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Author	Topic: The Wise
1Yodimus_Prime Registered: Mar '04	Date Posted: 4/3/07 12:41am Subject: The Wise - Date Edited: 3/19 7:57pm (23 edits total) Edited By: 1Yodimus_Prime
	Title: The Wise Author: 1Yodimus_Prime Timeframe: An undisclosed point in time between Darth Bane's death and TPM. Somewhat closer to TPM, relatively speaking. Characters: OCs: The Lord Darth Averus, a young boy of twelve, and someone else.. Genre: Dark Action. Call it a coming of age maybe. Or a celebration of death...cough I mean life. Sure. shifty_eyes Keywords: Sith, pre-TPM, OC, angst (<-- if you call horrible death and destruction 'angst'...) Summary: A young Sith Hopeful is brought to an out-of-the-way planet to continue his instruction with his soon-to-be Master. Things work their way downhill from there. Notes: Don't be fooled by the first chapter, this tale gets really dark, really fast. But what did you expect? It's about the freakin' Sith. I need to thank Alion_Sangre for reading through the enitre ~100 page story in, like, twenty seconds, and using his encyclopedic knowledge of the GFFA to pick out all the in-universe continuity errors. That was cool of him. And I also need to give props to Oqidaun, who is going to be my beta reader for this story (hopefully for the entire duration, yes?). And I also need to give another prop to Jennifer_Lyn, for writing the vig From Humble Beginnings, which served to motivate me to get this on the page, and also serves loosely as the backstory for one of the characters. I intend to add a new chapter once a week, usually on Tuesday (or Monday). I'll leave it at that for now. But since the story is already technically completed, I could easily bump that up to two posts a week. We'll see what happens. That said, if Oqi returns a beta'd chapter and it's filled with enough red to challenge "Dead Alive" (and it's bound to happen one of these days), I'd rather spend two weeks making it work than deliver something mediocre but on schedule. Just a heads up. And as always: ALL READERS WHO WISH TO BE ADDED TO THE PM LIST, PLEASE SAY SO IN YOUR RESPONSE POST. I can't read minds, people. (Okay, I can, but that's neither here nor there. My official policy is the facade stays up until feds catch on) okay, enough jibba-jabba from me. On with the story. “The most dangerous men are always orphans." – Darth Sidious Chapter 1: Questions… The night was cold and rotten. It engorged itself on the small cabin’s heat, slow and steady - perpetually devouring, never satiated, never ending. The wind carried all the warmth away with it to the Western Canyon, to drop into oblivion over the nameless waterfalls that danced about the Cliffside. Darth Averus lay gently, gracefully upon the cot. It whined softly, but accepted the new weight easily. Averus was not in any way frail, but there was certainly less there than had been in younger days. Yet even at this age, the chill air had no ill effect upon the Sith’s health. In fact, it was a welcome comfort. Averus enjoyed the alertness it brought to the body and mind. Nobody could possibly disagree more than the young boy across the room, shivering at the entrance. All but his eyes and hands were wrapped in a thick dark cloth of a rough weave, but the wind had exploited even this minimal exposure, drying his skin red and raw. He put his back into squeezing the door snug against the uneven wall, desperate for the relief of the calm and quaint interior. In a click, the wind vanished into a suggestion – a subversively silent motion that commanded all the creaks and knocks the meager cabin pleaded with. He bowed his head in deference and stepped forward, presenting himself. Darth Averus did not rise or acknowledge the boy…she merely said, in a clipped whisper, “Sit.” He did so. They remained still – she on the cot, he on the floor – for a long time. They listened to the moaning walls and felt the dying warmth in silence. The shutters on the sills were the only thing that moved. It was an unspoken trust. He would know when to speak when it was time, with neither sound nor gesture from Averus. He would just know. Until then, he looked inward, and meditated. In his meditation, the Shadow Beast came back. It plagued his nightmares ever since they left Dolus, only several weeks ago. Pitch and furtive, the creature was menacing not in size or shape, but in its motion. In the jungle of shades – black and gray and purple and blue – that shifted about in his clear mind, the actual presence of the Shadow Beast could never be pinpointed. It was there…but no, it’s there…or not? It hid, it ran, it stalked, it growled. Boy did it growl. Many a day, when that terrifying snarl – a jarring treble howl – rang startling in his head, he was snapped out of his meditation and was abruptly ordered into isolation by Lady Averus. She had little patience for those who could not concentrate. It was the one rare thing, surprisingly, that did try her patience in fact. Yet the beast continued to haunt him. *** He had since learned to control his fear, but it never quelled the sensation that the unseeable demon wished him harm...that it hated him for some reason. Or…was it