The Dark Apprentice

[Juno Wren]

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-- Private Sector of the Capital City of Rattatak​

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The establishment Varg'are'csapla found himself in was of great repute and considerable prestige, for its decor was spotless and state-of-the-art, and its veranda offered a breathtaking view of the planets jagged, red mountains and hauntingly beautiful wastes. It's furnishing blurred the line between opulence and functionality, and outside the great window spanning the back wall, the sun rested at the highest point on the horizon, mercilessly beating down on the planet, like so many fiery fists. Varg'are'csapla sat at a table to the rear of the room, eyes locked on the setting outside the window.

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'Garec', as he had taken to calling himself, could still see his uncle's frowning face in the reflection of his tall glass of varanta nectar. The young Admiral had told his uncle, quite suddenly, that he was taking some time off from leading the fleet, and that Malek, aforementioned uncle, would resume command of the Armada until his return. His decision couldn't have come at a worse time. Fresh on the heels of their victory at Csilla, both Jun Nedo and Emperor Kahoshi had made many demands on his precious time to coordinate further strikes against the Klaxxi menace. Malek would have to sit in on those meeting now. Garec didn't care to talk with either of them, burgeoning respect not withholding.

That's not to say he didn't want to eradicate the Klaxxi. He merely knew that it would take considerable time to build a fleet large enough to truly challenge them. He had glimpsed merely a fraction of their interactions in the Lost Sectors in the far unknown regions, and what he'd seen was disheartening. They would need thousands of star destroyers and a tens of thousands of starfighters to compete with the massive Klaxxi hosts. Or, he, Garec, would have to learn to manipulate his connection to the Force and master its empowering energies.

It was for that that he'd come to Rattatak. He'd put out feelers, sent Chiss agents to stir and prod the information dins of the underworld and discover a willing and worthy tutor in the ways of the Force. He needed a true Master to instruct him, for his pride would allow nothing less. His efforts had born fruit, for now he sat in waiting for the famed Admiral Lussk after arranging a meeting, a man he'd studied and even emulated since returning to the Chiss Ascendancy. He'd mimicked some of the great Admiral's tactics during the battle above Csilla to great effect, and now, he would possibly learn from him how to harness the power coursing through his bones and his blood.

He smiled into the cup, lips twisting into a sardonic smile. He would harness that power, and he would kill any and all who stood in his way on his journey to greatness. The universe would learn the name Garec.

They would learn it, they would respect it...

And they would fear it.

@[member="Dranok Lussk"]​

 

[Judas of Vahl]

A man was waiting for the Lord Admiral. Not just any man, a man that whose race bore the likes of Grand Admiral Thrawn. The Chiss, they were called, were quite possibly one of the most isolated and military-induced races across the galaxy and for that reason, they have succeeded. Succeeded in tactics, cunning, and willpower, all great virtues that Lord Admiral Dranok Lussk admired. He himself was a man of honor and discipline yet bearing the name of an order that strove for nothing more than death and destruction. The Sith, the molders of Dranok's entire life to breed him into a killer. Slaughtering was his art and he created several masterpieces. The man destroyed aimlessly until his revelation that his earlier pursuits in life had bore him a child. A daughter named Kara Vi'dreya.

And so his life went on with service in the Fringe. His actions won them many a planet, his fleet conquering worlds and his legions stomping out any resistance to the new regimes he erected. It wasn't a iron-fisted dictatorship as most assumed, but a monarchy. Adequate civil and political rights were set in stone and the people were happy. There was an art to warfare and politics, most of whom spoke of themselves using these terms ended in failure. They were unprofessional, heathens of the arts. Such individuals were not fit to lead. Yet today, Dranok would be taking one such man who was very much like himself, and would teach him in the arts of war and harnessing his full potential.

A long stride into the building led him quickly to the counter where all he needed to do was smile to the clerk, who hurriedly stammered and jammed the button to open the doors leading to the elevator. A pair of legionnaires flanked him, but he merely waved them off to await for him at the front desk. The lift up was uneventful, a nice tune of a music giving the establishment a serene feel. Finally, the elevator's doors opened to reveal one of his many outlooks upon his world. Vast windows occupied the outer edges of the suite, fine furniture taking up space around the estate. At the far end of the little palace sat a lone, blue-skinned figure gazing out at his world. Garec, Prince Garec. He thought, flicking his golden eyes over the man's figure before stepping out of the lift and crossing the room to a halfway point before halting.

