My name is Alisteri Haxim.

The night was colder than usual as he walked. The seven year old boy shuffled slowly through the halls until he finally reached the exit of his owner's home. His home now, he supposed. He stepped outside, one hand pulling his blanket tighter around his shivering shoulders as the other rubbed at his new cybernetic eye. It was a reminder of what he had lost not too long ago, his parents most of all.

The small boy looked up at the night sky of Kessel and blinked as his gaze ran across the endless sea of stars. There were very few beautiful views down in the mines where he used to live with his family, if only they could see the sight with him.

As the stars shone bright and defiant against the dark, he began to weep. For his parents and his eye, now both lost, and for his future as the apparent adopted son of their owner. He was born a slave and it seemed as if he would die one as well. Out of frustration and anger he began to scratch at the implanted eye, doing little more than denting his nails against the harsh metal that now encompassed where his eye had once been as the remaining one leaked tears.

"Alisteri! Get back in here boy!" He froze as he heard the voice of his owner, turning to see the door opening behind him.

I was nothing. Born a slave on Kessel and left orphaned at a young age, too weak to fight against the fate that had been laid out for me. When my time did come, when I was finally strong enough for revenge, my destined revenge was stolen from me. And soon I was stolen as well.

The pilot, a man far older than the nineteen year old man pressing a blaster to his head, silently choked back tears as he began to slowly input the coordinates for the Sith Empire's space. "Why?" The last surviving pilot finally asked, his hand hovering over the lever to launch the ship into hyperspace. "Why the feth do you want to go to Sith space? What do-" Alisteri pulled the trigger and ended the final pirate, killing the last of his kidnappers with a satisfying blast to the man's head.

He tossed the pistol aside and pulled the pilot's body from his seat, soon taking his place and grabbing ahold of the lever. Kessel was dead to him. It was his birthplace yes, but not a home. There was only one place he could find a home for himself after this, after his freedom from his slavery.

The young man looked down at his hand as it gripped the lever, thinking about how he had ripped the shackles from his hands with nothing more than his own mind only a few minutes before. He had used the Force to free himself. Or had it freed him? He blinked and pulled the lever, sitting back and watching as the ship entered into hyperspace. The Sith that he had read about for so many years were real, and if the Force was real then all their legends and myths were real too.

He would seek to learn their ways. No matter the cost.

But I was given a chance. By the Force and then by my master, a chance to become more than a mere slave. So I bent and bowed to the Sith. I took an oath to the Sith Empire and to myself, to become a weapon and ensure that the will of my betters was carried out.

That had been my first mistake, serving the tyrants instead of the Force.

Across dozens of worlds Alisteri fought.

From jungles and forests to beaches and rocky deserts, it was all the same. Fight to survive, follow orders to win, kill to succeed. The lessons of his master were still fresh and her absence barely noticed as he waged war all over the Sith Empire. He was but an Acolyte, a tool of the Sith to be used as they desired. If they wanted him to lead a squad of Legionnaires, he would be seen deflecting blaster bolts from the front and leading every charge. If they wanted him to be thrown into a desperate defense, Alisteri would be found knee deep in the worst of the enemy's onslaught.

The masked Acolyte was not one to shy away from combat and struggle, regardless of how hopeless it seemed. He would be there.

The Sith Empire had many flaws, but it had even more enemies.

Jedi, Imperials, false-Sith and heretical Sith alike. You name them, they were probably trying to kill us. The fact that we lasted as long as we did was a testament to the true strength of the empire. Not the Darths in their high towers, not the Lords with fancy manors and corporations, but the common soldiers and lower Sith fighting on the frontlines. I was one of them, of course. And I made friends, companions, and most of all I became a protector of my fellow Sith-Imperials. I founded a cult of refugees and freed slaves, one that was bolstered by soldiers that I had saved from the war.

But I was not strong enough to change the outcome of the war, and I wasn't strong enough to protect all those that I had come to care for.

Dromund Kaas was still peaceful for the moment, but Alisteri knew it wouldn't last. The news had come down and the populace was still reeling from the shock of it. Their empire had fallen, their armies and navies scattered, their leaders all dead or in hiding. The peace was merely the calm before the storm.

The masked man looked down at the graves, over a dozen, and his grasp on the picture in his hand tightened.

He had lost friends, family, members of his cult, people that he cared for now lay dead because of his own weakness. But he was not the only one to blame. The leaders of the Sith had failed the empire, and had left it to rot when it all came crashing down. Such a betrayal could not be forgiven. He scanned the names inscribed on the stones, each and every one, until he finally stopped at the newest one.

Alisteri knelt down to set the picture on the ground, leaning it against the stone of the grave. It was an empty grave, so he decided to bring some sort of representation of the body meant to be buried there. It was a picture of him and his beloved, the only person that he had ever loved. But not the only one that he cared for.

He turned from the graves and looked towards the future of his cult, towards a hangar where their new home was awaiting them. The Altorius would allow them to flee Dromund Kaas, to flee the crumbling empire before it dragged them all down. Alisteri took a breath to calm himself and slowly began walking towards the hangar, leaving the graves behind to allow them the solace they had earned.

He had a pilgrimage to launch.

So I fled with my cult, fled to the stars and away from the warlords and the grasp of our enemies.

The journey ahead would prove to be tough, it would challenge my people at almost every level. For a time there were some that lost faith in me and in our mission, but I did what I had to do to bring the dissenters in line. Thankfully though our struggle was eventually rewarded, just not in the way we had anticipated. It came in the form of a wayfinder sent by the abominable Worm Emperor. I had wanted to kick the lousy thing off my ship, but I decided to entertain the request.

