezay says he will punish me severely if I do badly.” Grandma Greela narrowed her eyes at him. “And he scares you?” She asked. “Of course he does!” Replied the ten year old. “He is strong, and his punishments are harsh. Osax says that Jadezay once even killed a junior slave for failing.” The woman did not correct the boy or deny the rumour. Instead, she said firmly, “Quum! You are a Pureblood Sith! You should not be afraid of anything!” “I don’t understand,” Said Quum. “You’ve said that before. About how great the Purebloods are. But if we are so good, how come we are the slaves, and humans and Zabraks like Baron G’Shan and Jadezay are in charge?” Grandma Greela scowled. “G’shan got his power by sucking up to the Sith. As for Jadezay, he may come and go as he pleases, but he is still a slave.” That last part was not news to Quum and Osax. The palace’s Slave Master was simply a slave who had been elevated to keep the others in line. By tradition, those becoming Slave Master had their collars removed so that they looked free, but the explosive and tracker were installed beneath the skin instead. As a bonus, Slave Masters were permitted to leave the palace and travel around the city in their free time, and even had money with which to buy things. Becoming a Slave Master was the closest thing to being free that a slave could aspire to, and the competition among the senior slaves to reach that coveted spot was fierce. “It’s still not right,” Said Osax. “We Sith should be in charge. It’s the Sith Empire, after all!” The senior slave smiled at the boy’s defiance. “Many powerful Sith Lords are Purebloods,” She told him. “But other Purebloods are slaves. The Sith race was split by a caste system in the days of the First Empire, and that split still persists today. Maybe one day things will change,” She mused. Turning back to look at Quum, she said, “Be strong like your friend, little one. Now, run along, both of you, and report to your seniors.” They did just that, and Grandma Greela returned to her gardening. ----- The first day in the kitchens was a baptism of fire for young Quum. As a junior slave he was not yet ready to do any actual cooking, so instead he joined the team of slaves who were assigned to bring food to their masters. Baron G’Shan was hosting a party that day, an expensive affair involving fully one hundred of Crunda Secundus’s wealthiest and most powerful subjects. In a grand hall they all mixed and mingled, businessmen and military leaders, even minor members of the Sith Order, all flanked by their own personal slaves, attendants, advisors and bodyguards. Among this throng, Quum and his fellows wove their paths, holding forth trays of drinks and food. The ten year old Pureblood felt small in the presence of so many powerful people, and he pretty much hid under his serving tray as he moved beneath their notices. Now and again a noble would reach down and scoop a treat from Quum’s platter, but he barely noticed. He was too focused on keeping the tray balanced atop him, and minding his footing. He dared not think of the penalty for dropping the food on the floor, let alone on a guest. The boy’s preoccupation with being careful proved detrimental. Caught between his personal goal of keeping out of everyone’s way, and the imposed goal of actually having to approach and serve people, Quum inevitably made a mistake. In his hurry to avoid a particularly corpulent army colonel, the young slave stepped back without looking, and tripped awkwardly over the cloak of a low-ranked noble. Quum slipped, spun as he fell, and the tray of snacks flew from his hands and hurtled through the air. Crashing to the ground, the slave took a moment to compose himself, and then looked up at the havoc he had wrought. Standing close by, his immaculate silken robes stained with bits of meat and sauce, towered the figure of Quum’s owner, Merchant-Baron G’Shan. The tall human glowered at the slave at his feet, the rage dancing in his striking green eyes as his bald head turned red with anger. Silence filled the room as the party’s host exploded. “You pathetically clumsy slave!” He roared as Quum quailed in terror. “Slave Master!” He bellowed, and in the blink of an eye the fearsome Zabrak Jadezay was at his master’s side. Without even glancing at the head slave, G’Shan continued. “Jadezay! Do you mind explaining to me how this insect was allowed to serve food at my party?” As he spoke, he was set upon by female slaves who took to cleaning the noble as best they could. “I’m sorry, my Baron,” Said the Zabrak quickly. “It is my mistake! I thought he could handle it…” “Well obviously not!” Snapped G’Shan as Quum winced. At his feet, the slave changed position on the floor, from spread-eagled to a more respectful bow. He grovelled as best he was able, fearing to even look up at his two superiors. “I shall see to the discipline of this worm immediately, my Baron,” Rushed Jadezay. Then his eyes fell on Quum. “ You come with me!” ----- He screamed. The electro-whip tore into his bare flesh, gouging bloody furrows in his skin, smoke emerging from where the super-heated torture device burned. With each lash, Quum howled in mindless, unbearable agony. There was no way to fight it, no way to focus on anything else, the pain was just too much, too consuming. Slave Master Jadezay snarled insults, and Quum the slave felt them searing into his psyche just as the whip seared his back. “You are weak! You are pathetic! You are just a slave!” Bellowed the Zabrak. “All you are and all you ever will be is a slave! You will serve perfectly from now on or we shall do this again? Do you understand?” Somehow, between the screams, Quum replied, “Yes Master! Yes Master! Yes Master…” When at last the nightmare ended, the young Pureblood curled into a foetal ball upon the dungeon floor. He sobbed as the scent of burning flesh drifted into his nostrils, shivering in nervous exhaustion, his skin glistening with sweat and blood. Slowly, Jadezay leaned closer to his victim. Torture was never complete until the subject was broken. “No more screw ups, right, slave?” He asked. “Yes Master…” Said Quum, managing to look up at him with eyes that were drained of all hope, all strength. “I will be a good slave.” And for the next few years, he was. But as the boy grew up and manhood approached, Quum’s broken spirit began to heal. And instead of pain, he began to feel resentment, rebellion, and anger… - OOC:
- 2191 words. Introducing Quum, the pathetic little slave who is destined to one day be the Inquisitor known as Serpentor, my character in The Old Republic. This is just the first of three or four posts of his origin story. A brief summary of the cast:
Quum: A ten year old Pureblood Sith slave, who was born into the servitude of the Merchant-Baron G’Shan.
Merchant-Baron G’Shan: A rich human businessman and influential figure on the Sith planet Crunda Secundus.
Slave Master Jadezay: A former Zabrak slave who has been elevated by G’Shan to keep the others in line using cruelty and fear.
Osax: A slave boy a couple of years older than Quum and his best friend.
Grandma Greela: A century-old slave of G’shan. A strange and rambling Sith woman who treats Quum and Osax as her adopted children.
Lord Keedral: The absentee ruler of Crunda Secundus.