"All warfare is based on deception." He called out to the figure. Only time would tell if this Prince was worthy.

Nice font, btw @[member="Prince Garec"]​

 

[Juno Wren]

"All warfare is based on deception."​

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Garec stood in one smooth movement upon Dranok's entrance, his face revealing nothing of his feelings. Long legs clad in slim black slacks strode purposefully across the room, the thud of his boots against the durasteel floor panels loud in the silence; when he found himself standing before the infamous Admiral, he had to look down to catch his eye. Dranok wasn't a small man, but his height was nothing compared to Garec's. Lussk's sheer presence more than made up for the discrepancy in height, however, and Garec fought to keep his satisfaction from showing. This man... he was everything Garec had hoped he would be, judging by appearances and feelings. He was but a novice in the ways of the Force, but he recognized power when he saw it.

When he felt it.

"Hence," the young Chiss returned, something like a smile playing at the corner of his mouth, "when we are able to attack, we must seem unable; when using our forces, we must appear inactive; when we are near, we must make the enemy believe we are far away; when far away, we must make him believe we are near." He had graduated at the top of his class at the Chiss Naval academy at the tender age of twelve, had led campaigns in the Unknown Regions at sixteen; he knew war intimately...

But still not so intimately as the man standing before him.

"It is a pleasure to finally meet you, Admiral." Surprisingly enough, he meant it. "I appreciate you meeting with me so promptly -- I imagine a man such as yourself has many demands upon his time." It was ingrained in him to observe the pleasantries inherent with meeting powerful individuals, but he hadn't come to Rattatak to flatter the man, however true his words were -- he'd come here to learn, to seize the power waiting just beyond his fingertips. "Your reputation precedes you."

@[member="Dranok Lussk"]​

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Thanks! Lol; it's been documented that when reading blocks of text, serif texts are better than sans serif texts. That's why all novels are in some form of Georgia, Times New Roman, or Garamond fonts, just to name a few.​

 

[Judas of Vahl]

From a distance, the red-eyed form had appeared to be the equal height, if not slightly taller, than Dranok. He was wrong, a rare occasion on his part. Still, the white-uniformed Lord Admiral boasted a more than adequate physique. Though he was assumed to be a desk Admiral, physically weak and puny, he particularly enjoyed the fact that he would even outmatch some of his own legionnaires from the 119th. Age 31, he was still as fit as he was when he first entered the Carida Academy, the bullying even pushed him harder to become better than them. Being the best, garnering power and strength, and conquering were the only desires that had been coursing through the man's veins for his entire life. Warfare, power, and knowledge were the sole reasons he existed. And as with a fine sword, would become honed in its profession of combat and become the superior weapon.

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"Hence, when we are able to attack, we must seem unable; when using our forces, we must appear inactive; when we are near, we must make the enemy believe we are far away; when far away, we must make him believe we are near."​

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The Lord Admiral nodded in reply. "It seems you've acquainted yourself with many top-notch teachings. Most remarkable." He allowed his own curvature of the lips to produce a predatory demeanor that worked in conjunction with his golden-hued irises. "How do you do this?" He asked himself, beginning his usual parade-ground pacing. "With illusions, tactical dispositions, distractions, and unconventional fighting." The wolfish smile grew larger.

"It is a pleasure to finally meet you, Admiral. I appreciate you meeting with me so promptly -- I imagine a man such as yourself has many demands upon his time.​

Your reputation precedes you."​

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At the beginning of the young Chiss's sentence, he gave a curt nod of the head in respect before closing the distance between them, his hand extending to him. His hands, were tools; and with use, scar. The peppering of scars and cuts upon his fingers were not from war, but from his days as a young Sith adept, spending his days cooped up in the bellows of massive temples and libraries, devoting his existence to learning the dark arts. In a moment, his thought pattern returned to the topic at hand. Dranok just had to give a light chuckle at the man's final statement.

