The Sights of Other Worlds

[Vrak Nashar]

Dromund Fel
[member="Irid"]

Dromund Fel was by all accounts a dead world. A planet that had long ago been abandoned by it's people and left to rot by the rest of the galaxy. Many people no longer gave it even a second glance on the second map unless they mistook it for it's more famous cousin, Dromund Kaas. It was a sad thing really, almost depressing considering the once famed nature of the planet.

Tulak Hord himself had wandered this world.

Still, it's status as an abandoned construct of ancients suited Vrak just fine, especially for the task at hand. After Zygerria he had taken his prize here, to Dromund Fel. The girl was not yet ready for life on Athiss. She was meeker than a mouse and more frail than a set of ancient bones. She would not last a day within the hallowed halls of his homeworld, and at presence he could risk no weakness in his house.

Thus he had brought her here.

At least until she was no longer pissing herself when spoken to.

The camp that he had created here some weeks ago for his research was of course still standing, the Massassi Guards he had left doing their work brilliantly as they always did. By the time his ship landed they had already prepared his living arrangements, crafting something similar for the girl that he had brought along. This world was not a kind one, but then again neither had Zygerria.

He shifted slightly as the ramp began to lower to the earth, Irid still sitting meekly on one of the acceleration couches. He had given the girl a room, but instead of entering it for the trip she had simply sat upon the plush sofa, clutching the lightsaber all the way. Had he any notion for such things he would have called it 'cute', but in truth it had gotten on his nerves after the first few hours. "Come."

Vrak told her as the ramp touched the ground.

"There is much to do." His voice was softer than his mood would call for. "Much for you to learn."

 

[Irid]

Nothing had really sunk in yet.

It was all a dream, or was it a nightmare? The events that had taken place on Zygerria were difficult to put into any kind of category.

Obviously the concept of her own freedom was the largest beast to internally wrestle with. That part was dream-like, too good to be true, if it were even true. It was difficult for Irid to consider herself as a free woman, the crutch of following Lord Nashar's instructions keeping her from collapsing into a useless quivering heap.

Then there was the matter of the Queen. Regicide. Killed by the slave's own hand, well, technically killed by her own marble steps but she had been the one who had pushed her.

Involuntarily, of course, but that hardly mattered. Who could have imagined a mere slave would have thrown an entire planet into political upheaval? She was either a despised ruler, or her new Master was a man of strong influence, for they had both left alive and unharmed.

She sat on the ship, evidently uncomfortable. Not choosing to move, or let go of the lightsaber held firm in her grasp. Her deep brown eyes stared hard at the weapon as she mulled over events, again and again, half in the mind to pinch herself in case it was all some frantic fever dream.

Even being upon the ship itself was surreal, the girl could only wish that there were viewports, so that she might have caught eyes upon the stars around them. There probably were in all reality, but she was simply far too timid to ask, still feeling the need for permission looming over her shoulder.

They disembarked and immediately Irid was hit by the heat.

She had been so accustomed, so attuned with the seasons upon Zygerria that she hadn't even realised that the temperature would be different. Hot. Dry. Mining here would have been hellish to say the least. Even now, her past life was still on her mind.

Silently, with a mind full of questions, Irid followed on.

---

[member="Vrak Nashar"]

 

[Vrak Nashar]

[member="Irid"]

The camp was much as he had left it. Several dozen tents were dotted all around what had once been a city, though it was nothing but ruins now. Collapsed monuments and broken buildings were everywhere, and among them walked crimson skinned beasts. They resembled Vrak in a way, though they were far taller, more muscular, and their facial tentacles were much more pronounced. These were the Massassi, the warriors that Purebloods had created eons ago for their servitude in war.

In an almost ironic fashion they were much like Irid, slaves.

"You will consider this your new home for the time being." He did not intend on staying here, at least not for long, but he knew that Irid would not be ready to leave for some time. The Massassi had their task of digging through the ruins and establishing a base here, but that would take months. Until they were finished Irid would do well among them. She would not be left unguided of course, but neither could he stay within her presence at all times.

There was too much to do.

The Council was restless, and without his guiding hand of events things might go off track.

