The Sights of Other Worlds

[Vrak Nashar]

[member="Irid"]

"In time." He wanted to speak to her first.

Ryal was a good teacher, that was why he had chosen her. The woman was a historian of sorts, not related to the Nashar line but close enough that she was considered a rusted ally. She had no designs on power, an odd thing for a Pureblood, but instead insisted on learning anything and everything she could. That invariably meant that she had quite a bit to share, so much in fact that she often overshared back on Athiss. A mark that had cause many to be annoyed with her.

Here on Dromund Fel she was put to good use.

"Tell me of what you have learned." He said plainly. "What has Ryal covered?"

Likely not much more than the basics, but this was important.

The more he knew about Irid's studies the more he could direct where she would go next. Her mind was practically a blank slate, she had never been taught...anything at all. If he could guide her in the right directions than anyone who tried to introduce another thought down the line would be met with an entire wall of knowledge that had been supplied by Vrak alone.

Devious, yes, but necessary if she was to become a proper tool.

 

[Irid]

“The Force.”

More elaboration needed.

“What it is. Why it is used. How it is used. Who uses it.”

It was at least the very basics upon each of those matters, Irid could imagine that each topic that she had listed had entire volumes dedicated to it and that what she knew was a mere fraction. Still, granted she had the time and the chance to learn the slave would be determined to have as much knowledge as she could.

“The Sith, and the Jedi.”

---

[member="Vrak Nashar"]

 

[Vrak Nashar]

[member="Irid"]

He nodded. "I see."

That was about what he had expected. Ryal had of course sent him reports of everything that Irid had actually been taught so far. If there was one thing you could say about the woman it was the fact that she was beyond loyal. It was a rare trait for a Pureblood, but Ryal was one of the few that realized she had a certain place within the hierarchy.

One she was content with.

"What do you think of all that you have learned?" It was the first time he had actually asked her opinion of anything.

In truth he wasn't even sure if Irid would yet admit to having an opinion. It was as much of a test as it was a genuine question. Vrak of course did not expect her to remain a blank slate forever, eventually she would push herself out to actually think and scheme on her own, though that was likely a long way off.

She needed more education first.

 

[Irid]

What did she think?

Now there was a question that had never come up before.

“...it....it is a lot...to take in,” she began slowly, trying to find the right words to express what exactly she thought of everything. After all, nobody had ever sought her opinion before, never mind on the matter of a universal power.

“...I can't believe I never knew...”

She would need time. Time to process, to understand.

“I don't...” Irid's brow furrowed, as if it were difficult to speak. Her eyes looked up at the Sith Pureblood for a moment, face crinkling with doubt, “...agree with the Jedi.”

There was a reason for that. Reason beyond the (unbeknownst to her) biased teachings of Ryal. Reason that Irid considered to be somewhat personal.

“They...have this power available for them to use and they don't,” what was that creeping upon her face? Anger? Resentment? “...they have this opportunity....and they don't use it. It's not fair. They....they're like willing slaves!”

Irid thought her rage was understandable, given her own circumstances of life.

---

[member="Vrak Nashar"]

 

[Vrak Nashar]

[member="Irid"]

A small smile touched his lips. "Indeed."

The issue was far more complex than that of course. He'd had this discussion a dozen times with both his peers and even several Jedi. None of them agreed wholly with his viewpoint, Irid's viewpoint. The force was inevitably always something that people disagreed upon. For one person it was the path to freedom, for another domination, and for others it was a way to bind yourself to the service of others. That was simply how it was.

No one could say who was right, though they would always argue.

"You will learn more over the coming weeks." She had to.

"I will return here in a month." There was much to do on Athiss still. "At that point I will begin to train you in the use of the force. Ryal will start, but only with meditations and other more simple tricks."

The other Pureblood did not study the force as he had. "I will also train you in proper use of your lightsaber."

She had already used the weapon to kill a Guard back on Zygerria, but in truth that had been a mixture of luck and pure panic. There had been no artful skill to the way the girl had wielded the blade, that would change in time however.

 

[Irid]

Irid could only hope that the minute smile that Lord Nashar possessed meant that her thoughts and opinions upon her learning were not seen as a waste to him.

Evidently so as the slave nodded, her Master confirming that her training would resume. Good. She was eager. All this time wasted, not knowing, never knowing could never be regained, all that she could do was try to make up for what was lost by applying as much as she could.