"A reputation in this profession is a double-edged sword. It strikes fear and respect into many, and offers our knowledge to our opponents, who then study to defeat us."

@[member="Prince Garec"]​

 

[Juno Wren]

Illusions? Real illusions, or mere misdirection? Garec hadn't known the Force was capable of such, if that's what Dranok meant. Instead of asking for clarification, however, he maintained his silence, confident that the matter would be highlighted upon in the future. Such possibilities... his red eyes glittered with silent delight. All his successes had come with him only vaguely aware of the Force, of its sibilant whispers and guiding touch. He could do great things with the Force as his weapon.

Great things... and terrible things.

"A reputation in this profession is a double-edged sword. It strikes fear and respect into many, and offers our knowledge to our opponents, who then study to defeat us."​

"And for that very reason, one must always seek to grow and evolve; develop new tactics, new strategies, new approaches. We must be both as changeable as sand, shifting beneath a high wind, and as immovable as a mountain in the face of vicious storm. Some men have the strength to bear the weight of their reputation -- I believe you are such a man." I settled back into my chair and folded my arms across my lap. "I presume you know why I've asked to meet you?" If I could feel his power in the Force, then certainly he could feel mind. I had no experience with dampening my presence.

@[member="Dranok Lussk"]​

 

[Judas of Vahl]

The glistening eyes of the young man that shimmered at Dranok's words gave him the impression that he was indeed worthy. Just that slight fragment of his personality that had leaked through made him worthy. It displayed his observation skills, his mental gears already churning out new plots and plans whilst maintain a mere conversation with another professional in the arts of war.

"And for that very reason, one must always seek to grow and evolve; develop new tactics, new strategies, new approaches. We must be both as changeable as sand, shifting beneath a high wind, and as immovable as a mountain in the face of vicious storm. Some men have the strength to bear the weight of their reputation -- I believe you are such a man."​

"I presume you know why I've asked to meet you?"​

The Lord Admiral gave a polite chuckle. "Of course I do, I did the same thing many years ago." Indeed he did. After his desertion from the Remnant, at 22 years old, soon found himself under the banner of the Imperials once again. This time, he was one of the mystic Force wielders known as the Sith. He was beaten, trained, and bred into a fighting weapon. That was what he was back then, a finely made sword to be used by his superiors. Until he got smarter, called upon his prior military knowledge and conquered. Oh it was fun, but his mindset changed when he made the discovery of having a family. Priorities changed and he became more honorable so to speak.

But now he was leading a legacy. He created major forces in the galaxy. The Rattatak Military Academy was an institution of his creation, breeding more military strategists, politicians, and leaders of the new galaxy. Only the top tier individuals such as Prince Garec were permitted to train directly under the Lord Admiral. This one wanted to lean illusions, mind control techniques, and summonings. He could see it in his crimson eyes, just as Garec could see it in his own golden irises.

"Woyunoks hadzuska koshûjontû." Dranok began the practiced incantation, stretching his arms forward with a bright fire burning in his gaze. Darkness flowed about him and channeled on his palms, beginning to dim the lights of the entire area and envelope it in shadows. Shadows, the perfect breeding ground for a demon. The figure rose from the shadows, its gaseous form shifting to take on the appearance of a humanoid.

"Touch, feel, these are not just illusions." It was safe enough to touch the Smoke Demon, it was only dangerous if Dranok willed it to.

@[member="Prince Garec"]​

 

[Juno Wren]

"Woyunoks hadzuska koshûjontû." ​

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Garec sat up, beyond intrigued, watching with wide eyes as the lights dimmed and shadows grew across the walls. Tangible shadows. Something rose out of the pooling darkness, thin wisps of shadow coalescing to form a solid, shifting shape. A humanoid shape.

"Amazing..." he uttered, voice barely a whisper.

"Touch, feel, these are not just illusions."​

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Of that, Garec had no doubt. He rose from his seat and approached the specter, circling it, studying it, even as he reached out a hand to test its solidity. "The Force is a greater power than I realized," he admitted, looking to Dranok. "What can it do?" he asked, gesturing to the specter.

Time constraints cut their first meeting short, but Garec would never forget with Dranok showed him -- they would meet again, when the time was right.​

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FIN.​

@[member="Dranok Lussk"]​