Chapter 4

The once great spaceport of Korriban now stood in ruin. Millennia of war had taken it’s toll on the planet and left little of it untouched. Just enough debris had been cleared from the landing bays to allow berthing for massive ships the size of Lord Trado’s. Lest the Sith risk being discovered by some passing freighter.

The two and a half thousand foot long Acclamator I assault ship “Reclamator” set down on the landing pad, huge clouds of dust billowing up around it’s frame. The forward ramp lowered and a large armored transport, surrounded by an escort of speeder bike mounted Sith troopers, moved through the ruins of the spaceport and towards a mountainous valley outside the walls.

As they passed out of the space port, the younglings could see the Sith Academy in the mountain at the opening of the valley. Beyond, they could see the colossal tombs of the ancient Dark Lords buried in the mountains. Though surrounded by tons of rock, the academy and the tombs had not been spared by the endless wars. Cratered and broken, the mountain academy loomed up before them, as though standing vigil before the valley of the Dark Lords. Refusing to die and leave it’s master’s service.

As they got closer, the children could feel the Dark Side growing ever stronger. It saturated the planet so completely, that they had actually started to feel it’s presence at the outer edge of the system. But it’s power was apparently beyond exceptional in the academy and the valley beyond.

The transport came to a stop before the great stone doors of the academy, and a ramp began to lower from the side. The Sith troopers guarding the entrance knelt with heads bowed as MP5K pounded down the ramp followed by Lord Trado. The children following behind the Sith Lord listened intently as he began to speak:

“For over twenty thousand years have the Sith sought knowledge. In the beginning they were Jedi. Brothers in a common pursuit; to know the Force. Some of these Jedi discovered another aspect to the Force…” He stopped as he reached the great doors and turned to the children. A dire expression on his face, “A truly powerful aspect. But the other Jedi lacked the strength to master this new aspect and became consumed with fear of it’s power. These “brothers” turned on the future Sith, branding them heretics, and the aspect they explored as “dark”.

“The Jedi attacked their former “brothers”, slaughtering them and driving the survivors into exile. Fortunately the Force was with them, as they found Ziost and Korriban. Two worlds ruled by a race that found the truth in the gift the exiles offered. It was the Sith race.

He turned and waved a hand, encompassing the great Sith Academy with his gesture, “The institution you see before you is a remnant of the empire that followed. A repository of all the collected wisdom from twenty thousand years of mastery. Inside this building awaits your destinys.” Lord Trado turned back toward the children, “If you are strong enough to take them. Which brings us to the moment at hand; your second trial.”

Lord Trado nodded to MP, who took the blaster rifle from the Sith Trooper next to him. Trado looked back to the children and continued, “There will be twelve students accepted this time. Yet there are twenty five of you.”

“Know this, the Sith academy will not tolerate a student proven to harm or hinder another student’s instruction in any way. So, with this guiding you, determine a way to decide who these twelve will be.”

Darth Trado watched the children stand there for a moment, trying to process just what had been said to them. He saw the Ithorian and the Kel-Dor look around and then at each other. He could feel understanding flash between them in the Force, ‘We aren’t students yet. The rule doesn’t apply to us.’ These two were powerful and focused. Much less Jedi taint on them. Perhaps the Jedi training had even worked to the opposite effect of what the late Master Tilhn had intended. With these two, their hate ran very deep indeed.

He watched as the two younglings made an unspoken alliance. They had lightsabers, the others did not. Why fight each other when they were stronger together in a common cause?

So they had wisdom as well, thought Trado. He would watch these two with great interest. They could be very powerful Sith. The Umbaran boy seemed to sense what was coming and moved to the other side of the group. This would all be over very quickly, he thought. Lord Trado turned toward MP5K, “When there are twelve left, end it. Kill any who spare their opponent.”

Empy replied, “Yes master.” and powered up his blaster rifle.

Suddenly, Momla and Yin ignited their sabers, each swinging at the surprised looking child next to them. Momla’s clumsy strike bit into a girl at mid chest. Her screech cut short as the brilliant blade cleaved her arm away and emerged from her sternum. The remains hit the ground, slicking the ground with spilled organs and blood. Yin struck a Rodian boy on the top of the right shoulder, cutting away a swath of the alien’s chest down to his thigh. He fell to the ground and gurgled in pain until his life bled out. Yin would waste no more time on the boy, he was no longer a threat and his suffering was not Yin’s concern. He moved on to the next victim.

“Twenty three.” counted Empy.

The Zeltronian girl lit her saber and stuck the boy next to her in the stomach. He doubled over and squealed as she kicked him off. She eyed Momla with ambition, and charged him.

“Twenty two.”

The children around Shar stood shocked and transfixed by Momla and Yin’s attacks. He took the opportunity and punched the boy next to him in the face as hard as he could. Shar heard Wess’s nose crack and felt blood explode onto his fist. Wes fell on his back, stunned. Shar screamed and pounced on the prone boy, wailing at him with his fists.