After Action Report: Young Quum has grown up a slave, but until now had avoided the worst of that wretched existence. Promoted to serving food, he makes the biggest mistake of his life and ruins an important dinner party held by Baron G’Shan. For his error he is severely punished by Slave Master Jadezay and is thoroughly cowed into submission.
FO/PO1 Pherik “Serpent” Zail / ISD II Halcyon Warrior/TF: Besh/1Flt/FC/VEN/VE [SoA][=Eng=][MC;2][LoM] |
Serpent
ComNet Cadet
Imperial Baronet
[VE-NAVY] Petty Officer 1st Class (PO1)
Post Number: 225
Total Posts: 1214
Joined: Jul 2011
Status: Offline
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RE: Serpentor Personal Story: Desert Slave
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February 4, 2012
9:04:14 AM
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Crunda Secundus, 7 Years BTC (Before the Treaty of Coruscant)In the time before the Dark Lords came,
And joined with the Sith and took our name,
Our people lived in fear and awe
Of mighty gods with power raw.
Deities, dark side incarnate,
Embodiments of rage and hate,
The Sith worshipped them with pain and blood,
And gave their praise to the gods above.
Among them was one cunning and sly,
Strong of body and quick of eye,
As a giant snake he encoiled the stars,
And was known as Ijash-val-akar.
Ijash looked upon the Sith below,
And their worth he wished to know,
So in a serpent’s guise he did descend,
To Korriban and the world of men.
He visited the leader of every Sith tribe,
Conquerors and mystics with power and pride.
And slipped into their rooms in the dead of night,
Injecting his venom with a single bite.
The divine poison made them writhe with pain,
Burning their minds to drive them insane,
Visions and nightmares did dance in their eyes,
Showing the Sith kings both truth and lies.
Too much it was and their minds were gone,
Rulers died as Ijash looked on,
And as each perished the Sith god sighed,
“Are none of them worthy?” The deity cried!
Then at last he came to the desert of Anzehr,
To test the warlord who held rule there,
A great leader with a mighty throng,
An awesome army with warriors strong.
He’d seized his crown with cunning and might,
Slaying his rivals in fight after fight,
Then forged his domain through blood and fire,
The basis of a mighty empire.
Yet as Ijash surveyed the realm,
The god found himself underwhelmed,
For fear had taken the Sith king’s heart,
And now his rule was falling apart.
Ijash planned to stir the warlord again,
Rekindle the passion that had started to wane,
And granted the king the serpent’s fang,
So that in his mind the madness sang.
For eight cycles of night and day,
The poisoned warlord in torpor lay,
As he experienced visions born of the dark side,
Nightmares from which the king could not hide.
The venom tested his doubt and his fear,
And questioned deep all he held dear,
But unlike the others his will did not fail,
And he learned from the horrors all they entailed.
When at last the king emerged,
His mind felt sharper, stronger, purged,
And so reborn he gave the command,
To engage in a war that engulfed Korriban!
Ijash-val-akar saw all this and laughed,
As lives were ended in a world-wide bloodbath,
The Sith, he now knew, were chosen by Fate,
He had tested their finest and judged them all great!The two young Purebloods listened spellbound as Grandma Greela recited the ancient Sith legend. Quum and Osax, now fully grown and at the dawn of adulthood, were enjoying a rare evening off in the company of the old woman. All three slaves had been given a break, owing to the master of the palace, Baron G’Shan, being off-world with most of his staff. “Is that story true?” Asked Quum, fascinated. “The ancient Sith believed it so,” Replied Grandma Greela. She sat cross-legged on the floor, as did her two adoptive children, alone in her private quarters. What the eldest slave had done to merit her own accommodation, none knew, but while small, it was appropriately lit with candles and was warm against the cold night of Crunda Secundus. “So much did they believe it,” She continued, “That a few Sith held to a tradition of re-enacting the legend in a sacred ritual.” “What kind of ritual?” Pressed Osax, the twenty-year old intently curious, his golden Pureblood eyes sparkling. Greela smiled, but it was not with warmth. Sith never showed affection, so instead the old woman’s face was more akin to glee, as if relishing the young man’s passion. “The cults would test their young with the venom of the serpent. An ancient formula, brewed from Sith alchemy, was injected into a snake, and then the snake was encouraged to bite a supplicant. The youngster would then experience horrible visions, like the Warlord of Anzehr in the legend.” “Then what?” Asked Quum, the eighteen year old just as curious as his friend. “The weak died,” Said Greela firmly, “But the strong would emerge stronger in the dark side, more powerful than before.” “If it were me, I’d risk it,” Said Osax. “I hate being a slave, and I’d do anything to escape this life!” Quum nodded in agreement with his friend, but deep down he wondered if he would ever take a risk like that. Grandma Greela went on, and it was a few hours before the two young men went back to their main slave quarters for the night. Even then they did not sleep much, for their minds were alive with the ancient legends of their people. ----- A few days later, Quum was hard work in the kitchen. In the years since his first disastrous day serving food, he had been schooled in actual cooking, and now worked hard for the Senior Slave in charge of the food preparation. A Senior Slave was second only to the Slave Master in the hierarchy of Merchant-Baron G’Shan’s household, and Quum longed for the day that he could aspire to being one. Just as Quum was stood at a table and gutting a fish, he saw the familiar figure of his friend Osax enter. The elder slave worked in a different ‘department’ of the palace slaves, and seeing him in the kitchens was unusual. Osax approached the head of the area, the Duros Senior Slave known as Padrak. The two exchanged words, the Duros nodding. Quum strained his ears to listen, but could not make out what was being said. Whatever it was, Padrak seemed to agree, and then Osax turned and hurried off. ----- Quum barely saw his friend over the next few days. Even in the slave barracks where they both slept Osax was rarely present, and Quum had no chance to talk to him. Finally, the other slave turned up in the kitchens once again, this time to collect a large package from Senior Slave Padrak. Once Osax was out of sight, Quum approached the head of the kitchens and spoke to him. “What was that about?” He asked of the Senior Slave. Padrak was approachable enough as slaves went, but Quum, ever wary of being punished, was still nervous in speaking to him. “More of Greela’s nonsense,” Snorted the Duros. “She requested some oddities, and Osax is taking them to her.” “Oddities?” Asked Quum, wondering suddenly what Grandma Greela had to do with this. Padrak looked at the confused youngster. “I am one of the few slaves with contacts outside the palace,” He explained. “When special things need brought in, I’m the guy to do it,” He said with wink, as if imparting a great secret. “But how would a slave pay for such things?” Persisted Quum. The Senior Slave glanced at him, as if slowly realising just how little the young Sith Pureblood knew. “Slave Masters have money,” He said. “As do former Slave Masters...” “Grandma