That was something he could not allow, not now when he was so close to what he wanted. It didn't help that his face was now over half the galaxy, that cursed Jedi and her little bounty having gone a bit too far in giving him notoriety. He frowned for a moment and shook his head. Thinking about it now would only cause him more anger, not something he needed. "The Massassi will ensure your safety."

Of course they would also ensure she wouldn't run away.

"They will not harm you." Not unless he ordered them too. "So do not fear them."

In an ironic way she would be more liable to feel a kinship with the creatures.

 

[Irid]

The ruins that surrounded them were a thing of wonder, she had to marvel at it all really. Remnants of surely ancient buildings and impressive structures surrounding them. All that remained of civilisation from the past. Of course, in the back of her mind Irid thought about the slaves who had likely constructed these monuments.

In that moment the girl was overwhelmed. Here she was. On another planet, witnessing things that had only come to her in tales and legends. It wasn't a dream. It was here, it was now.

Then there were the creatures of the camp. They were not too dissimilar from Lord Nashar himself, except they were much larger, more beast-like than that of sentient creatures. However despite their impressive size even Irid could catch that they were beings of servitude, even if they lacked that open pitiful nature that the slaves of Zygerria held.

At least the were there to keep her safe, even if they were rather frightening to behold. It would hopefully keep the fear of returning to her old Masters at bay.

She nodded once more, still not being a woman of many words, much prefering to remain in silence and let Lord Nashar give all the instruction. All she had to do was follow and do as he asked. Which would have seemed relatively simple were it not for his tendency to ask her to kill others.

---

[member="Vrak Nashar"]

 

[Vrak Nashar]

[member="Irid"]

Vrak lead Irid through the camp until they eventually reached a small row of tents nestled within the broken ruins of a single building. A large dish sat atop the building, a console located at the very center of it. Two Massassi stood guard by the ruin, their bulky forms standing there as though they were practically statues.

Right in front of the console was a Pureblood female, a woman whose back seem about as straight as physically possible.

"Come." It was probably unnecessary to command the girl, she likely would have followed no matter what, but it hardly mattered. Vrak was used to his slaves generally only following his word up to a point. That was the way of things on Athiss. Not Rebellion, but seeing how far you could go. Many servants on Athiss were barely such, having risen through the ranks one way or another over decades until a point where they had garnered at least some respect.

"Ryal." He addressed the other Pureblood who immediately spun around. "Take the girl, show her to her tent and dress her in something more fitting for this world."

The Pureblood bowed.

"Yes Lord Nashar."

He nodded. "Return her to me when done."

 

[Irid]

Another change of clothes.

Strange.

Irid felt like she had only just dressed in the finery that had been required to meet the now former Queen of Zygerria and yet now she would have to change again. So accustomed to drab brown rags that were only replaced when it was literally falling apart it was just odd to have garments for different occasions.

Not that she objected, of course not.

The woman was lead into the tent, her tent if such could be believed and was aided in finding something more suitable to wear upon this world. Although getting dressed by another seemed to be on the absolute opposite spectrum of what she was used to. Did he not think her capable of such? Or was this just the way that his people did things?

Regardless, the new garments were light yet durable. Clothing she imagined that were suitable for a planet with such oppressive heat. In truth she was quite relived to be wearing something other than rags or Zygerrian finery. This would suit her just fine.

Naturally, this was all done in silence within the shade of the tent, the slave far too timid to dare strike up conversation in such an alien environment.

Before long she had returned to Lord Nashar, her new Master.

---

[member="Vrak Nashar"]

 

[Vrak Nashar]

[member="Irid"]

There was much still to do, both here and back on Athiss. He had not intended to return with an apprentice, he had needed a slave to serve the massassi here. The warriors were not too clever, and servants were required to keep them fed. None of them knew how to cook or clean, and thus camps with them often became a complete mess. Ryal despised cleaning even though she oversaw the camps, and now his intent was ruined.

At least partly.

"Excellent." Vrak said as he motioned towards the girl. Learning would be slow, at least out here it would. The first thing was to allow Irid to grow some comfort among the Massassi. They were not fantastic conversationalists, but then again neither was Irid. He suspected they would make fast friends, or something of the sort anyway, plus Ryal would ensure that nothing happened to the girl. "Come along."