A Togruta girl dropped to her knees crying, and pleaded as Yin advanced on her, “Please, no. I can serve you. I can-” He cut her head off and kicked the body over. A fist caught him squarely in the face as he looked up from the corpse. He staggered back, almost into the back swing of Momla’s blade as he killed another child.

“Seventeen.” Empy counted, as three others died in the fighting.

Momla’s untrained block was crude. But Eevie’s strike had been cruder, and he batted it away, following with a shoulder to her chest that sent her stumbling back. As Eevie recovered to attack again, Momla shouted, “Stop! We are three WITH lightsabers. They are not.” Eevie looked at him for an instant and then nodded quickly, taking a position next to Momla and Yin.

Darth Trado looked at the Ithorian with approval, “Very impressive.”

Shar hammered his fists down at Wess, arms raised to cover his battered face. Another boy flew into Shar, bowling him over and off Wess. Shar’s head hit a rock as he rolled, cutting his head just above the eye. Pain blossomed and he rolled over to see the boy jump on him, his hands wrapping around Shar’s neck. Gasping for air, Shar reached for the rock he had fallen on and bashed it into the boy’s temple. The boy fell to the side with a glassy look in his eyes, and Shar rolled on top of him screaming with rage. Tears of pain and anger blurring his vision, he smashed the boy’s skull again and again, until he felt rock hitting rock and realized he was now pounding the dirt beneath.

“Sixteen.”

A Bith youth kicked Shar in the side of the head knocking him off the dead boy and back to the ground. Shar dropped his rock as he fought to keep his consciousness. The Bith child snatched up the rock and brought it back to strike at Shar. But the rock lowered again as the Bith’s eyes lost their anger at the sight of the helpless boy before him. He reached a hand down to help Shar up when a blaster bolt burst his head.

Empy lowered his blaster rifle, “Fifteen.”

Yin swung his lightsaber at his attacker in a wide brutish strike. The boy ducked the swing and came up inside Yin’s attack arc, driving his fist up into Yin’s ribcage. The air left him and his focus became muddled as he tried to suck air back into his lungs. The boy grabbed for his lightsaber, and Yin brought his knee up into the child’s groin with all his strength. The boy doubled over and Yin brought the lightsaber around in an overhead two handed swing that sliced the child in three separate pieces.

“Fourteen.”

Two boys and a girl decided to attack Momla at once. Figuring they would overwhelm him and deprive him of his lightsaber. Momla’s chest swelled drawing in a huge amount of air. His four throats opened and a shock wave of sonic energy burst forth as he bellowed at them. It crashed into the onrushing children dropping one of the boys in his tracks, blood pouring from his ears, his brain ruptured. The other two staggered, clutching at their heads and screaming with pain.

“Thirteen.”

Eevie nodded in approval and stepped up to the other boy, cutting his head off with a stroke.

“Twelve” said Empy raising the blaster rifle agian.

Eevie turned to the deafened girl and started to swing her lightsaber at her head. Empy’s stun shot threw Eevie to the side like a rag doll. She was unconscious by the time she hit the ground. The deafened girl turned toward Empy with a look of relief and mouthed, “Thank, you.”

Empy shot her in the face with a stun bolt. Lord Trado grinned and chuckled softly.

Momla and Yin extinguished their lightsabers and raised their hands before them in a show of yielding.

Empy shot them in the face in a rapid double shot. As they dropped to the ground unconscious, Lord Trado laughed and said, “MP5K, sometimes you are a great joy to me.”

“Thank you, lord.” Empy replied and shot another boy in the face as he walked over to the prone and battered Shar. The boy was struggling to stay concious. The last thing he saw before losing that battle was MP5K bring his blaster barrel to Shar’s face.

*   *   *   *   *

Yin dropped out of bed with a thud as a boot crushed into his side. He opened his eyes and looked around the rock hewn room he now found himself in. Sparse in accomadation and spartan in design, the room was large and cold. A Quarren, Cerean, and humanoid male were going around the room waking his fellow twelve students in as abrupt a manner as he had been. He looked up and found a smiling Neimoidian male looking back down at him. A very large Wookie (it looked male, but he wasn’t sure) stood just down the hall looking disinterested, and perhaps a little upset. Standing next to the Neimoidian was a female Zabrak with a wide cruel smile looking back at him.

When all of the younglings were up, the Neimoidian said in a thick accent, “Ah, good. You are awake. Congratulations schutta, you have been accepted into the Sith academy. I am Pak Niad, your class senior. You will address me as either Senior, or Master. Either is an acceptable show of your subservience.” he said with a dismissive wave.

“At my side you see glorious examples of Sith that you could not hope to achieve. They are also to be called Senior. For your kind, THAT is their name. I do hope you slept well. Your pathetic presence is required for Lord Bellator’s saber training class. And it would be a shame if their were an “accident” due to fatigue. Now get moving!”

Pak and the others started to leave when Pak stopped and turned back to them, “Make no mistake if you get in my way, I will kill you. Remember, no student ” proven” to have harmed another student will be tolerated.” Then Pak smiled and said, “And I will leave no proof.”

