Return to darkness

[Gorteko Graye]

Among one of the asteroid belts in the outer rim, orbits a small space station, abandoned, unnamed. This is where they were to meet for the first time; having only communicated through the brief messages they had exchanged before. A ship found its way into one of the hangers of the station, and out of the ship stepped a man in black robes, Gorteko Graye, former sith.

'An intriguing place for a first meet, hopefully it won't be my last meeting.' Gorteko thought as he looked around the hanger. His ship was the only one he saw, but that's not to say the Sith Lord he was to meet wasn't already there. Wearily Gorteko made his way towards the main bay of the station. The room was large and cold, the lights flickered, not much was left in the room outside of some scattered chairs and tables; an eerie place to say the least. Gorteko hadn't worked with sith in quite some time, though he doesn't remember meetings being like this, though times could have changed and this could be normal now, he wouldn't know the difference either way. The man looked to his left and then to his right, seeing no one else in the room, he picked up one of chairs up off of the floor and placed it upright before sitting on it 'I guess I'll just wait here then...'

[member="Tirdarius"]

 

[Teynara Jeralyr]

[member="Gorteko Graye"]

An out of the way space station - hardly what many might have considered an appropriate place for a civilised meeting. The air within was cool, but not bitingly cold, the air scrubber thermal settings dropped down just sufficiently to make it uncomfortable within. The lights flickered on and off, sporadically, their brightness dimmed so that the illumination was poor, vision limited. And then there was the long, cold silence, stretching out endlessly. Not the tapping of footsteps, not the warm conversation of people sharing news or a joke, perhaps. Only the flickering glowstrips offered any noise at all, a soft intermittant buzzing that spoke of their troubles in a way most cruel.

Yes, perhaps they might have met somewhere more civilised: an upmarket tapcafe on a nearby world, perhaps out by a wide lake with the sun shining down upon them. They could have sat for drinks, exchanged polite greetings, engaged in meaningful conversation. But that wouldn't be so fitting for what we have come for, would it? This was to be a private meeting, certainly, but not simply that. You come here with expectations, but is it I who must meet them, or you? That was the question that sprang foremost to mind.

The Sith Lord had watched patiently as the younger man's craft landed in the docking bay, passing through the magnetic fields to land noisily upon the cold deck plate, the boarding ramp of the vessel lowering to allow this dark-robed adventurer to step onto the station that had been so carefully prepared for their encounter. Eventually. No Sith would simply walk in and sit down, though. First we must see if this one is wasting my time. If he did...perhaps there would be no leaving this place.

Tirdarius allowed the young man to get comfortable - as comfortable as might be possible on this frigid, dark, silent station. The manner in which the boy had taken his seat, the lazy way he waited, his presence in the Force perhaps suggestive of a little frustration at the absence of warm greeting...yes, here was one that expected more than he was being given. Perhaps as it should be.

Smiling faintly to himself, the Sith Lord stepped into that same room, his visage fully cloaked within an illusion, no true sign of him perceivable. No footstep, no rustle of cloth, no mist of my breath will betray me here. He was not yet ready to let the boy know that they would talk. He waved a hand towards the light control, shutting off the glowstrips with a negligent burst of Force energy, plunging the room into complete darkness. Had they been near a viewport, perhaps the light of the distant stars might have offered some illumination, but within the belly of this station, there was no such gift.

"To come seeking after a Sith is often a dangerous proposition," he remarked softly, projecting his voice in such a way that it would be difficult for his companion to pinpoint the location of the one using it. "Few do so willingly, unless they are prepared to take the risks involved. Are you so willing, to seek the death that might be yours, should things here go awry?", Tirdarius asked, perhaps intending it rhetorically.

"To be a Sith is to find oneself plunged into true darkness, deeper still than that in which you now sit," the Sith Lord continued, his tone urbane but cold, detached, carrying little in the way of affection or consideration for a fellow sentient. "It is said that the Jedi live within the light, bringing it to all corners of the Galaxy, seeking to banish darkness. Sith live within it, for we recognise that darkness is the only thing strong enough to hold true chaos at bay," he noted softly. "To be a Sith, we must serve. So, I ask you: what is it that you serve? What is your purpose here?"

