[Act One] Unleashed

[Lief]

Ten years had passed.

Ten terrible years of forced education and indoctrination. In the earlier years of his torment, Kobe barely interacted with his would-be tutors. They were engaging enough, oddly lively for ones who had given their life to a murderous tyrant such as Kaine, but the somber little boy did not care for what they had to say. And the more he ignored them, the less chirpy they seemed to be. Within a few months that attitude was all but gone, and Kobe faced the full fury of educational corporal punishment. His hands soon adjusted to the lash of a cane, however, and his hate for the pair ran freely. Kobe had abandoned his Jedi training by this point. He could not contain his emotions even if he had truly wanted to try.

So the little boy became bitter, he remained as quiet as ever, only ever speaking when the rare presence of [member='Darth Vornskr'] was insisted upon. But such affairs became increasingly rare as the months turned into years. Soon enough he forgot all about the Jedi Temple, about life outside of the Palace he knew to be a prison. Instead he seethed, yet in the end Kaine won. For the boy began to learn. Aurebesh and Sithese overrode his drive to draw, the Sith Code replaced the Jedi Mantra, and his head was stuffed full of the falsities of Galactic War and History. And the boy who had known nothing upon venturing to Panatha now knew a whole lot of nothingness, lies, and Imperial sentiments.

Ten long years of torture.

Kobe Seren was no more, and the one known as Raseri Sarosh stood in his wake. There was no innocence remaining, no serenity, and while the boy was silent and ever vigilant in appearance beneath the surface hatred bubbled. Only he had forgotten who it was aimed at. Instead of loathing his captor he instead had been taught to revere and fear the dark clad leader of the Epicanthix, the man who had taken him in, who had fed and clothed him, and treated him as a Ward.

It was toward this man, sat upon a throne forged from the bodies of his enemies, that Raseri now strode. Upon his waist a hilt was holstered, the deactivated beam a brilliant yellow. His lessons had surpassed pure knowledge a couple of years prior, and instead he had been guided in the art of Telekinesis and Shii-Cho. Fickle lessons he ought to have learned back on Coruscant. But the rest... Everything else he could hope to one day master... That had to wait. Because it was not the right of his Tutors to endow him with such knowledge.

And so Raseri entered the magnificent Throne Room, whose ceilings could not be seen by even the keenest of eyes, the walls of which seemed bathed in mist and the very darkness which corrupted the veins of Lord and Ward. Without a word the boy marched forward, each step strengthening him as the man he was becoming, shedding the child he had been upon arriving here. Only the sound of his boots echoed to mark his approach. Several feet from the risen dais Kaine's loyal servant found his knees, his head bowed in respect.

Who knew why he had been called here; all that Raseri knew was that he had not seen this man in almost a decade, and that even with so much silence, such lack of communication between the two, it was his duty to come when called.

And he daren't ignore the call.

 

[Darth Carnifex]

Filed ranks of guardsman wielding lightsaber pikes and blaster-resistant energy shields stood to either side of the walkway leading towards the raised dais where the Supreme Leader of the Kainate Authority sat like a brooding gargoyle, his piercing yellow eyes glaring out from beneath a wide hood that cast shadows across his scarred features. Behind there were rows upon rows of stone pillars adorned with art of both Epicanthix and Sith design, some of them having been spirited away shortly before the fall of the Old Empire from the Sith academies of Korriban and Ziost while some were relatively new or were outright replicas of pieces lost to history or intentional destruction. The throne upon which the Supreme Leader sat was made out of jagged black iron wrought in the hellish furnaces of the Graug on the industrial world of Fornow, and its edges shined with a sharpness that surpassed any bladed weapon ever seen.

When [member="Raseri Sarosh"] knelt before the throne the weathered Sith Lord let out a hollow laugh, and slowly rose to his feet to tower above everyone present in the throne room. He took a step forward and gesture for Raseri to rise, "Sarosh" started the Sith Lord, eschewing the use of his first name in lieu of his surname. "Dearest Sarosh" he cooed, "A long time ago you came to me a lost, wayward child... but now you have grown into a man with my hand to guide you, and I can feel the power lying beneath your surface. And it is time I gave you a chance to flex your newfound strength, therefore I am sending you to the Cerean system in the Mid Rim. There you will infiltrate Tecave City and eradicate the Council of Elders, and bring their heads back to me." As the Sith Lord spoke a holographic projection of the planet, city, and a detailed list of each member of the Council appeared between them.

"Do this, Sarosh, and you will be one step closer to fulfilling your destiny."