Greela?” Asked Quum, stunned. “She was a Slave Master?” Padrak nodded. “A very brutal and sadistic one, back in the day. She was the right arm and enforcer of Baron G’Shan’s grandfather, and everyone feared her.” “What happened?” “Greela screw up,” Answered the Duros. “She tried to perform some bizarre ritual, and a bunch of slaves died. Another Senior Slave took advantage and stole her position. Such is the way of things.” “But she still maintains the wealth and belongings she built up during her time as the only slave permitted to leave the palace...” Mused Quum, suddenly making sense of her private quarters adorned with candles. Suddenly, a thought occurred. “That stuff you brought in for her? Could they be used for another ritual?” The Duros shrugged, obviously not caring. “No idea, kid, I just work here.” Suddenly, Quum thought back to the Legend of Ijash-val-akar and the associated tradition of poisoning oneself with a snake. No, Osax would not be stupid enough to try it, would he? And surely Grandma Greela would not permit him... Suddenly he got a bad feeling in his gut. “May I be excused for...” He began. “No!” Stated Padrak firmly, returning to his familiar role of head of the kitchens. “Chat time is over, Quum. Back to work!” “But...” Offered the Pureblood by way of protestation, but it was no use. A harsh look from the Duros told him all he needed to know, and he slinked off back to his duties. However, Quum vowed to find Greela and Osax the moment his cooking duties finished. Something bad was happening, he just knew it! ----- It was dark by the time Padrak dismissed him, and Quum ran towards the slave area of the palace. Past guards and guests, the young slave had to be both swift yet respectful in the presence of his betters, as he negotiated the Baron’s decorative hallways and expansive courtyards. Finally he reached the sleeping areas, and raced to the private quarters of Grandma Greela. Finding the door unlocked, he ran inside. Quum stopped dead at what he saw. The flickering candlelight around the room cast the dancing shadows of the two occupants upon the walls. Laying in the centre, inside a circle drawn with blood and inscribed with glyphs, Osax writhed naked in agony. Pacing around the outside stood Grandma Greela, watching the Pureblood with calm detachment, an ancient book clasped in her withered hands. “What have you done?” Snapped Quum, addressing Greela but with his eyes firmly fixed on his pained friend. “I gave him the test he wished,” Answered the hundred year old Sith. “The ritual detailed in this book is easy enough to prepare,” She said, holding tight the blood red tome, “And I found this slithering about one of the courtyards,” She added, gesturing to a glass case nearby and a purple-skinned snake within. “If Osax has the gift, if he is Force-sensitive, then he will emerge from this strong enough to be free.” Quum stared at the book she held. “Did you get that when you had your freedom?” He asked. “When you were a Slave Master.” “Yes,” Replied Greela. “I plumbed the knowledge of the Force when I had the chance to. But I never had freedom, Quum! I could leave this cursed palace when I wished, but I was still a slave! I sought the knowledge of the Sith, but found their powers forever denied to me! I don’t have the gift, and never will! Ah, but if I could find one who did...” “He would be grateful enough for your help to take you out of here with him, right?” Asked Quum, sickened by the woman. “You risk the lives of others just to help yourself!” Greela nodded. “Of course! That is the way of a Sith! And if you were worth the pure blood flowing in your veins, Quum, you would do the same. Indeed, if you had the heart and courage that Osax had, you would be volunteering for the same ritual!” Quum ignored her words, and glanced down at his friend. Osax neither saw nor heard his friends arguing, for he was lost in a blazing agony beyond anything Quum had ever seen. Even when he had been beaten by Slave Master Jadezay all those years ago he did not howl like this. And then, with a sudden quiet that was even more terrible to hear than the screams of pain, Osax fell silent. His convulsions ceased, and his body flopped limply to the ground like the fish Quum spent so much time gutting. Greela glanced down at the Pureblood slave, and regarded him without reaction. “He has failed,” She announced simply. Quum stared down at the dead body, the man who until that moment had been his friend for as long as he could remember. Like a brother, like family, Osax meant the world to him. And as he stared, his grief swelled within him, solidified into hate, and his golden eyes locked firmly on the one he held responsible. “You!” He snarled at Greela. “You did this!” The elderly woman shook her head. “He was weak and- uh!” Suddenly, her head tipped back and she felt her throat tighten. Instantly struggling to breathe, Greela looked at Quum with sudden horror. “You killed him!” Roared the Pureblood slave, eyes burning with fury as the woman he used to affectionately called ‘Grandma’ lifted slowly into the air, choking as she went. “Please... Quum... stop...!” She gasped, her eyes begging. He did not listen. He did not know how, did not understand, but Quum knew that he was lifting her, strangling her, and he did not care! He felt a strange connection, one fuelled by pure anger, and he fed it with every ounce of rage he had. He leaned into his tenuous grip, tightening it with as much concentration as he could manage. However, he was untrained, unused to the power flowing through him, and Quum began to feel his grip falter. With an exasperated curse the strange power came to an end, and Greela fell awkwardly to the ground, gasping for breath. “You...” Managed Greela between coughs, as she struggled to drink deep of precious air. “You have... the gift I seek!” However, Quum was not listening. Disgusted by the sight of her, he spun on one heel and left. ----- Quum knew exactly where he was going. If he lacked the strength to exact revenge, then he would enlist the help of someone who could. He found Slave Master Jadezay barking orders to a couple of slaves in the courtyard nearby. Upon seeing Quum, the cruel Zabrak frowned. Dismissing the others, he turned to the Pureblood. “What are you doing out here, slave?” He demanded. “Its curfew time!” Years previous, Jadezay had given Quum the beating of his life, an agony that had taken the slave a long time to get over. But even when the pain and wounds had faded, the young Pureblood had remained deathly afraid of the Slave Master. Now, though, the sheer anger inside Quum allowed him to meet the Zabrak’s harsh gaze without flinching. “You never liked Greela, did you?” He asked bluntly. Jadezay looked momentarily taken aback, though whether it was from the question itself or the strong tones in which the normally meek Quum spoke he could not tell. He replied eventually by nodding. The Pureblood knew this. He always sensed tension between the two. At first he put it down to Greela being a friendly mentor to the slaves, and Jadezay just taking a different approach and being a harsh dictator. Now he wondered if perhaps the Zabrak did not feel threatened, fearing that the older and more experienced Slave Master might ever try to take back her title. “She just killed Osax,” Said Quum. “If you hurry you can catch her in the action of trying to cover it up.” Jadezay frowned. “For real?” He asked suspiciously. Quum nodded. “You can execute