A nod.

One month might have seemed like a long time to wait for impatient Jedi and overly-ambitious Sith, but Irid would use that time to prepare and do as much as she could to absorb Ryal's teaching. Lord Nashar had stated that the girl required further focus upon Sith writings, and she would take to it as he wished.

Whether it was to please him, or to improve herself was unknown, even by Irid herself but she would not stray beyond what he asked of her.

“As you wish, Lord Nashar.”

---

[member="Vrak Nashar"]

 

[Vrak Nashar]

[member="Irid"]

He patted her on the head. "It will not be easy."

There was no sugar coating this.

"It will not be pleasant." There was no lying to her now. This path, the one taken by all Sith, was not a simple one. There was pain, hurt, but there was also freedom. No one could foresee what would happen to Irid, not even Vrak, but he knew what he intended for her, and it would be grand.

"I promise you however." He began again. "You will recieve everything you've ever dreamed of."

There was no doubt in that.

"Knowledge, power, every sight you could hope to see. All of it will be yours." It was a promise that he intended on keeping. Irid was to be a tool, yes, he would use her to kill and raise his own stake in the galaxy, but that didn't mean they wouldn't both benefit.

 

[Irid]

Easy. Pleasant.

Her life was neither of these things before hand. Hardships of a different sort Irid could only imagine, but given her lack of knowledge of what was easy and pleasant it was difficult to even think of what he meant. She would find out when she got there...

...and she would get there.

“Thank you, Lord Nashar.”

____​

Literacy was one matter. The Force was a completely different beast.

With application anybody could learn how to read, or how to write. There were things that you could just learn how to do with enough time and practice. Some things, were not so easy.

The Force. Emotions.

The two ran parallel with each other, at least in the eyes of a Sith. These emotions were those strong at the root. Fear. Anger. Pain. Hate. Those were the fuels that drove the Force. They were the emotions that she would have to dig deep within herself to find. Well, some would be harder found than others. Nevertheless in meditations, she tried with each.

Anger. Hate.

They only appeared in rare bursts. Circumstantial. Like in the case of the deceased Queen of Zygerria. It was difficult to hold on to, almost impossible to grasp. Those emotions granted much frustration.

Pain.

A given. Pain was the natural order. Not just pain of a physical kind, but the pain that came with regret of her wasted life. Pain fed by a personal betrayal felt at the hand of Viyers' secrets kept. It was good. It worked. It flowed through her quite naturally but was nothing in the face of...

Fear.

Fear was the great driver, an ever present constant in her life. Even now. Especially now. Fear at disobeying orders. Terror at doing something wrong. Petrified of the very notion of upsetting the Masters. Dreading not being good enough for Lord Nashor. Horror at being abandoned, a Galaxy of potential at her fingertips. Anxiety even sat in her chest while she slept.

This was her drive, it was her engine. During meditations with Ryal this was what felt natural. Feeding off that fear. It flowed throughout her veins, not offering the same frustrations that other emotions did.

So often that fear of failure sent those crumbling to dust, but this was a case of the opposite. It offered strength and possibilities.

---

[member="Vrak Nashar"]

 

[Vrak Nashar]

[member="Irid"]

The force was not something that anyone could really explain.

Everyone tried, Jedi, Sith, even those that could not use the force at all, but in the end it was still a mystery. No on truly knew what the force was, where it came from, or indeed even what it wanted. That was why it was so complex, so impossible to understand. For Vrak the force was one simple thing; power. It was the thing that gave him strength, the very thing that gave him life. The Darkside of the force, was in all sense of the word, what drove him.

It was symbiotic.

He could not have explained it to anyone that was not Pureblood, that hadn't been born in the same way he was. The force pumped through his veins at all times, pushed him to the very edge. There was no greater feeling that the rush of power that ran through his veins when a surge of lightning was unleashed.

No greater ecstasy than when he took the mind of another to do his will. That was the force, power. "Ryal."

Vrak said in greeting as he stepped off the ship.

"Bring her to me." The Pureblood nodded. "Ensure she is dressed suitably for the jungles. I aim to head towards the tombs."

The ancient relics of Dromund Fel awaited.

 

[Irid]

Practice made perfect.