 

[Gorteko Graye]

Gorteko had been sitting in the chair, his legs spread slightly with his elbows resting on his thighs, his hands folded slightly infront of his face which was angled toward the ground due to the downward tilt of his head. Though the position might have been strange, Gorteko had grown accustomed to meditating in such a way; the ever so delightful company he privously kept had less questions for him if maintained seated on a seat rather than the floor, as he quickly discovered, along side his lack of patience for being repeatedly interrupted. Improvised meditation was not the only thing he picked up from the cartel however, working with mercenaries also brought a weariness of people previously unknown to him.

Needless to say the sudden stop of the flickering lights drew the mans attention away from his meditation. With the sudden lack of light, came the sudden opening of the siths eyes, though he saw no more than a moment before when his eyes were closed. Standing up in possibly the most casual way he could have given the situation, the mans breaths were deep and deliberate, his mind clear, arms at his sides hanging loosely. A firm telekinetic grip already held the four blaster pistols within his robes, this action deriving more from instinct and habit than any deliberate attempt at defense. Should someone have had a close look at the sith throughout the current events one might have noticed a slight shift in his robes, indicating the moment the weapons were readied and that the had not yet been released.

As the voice filled the room Gorteko attempted to locate it's source, ultimately to no avail. 'Had he wanted me dead I would be so already. We both know that much, meaning that this is a test to be stated in the simplest way.' The sith thought in the back of his mind as he listens to what the voice had to say. "What do I serve?" Gorteko asked in response to the questions before answering them. "I serve the innocent, those with a flickering light who have yet to accept the darkness as the true vanguard against evil. My purpose is to become strong enough to change the galaxy for the better, through darkness. I suppose you could say my purpose is to gain victory through the power I hope to establish under those willing to teach me." The man explained before awaiting the response of the ominous voice from the black room.

 

[Teynara Jeralyr]

Someone has bothered to study the Sith Code, Tirdarius thought with a touch of amusement tainting the asperity of his thoughts, recognising the key words that the younger man had chosen to use in his response. Victory through Power. Such a nonsensical concept - one that the majority of Sith didn't understand anyway. They always imagine it to give them a mandate for action: that one must counter opposition and emerge victorious, striking down all who might stand in their way. The notion that it might offer a more peaceful interpretation rarely arose. And why would it? Liberated from the need to maintain a moral compass, they are free to do as they see fit, and kill all that stand in their way.

Yes, it was fair to say that there were days when the Sith Lord could not stand to be among his 'brethren'.

That was dangerous enough, but this one had that unfortunate corruption: the one that told him that it was possible to be a 'good' Sith. Oh, certainly it is possible for us to be moral beings, of conscience and compassion, but we are never truly good. We linger too long within the darkness for such to be true, and our ruthlessness will always leave us incapable of offering mercy when the moment calls for violence. It was a truism he had struggled with himself once: this idea that, sometimes, others simply had to die. How else might we preserve peace, if we allow all those that might seek to harm it the mercy of life?

"There are no innocents, boy," he remarked calmly, coldly, his voice remaining a soft whisper that nonetheless carried throughout the silence of the chamber in which they stood. Another truism I found hard to accept at first. My Master did her job well to rid me of that naivete. "There are only two states of being among the people of the galaxy: you are either the force that seeks to change, or you are the apathetic bystander that seeks to resist change. Both equally dangerous, all fools, ultimately."

Not that Tirdarius didn't sympathise with the boy's thoughts - how could he not? Any being with half a brain and an ounce of compassion would feel it a true difficulty to offer harm to those that posed no overt threat, might shy away from the notion of 'unnecessary' violence, certainly would hesitate to offer the ruthless response that any Sith naturally demanded. For we must be a force of nature within ourselves: the flood that will wash away all that opposes the flow, cleansing all that remains behind.

"You know the Sith, do you not? You'll know the rhetoric: the strong rule, the weak submit or perish at our hands. This, they see as the nature of things," he continued conversationally, pacing now up and down the chamber as he spoke, though he knew the boy would remain unaware of his movements, just as the Sith Lord intended. "This is a playground simplification: us against them, the gang mentality whereby we do not need to be right, merely stronger than those that are," he noted, offering a soft shake of his head, exasperation evident in his expression, or would have been, had the younger man been there to see it.