her for that,” He said, a hint of glee in his voice. “It is within your power, correct?” “Yes,” Confirmed the Zabrak, “And I think I shall enjoy it.” ----- Jadezay, Quum, and a handful of G’Shan’s guards were quick to reach Greela’s quarters, and the tortured corpse of Osax still lay twisted upon the floor. Greela herself had recovered from her choking and now stood proud and defiant, accepting her fate. “More of your bizarre rituals?” Mocked Jadezay. “Thought you would have learned by now, old woman.” “I do not answer to lesser races like you, Zabrak,” Retorted Greela. “I did what I must in accordance with Sith teachings. Now do what you must.” “Oh I will,” Said the Slave Master with relish. To the trio of guards he said, “Raise your guns, men, and take aim. This old one wouldn't survive torture for long, so I am going to forgo that limited fun and just end this right now.” It was then that the old Sith woman’s eyes flicked to Quum. “Before I die, I wish to have words with the boy one last time.” “I have nothing to say to you!” He retorted. “Then just listen,” Urged Greela. Quum looked over at Jadezay, who shrugged. Slowly, the young Pureblood turned back towards the old slave, and walked over to her. She moved to meet him, and leaned in close to whisper in his ear. “The book is hidden beneath a loose tile under my feet,” She said quickly. “Take it, use it, master the power inside yourself, and leave this place! Now, before he gets suspicious, back away quickly and yell at me!” Quum, quick witted, understood at once. Stepping away from her, he exclaimed, “Crazy old woman! You can die for what you did!” Turning back towards Jadezay, he said, “Shoot her now and be done with it!” The Slave Master nodded, clearly convinced that Greela’s last words had been some sort of taunt or insult. “Goodbye, old hag!” He snarled. “Fire!” And Quum watched his adopted grandmother, the only family he had except for Osax, die. Both of his surrogate family, dead in one day. But in those deaths, he mulled over Greela’s last words, and found hope. - OOC:
- 2912 words. And events rush on, until this rather meek slave Quum grows up to be my Sith Sorcerer character Serpentor (level 35 and going strong now!). Only 2 posts left to go in this short prequel for Star Wars: The Old Republic.
After Action Report: The two slaves and friends, Quum and Osax, hear an old Sith legend, and Grandma Greela tells them of an old ritual linked to it. Osax, seeking the power to be free of his hated slave existence, undergoes the ritual, but to Quum’s horror is unsuccessful and perishes. Outraged, Quum turns Greela over to the brutal Slave Master Jadezay, who executes her. However, before she dies, she tells Quum where to find her ancient tome of Force knowledge.
[SoA][=Eng=][MC2][LoM][NAR][E][HNS][SWC] |
Serpent
ComNet Cadet
Imperial Baronet
[VE-NAVY] Master Chief Petty Officer (MCPO)
Post Number: 290
Total Posts: 1214
Joined: Jul 2011
Status: Offline
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RE: Serpentor Personal Story: Desert Slave
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February 26, 2012
9:23:57 PM
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Crunda Secundus, 0 Years BTC (Before the Treaty of Coruscant)Crunda Secundus, the World of Black Sands, was celebrating, as indeed was every world in the Sith Empire. After a brutal and savage war, which would come to be known as the Great Galactic War, the Sith had prevailed against the Republic. Coruscant, the capital of an old and doddering regime, lay in ruins. Upon its surface lay bleak signs of war, including a smouldering wreckage that had once been the Temple of the Jedi Order. With the sack of that world the Republic had been broken, and the Treaty of Coruscant, giving massive concessions to the Sith Empire, had been signed. For the trade world of Crunda Secundus, a long way from the front lines in the old domain known as the Seat of the Empire, life with the war over would have been much the same as life during the war, save for one important detail. The end of the conflict meant the return of Lord Keedral. For years the Sith Master who ruled the Crunda System had done so in absentia, fighting on the front lines and earning glory by smashing many worlds loyal to the Republic. Now the potent Sorcerer was returning home, and the World of Black Sands was in a panic. The powerful nobles, rulers of large trade empires and factories, had spent the last few years fighting for power and influence over Crunda Secundus. Now the power games had to stop, for Lord Keedral would not be forgiving of any underling who had overstepped themselves in the Sith’s absence. In the palace compound of Mechant-Baron G’Shan there was plenty of activity. G’shan had grown rich off supplying the war effort, and risen to become one of the most powerful men on the planet. And so, within days of Lord Keedral’s return, word had come from the Sith Lord that he would be paying G’Shan a visit. Since the announcement, everyone in the palace had been busy preparing. This went double for the Pureblood slave, Quum. G’Shan was planning a grand banquet in honour of the visiting Sith Sorcerer, and Quum and the other slaves who toiled in the kitchens had spent days ordering food, preparing sauces, and creating lavish dishes that had to be started days in advance of actually being served. Quum, his coal-black hair tied back and his yellow eyes intense, focused hard on his work. Now in his mid-twenties, he had been cooking for over a decade, and was quite good at it. Like all slaves, he strove to excel at his role for two reasons. First was the stick. As a slave, he could be beaten, even killed, for failing in his duties. Secondly was the carrot. As a slave born and raised, Quum had never left the palace compound, never travelled or seen the galaxy. Only by working hard to become the Slave Master, chief of all the Baron’s servants, would he be allowed any measure of freedom, and to do that he had to work hard. Before becoming Slave Master, though, he had to become a Senior Slave and head of his ‘department’. The incumbent Senior Slave of the kitchens was a Duros called Padrak. Quum liked Padrak, even if the Senior Slave was an alien, for he had taught Quum all he knew about cooking and running a kitchen, and the young Pureblood was grateful. Still, today Padrak was to die, and Quum would make it happen. Years previous, Quum had gotten a book on the dark side of the Force, one of several old tomes penned by ancient Sith Lords back in the days of his race’s Golden Age. He had been studying it in secret since acquiring it, hiding the precious artefact from both fellow slaves and his owners and masters. The tome’s previous owner, Grandma Greela, had made some translation notes, but Quum had still to spend almost three years completing the translation of Ancient Sith into Basic so he could understand the writings. And what a treasure trove he had uncovered! The Tome of Ijash-val-akar, written by followers of a forgotten Sith snake deity, contained many secrets indeed. Penned during the time of the Sith Lord Marka Ragnos, it was Quum’s window into the glories of the past. More importantly, it taught him the basics of channelling the dark side of the Force. He trained at night, in secret corners of the palace, away from prying eyes. Quum slowly developed his powers of telekinesis, moving small rocks. It took great effort at first, but he persevered and his control grew stronger. Moreover, the