 

[Lief]

After so many years of wondering, of waiting to be called for, Raseri found himself without a voice when in the presence of Lord Zambrano. Feeling the ominous figure rise, looming over every other being in the room, the student kept his head down in submission until his name was uttered. Well, it was more a title than anything, Sarosh marking him as one of the Epicanthix's Wards.

Rising from the ground, Raseri finally looked upon Kaine's visage, listening as the man seemed to regard him fondly, and remained silent. Now was not the time to converse, or catch up. He must have been called here for a reason.

And so the Lord's intentions were revealed. To eradicate the Council of Cerea. Mayhem would no doubt follow upon the planet, the initial City of Tecave would likely be the first to fall. Chaos was not an agenda Raseri had been permitted to express thus far, subservience is what his Tutors had made of him. But a chance to prove himself could not be missed.

The boy glanced to the holo footage presented, taking special care to note the members of the Council and the layout of the City. Planning would take a few days, journeying probably longer, and with his access to the holonet he would be able to choose the prime time to carry out his little escapade. There was one problem, however.

While Raseri had been taught to pilot a vessel, he owned no ship of his own. But that was a minor inconvenience which could be worked out along the way, nothing to bother [member="Darth Vornskr"] with.

Inclining his head the boy accepted his task, and once he was certain the Lord had no further use for him then and there, Raseri then turned and strode from the room. The ominous figures of his Lord's Guards bit into his peripheral but the boy did his best to keep his head held high. He was no longer just a student. He would make something of himself yet.

 

[Lief]

He had ultimately failed.

This was a fact he realised during his return to Panathan Space; not only had he been bested by a slugthrower of all things, there were still five Counselors alive and the revolt which had spread across Tecave was snuffed almost immediately. The threat of both Pirates and Sith, the remaining Counselors decided, was of utmost importance. Plans were waiting to be executed, and the people eagerly waited for their trade routes to be running once again.

Like a dog to heel Raseri had come fleeing back to his Master, tail between his legs. His shoulder was a mess, yet also the only thing which kept him going. He had no love of pain, as so many did, but he did find it useful. Useful enough to not stop off at some medical shelter; no he had to return before Vornskr heard the news from anyone other than himself. He would not be humiliated further. He would face his mistakes head on and bow himself to whatever punishment deemed necessary.

The Haunter broke through atmosphere at an almost dangerous speed, and before the base down below could so much as register the descent he was upon them. The ship was encoded to allow for such a descent, but usually the Ward of Vornskr had enough mind to call ahead anyway. Not this time.

As the ship slid into its docking bay, Raseri all but leaped from the Tie-Fighter. His good hand reached across to press over his shoulder as he made his descent down the durasteel stairs toward ground level. It was a long walk from the Hangar to the Throne Room, rage fueling him. He was aghast with himself, frustrated at his distinct lack of capability. It may have only been his first mission, out there in the Galaxy, but that didn't excuse the mistakes.

A goddamn slugthrower!

Oh there would be no coming back from that humiliation. Not for a long time.

Too focused was he on the destination that he did not notice the subtle changes around the Citadel. He did not see the strange garments of the Guards, or the distinct lack of tapestries lining the walls. So it was that as he finally stepped into the Throne Room, he walked into utter silence. But not darkness. There was a light here, which had his brows pull into a frown. No, this was not right. This had always been drenched in darkness, a mist even hung in the air.

His gaze lifted to the Throne, only it was not twisted. If anything it looked regal. Like the seat of a King, and not a Monster.

Raseri spun full circle. Was he even in the right place? Guards lined the walls, but none of them were recognisable. Their armor had changed, even their weapons. His heart raced, and he launched himself over to the nearest guard. Indignation ran through him, and the boy lifted a hand and exacted his will over the man's throat. The Force did all of the hard work for him, Raseri simply stared - several feet away from him. The man was suspended, the other Guards had moved and now formed a circle around him, spears out and set toward him.

"Where is HE?"

With the final word came an outward blast, not unlike those he had exhibited on Tecave... Only this time it was far more wild and unwieldy. He was not here. He didn't even need to wait for an answer.

Vornskr had abandoned his post.

He had abandoned his Ward.

And he would pay.

The boy swept from the room as the Guards steadied themselves and prepared to face him. Only there was nothing left in the boy's wake, save the clatter of a lightsaber hilt against the ground.

In the hangar alarms began to blare as The Haunter was once again prepped for take off, only this time it had not been sanctioned. He had to leave this place. He could feel the hum of the holocron against his side, forever on his person, and as the ship ascended through the hangar the boy reached down to touch it.

With the flash that appeared within his mind, he had his destination. Far from here. Far from it all.

No more would he face subjugation.

No more would he face defeat.

Kobe was dead. Raseri was dead.

Kaine would die.