I would meet with them on Odavessa, I would answer the call and see what the betrayers had to say for themselves.

Alisteri walked away from the entrance of the pyramid with a mixture of emotions. The Sith seemed to be reviving on the very planet that he stood on, and yet he felt conflicted. The Worm, Carnifex, and all the others like them had fleets and entourages at the ready. Had they not suffered? Had the Sith not fallen for them? They certainly didn't act like it. And yet his master had reappeared as well, seeming to simply be stepping right back in to train him as she began to do so long ago.

The Sith were being reborn, but all the faces had remained the same.

His hands tightened into fists at the thought and before he knew it he had punched a dent into his transport. He shook off the pain, it would heal anyway, and tried to calm himself before one of the more powerful Sith sensed his little tantrum.

It wasn't fair.

Why did they get to be spared from the fall when his people had not? Why did they get to have fleets and armies when his cult was confined to a single busted frigate with no real way of defending themselves? Where was the justice in it all?

He leaned against the hull of the ship, closing his eyes and gritting his teeth. They had emerged from such a tragedy unblemished and seemingly unharmed. So many others were still suffering and struggling even as they now discussed politics amongst themselves. It wasn't right and he was powerless to make them pay for all that they had done. Or was he? His eyes cracked open, staring through his mask as he looked at the dent he made in the shuttle.

Why couldn't he change anything? Because he was weak yes, but that could change. He could become stronger. He would become stronger. He turned back to look at the pyramid as the dark gathering continued, his gaze shifting into a glare. They had brought ruin upon the Sith Empire, and for that they would pay. It didn't matter how long it took, how many years he would have to wait and plan, he would succeed.

The Sith Empire would be avenged, and this Sith Order would be saved from the monsters that even now sought to defile it.

Once again I had a purpose greater than just watching after my flock. I was serving the Sith again, but not as another faceless Acolyte. I would play along with their little game so as to keep my head, but I would not swear any fealty to the Worm's new order. I am loyal to the Sith. Not to the tyrants that would abuse the Dark Side for their own gain and leave the rest of us scrabbling for crumbs of power.

Let them plot, let them scheme and make whatever plans for galactic domination that they may, it matters little. I will not sit by and let this Sith Order go the way of the Sith Empire.

Not again.

Never again.

The rule of despots and monsters has to end at some point, someone has to pull the Sith back to what they were meant to be. Blades in the backs of Jedi, breakers of chains, bringers of order. Not the tools of some power crazed Darth, but the enemies of chaos in the galaxy. I will fight for this dream with tooth and nail, with blaster and blade, no matter what it may cost I will see the old older upended and made to pay for what it did.

No mercy for the betrayers. No solace for our enemies. Only blood and justice for the fallen.


It took days of work, both himself and his cult had delved into whatever they could find and scavenge just to have some idea of a design for the armor. His armor. Alisteri was normally not one to reward himself with such things, but it had been an obvious need. His master had recently given him a trial, the last trial he would undertake as an Acolyte. It was difficult and even now he still struggled to fully comprehend what he had been put through, but the outcome was obvious.

He was an Acolyte no more.

The Sith reached forward and took his new helmet in his hands, the runes lining the visor glowing a sinister red that rivaled his lightsaber's own crimson shade. Crafting armor was a new experience, but one that he had enjoyed. Having to make use of all his alchemical skills and making do with what his cult had collected over the years was surprisingly satisfying now that it was all said and done.

It was far from some invincible and impenetrable armor, but it was his and it was far better than wearing no armor at all like he had done for so long. A Knight needed armor, for a Knight had to fight wars and kill monsters. A grin spread across his face as he donned the helmet, followed by the rest of the armor soon after. His fingers slid into the gloves, then the bracers onto his forearms. He stepped into the boots and pulled on the spaulders and vest, finally pulling the cape on and clipping it into place.

He raised the hood to cover the helmet and stretched, feeling how the outfit felt. Alisteri had never, not once in his life, ever donned something specifically made to fit him. It made him feel powerful, as if he could take on the galaxy. Satisfied with the fit, he opened a hand and pulled his lightsaber into it before clipping the weapon onto his new belt. This was merely the beginning of his plans. He had the ability to learn so much more from his holocrons and artifacts, and his master still had plenty to teach as well.

Not to mention that the dreadful Malsheem did have a rather extensive collection of knowledge in its own right, if he dared set foot in the domain of Carnifex once more that is. He shrugged off the thought for the moment and flexed his fingers with a satisfying pop.

His time would come, his time for greatness and power had not yet materialized but he would seize it all the same. Certainly not now, and not soon by any measure, but one day his opportunity for revenge would arise. Alisteri knew it. He could feel it. Until then he had more preparations to make, more enemies to kill, and more faithful to bring into the fold. The galaxy had never stopped spinning for him, so he would struggle against it as he always did.

He set off from his workshop, off to a higher level of the Altorius to address his cult and let them know that their work and labor had borne fruit.

I am Alisteri Haxim, Knight of the Sith.

And Our war has just begun...
---------------------------------------------------------------------------------

OOC: As my boy's story begins its second act I would just like to thank you all for reading this far, for providing such a lively site with which to write the story of Alisteri, and especially to everyone that I've threaded with thus far! It has been a pleasure to be a member of Chaos and I look forward to contributing to the site's expansive lore and stories for many more years!

Thank you all, and I hope you have a good day!