Tome of Ijash-val-akar had taught him valuable lessons. Firstly, that a Sith needed ambition. Discrediting rivals, killing them even, whatever was necessary was fully justified in pursuit of one’s goals. If a higher up was worthy of their place then they would be able to hold onto it! Quum did not need to be sold on lessons such as this. Life in the palace, even among the slaves, was about survival of the fittest. He knew this to be a fact of life since he was old enough to understand what slavery meant, but it was nice to have his belief confirmed by the knowledge of his Sith ancestors. And so, given the skills of the dark side and the wisdom of the Sith, Quum prepared to kill and usurp Padrak the Duros’s mantle of Senior Slave of the kitchens. ----- The heat of the kitchen was intense, even to the locals who were used to the extreme high temperatures of the desert planet of Crunda Secundus. About a dozen of them toiled, baking and cutting and slicing and dicing, while great ovens, large enough to cook thirty dishes at a time, blazed hot close by. Quum had heard that over a hundred guests were coming to the reception for Lord Keedral, to be held the next day, and he had never seen the kitchen so busy. Over his shoulder he caught a glance of Senior Slave Padrak, his large blue alien head visible over the top of a nearby worktop. The Duros was giving advice to a young slave, a human by the name of Deems. Though a teenager, Deems was a feisty slave. A former citizen of the Republic, he was taken in the war and brought back to the Seat of the Empire to be sold. Quum smiled. Perfect! Deems was still new to slavery, angry and prone to talking back, though he had yet to raise a hand to Slave Master Jadezay or any of G’Shan’s staff. “Don’t be stupid, boy!” Snapped Padrak at the human slave, the stress of too much work getting to the normally calm Duros. “Hold the knife like this,” He said, instructing the young cook on grip. And in that instant, Quum reached out with the Force. He waited to the very right moment, just as Deems, a look of irritation on his face, moved to hand the knife to Padrak. And then Quum shoved the knife, hard and fast, right up into the Senior Slave’s jugular! The movement caught Deems completely by surprise, and the stunned slave had not the presence of mind to let go of the knife. Instead he appeared, to all of the other startled slaves present, to be boldly stabbing his superior in plain view. The knife split a major artery in Padrak’s neck, and suddenly blood erupted forth, spraying Deems as he stared blankly at his hand, still wrapped around the hilt of the knife buried in the superior slave’s neck. Meanwhile the Duros himself was coughing and gurgling, as he slowly dropped to the ground amid a growing pool of his own blood. Somewhere close by a slave screamed while others ran in panic. Guards from outside rushed in, and there was chaos... ----- An hour later, and the kitchen staff were back in the slave quarters of Baron G’Shan’s huge palace complex. Ten of them were lined up along a wall, with Deems in stuff cuffs on the floor before them. Pacing silently back and forth at the front of the room was the menacing figure of the Zabrak Slave Master, Jadezay. “I... I don’t understand!” Protested the young human from his knees. “The knife just... just... oh the blood!” He sobbed, hysterical. “Yes yes!” Snarled the Zabrak. “The knife just moved on its own! Of course it did!” “It did!” Protested Deems. Quum did well to hide his smirk. Part of him felt bad for the death and chaos he had wrought, but he squashed such thoughts immediately. They were unbecoming of a Sith. Besides, his plan had worked perfectly. Padrak had died of his wounds within minutes of being taken from the kitchens. Now, as the most talented cook, it was only a matter moments until Quum was confirmed as Senior Slave in his stead. And then I can start gunning for Jadezay’s job, thought the young Pureblood. Jadezay scowled at Deems. “Listen up, slaves!” Roared the white-skinned Zabrak. “Killing each other will not be tolerated! Even if Baron G’Shan did pay a lot for your pathetic life...” He said, dark eyes looking at Deems with disgust. “Please... you have to listen to me...” Said the human, his whiny voice pathetic. And then Jadezay pulled out the remote slave control he carried, and with a few quick motions typed in the unique identity code of Deems’ slave collar. “No...” The accused murderer had one last chance to say, and then the explosive ring around his neck activated. Quum had never seen the device triggered before, though every slave was aware of the tiny bomb and tracker implanted in the slave collars they all wore. Instead of exploding like he had expected, the collar fired off an energy discharge that played around Deems’ head, turning his face bright red and blistering his skin as he was cooked to death in seconds. And then it was over, and the slave’s body crashed to the ground with a dull thud, smoke curling lazily from the charred skull. “Let that be a lesson to you all!” Spat Jadezay. The assembled slaves, most cowed by the execution, nodded numbly. “Now, we need all of you back to work, preparing for the banquet!” Barked the Slave Master. “To that end, I am promoting a new Senior Slave! Yadish, step forward!” Quum could not contain the shock on his face as a slave a year younger and a lot less competent was selected. Yadish, he noted, was another Zabrak. Some slaves even whispered that he was Jadezay’s son, though Quum had paid little attention to such stories. Now he had cause to wonder. “Yadish! You are now Senior Slave! Get the rest of these scum back to work and back on schedule! This fiasco has wasted enough time as it is!” “Yes, Slave Master,” Replied the younger Zabrak in an obsequious voice, turning and leading the other slaves in a quick march out of the room. Quum stayed where he was. “You are dismissed, Quum,” Snarled Jadezay, barely looking at the Pureblood. “I should be Senior Slave,” Said the other firmly. “Well well well,” Said the Slave Master with a smile. “Aren’t you the bold one? You’ve come a long way from that ten year old I battered to tears for spilling food on Baron G’Shan all those years ago.” “I’ve changed,” Admitted Quum. “Yes, you have grown much, but you are still just a slave, and I am still the Slave Master! You would do well to show me some more respect!” Declared Jadezay. And that was when Quum saw it. There was fear in the other’s eyes! With sudden clarity, the Pureblood looked at the Zabrak before him and saw him in a new light. Jadezay, Slave Master of the palace from before Quum was born, was getting old. His body was still strong and tall, but not as it once was. If Quum had to use a word for the Slave Master, it would be tired. Too late he realised that he had been staring, and that Jadezay realised that Quum had worked all this out. “I am still the Master here!” Roared the Zabrak, pulling forth his whip and lashing it out at Quum faster than he could blink. The weapon, charged with energy, slashed across Quum’s face, causing him great agony and knocking him to the floor. As he fell, the Sith Pureblood tried to focus on the dark side as the Tome of Ijash-val-akar had taught him. He knew several offensive uses of telekinesis, but no sooner did he begin to draw the Force to himself than Jadezay struck again. The blinding agony ripped across Quum’s back, numbing his mind and shattering his fledgling grip of the dark side. He raged in