As per usual Irid was found entrenched deep within meditation. The sight of the young woman offered a perfect contrast when compared to her inner-workings. Within the tent of her studies she kneeled, eyes shut and with small beads of sweat forming upon her brow. A peaceful concentration, upon the outside.

The inside was a torrent of emotion however. That constant trepidation ran a river through her soul, its waters rushing with all the fears, doubts and anxieties that belonged to her person. Such a difficult sensation to describe. It was like much like water, really. It flowed through her, usually passive and steady but upon asking it felt like a destructive force, a cascade breaking down dams that existed within her essence.

Unstoppable. Powerful.

“Irid.”

The voice broke her concentration, and the torrent was broken. Eyes snapping open to look to Ryal, who was stood looking her up and down. It was a source of mild frustration that her skittish nature gave way to easy breaks in her focus, hopefully it was something that could be remedied.

Once appropriately dressed the slave was brought forth to her Master. The precipitation still lingering upon her forehead in the dire humidity of Dromund Fel.

“Yes, Lord Nashar?”

---

[member="Vrak Nashar"]

 

[Vrak Nashar]

[member="Irid"]

Vrak was still not entirely sure that Irid would prove to be useful in the long run. She was strong in the force, yes, but her timid nature meant that she would always have difficulty with the force, at least until said nature was broken and gone. He wasn't entirely sure however if that was possible. She had been raised a slave her entire life, she knew nothing else. He had thought he could build her up, fix her somehow, but even after nearly two months she still proved to be rather jumpy.

He could see it in her eye.

What she needed was a taste of power, of the strength she could have. The Sith teachings that Ryal had been instilling within her were all well and good, but in truth they were just theories. So far Irid had only seen a single display of her power, and in truth it was a rather paltry display at best. She needed something more, something substantial. So that was what she would be shown today, the power of the Sith, what one could truly do. "Come."

He ordered her.

"There is a tomb not far from here." This world was graced with many.

"It belongs to a woman of the Ancient Empire, a woman who reigned when my people still ruled this galaxy." At least this portion of her. "I will show you something there."

Either she would stand, or be broken.

 

[Irid]

There was an instinctual nervousness.

So far her instruction, while being moderately taxing, had not been a leap straight into the void. It had been focused upon the basics, and well, they were just that. Reading, writing, meditation and a few examples of very rudimentary Force powers, which admittedly took more effort than one would have liked to admit.

In her mind progress was progress, but was it enough for Lord Nashar?

She came with him in silent thought, considering what was to come. The man explained where they would be going. A tomb. Intimidating enough. A tomb of a woman who ruled an Empire. Even worse. Already she could feel the rising tide of her heartbeat.

But what was he going to show her?

She didn't even dare ask. All that Irid did was follow onward.

---

[member="Vrak Nashar"]

 

[Vrak Nashar]

[member="Irid"]

"This world was long ago the jewel in a crown." Instructing Irid while they walked would keep him from going insane. Moving in silence had never been his strong suit, not even when he had to. By Nature Vrak was an incredibly charismatic person, and...well he liked to hear himself speak put plainly.

"Like Kaas and Korriban it stood preeminent." He shifted slightly as they began to move through the jungle, his hand coming up every now and again to push aside a branch or move a long that had fallen onto the worn out path. "It was beautiful, alive."

He moved a bit faster, obviously seeing if she could keep up.

A part of her training would have to be physical conditioning. She had been a miner on Zygerria, but that didn't mean much but physical strength. "When the Empire fell, so did this world."

He sounded almost sad.

"Countless tombs were hidden here, buried beneath the jungle." A small smile crept on his face.

"Most of them..." He looked at her. "Still contain the spirits of their Masters."

 

[Irid]

She listened intently as he spoke.

Everything was a lesson. Every word absorbed. Lord Nashar rarely spoke to her without a purpose in mind and she would not allow anything offered to slip through her fingers.

Dromund Kass and Korriban were both planets that had come up during Ryal's lessons. They were core Sith worlds. Dromund Fel was no different in that aspect, however its reputation had seemed to diminish over time, slowly being forgotten to the realms of history. Significance may have found itself lost, but it didn't disappear.

It fell with an Empire, but it was still here.

Tombs.

Following the Sith Pureblood from behind the slave did not initially catch the smile that had appeared upon his face. Then he turned to look at her, and it was revealed causing a minor furrow of her brow.