"Sith live within the darkness for we know no other way to confront it," the Sith noted calmly, his voice as placid and smooth as if they were simply exchanging thoughts on the weather. "To oppose it is to be washed away by the flood, but to ride along with it...perhaps then we might alter the flow. Consider it: by what right do Sith dare to rule? Those fools would tell you that rule is our destiny, for we have the power to vanquish those who might seek our overthrow." Such foolishness, is it not? Let us play King of the Hill, but with the lives of the players used as the stakes.

"The first responsibility of those in power is to serve the needs of those who are not," Tirdarius informed thge other, offering a lesson he had found was hard-learned, compared to many. "We offer them guidance, the rule of law, protection against those that would shatter their lives with death, oppression, slavery." Hard to say which might be worse, all things considered. "This is why Sith must be strong: there are always those who seek to grow fat on the misery of others, and who will do their damndest to see to it that they, above all, rise in wealth and prestige, caring not who is harmed by it. How can we oppose them if not to meet their strength with ours?"

And there it was: the simple key to Sith doctrine that Tirdarius often felt was missing among the others. Jedi avoid rule because they are not prepared to take the responsibility that comes with power: they exist to enforce the status quo, and allow many powers to balance precariously. The Sith were not trained to have those illusions: if beings sought to compromise the ordered peace of the Galaxy, their fates would be less than merciful. A lesson to them, and an example set to all others - that much is our way.

"The true evil you speak of is the chaos that rules when the strong do not stand to oppose it," he persisted, circling the boy in a predatory fashion, hands clasped behind his back, his strides becoming longer and more heated as he sought to underline his point. "Peace is a lie; there is only passion: the passions of others, their greed, their ambitions, their desires. Left unchecked, fragile peace frays completely and vanishes. It is the duty of the Sith to put an end to this childishness."

The Sith Lord stopped now in his pacing, coming to a halt, facing the boy, though he doubtless did not know it. "Now, ask yourself: is this the fate you seek to embrace for yourself?"

[member="Gorteko Graye"]

 

[Gorteko Graye]

No innocents? The simple notion was hard for Gorteko to understand. Surely innocence must exist if there is such a thing as corruption; in the same way that darkness proves the existence of light. For without light, things wouldn't be referred to as dark, but as just being. However the argument of this particular spectrum must be saved for another day, it was not exactly an appropriate time at the moment. Alas during the short time spent pondering the sith had released his grip upon his weapons, not to say his guard was down, simply that he didn't feel quite as threatened at this point as compared to moments ago.

And what was power to this acolyte? The sith thought on this with a smirk, how amusing after all that their thoughts on the matter aligned so well. For his sole purpose in seeking out the sith was for power, falling into the darkness so that he might combat it. However what his new mentor was saying about the tide of the dark, that was a point of view that the sith had not thought of before but certainly agreed with. Perhaps oposing the tide is where I've been making my mistakes? How many conflicts have I been forced to avoid because I couldn't fight the current; too many at least. Perhaps if I had been inside the flow of the darkness I battled, rather than fighting it I could have persuaded its course? Who's to tell, but for certain if I leave the place with nothing else, I will take that lesson...

As far as ruling went, the acolyte had never thought much on it. Having never had a desire to rule he never truely cared what those who did rule did. I can see now that my viewpoint on the galaxy has been quite narrow. I have so much to learn, not just techniques, but about the workings of the Galaxy. How interesting it was that this sith came to this place to further his power for personal means of combating the darkness, but instead found purpose inside that same darkness. To change the tide from within, to protect those from harm who need not be hurt. Perhaps to even eventually rule the tide and lead the darkness itself. But that was nothing to be thought of for a long time.

"I must admit, I did have doubts upon my arrival." Gorteko started, taking a pause as if to gather his thoughts, though he already knew what he wanted to say. "However it is clearly evident that I have much to learn, and you have much to teach me. I see no other fate that will suite such as this, so yes, I will embrace it wholeheartedly." With that being said, the sith knelt to the ground on his right knee, his left foot placed firmly as it supported his forearm which was pressed against his thigh. His right arm hung loose to his side and his head was bowed as he awaited his new master to acknowledge him as an apprentice.