anger, incensed that he could not bring his new powers to bear in time to defend himself and make the Slave Master suffer. “You are nothing!” Roared Jadezay, his words echoing those of fifteen years ago when he had first beat Quum into submission. “I am the Slave Master, and you are nothing!” He struck again and again, and Quum could do nothing but surrender to the pain and howl in mindless agony... ----- It was night, the Crundan sun had set and a chill had settled in, but sitting alone in the one of the courtyard gardens of the palace Quum barely felt it. His body ached, and his clothes were torn and bloody from where the whip had struck him. But more then the physical pain, he felt weak, pathetic, and foolish. What little he had learned had made him arrogant enough to stand up to Jadezay, and yet when he needed his Force powers most they had failed him. Quum needed something else, he needed more power if he was to break free of this miserable existence, but how? And then he saw it. Slithering out from between the bushes that lined the path from one side of the courtyard to another, a silver snake, its scales glittering brilliantly in the light of Crunda Secundus’ twin moons. The Sith Pureblood thought back seven years, to his old friend Osax. Grandma Greela had tried to help the other slave by performing the ancient Rite of Ijash-val-akar upon him. It was the most potent and most dangerous of the rituals contained in the Tome that Quum now possessed, and he had dared not use it before. It had killed Osax, and Grandma Greela claimed that it had killed others too. However, thought Quum, the old Sith had also claimed that those who survived the Rite, which involved being bitten by a live snake, were far stronger and more powerful for it. Quum stared at the serpent as it made its way across the grass, entranced by the sight of it. He did not know if he believed in the Sith gods, but if they were real, could this creature be a sign from Ijash-val-akar? He did not know, but in a moment of courage he decided to find out. Using the Force to pin the snake safely in place, he captured it, and then rushed off to get his Tome... - OOC:
- 2542 words. It struck me as odd while playing with my Sith Inquisitor that, though his back story was as a slave, he began play in Star War: The Old Republic with the ability to use Force Lightning! So it is I decided to explain it by working into this prequel story that Quum had learned some Sith talents from an old tome.
After Action Report: The Great Galactic War is over, and the ruler of Crunda Secundus, Lord Keedral, is coming home. As the Sith Lord plans to pay a visit to Baron G’Shan, the young slave Quum is making his bid to become G’Shan’s top slave. To this end he learns Force powers from an old Sith tome, and uses them to kill the Senior Slave of the kitchens. Expecting to be elevated in his stead, Quum is instead punished by Slave Master Jadezay, who fears Quum’s growing strength and ambition. Quum is now desperate and decides to gain more power by undergoing the ancient Rite of Ijash-val-akar...
[SoA][MC2][LoM][NAR][E][HNS][SWC][CBV][VC:S][SoV][=^Eng^=]
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Serpent
ComNet Cadet
Imperial Baronet
[VE-NAVY] Master Chief Petty Officer (MCPO)
Post Number: 299
Total Posts: 1214
Joined: Jul 2011
Status: Offline
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RE: Serpentor Personal Story: Desert Slave
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March 4, 2012
10:15:12 PM
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Crunda Secundus, 0 Years BTC (Before the Treaty of Coruscant)Quum had found a quiet corner of a palace warehouse for the ritual. Beside him, the Tome of Ijash-val-akar lay open on the page of the most sacred Rite, and he was following the instructions as precisely as he could. With a knife he had stolen from the kitchen, the young slave had sliced open his forearm and written a circle of Sith glyphs upon the floor. Next he turned to the caged animal beside him. The silver snake curled and hissed in its captivity, angry and restless. An hour previously Quum had mixed and concocted the hallucinogenic formula from the Tome, and injected it into the serpent’s poison glands. By now the Sith alchemic potion would have completely changed the snake’s venom, and it was time to begin the ritual proper. Quum lifted the snake carefully from the cage, holding it just behind the head as its tail lashed angrily. Naked, the Pureblood Sith slave lay down in the centre of the inscribed circle, and held the snake close to his face. “Sisgrak eahssar aharssiz Ijash-val-akar,” He intoned in the ancient tongue of his people, and then let go of the angry serpent. Exactly as he expected, the beast lashed out, striking its poisoned fangs deep into the flesh of Quum’s neck, and then making a fast slithering dash for freedom. As the snake fled, Quum gasped in pain as the venom seeped into his blood stream, causing him to writhe and buck upon the floor. He felt like his body and mind were on fire, but he dared not cry out, for it was night still in the palace, and he did not want anyone to find him. Instead the slave clenched his teeth, fought his body for control, as his eyes began to flutter shut. The snake’s poison, enriched with the Sith potion, penetrated deep into his brain, and slowly Quum sank into unconsciousness... ----- There were several landing platforms in the palace complex of Merchant-Baron G’Shan, but most were used for hauling cargo to and from the massive warehouses. However, upon the upper levels of the central palace building was a smaller, more private pad, for the personal yacht of G’Shan himself, and special visiting dignitaries. Dignitaries such as the Sith Lord Keedral. The vessel of the ruler of Crunda Secundus was sleek and deadly, coloured in dark blues and purples. As it came in for the graceful landing, Baron G’Shan and several of his lieutenants stood waiting. The merchant and his underlings were each dressed in clothing that befitted their vast wealth, devoid of any blemish or imperfection, to impress their Lord. The landing ramp descended, and a trio of warriors in thick yet flexible armour of grey and red descended. Their faces were hidden behind their visors, and at first G’Shan thought them mere soldiers, until he saw the lightsaber hilts hanging from their belts. Lord Keedral’s apprentices! Thought the baron, trying to maintain his composure. Dealing with one Sith was bad enough, but four of them was something else. The Baron was being sent a message here, and it took little brain power to figure out what it was. Once his three students had glanced about, clearly wary of any ambush or attack, Lord Keedral himself emerged from the vessel. The Sith Master was dressed in long robes of purple and blue, matching the colour scheme of his ship, and here and there amulets and jewellery of gold hung from the ensemble. Unlike some Sith who preferred to wear masks, Keedral's bald head was exposed, adorned only by a golden ring with a large onyx diamond embedded in it. His crimson skin, testament to his Pureblood heritage, was the colour of blood, and his facial tentacles hung long off his chin. He moved slowly and deliberately, his red eyes missing no detail as he surveyed those gathered to meet him. Unquestionably he was old, but he was powerful. “My Lord,” Said G’Shan, bowing low, “It is an honour to have you visit my humble palace.” The Baron managed to speak clearly, but