Disassembly Line

[Darth Abyss]

Tatooine, Small settlement north of Mos Eisley

The twin suns that made Tatooine into the notoriously dry and hot desert that it was known as had already fallen beyond the edges of the horizon. Darth Abyss, the Mindeater, only very rarely found his way to this corner of the galaxy. Tatooine was a hotspot for crime, but by far not the only one in the galaxy. There where more than enough other places where business could be made quicker and more comfortable, while the monetary side was more rewarding there as well. Still the desert world was still fairly crowded for one simple reason: It was an isolated backwater hole, and disappearing here was even easier than on Nar Shaddaa, at least if you didn't made the Hutts your enemies.

That was what had drawn him here a few days ago, at least in a way. He could appear without the help of Tatooine's desert, but there where few cities where you could find a better smuggler than on Mos Eisley. There was smugglers under his direct command, but for some tasks it was preferable to pass them along to an outsider, someone without ties or information about even the smallest parts of his organisation. It had been a comparable easy job to start with, bring a very particular set of metal armor into alliance space unseen, not for any particular reason, but as a test to see if it could be done as blueprint for future missions.

Yet nothing happened even remotely as planned. Mere seconds after the half derelict freighter had left the ground of the spaceport, red blaster bolts digged deep into the ship's metal shell. The smuggler he has hired turned out to be a man with many enemies, even if non of them were dangerous or important enough to attack a ship with the Prophet on board. For once his focus on secrecy had played out to his disadvantage.

Unable to reach space after taking damage, the ship began long descend down, until it finally crashed at the edges of a small settlement north of Mos Eisley. Tusken raiders where the first to scavenge the remains, followed by jawas. Both had managed to take a piece or two of Abyss with them before the people of the settlement reached the wreck. Not much more than his mask, his crown and most of his metal skull now, Abyss quickly rose throughout the town, even if the people still didn't fully understood what had happened to them. The Mindeaters corrupting influence had slowly etched itself into their thoughts the past few days, and now they saw him as some kind of twisted deity. If they weren't so weak of both body and mind he would've already send them out to hunt down the rest of his armor, but for now the best he could do was wait, until fate would bring him an acceptable champion.

[member="Dravis Rosilla"]

 

[Dravis Rosilla]

Fate.

A strange word, new to Dravis, in a sense. He hadn't believed in fate before his awakening. After he had been changed that day, he had set out, determined to learn, determined to grow, determined to succeed in his new niche in the galaxy, guided by the very thing he refused to believe in beforehand.

His efforts had been almost fruitless.

Fate had led him to Atrisia, where he saw his allies turn to dust before him. Fate took him to Geonosis, where he began his business. Fate gave him lessons he could never hope to learn, instructions he could never hope to complete.

For all of his troubles and strife, however, he understood the galaxy better than before.

He realized that lessons didn't have to be learned, but taken. Instructions were to be conquered. Knowledge was to be fought for, and he would fight for it. Ambition was the key to successfully flirting with Fate.

Fate brought him to Tatooine.

Dravis stepped off of an unmarked cargo ship, alongside a group of downtrodden undesirables. The Bith wore a simple leather jerkin, his lightsaber hidden under a wide belt, his shock whip clearly displayed for all to see, as a symbol of cruelty. His face was slightly agitated as he creased his brow, trying to will the sun's rays away. No luck.

The Acolyte trod through the sands of Mos Eisley, concentrating on his connection to the Force. He had been compelled to go to this backwater planet, but for what reason, he didn't know. Perhaps another lesson, sent to him from Fate herself.

Dravis stopped suddenly, feeling a sudden chill in the desert sun. A familiar chill he couldn't quite place.

Endlessly-black eyes turned toward the disturbance, into the dunes. Waves of heat rolled off the sands, making Drav flinch. He knew he had to follow the Darkness.

Fate willed it.

---​

​

The figure of Dravis crested yet another dune, sweating profusely. He had been walking for what seemed like days, although time was difficult to gauge in the endless abyss that was Tatooine. He had set camp up a few times, but his water supplies were running low. He could feel the spark of darkness, picture it in his mind. A crown, adorning a metallic skull.

Drav crested a final hill, feeling a shock of relief hit him. He stared down at a village. The dark presence was stronger than ever. Visions played behind his eyes. Of death, and decay, and growth, countless battles, countless victories and losses, corruption, conduction, convolution... A mask.

A mask he knew.

Swallowing a lump that had formed in his chest, Dravis trudged into the settlement, conscious of the shock whip on his hip.