jealous? He could never be sure, it was too fast, too evasive. He did not dare to reveal his demon to Lady Averus, though he did mention it to her obliquely, in reference to unrelated topics. She merely told him to ignore it, that it would go away in time. She seemed to know best. He trusted her. She loved him, after all. Darth Averus wasn’t just his teacher, she was like a grandmother to him. More than that: a mother. She taught him all about the hidden intricacies of the Force, but she also taught him how to talk to people. How to be civil. How to get around his cold, analytical nature by studying how others talk and interpreting it quickly and correctly. It wasn’t simple lecturing that helped him through such problems. It was attention, it was empathy, that helped him start to break through those social barriers. She cared about him. She loved him. He opened his eyes, “Lady Averus?” “You may speak.” She said. “I…I have a, well, I’ve got a qu-“ “You have many questions boy, I know. And you may ask of me whatever you wish tonight. You may ask until you lose breath or pass out or both. If you can, you may continue spending questions ‘till the northern sun rises. And…if you raise me off the cot and speak without that stutter, I may even bother to answer some of them.” She never let him do only one task at a time. There was always something else. She told him that, without distractions to test us, we would never truly learn. Reality is filled with them, she had said, and to be unprepared for such things could mean failure. He reached out with both hands, the Force spreading away from him as ethereal tendrils of nothingness, its invisible energy firmly and solidly in his grasp. With that energy, he touched the meager frame of the cot, then beyond it to the solid mass of Averus’s body. The energy then moved outward to the free spirited molecules of air, ignorant of the woman lying there. But...maybe not so ignorant. Maybe those little molecules would prefer to gather under the mattress of the minimal bed and become a weightless cushion of pure lift. Yeah, as a matter of fact, that’s exactly what they want to do. Then, his eyebrows furrowed, “How high?” “You decide.” She felt a momentary wave of fright as he pondered the implications. If he raised her too low, would she find him disappointing; if he raised her too high, would she see it as foolish overconfidence? She quietly reveled in the short period of mental terror, before that unseen energy began lifting her off the cot. She came to a slow stop just four feet from her original resting space. Averus gave no hint of appreciation or dissatisfaction, only stoic calm. He cleared his throat, and he concentrated hard on keeping her aloft while mindful of the clarity of his words, “Why do you hate the Jedi?” “Why do the Sith hate the Jedi, you mean?” she corrected. He nodded, uncertain. More slowly, she offered, “…Why do we hate the Jedi, you mean?” He didn’t respond. With a tweak of her lip, betraying the smile she hid, she said, even slower and more purposeful than before, “Why should you hate the Jedi. You mean.” “…Yes.” By anyone else, on any other day, this would have been an insolent and punishable question. But today, for him… “Long ago, boy. Long, long ago, the Sith were more than what you see before you. We were a grand empire. We stretched half the galaxy in glory and splendor. Our palaces shone as the sun, our temples were revered, our fortresses unyielding. Our subjects loved us and honored us, as we brought wealth and peace to any planet we touched. We counted in the billions.” “And what happened?” “The Jedi saw what we had done, and grew jealous and fearful. They took it upon themselves to attack us, just as they had done innumerable times before, in wars long past. And we fought back, of course. But they had greater numbers, and they had the support of planets. Even some of our own.” “They made whole planets of people traitors? Through the Force?” Averus shook her head solemnly, “If only it had been that simple, boy. But no. For you see, the Jedi would never do such a thing with the Force, because the Jedi fear the Force. It is in their nature.” He did not want to be sidetracked, but this new information had piqued his curiosity, “I don’t understand. What aspect of the Force do they fear?” She almost undetectably shrugged, “All of it. Everything they use, they regret using. Even if it’s for the good of others, they consider it regrettable – a necessary evil. Two inches higher child, you’re waning…good. They believe the Force is inherently dangerous. Close your eyes.” He did so, “What happened in this war, then?” “We were systematically killed. At first, the battles were like those in any war: confusing, bloody, chaotic, a theater of the absurd. The Grand Comedy.” “The Grand Comedy.” He nodded, remembering the earlier lesson: no great war in history was ever fought without someone existing who might come out on top no matter the outcome. Anything else was mindless slaughter; violent population control. But war was never about which side won; war was about who benefited the most and why. There would always be an inevitable happy ending for the person in control. “But eventually, after