inside the human was nervous. He could feel something while in the Sith Sorcerer’s presence, something dangerous, and it unnerved him. “Rise, Baron,” Said the Sith Lord, his voice a whispered command. “I have come to see this wonder of a citadel you have constructed from growing rich off of the Empire’s war.” The human noble twitched. “My businesses produced weapons and goods for our glorious troops, my Lord,” He said tactfully. “That I grew wealthy from serving the Emperor is merely a bonus.” “We shall see,” Said Lord Keedral with quiet menace, and began walking from the hangar, as his apprentices, Baron G’Shan and the other hangers-on fell into step with him. ----- Quum floated in a sea of pain and agony, his body and mind feeling like they were being stretched, ripped, shredded and reformed only to be broken anew. Coming and going with the waves of pain, his senses were flooded with bright colours and jarring noise, an onslaught that never seemed to cease. For what felt like an eternity the young Sith Pureblood writhed in a world of private and excruciating torment. And then, suddenly, the madness ceased, and Quum found his world quiet, dark, and eerily calm. He stood firmly upon nothing, in a world of infinite black with neither up nor down. Alone, he wondered for an instant where he was, before the answer came to him. So this is the depths of my mind? I take it that the hallucinations are about to begin...“Oh they are indeed!” Rasped a voice from the darkness. Quum spun about, to see that a shape was approaching out of the darkness. At first he thought it was small, but as it kept coming he began to see the size of the creature. It was a snake, vast in its size, able to swallow him in a single bite. Its scales shimmered, but were blood red, and its hooded head had eyes of pure and rich amethyst. The young slave looked upon the image with pure terror, and fought to stay standing in its presence. “No... no you can’t be...!” He protested, shaking with fear. “I am the God, Ijash-val-akar!” Hissed the serpent. “There’s no such thing!” Protested Quum. This was all in his head, right? A hallucination? “Oh but I am real,” Said the monstrous snake, its voice sibilant and, despite being soft, it carried right into the depths of the slave’s mind. “Only a true deity could show you the past and the future!” And so saying, the world around Quum changed in an instant. Suddenly he was standing in a room, and from the design of it, it was in Baron G’Shan’s palace. The bed chamber, luxuriously decorated, was like nothing he had ever seen. Shimmering blue curtains, a four-poster bed made of exquisitely carved wood (wood being a rare commodity on the desert planet of Crunda Secundus). “Where am I?” He asked out loud, for the giant serpent was nowhere to be seen. “Watch!” Echoed back the voice of the supposed deity. The door to the room burst open, and two figure came in. Both were Sith Purebloods, both oddly familiar to Quum, a male and female who were all over each other. The woman was gorgeous, with long black hair and delicate features. The man was strong and aggressive in his kissing of her, with thickly corded muscles and rich pruple-red skin. The two entwined lovers fell through Quum on their way to the massive bed, as the young slave stared at them in bewilderment. He knew at once that he could not be seen or heard in this imaginary world, so he asked aloud, “Are these my parents?” “Watch...” Insisted the voice. “I knew it!” Thundered a voice from the doorway. Quum, whose eyes were locked on the two Sith upon the bed, turned to see a familiar being enter the vision. It was Jadezay, the Slave Master! The male slave stood up from his lover, who cowered behind him from the enraged Zabrak. “I don’t care!” Spat the Sith Pureblood. “You don’t scare me, Jadezay! Soon I shall be Slave Master, and you will be a memory! Tzra and I are in love, and if you have to die to protect that love, so be it!” “Oh I was so hoping you’d say that, Ijinis,” Said the Slave Master, dropping into a fighting stance. Quum dared not watch, but he knew he must. He knew what was coming, why Ijash-val-akar was showing him this. He had heard stories of how his father had died, but no one had ever told Quum that it was at the hands of Jadezay! And so the slave watched, as this complete stranger he knew to be his father, tussled upon the floor with the Slave Master. At times Quum thought it may end differently than he envisioned, for his father was strong, and brutal with his punches. But as the two went back and forth, punching and choking each other upon the floor, he could see how it would end. During the fight, the two slaves collided with the wall, knocking lose a delicate mirror that hung there in the harem bedroom. As the ornate item crashed to the ground, its splintered glass fell with reach of Jadezay, and the Zabrak did not hesitate. With one swift motion, he scooped up the sharp shard and rammed it firmly into the gut of his assailant. Ijinis stopped fighting, gasping down at the pool of blood spilling out over his dull slave clothes, and then Jadezay struck again, slashing the other across the throat. From the bed, Tzra screamed at the loss of her lover, while the Slave Master laughed in glee... ----- Merchant-Baron G’Shan was not pleased. The tour of his palace with Lord Keedral was not going well. The Sith ruler of Crunda Secundus seemed to take a dim view of every extravagance, every indulgence, that G’Shan had surrounded himself with. The old sorcerer was very quiet, though, and the Baron was fearful of what the other was really thinking. “And this is the harem, my Lord,” Said the human, leading the entourage into a large chamber filled with incense and silken beds. Beauties of many races lay lounged out, partly clothed at best, looking sweetly provocative in the presence of visitors. “Perhaps you would like to sample some of the delicacies on offer?” Asked G’Shan hopefully. “Some other time,” Said Keedral, his red eyes less than interested in the sights before him. The Baron cursed inwardly. “Well then, the tour is concluded. If my Lord would like, we have laid on a banquet, if you and your apprentices would like to attend?” Keedral looked over at his silent acolytes, who did not react in the slightest. “We shall attend,” Said the Sith Lord at last, as if he had somehow silently communed with the masked warriors. “Right this way, my Lord,” Gestured G’Shan, hoping that this would go better. ----- Quum was again in the black, the massive snake towering over him. The slave was shaking with rage at what he had just seen. Slave Master Jadezay had been a brutal and menacing figure in his life for as long as he could remember, and had meted out the harshest of punishments that Quum had ever been forced to endure. But to know that he killed his father too, it was too much! “I want him dead!” Said the slave, looking up at the serpentine deity. “Give me the strength to kill Jadezay!” “Give?” Spat Ijash-val-akar. “Nothing is given, slave! Only taken!” “Then how do I take your power?” Said Quum, angry and bold. “First you must want it!” Said the snake. “I do want it!” Declared the Sith Pureblood. “Oh do you now?” Ijash-val-akar seemed amused. “I have shown you the past, but first I must show you the future. How brave will you be, I wonder, if I show you the consequences of your actions?” And then Quum saw. A blinding slide show of images, of wonders, and of horrors. He saw an arid world with sands and skies of rusted