- [member="Darth Abyss"] -

 

[Darth Abyss]

In just a few days Darth Abyss had become something alike a deity to the people of "Dumpa", a small settlement that once had been a private site for "waste disposal" owned by the Hutt cartel. Yet the place was quickly discovered, reducing the worth of the little collection of huts and homes to nothing due to the lack of secrecy. Now it was a little hole in the desert, offering dirty, disgusting drinks to wanderers, selling overpriced junk to people that couldn't make it anywhere without it and once in a while renting a roof to lost travelers. So a pretty average place for the standards of the desert world.

The people had fallen quickly under his spell, seduced by the promises of power and wealth he whispered in their ears when they were open to listen, the rest broken by force under the sheer weight of his mind. Yet despite being seen as a god he had no worshippers, the first order he had given to his new followers. He had dubbed them the disciples of the metal skull and gave them a lot of rules, many to ensure that he remained unseen, not more than gospel spoken by a group of weird desert bound wastelanders. The rest was a lot of odd rules, he imposed to keep himself entertain. They created conflict and tension between the inhabitants, solely so he had something to keep himself occupied with until he would find an opportunity to return.

Right upon entering the settlement, [member="Dravis Rosilla"] would be meet by a young man that had waited. Abyss had made him his eyes, his mind had engraved so deeply into the man's head that he could see what he saw, and he had placed his as lookout to ensure he wouldn't miss the very few newcomers to the town in his search for a champion. The bith's presence felt familiar, and very slowly a memory about a meeting on coruscant emerged from the depths of his mind. The young alien was one of the many he stumbled over in his search for a new apprentice, and he had been a promising candidate but chance and circumstance lead to Abyss picking another as his acolyte. Now the first of those trained by him had stepped into the ranks of the sith as a knight, and his search began a second time.

"Follow me."

The man spoke to the bith, his voice mechanical as it was the words Abyss placed in his mouth. He would lead the alien in a small room underground, accessible only through a small building on the edge of the settlement. There the prophet's head rested motionless on a table.

 

[Dravis Rosilla]

Dravis approached wearily, trying his hardest to mask his fatigue. If his growing suspicions were correct, he had to avoid showing weakness.

From what the Bith knew about Sith politics, one who was weak was useless.

He couldn't come across as useless. Not now. Especially not now. He was literally being haunted by ghosts of his past, but he was resolved to maintain a stoic face and disposition about him.

Despite the fact he was scared out of his rather-large mind.

Dravis let his senses draw over his immediate area, noting the almost trance-like state of the man in front of him, as if he were only the mouthpiece of a deadlier force. "Lead the way," he said, in forced moderation. He debated turning around, walking back to Mos Eisley, but forced himself to continue onward. Fate wished him here, so he may as well conquer this lesson.

Whatever it may be.

Dravis followed with light steps, into a building, and then under it. Dravis felt the dark presence grow as he walked, seeing more dark visions as he walked. Visions of a fated meeting, in the lower levels of Coruscant.

Then he saw the crown, the skull...

And the mask. The mask that had been engraved into his mind. It brought memories of pain, and a seed of anger that had previously lied dormant flared.

The Bith stood in stunned silence for a beat, then remembered where he was, snapping back to reality. "He... He is dead?"

Wishful thinking, more than anything.

- [member="Darth Abyss"] -

 

[Darth Abyss]

"Do I look dead to you, bith?"

The words simply echoed through the air around the alien, a sound that had no source, and a inhuman, otherworldly voice just barley similar enough to catch a glimpse of Abyss in it. It was followed by a dark, twisted laugh that was as haunting and strange as the metal skull that it belonged to. The sith lord's sense of humor had been a topic of misunderstandings quite a few times, as most people were simply to terrified to bring up the amusement over the crude jokes made by a metal monstrosity.

"I can assure you that there has never been a metal skull more alive then me."

Again followed the strange laugh, but this time it was even darker and the hint of a threat was in it. He remembered their last encounter, as nothing stayed forgotten to the endless mind of the Mindeater. Back then the bith didn't made it into the position of his apprentice, but now he was perfect. He would become his champion, and not only help him piece his body back together, but prove that he was worth of the training that he could offer.

"Kneel, lesser one, and my hand will lead you to power. Refuse and my hand will crush you like the little worm that you are."

To underline his words a mental blast was thrown at the alien. Not enough to cripple and really hurt him, just enough to remind him what Abyss could do even without hands and armor to fight for him. He was one of the most powerful and skilled mentalists that the sith of this age had seen, anx he wasn't shy when it came to using that abilities.

"If you accept my offer, then take my mask. It will help me guide you on your first mission."

The bith would have to carry the full skull, but the mask was enough to communicate directly with him, even more directly then now. Once the acolyte would take it, Abyss would be able to lead the alien towards the rest of his metal body as a mental manifestation visible only to himself and his potentially next project.

[member="Dravis Rosilla"]

 

[Dravis Rosilla]

Oh, kark.