“However,” He took on a more conciliatory tone, “if you prove worthy, you may just get the opportunity to serve me.” The Wookie growled with annoyance, and Pak said something to him in a language they couldn’t understand. Pak turned back to the children and said with mock concern, “Now hurry, saber practice begins in 1 minute, and Lord Bellator frowns on tardiness.”

The younglings quickly put on their clothes and checked the terminal in the room to find Lord Bellator’s classroom. They ran through the academy and into a large auditorium with rows of students sparring with wooden lightsabers. As they pounded through the hall into the room, everyone stopped at the noise and looked at them. A hulking Trandoshan about the size of a Wookie, and swathed in black robes and glittering silver armor, turned toward them.

A Trandoshan’s countenance was widely considered frightening enough, to begin with. A furious Trandoshan was worse. A furious Trandoshan Sith Lord like the one now looking at them, his lip curling with rage and exposing his fanged teeth, was almost enough to make the younglings hearts stop.

The Trandoshan oozed hate and murder as he glared at them, “Ah, the new students. I am Darth Bellator, instructor of this class.” He looked over the young children and pointed to one, “Perhaps you would be so good as to demonstrate the opening stance required by Djem So, for an effective defense against dual lightsabers.” Gesturing the child towards his practice circle, he added, “We just went over it.”

“And I’m sure you remember it from our exercises this morning. As I’m certain you would not be so disrespectful as to be LATE to my class.” he hissed.

Yin, Momla, and Shar could see Pak at the front of the class grinning widely.

Tears streaming down his still swollen and bruised face, Wess hesitantly stepped forward, “P-Please. Lord, I’m sorry. I wasn’t g-given the -”

“Position!” commanded Lord Bellator.

Wess raised his hands up in defense. Darth Bellator ignited one lightsaber then the other.

Wess screamed, “No! I’m sorry! I-”

Lord Bellator’s strike matched the violence and rage that erupted in his expression. His twin crimson blades flashed in a scissoring stroke and neatly severed Wess’s head and hands. It rolled a short distance before stopping, life flickering in Wess’s eyes for a moment before becoming glassy with death.

“Wrong!” proclaimed Lord Bellator and pointed to Yin, Momla, Shar, and the others, “You, clean this up then join the class. Try to pay closer attention in the future.”

As one, they replied quickly, “Yes, lord.”

Pak walked by Yin and Momla as they began to pick up the remains, “I told you; I will leave no proof.”

Their training as Sith had begun.

Chapter 3

Almost before Lord Trado had finished asking, Momla stepped forward and knelt before the Sith Lord on one knee, “I am strong enough.”

Yin Tok and a Zeltronian girl named Eevie were immediately behind him, bowing to the Sith Lord in silent supplication.

Others began moving forward to take a knee before the Sith Lord and formally accept his offer. With eyes now almost swollen completely shut, Master Tilhn shed a tear as Wess became the last to kneel and swear fealty to Darth Trado.

The Sith Lord approached Momla, Yin, and Eevie, the first three to accept his offer. “Your decisiveness and courage are to be rewarded.” he said as he held the lightsabers he had taken from the Jedi out to them in his thin hands. Momla noticed he was offering him Master Tilhn’s, while he offered the Jedi Knight’s to Yin, and Padawan Dosch’s to Eevie. The prestige of the saber offered, determined by the order in which they had accepted, “These trophies are yours if you choose to take them.”

Their hands flew toward the offered lightsabers, suddenly stopping just short as Lord Trado continued, “However, are you certain this is what you want?”

The children looked at Lord Trado inquisitively.

“Having an actual lightsaber at such an early stage is almost unheard of. But having and using a Jedi weapon would be considered quite shameful by many.” Lord Trado returned their inquisitive look, “Do you still want this gift?”

Without hesitation, each one immediately took the offered saber.

Lord Trado smiled at them, “Good, gooood. A Sith knows the importance of appearances, both strong and deceptively weak, to others as regards power. But a Sith does NOT bow to vanity.”

Lord Trado walked past them and amongst the other children that had come forward. He smiled as he took a moment to bask in the anger and hatred they radiated, spawned by the jealousy of not getting a lightsaber of their own.

They had no one to blame but themselves. The Force rewarded the strong and decisive, not the weak or unsure. Such as the Umbaran boy he now stood before. He had noticed the indecision in the boy earlier about whether to join him or not, and sensed the fear at it’s source, “There is history with your kind amongst the Sith, boy. One of the greatest in our history, in fact.” Lord Trado eyed the Umbaran child suspiciously, “The Force is strong with you, yet I think you may lack your Sith ancestor’s decisiveness and insight. I wonder, are you strong enough for this destiny?”

“I believe so, lord.” Shar replied unconvincingly.

“We’ll see.” Lord Trado shook his head with undisguised loathing and walked toward the front of the group. Darth Ruin would be ashamed to be of the same race as that coward. He was certainly strong with the Force, but he was weak in conviction. Fear and self doubt ate at that child. A Sith did not “Believe So”. A Sith would “know so” with earth shattering certainty.