red and towering ruins, a brilliant city bathed in darkness and lightning, a world of yellow desert and twin suns, a bright neon metropolis of decadence, and more places besides. But he also saw death, lots of death. People screamed as they died, suffering at the hands of a powerful masked figure, and Quum knew at once that it was him. And at the end of the headache-inducing blur of images, Quum saw that same figure, the being he knew to be himself, lying broken and dead upon the ground of some unknown world. The injuries spoke of a savage combat, a brutal end to a brutal life. “Do you still want it?” Asked Ijash-val-akar. “Yes,” Said Quum. “I want my revenge, and I want to be free of this world! I don’t care how many must die! Jadezay alone, or a million more besides! If this cruel existence is the price I must pay, then I pay it gladly!” “Then let us see if you can handle the serpent becoming part of you!” Declared the deity, and then it sprung forwards, the impossibly huge snake squeezing itself into Quum’s open mouth. He felt the darkness enter him, and he almost choked on it, but kept swallowing more and more. And inside, the young Sith felt Ijash-val-akar roil and twist, sickening him and delighting him, and becoming part of him. But the power was too great, too much and too fast, and Quum felt himself begin to rip apart at the seams as he struggled to control it. He opened his mouth and screamed, and fought for control... ----- The dining hall was huge, and four whole tables, filled with food and seating twenty plus guests each, dominated the room. The table of honour was upon a raised platform, so that all others in attendance (nobles and military leaders from all over Crunda Secundus) would have to look up at G’Shan, Keedral, and the other handful of esteemed people permitted to sit there. The banquet had been in full swing for some time, and G’Shan noticed that the Sith Lord was eating the food sparingly. While the old sorcerer did not complain outright, he looked bored. For a moment the Baron wondered if that was a good thing. Keedral had come to check up on G’Shan, to ensure that his ambitions were not out of control. Men did not get bored around threats, they grew restless and alert. Perhaps the Sith Lord did not see the Baron as a problem? Then again, the ruler of Crunda Secundus was no normal man, and his calm demeanour may just have been an act. G’Shan was just about to rise and propose a toast to his guest of honour, when the main doors to the hall flew open. They slammed against the walls with enough force that everyone in the room turned to the new comer, staring in confusion. The Baron spluttered in shock to see one of the slaves standing there. Slaves were all about the hall, obviously, serving food and drink, by they came and went by the small servant’s door, not the main entrance. This was intolerable! “Jadezay!” He barked, calling over the Slave Master who was stood nearby and monitoring his charges. “Go speak to that young fool, whoever he is!” “At once, Baron,” Said the Zabrak and stalked towards the newcomer with purpose. ----- “I have come for him!” Roared Quum, pointing at Jadezay as he approached. The Pureblood slave had the attention of everyone present now, but he did not care about causing a scene. Whether G’Shan or his fancy guests witnessed this or not mattered little. All Quum wanted was revenge. “I will beat you so hard for this, Quum!” Snarled the Slave Master as he approached. “No,” Said Quum, his golden-yellow eyes burning with intensity. “You won’t!” And so saying he lifted his hands and fired lightning from his finger tips! The crackling blue energy surged into the Zabrak, hurling him back across the room and crashing onto a nearby table. The guests gasped in shock, those nearest the spectacle knocking over their chairs in a bid to escape the carnage. Jadezay slowly picked himself up, looking over at Quum with renewed respect. He opened his mouth to speak, but the slave struck again, sending another jolt of lightning cascading across his body. “Curse you!” Screamed Jadezay in agony. “Stop this at once!” Roared G’Shan, now standing. “Guards! Seize this slave!” “No,” Said Lord Keedral, watching the show with obvious interest. “Let him continue.” The Baron stared at the other for a moment, and then remembered his place. “Of course, my Lord, as you say.” Meanwhile Jadezay was writhing in agony on the floor. Fighting the pain, he reached for the slave controller at his side. He had just about reached it, when the lightning stopped, and Quum switched Force powers. The controller leapt from the Zabrak’s grip and into the Pureblood slave’s outstretched hands. “Ah, thank you,” Said Quum. “Now...” And so saying, he typed in his collar’s identity number and thumbed the release button. As the symbol of his slavery toppled from around his neck, Quum felt free and better than he had in twenty years. “Much better,” He said. “I will make you suffer for this!” Roared Jadezay impotently. “Oh please,” Said Quum. The anger had gone out of him. He knew now that there was nothing that the other could do to him. It was over. “Just die,” Said the Pureblood dismissively, and struck again, throwing his full power into the lightning. The Slave Master screamed, burning from the blue-white power, and in a few agonizing moments dropped to the floor, dead. As Quum stood there, taking a moment to relish his victory, he heard a single person slowly clapping. He turned to see a robed old man, as Sith Pureblood like himself, walking towards him. “Very good,” Congratulated the figure. “Most impressive!” “And you are?” Asked Quum. “Lord Keedral,” Said the old Sith. “And you, my boy, have talent. I like that, and so does the Sith Order. How would you like to join our ranks?” Close by, Baron G’Shan protested. “But he’s just a slave!” “Quiet human,” Snapped Keedral, and the other complied. Turning back to Quum, the Sith went on. “The Academy on Korriban has decreed that even former slaves can now be admitted. I intend to send you, young one.” Korriban, ancient birthplace of the Sith species, had been mentioned enough in the Tome of Ijash-val-akar, and the young slave had long dreamed of seeing it. “I accept, my Lord!” He said at once. “Excellent,” Said Keedral with evident pleasure. “Now, one last thing. What is your name, boy?” “Quum,” He identified himself. The Sith Lord shook his head. “The name of a slave,” He said. “You are free now, and a Sith besides. You need something more fitting.” Quum thought back to his strange visions. Had he really met an ancient snake god? He had no idea. But what he experienced would always be a part of him. “I am... Serpentor,” He said at last, and Lord Keedral nodded in approval. And so it began.... - OOC:
- 3,248 words. And my little prequel about my SWTOR character is complete! Hope you enjoyed it! Please note I never intended for Ijash-val-akar to be anything other than a Force-induced hallucination, rather than an actual deity!
After Action Report: Quum completes the Rite of Ijash-val-akar, seeing his past and future and gaining new Force power as a result. So armed, he crashes Baron G’Shan’s party and kills Slave Master Jadezay. The ruler of Crunda Secundus, Lord Keedral is watching, and sees Quum’s potential. He offers to send the former slave to Korriban, and Quum accepts. First, though Quum takes a new name: Serpentor.
[SoA][MC2][LoM][NAR][E][HNS][SWC][CBV][VC:S][SoV][=^Eng^=]
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