Spirits.

There was a fear, an apprehension and an inkling of what today's purpose was going to be. The restless dead. Was it cruelty? Or a necessity?

“...why do they stay?”

---

[member="Vrak Nashar"]

 

[Vrak Nashar]

[member="Irid"]

He shrugged. "Some simply cannot accept death."

That was the case with those who had claimed to be the most powerful during life. The Spirits of Ajunta Paul, Naga Sadow, those long dead that had reigned supreme in their time. Their deaths weren't simply a fact that they could stand to reason with. Thus they stayed behind, clinging to the vestiges of their tombs or holding themselves tight within some artifact. A few chose to do it through their holocrons, though in truth Vrak saw no difference.

"Some." He went on as he sliced through the jungle. "Become bound by their followers."

Such as Ludo Kressh, he had been Tied to Athiss because of his own cult. "None find peace."

Sith did not deserve it.

"Their power prevents it." He explained to her quite simply. "They receive life eternal, something they sough for most of their time in this galaxy, but it is twisted, broken. They are not ghosts, not truly, more like haunted pieces of what they once were."

The idea was terrifying really, that upon death you did not find rest but were instead confined to a small tomb. Vrak never really gave it any thought, preferring to think of the now instead. His lightsaber slashed through another branch as he carved the path, the canopy slowly beginning to thin as in the distance a pyramid of some sort rose from the jungle itself.

 

[Irid]

Despite a miserable existence, Irid had never truly considered death.

Well, she had considered that it was a result of stepping too far out of line, but had never put much thought into death itself. What happens? Bodies rot and decompose, but what happens to a mind? A spirit? If she had been required to think about it, she would have imagined that everything stops, that there's nothing after death.

But she would be wrong.

It gave Irid pause for thought. Eternal damnation. She could scarcely imagine it, but it was a fate that loomed for some. Would the same happen to Lord Nashar? Would he be bound to this realm? Restless? Tormented? How much sanity can remain when you're trapped as a shade of what you once were.

The structure loomed in the distance, growing ever closer and so dawned the proper realisation of what they were doing. Or so she thought.

“...y-you wish for us to meet these spirits, Lord Nashar?” Irid said suddenly, fear showing proudly in the small stutter that took place in her words.

---

[member="Vrak Nashar"]

 

[Vrak Nashar]

[member="Irid"]

"Not me." Vrak said with a shrug. "You."

He had already encountered the spirit within this particular tomb. The woman had died centuries ago, a bitter and broken thing that had thought herself more powerful than her betters. She had been a member of the Dark Council under Vitiate. Powerful, but not powerful enough to challenge the Emperor herself.

That hadn't stopped her from trying of course. "I will wait outside."

He smiled at Irid.

"Consider it a test of your ability to survive." They stepped out of the jungle and onto a platform of stone, a massive arrayed courtyard that stretched out before the central pyramid itself. Vrak looked down at his apprentice, a small smirk playing on his lips, eyes darting to Irid's waist to make sure she had taken her lightsaber.

"You will learn what you need to within." He told her. "Your path will be opened."

 

[Irid]

Irid froze.

A small part of her wanted to just turn and run, chance her luck with the wilderness of Dromund Fel rather than face a Sith spirit by herself. The slave had never faced a true trial by herself. Viyers had been there. Lord Nashar had been there. Now he wasn't even coming with her.

It was beyond daunting. She stood in silence, eyes opened wide, revealing all the fear that sat within her core. This was a rather large leap from reading and writing. She had only just gotten to grips with the Force on such a basic level and now...

...still, it was a test. It was a lesson. Would he have confronted her with this if she were not ready? Difficult to say. Perhaps he had expected her to be at a stage that she had not reached quite yet. Fear and apprehension were her core and now they swirled within her.

Do or die.

She approached the entrance of the tomb. A large doorway stood, obstructed by a heavy stone door, keeping whatever lurked inside trapped within. A hand that trembled beyond control touched upon the weather-beaten stone, warm upon her skin yet sending frigid shivers down the slave's spine. She would not be able to move this by hand.

She felt eyes upon her back. Whether Lord Nashar was watching or not was yet to be seen, however as a test it was more than likely that he was watching, judging.

