Prologue: A Beast Slain

[Asharad Graush]

Three years ago on Prakith.



At the Prakith Sith Temple there was word that there was going to be an outing.

An outing to one of the many ancient Sith worlds. There was no information given as to what planet it was, other than that it was located within the Tingel Arm.

And tomorrow was the day.

A'sharad, as many times as he skipped his studies and his arrogance won out, stopping him from attending his scheduled lessons with his parent's attendants, he did learn.

How else would he be able to compare himself to those that were better than him?

How else would he be able to measure his own greatness?

How else will I be remembered?

His already large form, even at the age of sixteen leaned backwards and ducked over the crimson swing of the other darkly clad being. The crimson blade his opponent bore nearly cut a chunk out of his neck, but A'sharad knew better. He was trained from birth to be a Sith, not like this one who was beneath him. He was likely some upjumped slave from Nar Shaddaa, finding out he was gifted with the Force and delving into the core for more power. For the strength to kill those who had once wronged him.

The Hutts maybe, or perhaps those who had sold him to the Hutts?

He didn't know the species of the one before him, he didn't care either. The only distinct features was that he had a fat head and long arms.

Oh, and that he was dead.

With the duck from the White Assassin, A'sharad had moved into the open guard of his opponent, a horizontal slash cutting his opponent in half on the edge of the mountain. The scent of burning flesh met his nostrils as he kicked the former Acolyte's corpse off of the edge.

His golden gaze watched long enough to watch the body bounce off of a ledge a dozen or so metres down before falling into a crevice below to be hidden forever.

A'sharad, on the other hand, deactivated his lightsabre and hooked it onto his belt.

A minor disagreement.

Only A'sharad was going on this outing to the Tingel Arm.

Any other Acolyte would... Fall and die.

Or in this one's case.

Die and fall.

[member="Ballen-Ist"]

 

[Ballen-Ist]

The sun would set on the horizon, casting an orange light over the grassy plains and mountains of Prakith. Within the Sith temple, preparations for the trip to Korriban were subtly underway, supplies and the like being loaded onto a modernized Fury-class Imperial interceptor, which would be taking the group back and forth from the planets. Night fell upon Prakith, and many were asleep, excluding the Sith Pureblood who sat silently upon the floor of one of the many meditation chambers in the temple. The dark side flowed freely throughout the area, but there was an extra hint of death in the air, Ballen-Ist could sense it clearly.

The next day arrived, and the Sith Knight now stood alone in the hangars of the temple, the flight crew having just gone back into the large Fury-class. They were not permitted to enter the temples as they were considered sacred grounds, thus they had been required to stay overnight elsewhere, in the ship most likely. Regardless, everyone was ready, except the group of Acolytes that had volunteered to accompany Ballen-Ist on the journey.

All but one, for the Sith could clearly sense the presence of [member='A'sharad Graush'], a half-breed Acolyte who had received private training in the ways of the force. Ballen-Ist's plated arms would cross over his chest beneath the over cloak he wore, as he sensed the boy's approach, a small chuckle reverberating within the metallic helmet he wore.

 

[Asharad Graush]

There was an aura of arrogance to the way that he walked into the Hangar of the Temple.

But it wasn't overbearingly so. It was calm, tame, directed to a single goal as he eventually came to a stop approximately three metres away from the Sith Knight that was leading the outing. Far enough away so that he didn't take up his personal space, and close enough that when he spoke, presumably with his inside voice, he'd hear him normally.

But what he hadn't expected to hear was laughter.

He wore a black cloak in contrast to what he normally bore in his own homestead on Prakith. Curiosity rolled off of him, but it soon became irritation.

"No one else is coming."

Certainly his appearance wasn't funny? The Hybrid had killed for less.

[member="Ballen-Ist"]

 

[Ballen-Ist]

Ballen-Ist hadn't expected any less from [member='A'sharad Graush'], as he watched the young apprentice stride confidently into the hangar bay. "You are well versed in the traditional ways of the Sith," the Knight speculated, unable to remember the last time something like this had occurred in a One Sith facility. The Pureblood would have been proud of the Acolyte, if he wasn't a disgusting half-breed. Yet, the power he felt within him was considerable, and so he was tolerated. In fact, Ballen-Ist had heard a lot about A'sharad through whispers in the temple, even though the Acolyte was rarely seen there.