Dravis felt a force press upon his mind, a brutal reminder why he decidedly didn't interact with many other Sith. He heard a disembodied voice echo around him, and immediately grasped his lightsaber, igniting it, and pointing the dangerous weapon at his guide. He knew of this Sith specifically. He had been Dravis' first real brush with death, the reason he had turned out the way he had.

For that, maybe a thanks was in order. Not that Drav was offering.

The snide jokes and curling laughter didn't help to relieve the mood. The entire situation was, surprisingly, not unfamiliar. The Bith had contacted the dead before, using a newly-crafted skill- candlemaking.

It sounded strange when one thought about it.

A command was made, and Drav almost remarked with 'Why should I' when he felt a sudden mental pressure press against his mind. He was then reminded who he was dealing with. Feeling a similar spark of defiance, yet immediate powerlessness that their first encounter had wrought, Dravis kneeled to the skull on the table.

"I am not as weak as I once was, Lord Abyss," he said weakly, trying his best to keep his voice from cracking. Technically, it was the truth. However, he had obtained political and mercantile strength, instead of the strengths a Sith should be learning, save for some self-training.

"But... I suppose I have no choice, do I?" Dravis raised his head, extending his clawed fingers. The pieces of Abyss flew to his outstretched fingers softly, and he gripped them with care, lest he anger the murderous spirit inside. He placed the metallic skull in a satchel at his side, deactivating his lightsaber, keeping the mask grasped firmly in his hand. He stood slowly, resigned.

"I accept your very generous terms." The Sith looked to the mask in his hand, and then to the man in front of him.

"Lead on."

- [member="Darth Abyss"] -

 

[Darth Abyss]

When the mask touched the hand of [member="Dravis Rosilla"] there would be a shift in the force, and its effect would echo through the whole small town that Abyss had submitted to the power of his will. From on moment to another there would be an awakening, starting right in the hand of the bith. Suddenly a shadow emerged from the nothingness, a twisted, faded specter, visible to no one but to the next being that would be forged to strength by the sith lord. A robe of smoke and dust, arms like bones and a skull obscured by the a mask looking exactly like the one Dravis had just picked up.

"Good. Their service is no longer required then."

As the words danced in the air, again silent to all but the bith, the man that had lead him here reached for his blaster pistol, erasing himself from existence with a single bolt to his head. Outside screaming, shoots being fired, and people suffering and dying in the recently started fires could be heard, as the last command was given to them. Abyss was obsessed with leaving a legacy behind, but that didn't meant he would allow witnesses to remain. His power was executed from the shadows, and therefore any trace that lead back to him had been carefully placed and not left because of necessity.

The Mindeater was about to rise again, and there would only be death, fire and destruction in his wake. The image of the spirit clasped his boney hands behind his back, casually walking towards the exit.

"Come now apprentice. I have wasted more than enough time in this place."

Abyss would lead his new apprentice beyond the boarders of the small settlement which was falling apart already, ravaged by madness and fire until nothing remained. His could hear the echoes of some of his armor in the distance, yet some parts had already faded. This journey would probably take them further then just the edge of desert.

"I have traced parts of my body to a tusken camp, a two hour walk north. They are few, and they are savages. Yet I can feel your lack of strength, apprentice. My mask will grant you a fraction of my power, enough to slaughter them if you are as smart as you believe yourself to be."

There was yet another of the unsettling laughs that the sith lord was so prone to, before the shadow disappeared, leaving the bith in them lonely emptiness of the desert. As always Abyss would simply watch his will became reality, without even lifting his hand.

 

[Dravis Rosilla]

A form rose from the darkness like an avatar of death, and Dravis felt a sudden tug in his gut. The being before him was constructed of shadows and the Dark Side, the spitting image of the Sith that had attacked him however long ago. That very face he feared, that he possibly despised, offering him power.

It felt too convincing, too tempting. Drav's first instinct was to look for treachery in Abyss' words, but abandoned that almost as quickly as he abandoned the idea of walking away from this deal, and for the same reason: The Sith Lord could kill him easily. They both knew it. And what Darth Abyss did next proved it.

The Bith felt a swelling in the Dark Side around them as the poor man committed involuntary suicide, the entire village following suit. Dravis shifted his feet, suddenly more afraid...

...And more intrigued.

The promise of power was too much for the Sithling. And the show of power, the possibility of obtaining that power, to become godlike, was what caught him. And they both knew that as well.

"Of course, My Lord." Dravis almost choked on the words he said, remembering the last one he had called that. Darth Ambroscus had been turned to dust before his eyes, scattered to the Atrisian winds. Dravis walked with his new Wraith-like master, the sparks in his eyes glowing bright like hot coals.

As they walked through the settlement, Dravis observed the chaos and destruction around him, a silent spectator watching as if seated at a play. He may as well have been; he had no control. He was along for the ride. To move, to watch, to take the lessons given to him.

