The rising sun shone on the red sands of Korriban, the piercing rays glinting off the ground and the tall red cliffs that surrounded the Valley of the Dark Lords. It was here that many of the most powerful Sith in history, Marka Ragnos, Naga Sadow, and others were entombed. However, entombed doesn't always mean completely trapped, as many unfortunate souls who got a little too close to the dark spirits of Korriban would tell you, if they were sane enough to make a complete sentence that is. Entering the tombs of Korriban could mean unfathomable riches, or certain death or insanity. For one particular acolyte, it had meant both.
In his heart, Otium Mentis was not a bad person. When he had first come to Korriban, an orphan from somewhere he couldn't remember, he had been what many considered to be a nerd. While other aspirants had begged their trainers to give them lessons on battle training and deadly Force powers, Otium had been content to stay in the library, reading ancient histories of the Sith and philosophies of the Sith Code. Many had thought he would never survive Korriban, but Otium proved to be tougher than many thought. Unfortunately, not even he was tough enough to resist the spirits of the tombs.
It wouldn't have been that bad if he had just stayed at the training facility, but Otium had a fatal flaw: he loved knowledge too much. He wasn't content with simply reading about the tombs, he had to go there and see them himself. And so he had, sometimes spending hours in the tombs, reading glyphs and studying statues. The spirits hold on him had been weak at first, nothing but indiscernible whispered words once a week or so. But as he spent more and more time in the tombs, the voices had gotten stronger, and stronger, and stronger. The quest for knowledge had ceased to be a simple hobby, and had become an obsession. No matter what he tried, Otium could not resist the pull of the tombs. Like a spice addict, he kept coming back for more.
Now, the man that had come to Korriban at fourteen had changed dramatically. The body that climbed out of a tomb entrance and basked in the sunlight was leaner, from missed meals, but stronger too, from many a day moving rubble to reveal yet another nugget of knowledge. The skin was pale from lack of sunlight and the power of the dark side, the eyes a blazing yellow and, if you looked closely, filled with the madness of one driven past the brink and into the abyss, with an anchor wrapped around their neck.
"Such a beautiful day, isn't it?" he said to the three people that emerged from the tomb behind him. To Otium they were true flesh and blood, though in reality there was no one for miles. Inside his mind, voices that always mumbled indistinctly began to rise in response. There were two or so that were stronger, their words more discernible, and these were the voices of the three who now stood with him. They were from the tombs of Korriban, and were some of the first he had begun to hear, and eventually see, though Otium wondered why no one else ever saw them. He didn't know who they were, so he had given them names himself. They didn't seem to mind.
Who cares? said the voice of the one Otium called Rage. Rage was an ancient Sith warrior, wearing battle armor and carrying a blade identical to one Otium had once found in the tombs. Otium liked Rage the most. I hate this peace and quiet. We should blow something up, or find a kor'slug to kill. That would spice things up a bit.
Such wanton violence is worthless, said the voice of Peace, a young human woman wearing robes and carrying a lightsaber. Peace was the one Otium liked the least. She never wanted to have any fun. All she wanted to do was sit in their chambers and read. She always yelled at him when he attacked the tomb robbers they found on their adventures, and tried to run over and save them when they were dying. She gave him a headache. He didn't listen to her opinions very often.
Its too quiet, said Fear, a Sith slave. He was wringing his hands, looking around them with fear in his eyes. Otium hated Fear almost as much as he hated Peace. Fear always wanted to run, to show weakness. Otium never listened to him.
Otium began walking towards the training facility, his three companions bickering amongst themselves and him. Otium began to get disturbed. He wished they wouldn't argue so much. Why couldn't they ever agree on something? As he walked, a large red kor'slug walked across his path and roared at him with a mouth full of fangs.
It dares! said Rage, Kill it!
Spare it! said Peace, It is just an animal!
Run away! said Fear.
"Silence!" Otium yelled out loud. His eyes filled with rage and he screamed, sending a torrent of lightning at the offending kor'slug. Thousands of volts of electricity struck his target, and within seconds it was fried to a crisp.