There was much to show her. "Do you know where we are?"

She very likely didn't of course, but he needed a jumping off point.

 

[Irid]

There was a very simple answer to his question.

“No.”

Irid imagined that she would be answering a lot of his questions with this answer. At the very least the girl managed to spit out the single word without sight of a stammer, even if her voice was still so muted and fearful.

All she could do was hope that the Sith held a lot of patience. It was a reality of lifelong slavery. She had never been formally educated, she couldn't even read or write. It hadn't ever been something required of her, and nor did she consider it something that she would have ever needed.

Oh, how wrong she was.

---

[member="Vrak Nashar"]

 

[Vrak Nashar]

[member="Irid"]

"I thought not." He said quietly.

Where to begin? She had said on Zygerria that she could not even read. He supposed that would be a start, though such trivial matters were beneath him. Vrak had better things to do than teaching a slave girl how to read. He let out a sigh and pointed her to one of the tents. It was smaller in scale, but the inside was decorated with nice sort of finery that one might expect of a Sith Pureblood. Ryal was standing within the tent already, waiting patiently.

"Ryal will teach you how to read and write." They couldn't go anywhere without that. "Both Aurebesh and Ancient Sith."

The latter was more important. "Simple instructions at first."

He wouldn't overload the poor girl, but he needed this done quickly. Without basic knowledge she was next to useless. Vrak needed a foundation on which to shape her, without that foundation, well she wasn't much of anything.

 

[Irid]

As he sighed the worry of her disappointment sat heavy in her mind. Perhaps he would give up. Perhaps she wouldn't be worth it. Then perhaps she would end up back upon Zygerria, to pay for her crimes. No, that would have been a waste of his time. Would he have just opted to abandon her? Not likely either.

Another head to be removed from shoulders, just like Viyers.

That fear would remain in her gut, always looking over her shoulder, always reminding her, almost taunting the woman about the consequences of not being good enough. Lord Nashar seemed ruthless enough as it was.

Thankfully, this would not be the case on that day. Instead he opted to offer her the chance of education.

She had entered the tent with the gratitude of a life spared and the determination of a life wasted. For most slaves the opportunity of learning was one of fantasy, and thus there was no time wasted on Irid's part in this endeavour.

Aurebesh wasn't too taxing, her rudimentary knowledge of the language in its spoken form helping her to put symbols to sounds. Ancient Sith was a different beast entirely. However, all that Irid could offer was determination in the face of freedom.

She spent as much time as possible with Ryal in her tutelage while Lord Nashar was gone and preoccupied with his own affairs. Even when the Sith pureblood was occupied with other tasks she sat by herself and studied. Slaves were not creatures that procrastinated, so suffice to say that her progress was swift.

It was enough to say that Irid enjoyed it, even.

The Massassi were not much for company, but she preferred the quiet. Besides, their mere presence offered a strange comfort to the woman. After all, they ensured her safety. Allowed her to sleep without fear of returning to Zygerria once more.

Most days were spent inside the tent arranged for her studies, punctuated with an occasional walk around the camp when her brain felt over-encumbered by new information. However, all she did was strive to improve, as this was what Lord Nashar wished.

---

[member="Vrak Nashar"]

 

[Vrak Nashar]

[member="Irid"]

The Sith were restless.

Athiss was growing now that he had seized a greater portion of control. Factories had begun construction, cities were being expanded, entire families were growing more and more powerful. Things were moving quickly, and Vrak needed time and patience to deal with it all. He had not yet had occasion to return to Dromund Fel for more than a day at a time. The two worlds were thankfully close together, only half a day of hyperspace travel, never leaving the space of the Old Sith Empire.

It helped to check on her progress, though he never allowed himself to stay the night. There was too much yet to do to ensure his rise, too much to ensure that he got what he deserved. He smiled slightly as he stepped off the shuttle, a month had passed since Irid's liberation from Zygerria and Ryal had reported that the girl could now read and write basic well enough, though still struggled with Ancient Sith.

That was to be expected really, many couldn't even learn it after years of study.