[member="Tirdarius"]

 

[Teynara Jeralyr]

[member="Gorteko Graye"]

The reluctance was palpable, even in the concealing darkness that ensured that neither of them might read the body language of the other. All things hide in darkness, but nothing can be obscured from the Force. He'd always rather liked that irony. That the boy wasn't entirely willing to agree with what the Sith Lord had said was hardly surprising: had not the older man had decades to experience those things which had served to inform his beliefs and assertions. And I lost more than my fair share to achieve that understanding. What Silencia had taken from him had been the very least of it, as she had known at the time.

Tirdarius hardly minded that this student was a reluctant customer: those that were not were the ones who ultimately fell the corrupting influences that Sith ideology offered. The temptation of power absent moral oversight is always tempting to those who seek to be released from their responsibilities. In truth, he'd been forced to kill more than a few Sith that acted in this form: better a swift death at his hands than to allow them to unleash their absurdity upon a Galaxy that desperately needed something more. And I won't allow that, not while it's in my power to prevent it.

Truth be told, if this young man proved to be the type to seek out power so readily, his corpse would end up rotting in this cold tomb.

He'd passed his first test, though, and that was no small thing. Having the courage to come here in the first place was no small thing, but that was irrelevant to a Sith like Tirdarius. Courage comes in many forms, and it is the strength to hold to your principles when challenged that is truly admirable. The boy had a strong moral centre, or so he said, and the Sith Lord had no reason to think otherwise. Why else would he seek me out? Tirdarius wasn't done yet, though - there was far more to be done.

"You should not expect traditional training from me, boy," he intoned softly, his voice a touch reflective, calmer than most Sith would care for. "To teach you technique is useless without the understanding of how to use it - power absent discipline is a recipe for abuse," he continued, contemplative tone still present, but now more authoritative and direct: a teacher lecturing a student. "If you sought power for it's own sake, you would be unsuitable to be a Sith: you would be a monster, a weapon to be directed at whatever needed to be destroyed or suppressed."

And there are far too many of those among my people, he thought with a gentle note of exasperation tinging his reflections. It was the Sith way now: better to spread fear and engage in violence than try to rule with civility and compassion. That requires that we try to convince and persuade. Easier to simply subjugate or destroy. Very childish, but it was the mood pervading the Sith as a whole now.

"First, you should show me what you have learned," the Sith Lord continued. "We can only begin when we know what has to be done." He waved a negligent hand, the lighting in the room flickering on suddenly, the illumination raising just enough to make the younger man visible. "Use whatever platform you wish - I shall trust to your sense of creativity."

 

[Gorteko Graye]

Truth be told Gorteko was not well versed in force abilities, as he only ever had actually training in the movement and control of objects through the force. Not to say that during his time in the Cartel he neglected training, he honed his power in every way he could. Learning new ways to adapt his ability to help him both in and out of combat. One might say that because this was the only aspect of the force that he used, his adeptness in its use far surpassed that of any of his peers, or people considered to be on the same level of power as he was.

'A demonstration? Well I suppose that makes sense, as he said; he won't know where to start if he doesn't know where to go.' The man thought to himself as he rose from his knee back up to his feet after the lights began to once again flicker. '"Very well then master, let us find out where we'll begin then. However I feel I must note before we start that I've never been very proficient in many aspects of the force. I really only control one ability as it stands now, while I am capable of learning more I simply haven't had the means." Gorteko said nonchalantly as though talking about the weather; he felt no embarrassment in his lack of knowledge, after all, that is why one would seek a master.

The sith closed his eyes and concentrated, channeling the force throughout his body, his stance solid, legs spread shoulder width, his arms hung at his sides. After a moment his robes rustled, the blaster pistols concealed inside slowly revealing themselves as the floated away toward the air above Gorteko, forming a horizontal line above him. The man then opened his eyes and turned around, facing the chair he had been meditating in; the four weapons still floating above him. It was at this point that his right arm would begin to move, upwards in a sweeping motion towards the chair, sending it flying backwards across the room, simultaneously firing the weapons twice each in order from his left to right, each shot hitting the chair before what was left of it crashed against the wall, riddled with holes.