He turned to his aspiring students, “Rise. We must now take our leave.”

The younglings all got up and followed him to the door, where he suddenly stopped and asked them, “And what of the Jedi vessel? The other children, the crew, and the Jedi themselves? What should be done with them?”

Every single one of them simply stood there looking at him with a blank stare. Indecisive about what to say or indeed whether to say anything at all.

Weak. All of them. Disgust welled up in Lord Trado. He debated whether he should simply have MP5K strike them all down, then seek stronger aspirants. Smiling, he turned to Yin, “You, no decision?”

“No, lord.” Yin replied.

“Always have a decision. ” Lord Trado replied menacingly. He looked up to address all the younglings, “A Sith lives or dies by his decisions. Power, is won or lost by his decisions. Always have a decision.”

Then Momla spoke up, “Kill them all, lord.”

“Yes, lord. Kill them all.” agreed Eevie.

Shar’s head jerked up, eyes wide, “Lord, I say let them go.”

‘Perhaps the boy is simply mentally deficient’ thought Trado, ‘To “sweet” as the humans say.’ “Ah, decisions, good.” he replied, “But very different in result. So, now we come to the second part; A Sith arrives at his decision with insightful thought and the use of the Force. So I ask you,” Lord Trado looked at Eevie inquisitively, “why? Surely the boy is right. After all, they are no threat. Their drives are destroyed and their armaments are in ruins. Their escape pods inoperable. Why destroy them?”

“Because the Jedi are a threat by their very existence.” she stated surely, “They spread their weakness and bias to all they can, and cripple the galaxy with their beliefs and teachings. That causes chaos and destruction.”

Perhaps there was hope for some of them, he thought. He had to remember, they had been training with Jedi for the past two months. He would train that residual Jedi deficiency out of them, or kill them trying.

“Excellent answer and observation, young one.” he smiled at Eevie, then looked to all of them, “I wonder however, did you all know the Jedi are evil?”

He added a little of the Force to his suggestion. Not to much of his considerable power, but just enough to get to the meat of the matter and see just who was strong enough. The Ithorian, Kel Dor, Zeltron, and Umbaran all easily brushed aside the attempt. Not surprising really. It merely confirmed what he already suspected. Others were not so alert, or powerful. Neither condition was acceptable.

Those who failed the test mumbled, “The Jedi are evil.”

Lord Trado smiled at them and said, “No, they aren’t. But they are weak like you, so it would be best if you went back to them.”

As the failed children marched dutifully back through the torn blast door, Darth Trado turned to MP5K and said, “Destroy the Jedi vessel. Be certain there is no trace of it left when you are done.”

* * * * *

Shar Koran looked out of the large window on the observation deck of Darth Trado’s assault ship at the growing disc of Korriban in the distance. It’s dusty brown color broken only by sparse wisps of white clouds, and what looked like ice patches here and there. Very different from Umbara’s thick green clouds and vast oceans. At least as he remembered it looked, as he left the Ghost Nebula with the Jedi.

It was hard to believe it had only been a couple of months since then. The memories already seemed like a lifetime ago. Well, he thought, maybe they were. He was still so young, and yet he knew he was now a completely different person. The Jedi had made certain of that. And the Umbarans.

Few outsiders know that there are nearly one hundred castes in Umbaran society. Probably because only the top ten are ever allowed to leave the planet. They are royalty to the Umbarans. The elite face, the only face that the galaxy is ever shown. They have wealth and power. Influence and political strength. It takes generations of plotting, blackmail, subterfuge, and assassination to get to that level. It takes only one lifetime to have it all taken away.

Shar knew this because his father told him so. Constantly.

He would talk endlessly about how powerful the family used to be when he was a boy. He would tell him how, under the Empire, his grandfather commanded fear and respect. The Emperor - who was a great and powerful man, his father would say - relied on his grandfather to keep the Empire strong and the galaxy safe. His grandfather was trusted by the Emperor - who was a great man - to hunt down rebels and traitors like the Jedi.

Then the unthinkable happened. The Emperor died. Killed by his own traitor Jedi apprentice. With the Jedi backing the rebel armies and without the Emperor to fight them, the Empire soon fell. Shar’s grandfather barely escaped with his life by fleeing back to the Ghost Nebula. To Umbara.

But did he receive his hero’s welcome? No. The petty and jealous families of the lower castes saw opportunity in his families fight for survival. They betrayed his grandfather and his family, taking everything that was theirs and exiling them to the lowest of the castes. Those families that had called themselves his “allies” turned a blind eye to his predicament and a deaf ear to his pleas.

The only thing they had left was his grandfather’s shadow cloak. A symbol of status and authority in Umbaran society. Sometimes, his dad would let him see it. Though it was far to large for him, he loved wearing it and pretending he was an important commander in the Emperor’s Army. A beautiful and powerful reminder of his families former glory.

And so Shar and his parents lived; on Umbara in destitution and in the service of one of the now “greater” families. At least until the Jedi came.

