Lost to the Ages

[Darth Veles]

Another brave journey followed shortly after the duo’s success on Hoth, true to the Sith Lord’s promise. Darth Veles’ gaze bearing the warm colours of autumn leaves lovingly swept over the wasteland running outside of the windshield as Your Deathbed passed over in its delicate flight. From the icy planet’s frozen tundra to the burning red deserts of Korriban; a radical change in environment awaited the two, so far protected from the omnipresent sunrays by the ship’s thick plates. Without any doubt, the red planet soaked with generations of Sith blood and the Dark Side intended to deliver harsh sentence upon the weak and unworthy. It was high time for Decima to taste the unquenchable thirst of the ancient Sith world and bask in its dark glory – and survive, if she found the will to overcome the challenges prepared for her. There was another reason lying underneath the excuse for the Sith Acolyte’s training. Veles himself desired to see the planet responsible for making him a Sith once more. Immediately after his cloaked ship speared the atmosphere, the powerful and eerie presence resonating from Korriban’s very core overwhelmed him, giving its son a welcome.

“You have seven days to hunt down a dozen tuk’ata and collect their hearts. Once done, you will find the tomb of Marka Ragnos and present the hearts on an altar in its main chamber, then meditate on the Dark Side.” His smooth, thickly accented voice clearly displayed the usual uncompromising demeanour. For a man trespassing on a planet supposedly dominated by the Silver Jedi, he seemed awfully calm, his expression outright serene. The Sith assassin and his student stood in the middle of nowhere, surrounded by never-ending dunes. Every step a mass grave, centuries of white bones concealed by the red dust and dand. Veles towered on the ship’s ramp, hands clasped behind his back.

He’d leave the planet on the eighth day, either alone or with a freshly christened Sith Acolyte worthy of training under him. Of course, he had the option to share his knowledge with all who asked, just like that, no strings attached – such was not the way of the Sith though. The powerful Sith Lord held no interest in wasting his knowledge on weaklings; he desired one perfect student worthy of claiming the mantle of Sith. His legacy. Any true Sith understood sacrifices had to be made for the greater good of the Order, reduce the great number of power-hungry adherents who believed the Force’s blessing running through their veins gave them an automatic pass to become Sith. No; the Sith was a belief, an idea, a mantra, a way of life. Fortunately enough, there has always existed a way of separating the two eternal entities, the strong and the weak.

Culling.

That’s where the One Sith had failed – instead of weeding out the weak, they have allowed them to be pampered and educated alongside the strong. Demented children with no right to study the forbidden knowledge, never able to resist the Dark Side’s effects for long.

“Remember the Sith code, acolyte.”

Pacing back and forth, eyes never leaving the brunette, Darth Veles’ voice menacingly boomed over the bloody sea’s deathly silence. Only the taps of boots marching on metallic surface counted down the seconds to his departure.

“Peace is a lie, there is only passion. Through passion, I gain strength. Through strength, I gain power. Through power, I gain victory. Through victory, my chains are broken. The Force shall free me.”

He envied her, nostalgic longing for ages long gone flashed through his large eyes as he observed the younger woman. She was about to embark on the exact same task as he had so many years ago, his very first test.

“May the Force serve you well.”

With that, the Mon Calamari offered her one last nod and disappeared within the bowels of Your Deathbed, his silhouette’s retreat soon covered by the closing ramp.


[member="Decima Fortan"]

 

[Natasi Fortan]

Decima Fortan had still not quite come to terms with the concept of the ship's name. Your Deathbed seemed like rather an odd name for the stealthy vessel of a Sith assassin. Wasn't the entire point of it to make sure the target never saw it coming? And if that were the case -- and Decima was almost sure it was -- wouldn't the name never be understood by its intended targets, thus rendering the name somewhat superfluous? Still, it wouldn't do to question that now. She had much more important things to question -- like just what in the seven hells was a tuk'ata? And how was she going to survive on Korriban -- enemy territory for all practical purposes -- for seven days?

She understood the need to separate the wheat from the chaff, as it were, and she was certain that she was wheat. She just had to make [member="Darth Veles"] see it.

Decima stood silently in the sand at the foot of the ramp, her arms clasped behind her, under the red-brown cloak she would use to shield herself and her equipment from prying eyes and the sun's harsh attentions. The only movement were her thumbs wrestling for dominance over one another. She repeated the code with Veles, her posh, aristocratic accent alongside his in a ghoulish duet: "Peace is a lie, there is only passion. Through passion, I gain strength. Through strength, I gain power. Through power, I gain victory. Through victory, my chains are broken. The Force shall free me."