Without diverting his attention Gorteko reached his arms away from his body, clenching his fists before bring them back across his body. As the man did this, a table at each end of the room began to fly across towards the other side. While this event was occurring the blasters fired in pairs in sequence at the flying tables, left to right at the table on the right and right to left at the table on the left. Merely a moment, not even a second long, after the forth shot hit each table, they crashed into each other. Without skipping a beat the man reached his arms forward, then pulled them back to his body, bringing with them, one of the tables that had just hit the ground. Spinning to his left, Gorteko drew both of his lightsabers, one from his hip, the other that was concealed inside the left sleeve of his robes. Activating his weapons in an upward slice so that rather than slamming into the man, the table was sliced into two halves, each of which skidded to a halt just past the man.

At this time the sith deactivated his lightsabers, their red glow fading away back into their hits. He then put away his weapons, the blasters floating back into their positions in his robes, his lightsabers manually placed back where they were held as well. By this point Gorteko's breathing had become heavier, more deliberate; controlling so much at once took its toll on him, not that he couldn't go on longer, just that he preferred not to drain himself in a demonstration, especially if his training was about to begin. "Well then master..." The young sith began "What's the verdict?" He asked the question as more of a notice that he had completed what he wanted to, rather than actually desiring an answer, though he would not be displeased by one, should it be given to him.

[member="Tirdarius"]

 

[Teynara Jeralyr]

[member="Gorteko Graye"]

Observing impassively as blasters rose from their place of concealment, Tirdarius' eyebrows raised slightly, perhaps a matter of surprise, perhaps simple disdain. He had never fired a blaster himself and never intended to: they were a weapon of convenience, and there was nothing of that in the way of the Sith, as far as he was concerned. Nonetheless, it was not this that he intended to observe here: the focus was upon the younger man's abilities and what he might need of someone like the Sith Lord. At least he has some skill, the Sith reflected calmly.

Shot after shot rang out, leaving the atmosphere with an acrid smell of ozone tainting the stale recycled air, loud blasts punctuating the deafening silence, red flashes of light offering a moment of blinding glare that soon faded into nothingness. It was an impressive display of control, perhaps honed over many months or years of practice. This was something that the younger man had done before, clearly: no being would be capable of such precision for an action taken with no prior preparation. That alone spoke volumes of what this one had experienced in the course of his training thus far.

"You demean yourself with such weapon choices," he remarked cooly as the blasters returned themselves to the Acolyte's coat. A pair of lightsabers emerged now, red blades extending and flashing out in the dim light, cutting into the table that had rested there so solidly but a moment ago. "No doubt the others have told you that violence is a Sith's inheritance, that which we breath with each moment?" The Sith Lord shook his head, though he knew the boy would not see it. "Absurdity. If we take life, it must be a certain kill, but it is no small thing. To steal it in such an...undignified manner. It demeans both you and the one you strike down."

He exhaled a soft breath, relaxing his shoulders a little as he released his grip upon the swirling energies that he had gathered about him, removing that cloak of energy and relinquishing the concealment that had shadowed him from the other being's eyes. Clothed in soft dark fabric, tunic and trousers covered by a long draping outer robe that extended from shoulder to ankle, slightly shorter than the other man, though by little enough, Tirdarius stood spine-straight, grey-eyed stare directly firmly upon this younger counterpart. His mouth formed a firm line, slightly short of a frown, little warmth offered by his expression.

"You take life only because you must, boy," he instructed the other, now moving to pace softly, back and forth, as was his habit when talking in reflective tone. "We are not mindless butchers, but servants of a larger plan. When opposed, we teach. When threatened, we humble. We kill only if death is the only lesson left to be taught - but it is never the right option. Merely the easiest."

No doubt that placed him in a minority among the Sith, but he cared not. Truth be told, the vast majority of the kills he had made throughout his lifetime had been among the Sith themselves: removing the sadists, pruning those who felt that their sole aspiration was to trample others into misery, oppression and death. Our enemy is the barbarism that turns our ordered lives into true chaos. He would do whatever he had to in the face of such a thing.

"If you must kill, look into the eyes of the one you must strike down," he continued, coming to a stop and turning once more to face the boy. "You owe them that: if you must take away the gift of their life, they should at least understand that it is nothing personal. Our lives as Sith require sacrifice: each life we take must cost us. A blaster is the toy of one who cares little about those lives, the tool of one not willing to make that sacrifice, unwilling to pay that cost."