They escaped the burning ruins of what was once a town, and Dravis listened to Abyss, with a cocked head. The comment on hi strength obviously wounded his pride, but Dravis guessed that had been the intent of the jab. To make him angry.

"You'll see, Lord Abyss. I am strong in many ways." He smirked, quite the feat, and trudged into the desert once again, only his anger and his wits to keep him alive.

After an eternity, with the mask in hand, Dravis began to see smoke wafting from a multitude of unseen campfires.

- [member="Darth Abyss"] -

 

[Darth Abyss]

"Our tusken friends will be the judge of that."

When the small tusken camp came in sight on the horizon, Darth Abyss shadowy self once more materialized out of smoke and darkness. Other than before the spirit didn't stood besides his apprentice, but instead had taken place on an invisible chair and was indulging an invisible cup of tea in a fit of almost juvenile mockery. With his first and failed apprentice he had done the mistake of being a strict and menacing, yet also respectable teacher figure. But with each new failed attempt to forge a powerful sith he had learned and adapted, until he figured out the right method to train those that one day would become his legacy. Constant mockery and belittling was a key part of that method.

The camp itself was already small, but the force was with the bith today. Most of raiders had ventured into the desert to hunt and scavenge, leaving only 15 tusken behind to watch camp and cattle. The armor they had found was hard to overlook, resting on a altar like structure in the middle of the camp. While the chest and torso of his new metal body held far less power than his crown and mask, there where parts of his gear attached to it which could easily corrupt the weak minded. The one thing that was missing was the hilt of his saber, the tainted crystal inside of it constantly hungering for blood. It could be found on the belt of one of the tusken, a rather large specimen looking the most feral and brutish of all of them, a very slight aura of dark side energy surrounding him.

The raiders hadn't yet caught on to [member="Dravis Rosilla"], opening up the possibilities for stealth or at least a surprise attack. They were only lightly armed, most of them only carrying the traditional staffs and rifles of the tusken, but a few more modern blasters and melee weapons could be seen as well. Abyss was looking forward to see how the alien would handle the encounter. This after all, was a test of not only his abilities but an opportunity to get a good look into the way his head worked. Dravis struck Abyss as the kind of sith that was carved out to become a twisted diplomate, a trickster that preferred words over weapons. The tribal, wild tusken raiders weren't known to be much unto talking, but neither was it unheard of or impossible to do.

 

[Dravis Rosilla]

Dravis surveyed the camp, an intelligent sharpness to his face. The Bith's eyes swirled with embers as he thought, his large head running calculations, of reaction times and his own abilities, weighing them against each other. He cursed silently to himself, wishing that he had brought along an army of Battle Droids.

Drav was dimly aware that Abyss had reformed, but kept his eyes to the camp, almost refusing to acknowledge the dark being's presence. He finalized his plan, and slid down the dune towards the raiders.

Dravis Rosilla had many strengths. He had a way with words, sculpting and molding them to get his way. He was a sound tactician and inventor, having developed a few Battle Droids he could command with proficiency. His lightsaber skills were lacking, but with the plan he had formulated, that would hardly be a problem.

Dravis' biggest strength was his skills in subtlety and misdirection.

---​

A couple of Tuskens sat on chairs, gazing out into the endless dunes lazily, wishing they had been chosen to hunt instead of watching the camp. Their gaffi sticks laid at their sides carelessly, and they spoke in a language unknown to Dravis. He crouched under a nearby hill of sand, observing them with a mischevious smirk. He reached out with the Force, using all his strength, plus some lent to him by the mask in his satchel.

One of the Raider's sticks quaked in place, then almost jumped a meter away. They looked at it, confused, then one laughed at the other, making fun of their apparent carelessness. The first Raider stood confusedly, walking over to his weapon, then face-planted dramatically into the grit, tripped by an invisible force. Another round of laughter by the second Tusken.

As the first Tusken picked itself off of the ground, it heard a strange snap-hiss behind it. It turned quickly, to see it's previously laughing friend's head tumble toward it, the menacing figure of the Bith behind it with a crimson blade.

Dravis made short work of the two Tuskens, having used his distraction to close the distance. He looked down to the mask in his satchel, preparing himself for his next feat.

"Well, here it goes," he said, his tone uncertain, but determined. He extended his clawed hand towards the rest of the camp, tapping into whatever power Abyss would lend him, letting his feelings spread throughout the camp, touching every single Sand Person's consciousness. Then, he switched focus to their weapons.

All throughout the camp, the thirteen Tuskens left had their weapons pulled from their grasps, or from their sides, dancing across the ground before skipping across the sands, congregating towards one area. The Tuskens growled and yowled, trying to understand what was happening, following their weapons. Straight to Dravis.