years or perhaps decades, the war quit being a war and became a massacre. We were picked off person by person ‘till all that was left…” she rolled her head ever so slightly in his direction, “...was one. Birth name lost to the ages, his taken name was Bane. A Lord, he was an intelligent man who knew when to fight and when to run. He understood that if he ran out to the enemy for honor and death, it would mean the death nail for our Order as well. He was it, and its entire history lay with him. So he hid, and survived. That is why I even exist. It is why many people exist who would otherwise not. It is why you are here with me and not withering away on Dolus, laboring in that sweatshop.” If this affected him, he managed not to show it. She took this moment to give another order, “Slide the cot across the room. Gently.” She nearly fluttered in midair as his control was nearly lost between his thoughts and the new concentrations. It should have been a sign to move on, but he bore it and pressed forward, “And so Bane was the first Darth, Lady Averus?” “He was the first of the new order.” The color of her voice told him that her patience was still intact. The colors of voice. That was one of the many details he'd learned from Lady Averus, under her wing. Digging the true meaning out of someone's voice required that one listen not simply for the tone, not simply for the volume, not simply for the pauses, not simply for the accents or the pitch shifts or the intakes of breath...but for all those things at once. Like a painting - often you can predict the artist's intent at first glance, simply by squinting and taking in the whole canvass at once. Doing so, Averus had explained, would give you a single patch of color, and from that color - which the artist rarely noticed - you would find the true intent. And so it was with the spoken word. Lady Averus had taught the boy to "squint with your ears" to find the color of someone's voice. With the color came the truth, even when the words had none. But the colors of a voice did not reveal facts. Those had to be pried out with questions, and there was nothing the boy was better at, “But why did he take only one apprentice? Why not two or three? Why not…why not a whole academy?” “Because he saw how the Jedi used their numbers against them. Unlike the Jedi, who operate better as a mindless collective of enforcers, the Sith embody the ideal of the Individual. He had seen his foes turn this into a weapon, and wished to avoid a repeat occurrence. Darth Bane doubted that the Order could survive another massacre. Not everyone, you see, could be trusted to be as smart as he.” “Of course.” He knew how that felt, to be the only smart one in a room. To be alone. “So he distilled everything down in favor of proficiency and survival, over coherency and propagation.” He let this idea bounce through his head a few times. The concepts were toyed with, mentally poked and prodded, and then shifted into logical categories of priority and value. It did not take long.He said, “You mean, that while the existence of only one student meant the lessons would get changed many times over, they were rarely forgotten or ignored. …Because the student would always be at least a little interested.” “Hmm.” “And even though almost nothing was spread - or is ever spread - about the Sith today, their presence will never vanish, because finding two people in a galaxy full of people is impossible.” “Good. Very good.” “A couple months ago, you started teaching me swordplay…” “Begin moving me over to the cot, child.” He wanted to open his eyes, but dared not. This would be tricky. He picked up his previous sentence once she began to move. “If we need to stay hidden, why are you teaching me this? What use will I have for a skill I’ll never use?” “Mere application is never the only use of knowledge. Remember this. But you get ahead of yourself; being skilled in good swordsmanship will come in quite handy in a practical way. Jedi are not your only enemy. Some are nemeses from ages past. Some are new and temporary. But, you must know how to dispatch them all, and efficiently.” “What other enemies do the Sith have if they stay so well hidden?” “Child, we hide but not in holes. Our presence is felt often throughout the galaxy, and strongly. Just not in connection with our religion. We prefer to make our difference within the playground the Jedi play in, rather than against it. The political arena.” “That is why you are a baroness?” “It was a fortunate title, which I inherited. Others in past generations have had to work for their status. You will find soon enough that great good can be done through seemingly inconsequential acts – if done in the right place…and with the right title upon your name.” “But…how does that make enemies?” “You ask as though you fear this, boy. Don’t. It is a natural occurrence. You can make no public decision without someone disagreeing with you. And you can make no successful public decision without someone hating you. It is a fact you must embrace and exploit, for avoidance will only make things worse. Avoidance is the Jedi way. They have enemies they do not even know, and still more. We have few, and