 

[Gorteko Graye]

[SIZE=9pt]As the acolyte listened to his master criticize his methods he might have seemed slightly confused, when in all actuality, he was very confused. To put it simply, he didn't quite understand how his master could be so closed minded. Perhaps his viewpoints were embedded in him through his years of experience, or rather, certain experiences throughout the years. However it was not for the sith to worry about, he had other matters to concern himself with, like convincing his master that his methods were sound and solid.[/SIZE]

[SIZE=9pt]"I fear I am obligated to disagree with you master. I believe I have already explained my intent, I seek not mindless violence, but rather greatness through power. This style of combat is not intended to take lives, unless necessary. Not only does this style decrease casualties in battle, rather than executing opponents, one would be able to maim, or immobilize them. This not only prevents deaths but allows for the capture of possible intel or defectors."[/SIZE][SIZE=9pt] As the young sith explained his point one might notice that his breathing had become much more regulated. "I do however, recognize your point master; and if it is your desire that I no longer use such weapons, then I shall put them down." While Gorteko did not like the idea of having to find a whole new fighting style, he understood that starting anew was more preferable to not advancing in anything outside of what he already knows.[/SIZE]

'Even if I put down the blasters, there are plenty of other ways to use my talent' The man thought to himself. By this time his arms were behind his back, hands together on his lower back. He continued to ponder his options as he awaited his masters response. How he would use his abilities without the use of blaster, he also wonder what his master would be teaching him, expanding his knowledge of the force in any aspect would be a great help to him.

[member="Tirdarius"]

 

[Teynara Jeralyr]

[member="Gorteko Graye"]

Waving a hand dismissively, Tirdarius turned his back on the other man, mildly exasperated by the response he had received. Perhaps he lacks the ruthlessness to be Sith, or the compassion to understand the purpose of battle. It was a strange thing, he knew, to consider combat in a context other than to seek death or destruction, but the Sith were too quick to initiate violence with little thought for the aftermath, provided they emerged victorious. And, to a Sith, what alternative is there? He could only marvel at the sheer volume of lives lost through such foolish closed-mindedness.

That the boy was prepared to entertain alternatives was encouraging - the notion of simply maiming or disabling an adversary rather than eliminating him suggested that he perhaps found value in the living, rather than in death. But it also suggests that he may lack the ruthlessness required to do what must be done, when the moment arises when one must not stay their hand, but rather remove an obstacle with quick and merciful death.

"If you seek to achieve mastery of that kind, you must learn to end a battle without violence, lad," he remarked cooly, noting that it was a fairly unique view among the Sith. "All living beings have their uses: whether as faithful servants, zealots who might be turned to your cause or, at worst, pawns who have but one function, which is to die when you require it, rather than when they foolishly seek it." It was a cold view, he knew this, but one that did not envision the deaths of all who were 'less worthy' than the Sith tended to believe. Simply because one is weaker than ourselves does not make them a target nor a victim. It makes them a being to empower, a potential ally that must only be given opportunity to prove their worth.

"Learning from me requires that you put aside what you have been taught before, and seeking to take a longer view," the Sith Lord observed in his soft tones. "Some of our kind are executors, inquisitors: men and women sent into the field to execute a plan. A small handful are tacticians, strategists, those who make the plans that the others enact." He paused for a moment, wondering how best to articulate this last approach. "Finally, you have the smallest minority: those who craft a vision, manipulate every piece on the board, and weave a tapestry with elements drawn from every corner of our reach. That is what you must learn."

He remembered his own lessons: Silencia noting the true insanity that had pervaded the Sith ranks as person after person fell to the corruption that seeped insidiously through the ranks: not the Dark Side alone, but the simple inane disregard for the grand plan. Violence is what they seek, for it rewards them with a sense of superiority that few other things can match. Was it not glorious to do battle with a powerful enemy and best them? Did that not demonstrate power? All frivolous vanity, he remembered. Such does not serve a vision of a Galaxy that serves it's citizenry, one that enforces a deep unbreakable peace. It violates it, destroys it more wholeheartedly than any other force. Both of them had killed their fellow Sith for such idiocy: all that mattered was a stable Galaxy that was threatened neither by complacency of the Republic nor of the sadism and psychosis of those Sith incapable of walking the disciplined path laid before them.