He remembered it was raining that night. Shar remembered, because he liked the sound of the rain very much. He heard his father in the other room yelling and got curious. When he got to his bedroom door he saw his mother down the hall standing in the front room with a look of terror on her tear streaked face. Through quivering lips she just kept saying, “Please, no. Oh please, no.”

Then Shar felt…something, and his mother screamed. He saw the walls shake and involuntarily recoiled as something in the front room crashed into them. His mother started screaming, “Stop it! Stop it!” and ran into the room out of his sight. Shar ran down the hall toward the front room.

Just as he reached the corner, he felt that “something” again. If he had been an inch taller, Shar’s mother would have crashed into him, as she flew over his head and slammed into the kitchen counters. Cabinets and glasses shattered and his mother fell into a heap on the floor, moaning with pain.

Feeling like he was in some surreal nightmare, Shar turned and looked into the front room. He saw his father a foot off the floor up against the wall grabbing at his neck, gurgling and gasping for air. A man in a rain soaked dark brown robe stood in front of him with his right arm stretched out before him. His hand clenched as though crushing the air.

He got that feeling again. But this time it focused on him, found him. The man turned toward Shar, his eyes narrowing, “So,” he said “you have a son.” He turned back to his father and leaned in close, “I’m going to kill you now. But I want you to know, after your dead, I’m going to kill your wife and your son. Your “family” ends tonight.”

His father’s eyes, red with blood, widened as he fought against the invisible grip choking him. The man grinned and closed his fist. Shar heard a sickening crack and watched his father’s neck crumple and his body go suddenly slack.

The man turned to Shar and his father’s body fell to the floor, the head at a very wrong angle. He heard his mother scream and turned to see her on her feet and limping toward him, “Shar! Run! Run!” Panic flooded into him and he ran back toward his bedroom, his mother limping behind him. He reached the door and looked back to his mother, ready to shut and lock it the moment she got through. The Man turned the corner and started down the hall. Shar felt that power building again in the man. His right arm snapped up and an amber lightsaber blade sprang forth, the saber flying down the hall and plunging into his mothers left shoulder. She screamed as he turned his open hand to the side and the lightsaber tore free, her left arm falling to the floor.

His mother started to falter and the man raised his left arm toward her, his hand clenching into a fist. Spittle spilling through pain clenched teeth, Shar’s mother raised into the air. With wet snaps, her body began to crumple as the man crushed her with the power he used. Her eyes bulging, blood running from her nose and mouth, and pouring from her severed shoulder, she grunted to Shar, “Lock it! The window! Go!”

Through tear blurred eyes Shar smacked the access and the door shut with a hiss. He heard his mother’s body crack and then hit the floor on the other side. Shar turned to run but through his obscured vision, missed his footing, tripping over one of his toys.

With a tortured groan, the door flew open. The man stepped in intent on the boy, his lightsaber snapping to life. Shar watched his killer approach, when he sensed something. A figure appeared at the end of the hallway behind the man, “Senn, stop!”

Senn turned toward the the other man. He had the same long rain soaked robe and loose vest underneath as Senn, and a lightsaber hilt in his right hand.

“What have you done, Senn?” said the man, grief creasing his brow as he looked at Shar’s mother on the floor. He looked into the room at Shar and then to Senn, “This isn’t the Jedi way. This won’t bring her back.”

“I know, Arkan.” he replied, and turned back to Shar, raising his lightsaber.

“No!” screamed Arkan, and raised his arm toward Shar.

He felt a force surround him instantly and yank him beneath Senn’s strike. Shar flew down the hall as Arkan swung his arm to point behind him. Shar stopped right where the Jedi’s hand did, and the force released him. Senn and Arkan stood there for one silent moment looking at each other. Suddenly, their sabers ignited and they charged headlong at each other.

Their blades cracked and hissed as they crossed. Senn’s blade cut a livid furrow into the wall as he brought his blade around into an immediate decapitating blow. Arkan dropped his stance to block the blade, but the fallen Jedi had fury lending strength to his blows, and knocked him back. Glowing saber cuts scored the hall about the two men as Senn rained blows upon Arkan, driving him back into the front room.

Shar remembered trying desperately to follow their fight, but couldn’t. The Jedi were simply to fast. Suddenly, as Senn was bringing his blade around for an arcing strike, Arkan shot forward inside his swing and drove his forehead into Senn’s face. He reeled back, blood bursting from his nose and his split lip. Arkan followed with a backhand fist that knocked his head to the side, and a boot to the chest that sent Senn backward into the front door with a thud.

Senn roared with rage and punched out with an open palm. Arkan brought his arms up before him, as the back of the hab buckled and blew out with a metal rending tear. Arkan was thrown into the space beyond and disappeared over the edge as he fell.

Senn marched over to the ruins at the back of the hab and looked out into the rain, down five levels to the ground. The Jedi was getting back up as Senn leapt, lightsaber raised. Arkan rolled and reignited his saber as he came up to his feet.