Failure loomed, sat heavy upon her shoulders threatening to drag her down. Whatever spirit within that tomb threatening to drag her in. Perhaps if she failed the Sith Pureblood would drag her away and put her down. Pulled at from all angles.

Fear.

Irid had never lifted something this large with the Force before. What if she couldn't? What if she failed without even setting foot within her required destination? Worthless.

Doubt.

Eyes widened, revealing stark whites. Heartbeat quickened, pounding hard within her ears. Chest rising and falling in an ever quickened rhythm.

She embraced it.

This is what she had been practising. The crux of her focus had been placed around her own fear. What better than to try and take what was such a focal flaw in her character and turn it into strength? It fed off of her and so she would feed off of it in return.

Staring at the stone door her hands became outstretched in front of her. She could feel the flow of the Force within her, but was it enough? The door itself seemed impenetrable, indestructible, unmovable.

What if she couldn't move it?

Would he cut her head off too?

Or just send her back to Zygerria for her crimes and save face.

The stone began to grind against the ground beneath it. Shifting what was merely centimetres in reality, but still, progress.

Maybe he would just leave?

Then she could slowly wither and die out in the harsh jungles. Alone. Afraid. A failure.

The door still slid slowly across, conquering slow inches now as she continued to both consume and be consumed by her own mind, the intent in her eyes directly focused upon the structure.

Not good enough. Failure. Weak slave. No power. No strength. No freedom. Nothing. Nothing. NOTHING.

A sudden spike and the stone slid across from being halfway open to all the way in one sudden last jerk. Temporary relief smothered the fire of her fear for the moment and a small sense of success spurred her on inside that maybe she could do this. Still there was apprehension, the woman panted, slightly out of breath from exertions and the beads of sweat trailed down the sides of her face.

The young woman didn't look back as she entered the tomb.

---

[member="Vrak Nashar"]

 

[Vrak Nashar]

[member="Irid"]

"Return." Vrak commanded her. "Or be forgotten."

The words would very likely ring within Irid's mind, but then again that was the intent behind them. If Irid did not return from the tomb then she was worth nothing to him. Ryal had argued that it was too soon, that she was not strong enough and not yet ready, but this was supposed to be a test. If she wasn't ready, if she couldn't do this, then he would waste no more time with her. Vrak knew that things were moving fast with Athiss, knew that they would soon come to a crux.

He needed Irid to be strong.

Within the tomb she would find many barriers.

Beasts, traps, and of course the spirit. The Journey would not be an easy one, nor would it be a quick one. The first time Vrak had entered the tomb it had taken him more than a day to reach the central hold, a grand chamber with a single sarcophagus in the middle. Before that though, before that Irid would wander through winding halls, cross a great pit that seemed to find no end, and encounter more than a dozen Tuk'ata as well as other creatures.

Would she survive?

Vrak had no idea. He didn't care if she fought her way through it, sneaked her way, or simply wind up bleeding to death.

This was a test. One she needed to pass.

 

[Irid]

His words echoed in her mind as she stepped into the tomb.

Cautious feet crossed the threshold, as the light that beamed in through the entrance gradual lost its power to the darkness. Within the hallway there were lights that flickered within the distance along the walls. Torches that should have burnt out so long ago that remained lit through powers that remained.

A quivering hand outstretched to her side touched against the cold stone of the wall next to her, eyes focused upon the light ahead.

This was a mistake.

Her foot depressed, a sliding of stone beneath her as a tile pushed downwards under her weight. Irid froze, still with her foot upon the tile. A feeling of ill omen crept up the back of her neck, causing tiny hairs to stand to attention.

What was this? Poor architecture? It wasn't as if the girl had ever been aware of what traps were. She had been expecting vicious spectres of long dead Masters to bombard her senses and bring her to her knees. This had not been expected.

Progress still had to be made however and ever-so-slowly the girl lifted her foot from the panel. As soon as she did however, a hissing sound pervaded the air. Now this offered familiarity. It wasn't uncommon during mining to encounter pockets of gasses. This however, wasn't nature's design. No. This was deliberate.

The sleeve of her garb immediately moved towards her mouth and nose, trying to cover it from whatever malice was filling the air. Dropping down into a crouch she hoped that it would linger above her and moved forth with more haste, choosing now to press herself against the wall of the hallway.

---

[member="Vrak Nashar"]