"Violence must be a tool in your arsenal, undoubtedly, but by far the least of it," Tirdarius continued, folding his arms across his chest. "To kill, to maim, to injure: these are the tactics of the schoolyard bully, he who must subjugate and rule by fear in order to feel safe and strong." The Sith shook his head once more, once more exasperated by the simple idiocy that the others followed in failing to recognise this for themselves. "You won't learn to kill from me: you'll learn mercy, compassion, the ruthlessness needed of one who would rule, and the ability to play the game that will place us there. Any fool can commit needless murder. And I do not teach fools."

 

[Gorteko Graye]

"I am no such fool, I assure you master." Gorteko stated bluntly after his teachers speech. He almost never had the intentions to end lives, though it was always a reliable secondary option should his plans ever go awry; which in the case of mercenary work, was nearly always. Although the acolyte had more than a few kills under his belt, he never enjoyed the act; he abhorred the idea of putting someone though the same pain he felt when he lost his parents. The senseless killing that drove him to seek out the empire in the first place, the pain that made him seek the strength to prevent that feeling from affecting other people now. Gorteko of course, no longer felt such a thing. having been though what he had in his life, that pain was nothing more than a distant memory.

One might notice that, for a moment, the sith felt his loss again, however brief that moment might have been. Although it did little to affect his demeanor, as he seemed more interested in the future than the past. "And who would you have me rule master, moreover, who would even follow me?" While the young man had many questions, this was the only one that he sought an answer to at the moment. After all, he was only an acolyte by most standards, why would anyone even listen to him, let alone be ruled by him. It seemed more reasonable that he should learn things to take him up the ladder, the chain of command, rather than what to do at the top. Perhaps though, the sith misunderstood what his master was telling him, perhaps this was all for the express purpose of climbing that very ladder; rising in political power rather than physical power.

Such things had always been a mystery to the young man, politics that is. How words could end more lives than any weapon, how they could turn brother against one another, or form bonds between ancient foes. Speeches and agreements could grant as much, or more strength as an extra blaster in his coat. He still had much to learn about the universe and it's workings, but that was after all, why he was here.

[member="Tirdarius"]

 

[Teynara Jeralyr]

[member="Gorteko Graye"]

A foolish question from the outset. A soft sigh escaped his lips as he considered the boy before him. Yes, he has some control, some skill with the Force, but much naivete that must be shed before he can truly consider himself a Sith, Tirdarius mused, noting that the younger man's words were somewhat at odds with his attitude. Is it humility or insecurity there?, he wondered, grey eyes narrowing in thought. That this one understood his place was appropriate, but he seemed to believe this a hindrance more than an opportunity.

"Beings follow those who acknowledge their own inner strength, and can inspire them into believing that the same is possible within themselves," the Sith Lord said in response, offering the slightest of shrugs, as if to call it irrelevant. "We follow those that offer us vision, that give us reason to imagine that we might get somewhere under their leadership. Finally, there comes the simple understanding: those who follow are those who wish to be led," he noted softly. It wasn't pedanticism there: it was a simple rule he had always known to be true. "A follower is one who is receptive to the wisdom or direction set by another. Who should you rule? Those who would choose to follow."

It was a simple answer, in some respects, but he also knew that there was always more to it than he was inclined to articulate. The nature of the Sith dictates that we follow the strongest among us, those with a vision to make us believe in a better world, the ones that are capable of seeing past the limitations of the present and instead look to the future. It wasn't enough to merely be powerful: that was the very least of the gifts a Sith required. What you need, boy, is a vision of what you might do if you do indeed come to make others follow you, and believe in you, Tirdarius told him silently.

Reaching into one of the pockets sewn carefully into his robes, the Sith pulled out a small holoprojector, the portable type that carried only sufficient memory to contain a very select amount of data. He tossed it onto the floor, the projector activating on contact with the metal deck plates at their feet, illuminating the room with a soft shimmering blue light. Appearing before them, a semi-transparent image shimmered into view, showing a large-scale map of the Galaxy, different segments illuminated in various colours, each representing a faction maintaining control of the systems it covered: the Sith, the Hutt Cartel, the Mandalorians, the various Jedi factions at work, and so on. It was a map that constantly fluctuated, fed information by the central computer aboard his ship, with flaring yellow lines signalling conflict zones, of which there were many.