Vrak was different of course, the speech came as naturally to him as breathing, but it was his mother tongue. He frowned slightly as the heat of Dromund Fel touched him, boots clanking heavily against the durasteel of the ramp. His fingers tightened slightly at his side, eyes wandering over the Massassi who had also made their fair share of progress. Half the ruins were now full buildings, or nearly anyway, some even suitable enough to live in.

They had done well.

"Fetch her." He told one of the lumbering oafs as he stepped inside his outpost.

 

[Irid]

It was another day of study.

For most, such would be a grind. However, for a slave who had spent their entire existence doing the same thing day-in and day-out this was not an issue. Each day something new was learned. New words. Rules of grammar and then instances when said rules were broken several times. At times it could be frustrating, especially Ancient Sith.

However even small progresses were victories, and thus were satisfying to behold.

Her head tilted upwards as the Massassi entered her tent, summoning her outwards to meet with Lord Nashar. She had shed a small amount of her timid nature in this time, but only when concerned with the slaves that milled about the camp. They reminded her of home, if such could be called that.

With typical promptness she emerged from the tent, now more accustomed to the strong heat of Dromund Fel and approached her Master.

Her head was tilted downwards, that submissive blood still flowing hard through her veins as Irid stood before him. All that the woman could have hoped for was that he was pleased with her progress so far.

---

[member="Vrak Nashar"]

 

[Vrak Nashar]

[member="Irid"]

She was still as meek as before, but truly that had been expected. They had not yet begun the work of what she would be eventually, that would still take time. Ryal, as much as she tried, not would be able to fix this little problem, at least not yet. That would take Vrak's own touch upon the girl's mind, not this idled reading. "I've been told you've taken to your studies."

It was a part of the promise she had originally been made by the Jedi.

He wondered briefly it Irid was satisfied with her situation, though the thought was at the very most a fleeting one. The notion that she may have been unhappy was entirely...uninteresting to him. She was a tool to be used like so many others. It didn't particularly matter to him whether or not she was happy, as long as she did what she was told. In the end that was really all that mattered to him, something that showed quite well when he began to speak again.

"You'll have to begin focusing on Sith writings more." He told her. "You must have a basic understanding of the force."

The faster she had that, the faster they could begin. "Do you understand yet what you did to the Queen?"

 

[Irid]

A nod in response.

Of course a slave always aimed to please. They did the work that they were commanded to do and nothing else. I suppose that was the benefit when one was not too well accustomed with their own free will. Naturally this tied in with the eagerness to learn after all these years could only make the young woman a grand student.

A second nod.

While Ryal had mostly covered the very basic aspects of reading and writing in both languages, there was also a basic covering of the Force and what it was. Strange really, it flowed through the entire Galaxy but until that day upon Zygerria the girl had never heard of it before. Doubly strange given that she herself was Force-sensitive.

It explained Viyers, and why he felt so different. He was Force-sensitive too.

However they had only really began to scrape the surface on the matter of that topic. Brown eyes filtered upwards at the Sith Pureblood, the apprehension was still there, the fear in a gaze.

“A little,” she replied, at the very least not stammering, “I pushed her through the Force...because I was angry...”

A very rudimentary description at that. It hadn't been a controlled and conscious action. Irid hadn't moved to actually harm the Queen but in that moment all she wanted was her lightsaber back. Desire and rage mingled and a surge of untapped, wild emotion burst forth.

---

[member="Vrak Nashar"]

 

[Vrak Nashar]

[member="Irid"]


"Indeed." The explanation was close enough to the truth. The force could be an incredibly powerful thing, especially when it drew from raw emotion.

That was the crux of the darkside of course, emotion. The idea that power came not from a stillness within, but instead a raging torrent. It was the very core of the belief of his people. That was why so many Purebloods were prone to outbursts of anger, why so many fed off of fear, why so many were too prideful to look past themselves. It was their mark, one that they carried with an odd amount of pride. He smiled slightly, looking down at the apprentice.

"She of course explained what the force was." Irid did not need to answer that statement. "Which big the question, did your friend back on Zygerria tell you of your potential? What you could do?"

It was obvious which 'friend' Vrak meant.

The Jedi that he had slaughtered so quickly.