"Congratulations," he concluded for the moment, wondering exactly how A'sharad had done it. He was curious to know the gory details, though ultimately he knew it didn't matter. The other Acolytes were long dead, and they would not be remembered. The loading ramp had remained open for the time being, allowing the cloaked Sith to enter the Fury-class interceptor before it began its mechanised procedure to create an airtight seal upon closing.

The duo made their way along the corridor of the transport, arriving at the small command bridge that was occupied by a few Sith military officers. "We are ready for departure, set our course for Korriban," the Knight proclaimed, taking a seat in the command chair that overlooked the pilot and co-pilot. Turning his helmeted head slightly towards A'sharad, Ballen-Ist spoke briefly, "Have you ever been?"

 

[Asharad Graush]

Yes.

Yes.

And no.

Those were the answers that he would've said if he were an outspoken person.

Yes, he was well-versed in the traditional ways of the Sith. They inspired him to be what he was. To embrace what he was. Were the Ancient Dark Lords of the Sith impressed with the Hybrid's actions? Or did they condemn him as well for his tainted bloodline? These thoughts crossed his mind as he appraised the Sith Pureblood before him. Why should he care what those of the past thought of him? They had brought their own Empires into the ground for their prejudice and contempt for other species.

Only Sith like Darth Malgus and Darth Marr had realized the error of their ways.

Too late, however.

But who truly inspired him was Darth... That wasn't important now.

Climbing onto the Fury after the Knight, he shook his head after the question was asked of him.

"No. Coalition Forces still hold the planet." He said. That explained it all.

But they weren't an invasion force. They were a handful of Sith Military Officers, soldiers, and two Sith.

[member="Ballen-Ist"]

 

[Ballen-Ist]

"A relic of the past, and, unfortunately a shell of its former self," the Pureblood commented, a distinct tone of disappointment in his voice. The Silver Sanctum Coalition indeed still held the planet in their territory, no doubt desecrating it further than it already was by their mere presence. Korriban had once been a planet shrouded in mystery, full of ancient knowledge and undiscovered artifacts. Though knowledge could still be found on the planet, it would be nothing in comparison to what had been in store hundreds, even thousands of years ago.

The engines of the Fury-class Imperial interceptor roared to life, calming to a powerful hum as the transport cruised out of the temple hangar, and out towards the horizon. Watching through the transparisteel viewport, Ballen-Ist remained silent for the moment, awaiting the atmospheric breach that was soon to come. "Estimated time of arrival, captain?" the Sith questioned from his chair, the pilot pivoting around on his chair to face him. "A couple hours at the most, my lord." The man replied, a very subtle hint of venom in his tone along with the overly vague reply.

Over the years, the One Sith had begun to suffer a decline, resulting in low morale for some of those who served the regime. Some had grown angry with the Sith, betrayed by the venerable Lords who had left to take up their own projects. A traditionalist would've struck the pilot down there on the spot, but Ballen-Ist saw him as a valuable asset, for the time being. He wouldn't stop @A'sharad Graush from doing anything either, though he doubted the boy cared as well. "How long have you studied the Sith ways?" Ballen-Ist questioned the half-breed.

 

[Asharad Graush]

The hybrid took a seat as [member="Ballen-Ist"] described what the planet of Korriban had become.

A rising anger that was barely suppressed surface as he watched the ongoings of the military personnel on the ship. "Yes... One day the Sith will return to Korriban." He stated. Whether it was the truth or not... Well, that didn't matter. Not for a long time. What did matter was that he planned to be the first Sith to step on Korriban when it was reclaimed from the clutches of their enemies. From those that were likely trying to cleanse the Dark Side nexuses on the planet.

Even as a child he had felt the power of the Dark Side on Prakith.

Korriban had been the birthplace of the Sith Species.

Their species had been shrouded in the Dark Side since they first came to be.