"Mmmmm, smells good," Otium said, his aggression gone in an instant to be replaced by crazy-eyed happiness as he kicked the almost-pile of ashes that had once been a kor'slug, "Not quite right though. A little over done." The three voices continued to voice their own particular opinions, but Otium had ceased listening. He started whistling and headed back towards the training facility.
In his heart, Otium Mentis was not a bad person. When he had first come to Korriban, an orphan from somewhere he couldn't remember, he had been what many considered to be a nerd. While other aspirants had begged their trainers to give them lessons on battle training and deadly Force powers, Otium had been content to stay in the library, reading ancient histories of the Sith and philosophies of the Sith Code. Many had thought he would never survive Korriban, but Otium proved to be tougher than many thought. Unfortunately, not even he was tough enough to resist the spirits of the tombs.
It wouldn't have been that bad if he had just stayed at the training facility, but Otium had a fatal flaw: he loved knowledge too much. He wasn't content with simply reading about the tombs, he had to go there and see them himself. And so he had, sometimes spending hours in the tombs, reading glyphs and studying statues. The spirits hold on him had been weak at first, nothing but indiscernible whispered words once a week or so. But as he spent more and more time in the tombs, the voices had gotten stronger, and stronger, and stronger. The quest for knowledge had ceased to be a simple hobby, and had become an obsession. No matter what he tried, Otium could not resist the pull of the tombs. Like a spice addict, he kept coming back for more.
Now, the man that had come to Korriban at fourteen had changed dramatically. The body that climbed out of a tomb entrance and basked in the sunlight was leaner, from missed meals, but stronger too, from many a day moving rubble to reveal yet another nugget of knowledge. The skin was pale from lack of sunlight and the power of the dark side, the eyes a blazing yellow and, if you looked closely, filled with the madness of one driven past the brink and into the abyss, with an anchor wrapped around their neck.
"Such a beautiful day, isn't it?" he said to the three people that emerged from the tomb behind him. To Otium they were true flesh and blood, though in reality there was no one for miles. Inside his mind, voices that always mumbled indistinctly began to rise in response. There were two or so that were stronger, their words more discernible, and these were the voices of the three who now stood with him. They were from the tombs of Korriban, and were some of the first he had begun to hear, and eventually see, though Otium wondered why no one else ever saw them. He didn't know who they were, so he had given them names himself. They didn't seem to mind.
Who cares? said the voice of the one Otium called Rage. Rage was an ancient Sith warrior, wearing battle armor and carrying a blade identical to one Otium had once found in the tombs. Otium liked Rage the most. I hate this peace and quiet. We should blow something up, or find a kor'slug to kill. That would spice things up a bit.
Such wanton violence is worthless, said the voice of Peace, a young human woman wearing robes and carrying a lightsaber. Peace was the one Otium liked the least. She never wanted to have any fun. All she wanted to do was sit in their chambers and read. She always yelled at him when he attacked the tomb robbers they found on their adventures, and tried to run over and save them when they were dying. She gave him a headache. He didn't listen to her opinions very often.
Its too quiet, said Fear, a Sith slave. He was wringing his hands, looking around them with fear in his eyes. Otium hated Fear almost as much as he hated Peace. Fear always wanted to run, to show weakness. Otium never listened to him.
Otium began walking towards the training facility, his three companions bickering amongst themselves and him. Otium began to get disturbed. He wished they wouldn't argue so much. Why couldn't they ever agree on something? As he walked, a large red kor'slug walked across his path and roared at him with a mouth full of fangs.
It dares! said Rage, Kill it!
Spare it! said Peace, It is just an animal!
Run away! said Fear.
"Silence!" Otium yelled out loud. His eyes filled with rage and he screamed, sending a torrent of lightning at the offending kor'slug. Thousands of volts of electricity struck his target, and within seconds it was fried to a crisp.
"Mmmmm, smells good," Otium said, his aggression gone in an instant to be replaced by crazy-eyed happiness as he kicked the almost-pile of ashes that had once been a kor'slug, "Not quite right though. A little over done." The three voices continued to voice their own particular opinions, but Otium had ceased listening. He started whistling and headed back towards the training facility.