Power was a funny thing to the Jedi. They had had strength of a sort, but they refused to properly use it, harness it. Vrak thought this a sign of weakness, a show that they were either too foolish or too naive to properly do what needed to be done.

 

[Irid]

“No.”

The answer came suddenly and almost rather stiffly.

From what Lord Nashar had told her upon Zygerria and from what Ryal had taught her here it was evident that the Force that flowed through her was a font of potential. Potential for power, for strength. Viyers had known, but have never told her.

As if he'd been keeping it from her.

“He didn't tell me anything.”

Truthfully it was something that almost hurt her. He had been there for long enough to tell her. He had evidently known about it and yet the man had kept it from her, kept her in the dark about something that made her different...special even.

“...why didn't he tell me?”

---

[member="Vrak Nashar"]

 

[Vrak Nashar]

[member="Irid"]

"Jedi." Vrak began simply. "See the force differently than I do. Than we do."

He didn't clarify exactly who the 'we' was.

"In part, they see it as a bond, not a gift. To them The Force is something that needs to be controlled and reigned in, something that has to be kept in check. They try to lash their emotions and steeple their own power." He sounded almost sad about it, as if he pitied them. There was of course no sorrow for any Jedi within Vrak, no sorrow for anyone really. Yet it helped to play off of Irid's own emotions, play the girl for the fool she was.

Almost too easy really.

"He would have seen you like them." Simple really. "Bound to the Jedi ways. Forever lacking true freedom."

Why bring up the Jedi again? Simple; Loyalty. He had to bend Iridi to his will, and in order to do that she needed to believe that he was right.

 

[Irid]

Jedi. There it was again. It was safe to assume that Viyers was one of these Jedi. Lord Nashar a Sith. This much seemed to be knowledge, but it didn't clear up the picture in all entirety. Still, when it came to the fact of the matter, only one of the two had given her freedom from Zygerria.

It would be likely that she would be learning more about the Jedi in the future, but for the time being the slave dutifully took his word for it.

After all, it was Lord Nashar that she had left with. Not Viyers.

“...I...”

The sentence was stopped before it really began. Irid had began to express an opinion, which was beyond the pale in terms of how she behaved. She asked questions when she needed answers, and she gave answers when given questions.

“...I don't feel...sad that he is dead.”

A beat.

“...is that wrong?”

---

[member="Vrak Nashar"]

 

[Vrak Nashar]

[member="Irid"]

Vrak shrugged. The question was a subjective one. In his own culture death wasn't something to be mourned, it rarely was in fact. Sure some servants put on a play, some children decided that they needed to act properly, but Vrak had never known a Pureblood to be truly despaired at the passing of one of their better. In truth the only time he had seen true sorrow from one of his peers was at the death of a lover, though such occurrences were rare.

Either both went, or neither, rarely only one. "Perhaps."

Vrak told the truth.

"I do not know the ways of your kind." Vrak told her. "In some cultures death, no matter who, is to be mourned. In mine, the opposite. I will not tell you that he was hateful, I will not tell you that he would have harmed you."

This was key. "I only say that he would have bound you. A slave in an entirely different way."

Vrak stayed quiet for a moment. The Jedi were, in a way, slaves. That was why the Sith Code had been created, freedom. Breaking loose from the chains of peace. It hadn't been a part of his own people, not originally, but many on Athiss took the words closely to their hearts. Vrak was still unsure.

"Whether you mourn him or not, I do not care. So long as you remember who granted you freedom." Of a sort.

 

[Irid]

It was certainly something to think over.

Especially given that the ways of her kind, as he so put it were were essentially non-existent. Her kind? Slaves? They were told how to think, if it was possible they would have preferred it if they didn't think at all. It wasn't as if they were a species, they weren't a culture. They were things, not people. When a slave died, they got on with work.

Was she supposed to mourn? After what Lord Nashar had said? After all the things he had kept from her?

The girl frowned. It would take more consideration. Then again, weren't emotions instinctual? You either felt something, or you didn't. She couldn't just force feeling. Naturally the slave could think upon it, she could create an opinion but...

...irrelevant.

“Do you wish for me to return to my studies, Lord Nashar?”

---

[member="Vrak Nashar"]