The Bith extended his shockwhip as the group of Raiders came into view, his visage highlighted by his scarlet lightsaber. They realized their mistake too late. They had run into the jaws of the beast.

Weaponless.

Dravis rushed forward, a flurry of blue electricity and red energy. The Sand People never stood a chance.

---​

When the slaughter was over, the Sithling fell to his knees, weak. His little stunt, and the following battle, had taken plenty out of him. But he had to keep going, if for no other reason to appease his new Master. Shakily, he stood, and made his way to the center of the camp, seeing the armor of Abyss on a shrine. He walked to it, examining the pieces, a little concern reaching his eyes.

"I don't think I can fit all this in my bag, Lord Abyss," he spoke, the words still catching in his throat. It was more of a puzzle than the assault on the Tuskens.

- [member="Darth Abyss"] -

 

[Darth Abyss]

"Oh how awfully inconvenient that must be."

The specter reformed besides [member="Dravis Rosilla"], his voice filled with a mix of contempt a faked pity. For just a moment he had been a little impressed with what the Bith had done, even if his own power had played a part in it. Now that feeling was gone, as quickly as it had come. He had slaughtered his way through a horde of tusken raiders, but the thought of carrying a bit of heavy metal already made him struggle. How disappointing. The acolyte Abyss never had whined about a task being to hard, to impossible, and he had done thing far worse than what his apprentice currently faced.

"You seem like a smart creature apprentice. I am sure you will find a way. If not ..."

A twisted laugh once more, the spirit circling around the alien with his hands clasped behind his back, his stance and his voice as taunting as he could. He already knew what he would do should the bith not meet the desired standards, but he left it to his imagination to figure it out. While being mindcontrolled so Abyss could use him to resurrect the tusken as zombies that would carry his armor, only to be left in the desert was bad enough, he was sure that Dravis mind could come up with something even more terrifying.

"When I was an apprentice I dragged my one legged, crippled body through the desert after fighting a sith lord. Anything less demanding than that is expected if you want to stay my apprentice. Now hurry up, we have a sandcrawler to catch."

The path would lead through the desert again, a three hour march east to a jawa camp. There he had felt the echo of the rest of his armor the last time, even if it was gone by now.

 

[Dravis Rosilla]

"Ah, yes. The strong survive, the weak perish. How very Sith-y."

The quip was ill-timed, perhaps. If Abyss had wanted to illicit a reaction from the Bith, he had gotten it. Dravis walked away, fuming and scheming. He would show his new master. He would show him just how inventive he could be. Even if it killed him.

Spite was an excellent motivator, after all.

After a minute of searching around a camp, Dravis came across a sort of sled, constructed from hide and scrap. He assumed it would be dragged behind a hunter, as it looked small enough that he may be able to pull it. Dravis tested it's weight, comfortable with the yolk across his shoulders.

What have I become? Dravis Rosilla, entrepreneur, Sith Acolyte... Pack animal.

Dravis dragged the construction back to the center of the camp, carefully placing the armor on the sled, and dragging it into the dunes, almost ignoring Abyss.

Besides, it was your fault for dueling a Sith Lord in a desert in the first place, he thought, not caring if his master were peering in on his thoughts. He was angry, and if he were to suffer for it...

So be it.

- [member="Darth Abyss"] -

 

[Darth Abyss]

The ghost watched as his new apprentice began to search through the camp for a tool that would allow him to continue on his quest. [member="Dravis Rosilla"] didn't seemed to understand it just yet, but this, like everything in his live from now on, was a test of his skills. Other than many sith Abyss didn't valued strenght alone, he had learned first hand that there where various equally important traits needed to make an good apprentice. He had no use for a mindless brute. Those that were forged by him were expected to outsmart superior enemies with their intelligence, perceptiveness and creativity. When he finally found the sled and began to prepare everything for their departure he listened into the thoughts of anger but showed no reaction to it. Anger directed at him was still anger, and emotion every sith needed to survive.

For a while the specter remained silent, mocking sitting upon his own armor, while the bith had to both literally and metaphorically drag him through the desert. During this while Abyss contemplated in what other way he could taunt his new apprentice until they reached their destination. Normally he didn't had to do much, the dark side casually lead him to events and situations in which the method of his mockery was presented ro him. The desert on the other hand was empty, there was no sign given by the cursed blessing that empowered them. That meant that he would wait and watch patiently as the bith struggled through his current test.

After roughly two thirds of the way Abyss felt something in the sky. A little mind just at the edge of his senses, obscured both by distance and by its tiny size. There was no question that this was the mind of an animal, and not that of an sentient being. Finally the sign he had waited for had arrived. His mind extended into that of the foreign beast, crushing all resistance with ease. The Urusai was a winged creature, not dangerous but it didn't had to be for what he had in mind. From one moment to another the specter was gone again.