He charged Senn, striking low at his knees. The Dark Jedi leapt over him, twisting in the air to come down in another strike. Arkan spun, catching the lightsaber blade an inch from his face. He could hear the rain hissing as it flashed to steam against the blades. The Jedi Knight used the force of the strike to reverse his momentum, dropping low and sweeping Senn’s legs out from under him. He fell onto his back and immediately did a kip-up onto his feet. Arkan spun back up from his sweep and lunged his blade directly into Senn’s shoulder as he sprang up.

Senn kicked the Jedi in the chest, sending him into a pile of debris. The fallen Jedi staggered back with a scream of rage. He refocused and snarled with anger. Raising his lightsaber, he charged at the Jedi.

Arkan reached out through the Force to a stone block behind him. As Senn brought his arcing strike down, the Jedi dropped to the side. To late he saw the stone block coming at him. It crashed into Senn’s face with a hollow crack, and he crumpled to the ground.

The Jedi reached out and Senn’s lightsaber flew out of his listless grasp and into Arkan’s hand. He walked over to Senn. His face was a ruin, and he was on the verge of blacking out. The fallen Jedi looked up at him and said, “Kill me.” then slipped into unconsciousness.

Arkan looked up at Shar watching him from five stories above in the rain and said, “No, theres been enough of that today.”

That was the last night Shar spent on Umbara. Master Arkan told him that the Jedi order would take care of him now. The only thing he took with him was his grandfather’s shadow cloak.

As they left Umbara, Shar sat in the co-pilot’s seat watching through the window of the shuttle as his home grew smaller in space behind them. He turned to Arkan, “Why didn’t you kill him?”
“He may be able to be redeemed.”

“What if he can’t?”

“Then the council will decide what to do with him.”

“Kill him?”

“No. Exile, imprisonment, that sort of thing.”

“Why not kill him?”

“It’s not the Jedi way. We don’t kill defenseless enemies.”

“But you fought him.”

“Killing someone during battle is another matter. But once they are beaten and defenseless, no. That’s cold blooded murder, not justice.”

“My parents were defenseless, and he killed them.”

“And he was wrong. Two wrongs do not make a right, Shar. And it wouldn’t bring your parents back.”

“You told him something like that, too. Who was he? Why did he kill my parents?”

“Your grandfather did some very bad things to allot of people. Senn was one of them. He wanted revenge.”

As Shar watched Korriban growing nearer, he knew exactly how Senn felt. He hated Senn for killing his parents. He hated the Jedi for “redeeming” Senn. He hated the Umbarans, his own people, for betraying his family. And he hated himself for his weakness and fear.

It was why he hesitated when Lord Trado offered his choice. It was why he had tried to save the Jedi’s lives when the Sith asked what their fate should be. Darth Trado was right about him, but he would change that. He would purge himself with Lord Trado’s instruction, and then the galaxy would feel his wrath. His justice. His revenge.

Chapter 2

Master Tilhn walked to the other side of the bay to an out of the way little alcove. A young human boy named Wess stopped him along the way with a tug at the back of his robe and an overly urgent, “Master?” that spoke volumes about the importance of his question.

Trado took a deep breath and brought back his kindly smile, “Now, who amongst you is strong enough to achieve both your full potential and your destiny? Who will accept my offer?”

Here is the first installment written up by our GM for the new Star Wars RPG campaign we are running. We are playing Sith initiates….

Episode CVII

124 ABY (After the Battle of Yavin) The galaxy feels hope and optimism in the light of the results of the Jedi proposed project for Ossus. After decades of war and conflict, the galaxy has emerged into an age of relative peace and growth. The cruelty and fear of the Yuzhann Vong Invasion and the tyranny of the Caedus Insurrection, have finally begun to fade into the collective memory of the galactic consciousness. Allowing even the remaining Vong colonists of Zenoma Sekot to gain a measure of acceptance.

The fracture and loss of the New Republic has been replaced by the stability of the Galactic Alliance. Allowing for all factions, even the Vong and Imperial remnant to become members in the galactic community.

The Jedi Order once again rides at the crest of it’s ascendancy. Thousands of Jedi Knights swell the ranks of the Order. The academies on Coruscant and Ossus bringing more into the fold every year, as Jedi Masters seek new Force sensitive children throughout the galaxy to bring back for training.

Ossus, once tattered and blasted, has been brought back to life by the Jedi and Yuzhann Vong proposed “Ossus Project”. Using Yuzhann Vong terraforming technologies, led by the Vong Master Shaper Nei Rin and Jedi Master Kol Skywalker, the planet is now once again teeming with life.

Other planets have been clamoring to be amongst the next planets re-invigorated by the project. 100 planets have been selected to be a part of the next phase, and opinions of the Vong have started to change for the better.

But there is another force in the galaxy. A dark force bent on power and control. With patience it has watched the galaxy and waited. Finally, the time has come, and the galaxy will know pain again…

Destinies Made, Evil Born, and a Galaxy Doomed

Outer Rim region along the Perlemian Trade Route toward the Jedi Academy on Ossus.