"See now, the Galaxy as we understand it: fractured, split among many different groups, each with their own agenda," he said, gesturing towards the map. "How clever we are, to divide so many thousands of systems between so few groups." The Sith Lord shook his head, frustration evident in his expression now. "The Sith, controlling the Core and so many of the planets surrounding it, so many of our ancient homeworlds held now by those religious fanatics, the Primeval."

Pointing at other points on the map, he made a note to highlight particular sections as he spoke. "Here, the Jedi, sitting out towards the Outer Rim and extending inwards," he observed, the Sanctum's operations centred on Voss but spreading tendrils out to many key worlds in that section of the Galaxy. "Insulated from the Sith by the Mandalorians, and the Hutts, and the Republic, of course." There were other important groups that held membership of many worlds, of course, but the key players were all there for the younger man to observe, as he wanted. A simple wave of his hand on the holoprojector would focus in on a given sector or even planetary system, if he wished it.

"So, take control here," Tirdarius instructed. "Assume yourself in control of the Sith at this time: what would your next move be? What would your intentions be towards the rest of the Galaxy? What will this map look like if your wishes are fulfilled?"

 

[Gorteko Graye]

[SIZE=9pt]Gorteko listened to everything his master said, taking it all in as he still had much to learn. [/SIZE][SIZE=9pt]'I see, it's not about leading, but rather inspiring. No one chooses their followers, their followers make the decision to be lead.'[/SIZE] [SIZE=9pt]The man thought for a moment before a holoprojector fell to the floor and revealed a map of the galaxy. The spectrum of colors making it easy for him to tell the factions apart. Of course his masters explanation helped as well. [/SIZE][SIZE=9pt]'What would I do if I was in control? I never thought about that, after all why would I ever be in control, although...'[/SIZE]

[SIZE=9pt]"I think that if I were to lead the sith, I would begin with crushing the republic." [/SIZE][SIZE=9pt]It seemed to make sense after all; one of their oldest rivals so close to their borders, something had to be done about them. Ideally they'd be able to sort things out peacefully, however with how many sith feel about peaceful negotiations, it could end terribly for the sith. [/SIZE][SIZE=9pt]"Perhaps convincing the Techno Union to attack and pull republic forces away from our border leaving them more [/SIZE]vulnerable[SIZE=9pt] to attack. [/SIZE]Additionally[SIZE=9pt] forcing our [/SIZE]opponent[SIZE=9pt] to fight a two front war would minimize casualties on our side."[/SIZE][SIZE=9pt] It was at this time that the sith would approach the map by a few paces, and reach his hand out and point to a planet in the blue part of the map. [/SIZE][SIZE=9pt]"If the union attacks the planet of Katarr, that would force the republic to send an equal or higher level fighting force to go defend it. which would leave Alderaan open, or at the very least, weakened so the we can take that. Then both we and the Union could use those planets as staging points for a further invasion into Republic space. This is all assuming that the Republic doesn't [/SIZE]receive[SIZE=9pt] help in similar means to the way that we would be using the Union. Everything past that would just be a matter of expanding our influence toward the edge of the galaxy near where we are."[/SIZE][SIZE=9pt] [/SIZE]

Gorteko then stepped back away from the map although he knew that this plan was not perfect, it was on the spot and would need many reforms, and possibly even needed to be scrapped entirely. Although he also knew that his first reaction would tell his master a lot about how he would make split second decisions on the battlefield. While his answer may not have been the best, it did seem to at least be an answer, and sometimes that's what makes the difference; just having an answer whether its the best one or not.

As he awaited his masters evaluation Gorteko wondered how long they would be on this station, how long until his first missions, and what they would be like. He thought about how he would fight without using the blasters that had saved him so many times before, what new techniques he would learn, how he would use them. All the while doing his best to conceal his wandering mind in the brief moment of silence that they were experiencing.

[member="Tirdarius"]