The ramp began to rise. Decima remained in place until it was closed, then she turned and strolled away. Her priority was to find some sort of shade, which she did twenty minutes later, in a canyon, in what looked like the mouth of a caved-in cavern. She dropped her pack and looked around for a moment, before picking up on a whisper of warning in the Force. She immediately turned, unsnapping her lightsaber as a large, flesh-colored something came squeezing out of a small gap in the collapsed rocks. What in the hell are you? Decima demanded, but it didn't answer, except to lunge at her with surprisingly long claws. Her lightsaber came alive in her hand, and she brandished the lightsaber like a shield against which the claw crashed, severing it.

The creature roared in pain, rearing up to expose a hideous mouth of concentric circles of teeth. Decima might have vomited if she didn't have better control over herself. As it was, the stench nearly made her gag. She ducked under another swipe of the creature's uninjured claw and jammed the lightsaber into its midsection, slicing up as smoothly as she could, until she had sliced the creature from stomach to mouth. It roared, spraying blood, and Decima rolled out of the way was it collapsed. She stalked over to the dying creature and severed its head and claws in one fell swoop, then reached into the Force. There was life around, no doubt, but not much around here. She sighed and went back to her pack and pulled out her datapad. She took a photo with the datapad and searched. "Are you a tuk'ata?" she murmured softly.

It turned out that the creature was a K'lor'slug, and not a tuk'ata at all. When she searched for a tuk'ata, her stomach turned. And she'd have to kill a dozen of them!

 

[Natasi Fortan]

By sundown on the first night, the young woman had killed four more gigantic K'lor'slugs, but no tuk'ata. She wondered whether Korriban would get cold at night. Some desert planets did, with no humidity to hold in the moisture. She could do with a little respite from the heat of the day. She found herself a small cave and, after ensuring it was empty, erected her self-popping tent from her backpack, which she placed up against the mouth of the cave. But before she did, she stuck her brown cloak between it and the mouth, so that when the tent was fully erect, it would give the effect of a boulder filling the small mouth of the cavern. Decima wouldn't sleep in the tent -- it was too close to the outdoors for her, and besides it would serve as a rudimentary alarm.

She sat on the sand and rummaged through her sack.

Rations -- enough for eight days; glowsticks and a torch; survival medkit; lightweight bedroll; matches; a blaster; her datapad; a plastic sack.

She took the datapad and began to do some research into the tuk'ata. They were legendary beasts, frightful and vicious-looking, and from what she could glean from the archives, they guarded the tombs on Korriban. So all she would need to do is find some tombs. She frowned thoughtfully and looked for a map. Surely she could find a map. It took some digging, but eventually she did find one, and tracked her position on the map. "All right... a klik and a half north-northeast. I have to head that way anyway, to get to the tomb of Marka Ragnos." Decima frowned thoughtfully and then nodded, making up her mind to go in that particular direction. She set her alarm to wake her before dawn to give her a chance to travel in relative comfort.

Decima stowed her datapad and tore into one of her ration bars, then unrolled her bedroll and climbed in. The cave was dark and silent, and Decima stayed awake a long time before finally succumbing to sleep.

[member="Darth Veles"]

 

[Darth Veles]

The morning rolled around fast. Cold permeated Decima’s sore body after a few hours of light sleep. Korriban’s sun only started to climb up the sky, giving the blood-coloured desert a much more merciful and serene face. No guests have visited the young woman’s camp during the night, except for one who has appeared out of nowhere just after the female Imperial’s alarm violently tore Decima from her rest, the woman’s sight slowly adjusting to the daylight. First little more than a shape, which soon became a silhouette and swiftly gained both form and identity.

It was none other than the young Acolyte’s master; his signature non-existent, the Mon Cal just sat on a rock, playing with a Sith holocron in his flipper-like hands. Like a silent phantom to randomly appear and vanish inside Sith tombs, the unexplained nature of the Darth’s arrival only added to the veil of mystery shrouding his purpose there. Then again, the Mon Calamari had the habit of sneaking up on people - master assassin and all that - thus his sudden appearance only served as a testament to his abilities rather than a complete surprise.

“Good morning.” Veles greeted Decima softly and politely once the surprised woman left her temporary lair. A cool, smooth hand motion slipped the small object into the Sith Lord’s heavy cloak that shrouded its wearer’s form, and Veles’ bulbous suns swivelled towards the acolyte as his lips curled into a disarming smile.

“I hope you slept well, apprentice. Before you meditate – or whatever you wish to do – tell me, what does the Sith code mean to you? How do you follow it?”

Naturally, the Sith had to make Decima's journey educational as well - test her body and mind alike to discover if the woman posed a suitable Sith-like mind that could be expanded upon.

A refreshing breeze washed over the duo, kindly humming in their ears and stroking Decima’s hair. Other than that, silence, for as long as it took the Sith acolyte to think of an answer.

[member="Decima Fortan"]