Minutes later the beast fell out of the sky above his apprentice, controlled by the mind of the Mindeater. Its target was the sled, an quick drop down to damage but not destroy the makeshift tusekn tool. Just enough to make carrying it still possible but quite uncomfortable and more physically draining. Once that was done the specter appeared again, looking away from his apprentice and into the distance.

"We are clos..."

The spirit turned around and looked at the sled with acted surprise, shaking his head and raising his armes above his head while walking towards the damaged construct. His voice then turned again into open mockery.

"I was gone for like ten minutes and now this. No wonder no master bothered teaching you."

 

[Dravis Rosilla]

The suns were beginning to dip below the horizon, creating a murky dusk haze over the sands. The sky was darkening, heralding the sweet cool of a Tatooine night. A shape in the sands stood out among the others, a choppy groove, created by some dragged item.

Two dangerously bright miniature suns burned in Drav's eyes, revealing his seething anger. He held the yoke on his shoulders, pushing forward with all his might. He had been doing this for hours, trudging past the Tusken encampment, and to who knows where. His entire body ached, but the rage of a thousand stars still burned behind his eyes, and that pushed him forward.

Then, Dravis detected a change. A new presence. He had the time to look up before a blurred shape sprang from the sky.

The Bith had seen a couple of squabbling Urusai while he was in Mos Eisley once. They were disgusting scavengers, bloated and loud. This one appeared to be bloated, loud, and destructive.

Dravis ducked away, wincing as his sled was partially wrecked by the nuisance, the yoke and part of the connecting wood snapped in twain. The bead of anger in his chest flared bright, and he pulled his shock whip, slashing out at the beast in an arc of electricity. It escaped his strike, leaving him to kneel in the sand, chest heaving with exhaustion.

Then Abyss returned, and mocked him. Dravis curled his fists into balls, stepping away from the sled in a huff, suppressing the urge to attack... something. The specter? The damaged sled? He cracked his shock whip, a defiant snapping sound against his insecurities. He retracted his whip, and stowed it on his belt again. The Bith slowly turned, his eyes pools of ink black, with floating specks of light swirling, stirred by his anger.

Abyss had struck him where it hurt.

"Agh!" He exclaimed at the sky, stamping over to the sled. He lifted up the undamaged half of the yoke, and tugged it, his muscles screaming in protest.

- [member="Darth Abyss"] -

 

[Darth Abyss]

Slowly his words began to archive the effect he had desired. Every time his taunts hurt the fragile ego of bith, every time his taunts corrected his desire for misplaced pride and arrogance the pure hate and rage inside of [member="Dravis Rosilla"] gained strength. He could see much potential in the young alien, even if he didn't made an effort to reveal that on the outside. In fact he saw many similarities between Dravis and himself when he still had been an apprentice, only with one grave difference: The young Abyss never had held pride or arrogance, even in his early days along the path of the sith he had understood that there was no place for such petty things when struggling for survival.

Mockery was one of the most effective methods of training, it taught the lesser beings to abandon such feelings, or at least forced them to push them into the back of their mind where they could harness and embrace the hate that it offered. With time the Bith would understand that Abyss didn't acted like this only for his personal amusement or out of petty spite but to forge him, to make him stronger so he one day could stand aide by side with those that truly rose to power, individuals like Abyss himself.

While the sun fell down beyond the horizon the form of a sandcrawler slowly emerged in the distance. The gigantic metal vehicle rested in the empty sands of the desert, with barley any sign of life visible. The jawas probably had already begun their rest for the night, and even so close to the crawler he couldn't feel the echo of his armor. It was quite likely that the scavengers had already sold the remains to a paying customer. What was left of his armor was worth quite a bit, but other than his mask or the relics bound to his chest armor it lacked the power to place lesser beings under his control.

"Now apprentice, your chance to prove yourself. Infiltrate the Sandcrawler, find a clue about the current position of my body. Should not be to hard for alien filth like you to pass for a jawa."

There was another twisted laugh. His insult wasn't the best he had come up with, but the bith was already angered enough to make it hit anyway. Non humans where belittled in various places all around the galaxy, so Abyss assumed that it was quite insulting, and that it would reach an already existing wound inside the bith's ego. It was a simple test. Abyss had given him power through his anger, now Dravis had to show that he controlled his rage, and not his rage him. Another mark of a true sith.

 

[Dravis Rosilla]

The suns had fallen below the dunes, rendering Dravis almost blind. He didn't care all that much, appreciating that the scorching Tatooine day had left.

Drav was still simmering from Darth Abyss' comments, and didn't care to hide it. Carrying the sled was difficult, as he had to prop the harness on one shoulder, and trudge across slippery slopes of falling sand. His anger was directionless, not pointed at any one annoyance in particular. He was simply angry, and this anger was at the heart of his very being.