He could only imagine the power he would feel there.

The One Sith were strong still, even if their power started to wane. As was necessary, he had learned the tenets, theories, anything that was needed to know about the first One Sith and this One Sith. They had started out as the same, but they had wandered off of their path some time go. There was infighting. The Lords of the One Sith grew tired of the mystery that was their Dark Lord of the Sith. And that was why A'sharad learned of the Ancient Dark Lords of the Sith. That was why he learned of all past Sith Nations and Orders. If they wanted to survive, they couldn't be the same.

What the Pureblood deemed was A'sharad's lack of care, was true. There was no need to kill the man. The traditional Sith of old were fools. Every time they surfaced, the Sith crushed the Republic and her allies for the first years, unbeatable. That is, until the infighting began. The One Sith was lasting longer than anyone had expected he imagined, but at its current state it wouldn't last. It couldn't.

Besides... It was clear the man held contempt for the Sith, but he followed his orders regardless. For now anyway. If there had been a betrayal... A clear sign of disrespect to his betters and those above him...

There were few problems the Force couldn't fix.

"From the age of two." Likely closer to three, but he didn't need to know that. He was one of many children his father and mother had, among dozens of half-siblings on account of his Father's... Early actions as a Sith. He was stronger than all of them. Not because he was the oldest, but because he was simply the best.

"Being Sith is my legacy."

When he spoke the words, he didn't look at anything, but his gaze looked intense, focused even. One would think that he was looking into the future, despite his lack of any actual foresight.

 

[Ballen-Ist]

After their brief exchange, Ballen-Ist noted the rising anger within [member='A'sharad Graush'] on the topic of ancient Sith world. The boy was no doubt a devote Sith, and the Knight had to commend him for this. "Indeed," he simply replied quietly, the amplifiers in his helmet increasing the volume of his voice. Ballen-Ist often wondered how his life would be if he had not grown up on Korriban. His earliest memories were ones of death, anger and pain, for the underground tribal clan he had grown up within had been rather barbaric, as were the Sith ways sometimes referred to.

However, there were finer aspects of the culture, ones more darkly sophisticated and justified by their views of existence. They had been in hiding for so long, cut off from the rest of the world, that they never bothered to change their ways or see a reason to. Being of the Kissai caste Ballen-Ist had studied much in his youth, however his own personal interest had drifted towards the art of combat. In the Sith society, the strongest survived, and so he had pushed himself to his very limits at a young age.

He did not doubt that A'sharad was very similar, though the boy still had much to learn. Shifting his gaze towards the hybrid, the Sith noted his distant gaze before speaking, "We have time, I would not mind a bit of sparring. Perhaps I will teach you some things afterwards." the Knight offered, still sitting back in the command chair.

 

[Asharad Graush]

If the boy had had a choice between being a member of the Massassi caste, or the Kissai caste, without a doubt he would've chosen the Massassi caste.

To be a famed Sith Warrior with the respect and power to crush entire armies singlehandedly was something that he had yet to fathom in his young age. Yes, he could read the stories of the ancient Dark Lords of the Sith that could do such a thing, but there was a difference between reading it, seeing it first hand, and actually performing the magnificent feat. But there was always the lessons that his father made sure he learned about the Kissai.

Not only were they the scholars, they were also Sorcerors. The lesson he learned was that the most powerful Sorceror could crush the strongest of Sith Warriors, no matter who they were. The Force was almighty, even reaching past the physical bonds of reality to strike swift death upon foes. Even if the Warriors tended to be the faces of the numerous Sith Empires of the past, it was the Sorcerors that could perform unimagineable things with the Force.

Grinding his teeth upon each other, he slowly nodded his head at the mention of a duel. He didn't speak much, not when a simple nod could convey his answers.

His size and form, the confidence he exuded as he walked made it clear what forms he favoured. If there had been a test given to [member="Ballen-Ist"] to determine which forms A'sharad used, he would likely pass. His size and clear strength, and the fluidity of his movements made it clear he focused upon the elegant form of Makashi, and the brutal counter-attacks of Djem So.