Objective 3 - Exemplify The Sith
Location - Knossa, Ossus, Adega, Auril, Outer Rim
Dok took a deep breath, breathing in the clear air of the planet, much cleaner than what he had grown used to in his time among the Sith. In a way, it reminded him of Umbara, with it's vast untamed wilds and isolated cities. After a moment, he opened his eyes, pale blue orbs taking in the state of the town around him. He would have to spend some time with those memories later, for now, he had a job to do. Rising to his feet, and brushing off his coat, he looked around, debating as what his first course of action should be. Underneath the blue, and grey, fur rimmed cloak he usually wore was his Acolyte uniform, and unlike normal, he actual wore his cap to make him easier to spot as being in the public's eye was part of this mission. He shivered at the thought, he didn't like being so visible, he was most at home in the quiet darkness, though he never saw himself as an assassin, though several teachers over the years had hinted at him none to strongly that he had the skills necessary to start down such a path. If they were to be in the public's eye, then Dok would be in the public's eye, earning their trust, and hopefully, their loyalty.
Dok strode away from the bench he had been set on, and made his way to the very edge of Knossa, where the outcasts, or the poor tended to make their homes, and strode among them. He noted many different emotions on the faces he past, those who stayed where he could see them. Fear, anger, resentment, and some curiosity, after all, the cloak he wore hardly screamed Sith, but the uniform and lightsabers hanging at his side did. Dok ignored them, searching for an opportunity to make his mark, and perhaps finally take the next step up the Sith hierarchy, if one of the Knights or Masters noticed his efforts.
It didn't take long for Dok to find his moment, only about fifteen minutes of walking, a pittance of time. There before him was a rickety building, a multi-story shack built on old worn foundations that had long ago rotted away, and proved unstable. The thing itself was rickety, and as he rounded the corner onto it's street, it collapsed. Dok didn't even have to run, no one stood in his way as he strode through the gathering crowd, already some of them digging into the rubble. With a hiss, a lightsaber ignited in his left hand, glowing the ominous red that marked him clearly as a Sith. A few people screamed, he's sure he heard at least one person run, believing him to be lashing out in anger or to punish those digging. Instead, much to the surprise of many in the crowd, he began precisely cutting at larger pieces of rubble. With a grunt, and some exertion in the force, he began moving chunks of the rubble, getting the heaviest off the pile first, cutting into pieces those he couldn't move. It took a little time of him, now working alone, showing himself digging through the rubble before the others started to get to work again. They gave him a wide berth, still confused or fearful of him, but helped him dig, after all, there were still people in there.
As they worked, Dok had a moment of clarity and took a step back.
"Make room, there are going to be wounded. If you aren't going to help, step back, and let the others have room to work."
He was calm, and eyeballed the crowd, which quickly took several steps back as the first of the injured, an elderly woman, was dragged from the rubble. Deactivating his saber, he knelt on the ground next to her and checked her pulse. It was faint, and erratic, but still there. With a sigh, Dok closed his eyes, and called upon a technique that most Sith didn't use, a little technique called Vital transfer. Normally, he would put others in a healing trance, but with more injured on the way, and wanting to make a good impression, he chose this more tiring technique. By using is own life force, nothing permanent mind you, he could heal another's wounds by giving them his own energy. He wouldn't fully heal her, he didn't know how many were in the rubble yet as he was to busy with other things to stop and check, so instead, he gave her just enough that she would be able to wake up, and actual medics could treat her further.
He continued this cycle, growing weaker and paler, though it was hard to tale given his already white skin, as each new survivor was pulled from the rubble, and several who hadn't. Nine in total. Nine lives he had just saved in front of a crowd, and using his own strength to do so. Three lost their lives, and he gave the families space to grieve, though their incessant wailing grated on his nerves, he wanted to make them like their new rulers, not resent them. With his annoyance kept in check, Dok retreated to the side to drink some water, and eat some jerky he kept in his belt pouch, watching as medics checked wounds, and loaded up the injured to be treated in a proper facility. Tiring as this was, he believed it to be a good start to his mission, and chose to stay here, and wait until the crowd dispersed before moving on, making it seem as if he was insuring that if something else happened he would be nearby, when in reality he was just resting so that he could recover his energy.