The GR-75 “Gallofree” Jedi Transport transitioned smoothly back into real space with a small ‘BOOM’. Most of the 50 younglings on board had become used to the sensation and the noises that space travel brought with it. Some of them even still thought it was exciting. Most however, simply took it for granted at this point. They were much more interested in what they were learning from their Jedi tutors.

The younglings, like most sentients, knew what a Jedi was, at least in theory. They had all heard the stories and legends. Tales of incredible feats like lifting entire capital ships and crushing armies with no more than a gesture. Ending the tyranny of some great evil with an act of unbelievable self sacrifice. Jumping hundreds of feet and running faster than a pod racer. Seeing the future and even across the galaxy. Incredible pilots, they couldn’t be shot down or stopped. Even the Vong fell before the Jedi’s might. Blasters were useless against them. Even without a lightsaber, they could stop a blaster bolt or laser with their palm and rip the gun from your grip with nothing but a wave of the hand.

Ah, but if they did have a lightsaber! Then they were truly invulnerable. Unstoppable! Nothing in the universe could stop a Jedi with his lightsaber. There were stories of some armies that simply gave up because they had to face a Jedi and his lightsaber. They knew that not only wouldn’t they be able to hit him, but he would send all of their fire back at them, reflecting it back with that beautiful saber. Oh, to have one of those!

Some of the younglings, like Momla, had been fortunate enough to witness just how true some of those legends really are, and the cruel reality of others.

The son of slaves on the outer rim Hutt world of Nar Kreeta, Momla had known nothing but subjugation, fear, and pain since what he considered the unfortunate incidence of his birth. Long ago, while traveling the galactic trade routes on their city sized “Herd Ship”, Momla’s entire “herd” had been attacked by the Zygerrian Slavers Guild and sold to Jocshe the Hutt. The descendants of which now barely resembled the famed Ithorian spirit. Where once they embodied the hope, peace, kindness, social and environmental consciousness for which his kind was famous, they had long ago been broken as a people. They now epitomized only terror, submission, and cowardice. It sickened and angered him.

Momla constantly disobeyed and fought against the slave drivers. No matter how much they tortured and punished him. This eventually brought him to the notice of Jocshe the Hutt, owner of the herd. Jocshe picked Momla for “The Cull”.

The herd was “culled” periodically during a game on which the Hutts would wager. Each Hutt or dignitary would be allowed to bring slaves picked during a “Choosing” that were set loose in a monitored labyrinth. They would then release a Bull Rancor into the maze amongst them. The Hutts took great joy in betting on what slave would be the last one to be eaten.

It was during the time of The Cull that Master Tilhn and the Duros Padawan Dosch arrived, requesting an audience with Momla’s owner, Jocshe the Hutt. They were brought to the great amphitheater, filled with roaring crowds and the imperious Hutts that ruled them. Standing before Jocshe, Master Tilhn told the Hutt that he wanted to purchase the young Ithorian slave. Jocshe told the Jedi Master that he was too late as the willful and disobedient boy had been chosen already for the Cull. Master Tilhn pressed his request, offering double the price. Jocshe accepted, on one condition; the boy must pick from his own family who would take his place in the game.

When Momla, tears in his eyes, replied that he could not make such a decision, Jocshe said with a wide Hutt smile, “Your last act of disobedience, eh? Freedom costs, boy. Now your family will pay the price for you. Because of you, all of them will die.”

His parents and sister were thrown into the labyrinth amongst the other chosen. As the stone slab behind them ground open and the Bull Rancor charged out with a roar, Master Tilhn leapt high into the air, the brilliant azure blade of his lightsaber ignited. He flew over the barrier, landing in the labyrinth pit directly in the Rancor’s path. The Ithorian’s, though panicked with fear, stopped running and stood transfixed by the unhesitating heroism playing out before their eyes and on their behalf. Dosch, ignoring the spectacle in the pit, stood transfixed on the guards now aiming their blasters at he and Momla. His lightsaber poised to send any munitions back at them.

The crowd screamed with excitement as the Rancor roared and charged the lone Jedi. Tilhn rolled to the side, coming up braced on one knee with his saber held two handed at the Rancor’s ankle height. The lightsaber jumped, almost wrenched from his grasp as the iridescent blade bit deep into the muscled trunk of the Rancor’s leg. The beast stumbled but caught itself with on huge clawed hand as it spun around, digging a furrow into the dirt, to face the Jedi again. It issued a low rumbling growl as it took a moment to size up the seemingly small creature before it now, that had caused such pain. Rage took over and the beast roared so loud that dust fell from the walls as it charged again. Master Tilhn made a pushing gesture with his hand and leapt into the air. The great Bull Rancor’s legs came out from under it, and the monster slid across the floor into a large rock column, shattering it with the impact. In the dust cloud an azure blade suddenly appeared as Master Tilhn flew through the air to land on the stunned Rancor’s head. Using the momentum of his leap, Tilhn drove the blade of his lightsaber through the beast’s skull and into it’s brain. The Bull Rancor grunted and fell silent.