The Bith could barely make out the shape of a Jawa Sandcrawler on the horizon, still and dark. He listened to Abyss' words, silently raging against the world. "Ah." It was all he could muster as a protest. He considered trying to form some kind of rebuttal, but stopped himself. He could sense the echoes of a dark presence as well. The armor wasn't there, but there were clues.

Dravis had never considered himself a violent man. But given everything that had happened today, and all the pain and torment he'd had to endure, he considered simply laying waste to the scavengers. But there were better ways of going about this, and he knew it.

The acolyte slid down a sand dune, and approached the Sandcrawler, trying to muster his authoritative attitude. He was, first and foremost, a deal-maker, after all. He extended a hand, and knocked heavily on the door.

A minute of startled shuffling greeted Dravis' ears behind the door of the Sandcrawler, then a face peeked out, shrouded in a hood, eyes glowing bright yellow. The Jawa chittered something fast in it's language, probably along the lines of 'who are you'.

"Good day." Dravis' demeanor had changed drastically. He appeared calm and collected before the Jawa, dignified, even. Underneath it, however, his anger still burned, threatening to rise to the surface. "I was wondering if you could help me out."

A second Jawa, smaller than the first, sidled up around the door, ion blaster held tight against it's body. It jabbered an affirmative.

"I've been wandering the dunes for a while, searching for scrap to build a ship," the Bith lied easily, the words flowing like honey. "I was wondering if I could peruse your wares, but if the state of your vehicle is any indication, you have nothing I want."

Dravis examined the two small beings as they soured. Using his general grasp of Dun Moch, he focused in on their fear and annoyance of him, using his own anger as a springboard into their minds. He began to see flashes of their memories and emotions.

He was no Darth Abyss. He couldn't pull from the Jawas what he wanted. Instead, he had to coax it out of them, using the very same tactics that Abyss had been using to coax greatness out of him.

"Perhaps you have something else I want, though." Dravis grinned, letting his true emotions show. He was angry.

Dravis stepped back, and pulled one of the Jawas to the dust using the Force. He activated his shock whip, and wrapped the cord around the other's neck, jerking him down to the earth as well. The door to the Sandcrawler shut behind them, blocking out their sudden screams to their brethren.

"The armor pieces. Where are they?" The Bith's voice was sharp, trying to illicit fear from the Jawas. His eyes narrowed, concentrating on his connection to their minds, using his practice with Dun Moch to the extent of his abilities.

Their thoughts betrayed them.

- [member="Darth Abyss"] -

 

[Darth Abyss]

The specter standing besides [member="Dravis Rosilla"] formed a grin as he watched the bith. There had been clear lacks in the training of the young sith, but for once Abyss was actually impressed by his actions. When the second jawa reached the floor the shadow of the sith lord clapped, still a bit mockingly but not nearly as disrespectful than before. He had expected the man to be smart, skilled with words and quite deceptive and that expectation had come true. His hand would forge him into a being quite alike the young Abyss, a powerful mind held by the chains of a fragile body, a being to one day rise far above the broken souls of the common populace.

Challenging his apprentice on every step along his path was his duty, but that didn't meant he couldn't do the opposite every once in a while. There was a surge of darkness from the mask on Dravis belt, allowing the young sith to make use of yet another power, one imbued into the mask itself and not gifted by Abyss spirit. The force had various applications, one of the less commonly used was the ability to comprehend foreign words and languages, even those of the jawas. While the language would stay as strange and incomprehensible as before, the bith still would be able to understand any word spoken by them.

"We can't tell him, they will kill us."

The jawa caught by the whip looked at the other, forcing himself to Form words while pain and fear ruled his mind. His friend didn't looked much better, meaningless grunts and noises coming out of his mouth before he was finally able to from an answer.

"He will kill us if we don't tell him."

The two small aliens looked at each other for a moment before both of them gave each other a quick nod. They had no other way out of here, so they would give Dravis what he desired. The one not caught by the whip reached into his dirty brown robe and searched for a datapad, holding it towards the bith while in constant fear of being dead in a few seconds. On the datapad Dravis would find some basic information about the man who brought the armor, a name and a planet. Drake Castor, a collector of an antiques based on Coruscant.

During the whole encounter the ghost moved towards thr bith, a boney, semi translucent hand slowly descending down on his shoulder. It wasn't a physical sensation, but he would still feel a intimidating, terrifying and yet strangely calm and gentle dark touch upon him.

"You did surprisingly well apprentice. Now erase these insects and get us of these filthy world."

Very occasional small victories were as much part of the sith training as constant hardships, and without them an apprentice would become nothing more than a violent animal. These brutes had their worth on the battlefield, but not as true apprentice to a man like Abyss.