Breathing heavily, Master Tilhn turned to Momla’s family and smiled. Then their heads exploded with such force, that it killed two other Ithorians standing next to the family.

Master Tilhn stood for a moment, stunned, covered with gore, as he realized what had happened. He turned to Momla and saw only a look of inevitable acceptance and rage on the youngling”s face.

Jocshe said in a loud, even, and dangerous voice, “Explosive chips. Installed in the brain. I’m sure you’ve seen them before Master Tilhn. My price will be paid, Jedi. Whether you want it or not. Now take the boy and leave. Our business is done.”

“Deactivate the boy’s.” , replied Tilhn.

Jocshe mocked consideration for the request, “No, I don’t think so. Insurance you see. He may think my price was to high and get buyer’s remorse. But when he comes back, he won’t be a simple slave boy, will he? No, he’ll be a Jedi. So I think I’ll let him keep it, just in case. And I wouldn’t try removing it. Any tampering will set it off, of course. But you already knew that, didn’t you?”

Master Tilhn took Dosch, and Momla and left Nar Kreeta.

Now he was aboard the Redemption, light years from the only planet he had ever known and hated. Truth be told, that was the real gift Jocshe had given him, clarity. The moment his family had died he had an epiphany. His hate and anger had grown so much, he was no longer clouded by fear, or sorrow.

He had thought, like all the others, that the Jedi was amazing. Powerful. When he leapt into the air with his lightsaber drawn, it was like he was a Jedi of legend. Then, when he defeated the Bull Rancor, he had transformed into a god from legend. An angel sent to finally and forever right the wrongs that the Hutts were committing.

But then he stopped. He failed. The Hutt showed what real power required; the will to use it, completely. When Jocshe killed his family, and then threatened to kill him, the Jedi faltered in his convictions. For the life of one child, he allowed such as that huttscum to not only keep breathing, but keep ruling. The Hutt showed the Jedi he was the stronger because he was willing to do whatever it took to win. He had none of the Jedi’s limitations and that made him dangerous. So, the Jedi lost. And Momla saw the Jedi for what they really are, talented weaklings. With the desire to set the galaxy right, and none of the convictions necessary to do it. Momla decided right then and there, he would never be that weak.
“Momla,” Master Tilhn’s voice jarred him from his reverie, “somethings troubling you.” It was both a question and a statement.

“No, Master.” Momla replied quietly.

Master Tilhn sat down beside Momla on the bench. “Momla,” he said with a warm grin, “I am a Jedi Master, you know. I can tell when you’re lying.”

Momla looked away at the floor, deceptively looking a little admonished.

“I feel the anger and confusion in you, Momla.” said Master Tilhn, putting a hand on the young Ithorian’s slumped shoulder, “I may just be able to help you, if only you’d trust me enough to let me. You are quite strong in the Force. You could make a powerful Jedi. The galaxy needs you. But only if you learn to look beyond your emotions, and let go of your hate.”

After two months of this, Momla knew how to answer, “Yes master, I am trying.”

Tilhn sighed and nodded, “Okay. When we get to the academy on Ossus, we’ll work on this, together. We can beat this Momla, and you’ll achieve your true potential. I feel it.”

As Master Tilhn left to attend other Padawan hopefuls, Momla thought ‘Yes, I will. But certainly not with you fools.’

He looked around the bay. Here he was, stuck on a ship with forty nine other children who felt only awe, and inferiority. Weak. He hated them for their weakness. But not all of them were like that, there were a few who were different. Like the Kel Dor, and the Umbaran. They were like him, they hated.

I flew in last night from Colorado.  I was on vacation with my family.  Got some sun, did some relaxing, shot a few prarie dogs out on the ranch.  While I was there I managed to finish the layout for the Neo-Witch Avenger D7ACU, and worked on the cover art for Black Tokyo.  I just need to do the Publisher Audio Commentary for the Neo-Witch and it will be ready to go.  Once I finish the Black Tokyo cover the rest of the layout is almost done, with the artwork all ready to go.  I plan to have it finished before the month is over.

Having been gone for a week, I’m still going through a ton of emails and getting back into the swing of things.  I would still be on vacation but I have to work today and tomorrow, which is why I flew back early.

Sorry for the lack of posts lately.  I’ve been sick for the last week.  Finally went to the Doctor yesterday and got some drugs to help me get over it.

We started our Star Wars campaign last Saturday.  It was a lot of fun.  We went from children all the way up to our first “mission” as Sith Initiates.  We usually do a fictionalized summary of each session, and our GM just sent me a draft.  I’ll post it once we iron the kinks out.

I finished the AE: Bastard Sword.  Mark Charke did that piece for a defunct line another company was doing on weapons.  (EN Publishing I think, not sure.)  He pitched it to me and it fit in well enough with the AE line that we gave it a home there.

Transformers.  Loved it.  Great visuals.  Sexy co-star.  Lots of robots fighting each other.  Go see it, you will not be disapointed.

Several projects on deck…I’m on vacation next week so that will give me a chance to get a few more things out.  Still working on Black Tokyo and another D7ACU.