 

[Dravis Rosilla]

Dravis looked down at the sniveling creatures with a strange sense of delight. This was why he became Sith, this was what drove his very being; to be not just noticed, but feared, and respected. This fear gave him what he wanted.

Dravis used the Force to bring the datapad to his hand, scrolling through names until he came to what he wanted.

Drake Castor, Coruscant.

Dravis soured when he saw the name of the planet. His homeworld, where he had grown up with his family. Where his family still was, blissfully unaware the path Dravis had taken. He felt a curtain of dread overtake him, which was quickly enveloped by something darker, yet comforting.

Dravis looked up at his new master, a smile tugging at his layered lips. Praise. That's new.

Drav looked back down at the Jawas when Abyss commanded their deaths. His grin vanished, replaced by hard purpose. The Bith's shock-whip snaked along their tiny bodies with a mind of it's own, wrapping around their necks with a complex show of telekinesis. With the light touch of a button, the two robed beings were electrocuted to death, rendered nothing but smoking corpses in a few seconds.

"Let's go home," he said softy, the same dread filing him.

- - -​

​

Dravis hated public transportation.

The civilian shuttle rocketed out of hyperspace, approaching the enormous city of Coruscant. Dravis stared out his viewport as they went, struggling with his own thoughts. Conflict was deep in his soul, centered aroud the ecumenopolis.

"So, what's the plan, my lord," Dravis muttered under his breath, typing on his own datapad, searching anywhere for a Drake Castor. "Walk in and ask this guy nicely?"

His sarcasm fell flat, as if his thoughts were elsewhere.

- [member="Darth Abyss"] -

 

[Darth Abyss]

"That is up for you to decide."

Surprisingly Abyss was almost equally lost in his thoughts, whispering the words in Dravis ear without mockery or even another layer of meaning. Coruscant was a lucky accident, another test he didn't had to think up by himself. Here he had introduced [member="Dravis Rosilla"] to the darkness of the sith all that time ago, and here was where all the past pain and hardship of the Bith was laid to rest. It was truly glorious, sending his apprentice back to where it all started, where he could be confronted by the scars his old life had left and to see if they would break him, or if he was finally strong enough to rise above them and become sith.

Drake Castor was not a unknown to Abyss. It was merely a memory of a past life that wasn't his own anymore, but it was still a memory. In the days before the sith, when Abyss still had been Atton, son of merchant that had specialised in ancient relics and artifacts of the force, he had learned the names of many that dabbled in selling and buying such things. From Nar Shaddaa to Coruscant the young boy had meet many influence players of that scene, learned their language, their etiquette and their games. Back then he had been sure that being one of them was what awaited him in the future.

Suddenly there would be a flash of dark side energy, the Mindeater using one of his most powerful abilities directly on the mind of his apprentice. Thoughts and memories would flood into his mind, carefully altered to hide the truth behind Abyss past held in them. Names and places linked to Castor and various other merchants on Coruscant, as well as words and etiquette required to blend into such a crowd. He could've told the bith all those things, but that was the first test he had to master today. Dravis made an effort to place himself as some kind of intellectual elite, and so he would either break under the weight of so much knowledge at once, or sort through it to form a plan to do the task given by his master. After all knowledge was the only way to true power.

 

[Dravis Rosilla]

It was a strange feeling, to be fed memories.

It felt slightly like remembering something that happened a long time ago. Something you wouldn't imagine doing yourself, but happened nonetheless. He remembered names, places, faces, his Bith mind quickly categorizing and tagging useful information, letting flak he figured he wouldn't need to use drop to the side. Of course, he felt some discomfort, and a little confusion at some points, but all considering, did a good job of sorting what his master gave him.

Drav sucked air through his mouth, his large brain performing calculations. In all honesty, he was of normal intelligence, he just tended to be meticulous. This need to think through everything often got him into difficult situations. He was prone to overthink things, to create the most elaborate schemes and plots to gain power.

Sometimes, it payed to be direct.

"Alright," he said, as the shuttle docked at one of the many ports on the planet. 'Let's go see this guy."

---​

​

"On second thought, maybe a more complex plan is necessary."

Dravis looked at the pristine warehouse ahead of him with disdain, and his fair share of apprehension. He had deduced this was where Drake Castor kept his new acquisitions, and going up and asking to bargain with the man suddenly didn't sound like a good idea.

"I mean, it's not as if he'll give me the armor. And I don't think I'm quite strong enough in the Force yet to make him. Perhaps I should sneak in under the cover of darkness, or take a hostage or..."

And just like that, his feet had led him to the steps. A guard stood at attention, obviously not expecting trouble, but looking at the Bith inquisitively. "Ah... Take me to see Mr. Castor. I have a business proposition for him."

For some reason, falling into his stride as a businessman didn't make him feel any better.

- [member="Darth Abyss"] -