we know each and every one…even,” she looked him square in his closed eyes and it was such a stare that he could tell even without seeing, “when we don’t realize it.” He knew that was meant to be poignant – she had a wonderful way with words – but he wasn’t sure how to take it. He eventually decided, as this special occasion allowed for it, to be forward, “You mean even I have an enemy?” “Of course you do, boy. More than even one, in fact. You know this, even without knowing it. You are suspicious and tense, and it is because of your enemy that you feel this way – speed up boy, you’re taking too long.” His forehead broke into a sweat. He dared not accidentally float her into the wall. It would be the pinnacle of embarrassment. He did his best to lower her closer to where he felt the cot was, and he did so as fast as he could without becoming reckless. It was a tightrope of a task. The old woman waited till his confidence built, then said, “When you meditate, you see a shadow creature.” She nearly fell right out of the air. Had she, the hard edge of the cot would have connected with her hip, breaking it easily. Or so the boy imagined, his eyes being closed. But she hadn’t, and Averus’s perfect calm did not so much as flutter. Not even in the darkest, truest regions of the Force. “It is always there. Every time you close your eyes. Even now.” Dare he ask? She knew, so it was no longer simply a personal concern. Whatever both knew, both shared equally and freely. That was her first rule, though he couldn’t recall many times when she held by it. He gently – ever so gently – landed her in the exact center of the cot. As he did so (rather than after – she would have considered that cheating), he asked, “Is it real?” “Real enough.” “What do you mean?” “I said I’d answer any question you ask, and I intend to extend that courtesy for the duration of this trip, starting tomorrow. There are some things that are better explained by the light of day. Furthermore, you need your rest. There is much about combat that I intend for you to learn this week. Much.” “Understood, Lady Averus.” “You may sleep. Turn off the lamp first.” Without moving a finger or even opening his eyes, he flipped the switch embedded into the small lamp’s side. The musty room was ambushed by darkness and quickly the boy’s universe became the sounds of that predatory wind and nothing more. -----signature----- Rule 12: A soft answer turneth away wrath. Once wrath is looking the other way, shoot it in the head. --- http://boards.theforce.net/b/b1/26481069 - The Wise http://boards.theforce.net/B/b1/21283317 - Planet Hopping
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Healer_Leona Registered: Jul '00	Date Posted: 4/3/07 2:20am Subject: RE: The Wise
	Whoa. That is quite the start. Toally sucked me right in. Might I ask for PM updates? -----signature----- Still crazy after all these years.
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NiobeAsha Registered: Mar '07	Date Posted: 4/3/07 4:11am Subject: RE: The Wise
	What a perfectly excellent chapter! I can't wait to read more. -----signature----- BrentusofGath's very bad padawan. Mando par vurel! I'm all about the Zabrak lovins!!
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correllian_ale Title: Manager Emeritus Registered: Jun '05	Date Posted: 4/3/07 4:37am Subject: RE: The Wise
	Actually, I shouldn't be shocked, but it was brilliant nontheless. I loved the opening when you set the stage with Lady Averus (very cool name btw), with the coldness... "Colors of the Voice"...amazing description Yod... Just Holy across the board! And the beast in the boy's head: gray and black and purple and blue... And he knew that "she loved him"...ooo, gave me tingles! Keep me on that PM list Mister Yodimus! -----signature----- Consider this my "throw back" jersey... I govern my life around my own personal code of ethics, and I suggest that you do the same.
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VaderLVR64 Title: Fan Fic Manager in Combat Boots Registered: Feb '04	Date Posted: 4/4/07 1:56pm Subject: RE: The Wise
	Excellent start! Could I be on your PM list?? -----signature----- If you have to choose between tears and laughter, remember that laughter burns more calories. Proud New Army Mom - off to bootcamp!
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NYCitygurl Title: Railroad Baroness of SFFBC, C&G, and NSWFF Registered: Jul '02	Date Posted: 4/5/07 7:36am Subject: RE: The Wise
	their presence will never vanish, because finding two people in a galaxy full of people is impossible I love that line. This is a great story!! I'd like to be on your PM list -----signature----- "We Earth Men have a talent for ruining big, beautiful things." ~ Master of padawanlost, Ultima_1 and Jedimaster_JainaSolo
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MsLanna Title: CR GSFF Central Registered: Jul '05	Date Posted: 4/5/07 8:26am Subject: RE: The Wise
	Ooooh, very interesting start. I like those two. You can count me in on the pm list. I suck a commenting, but I'd hate to forget about this. -----signature----- Padawan owned by Corellian_Ale Master of CloneCaptainRex. Proud FanFic Master of Darth_Sathanos Why so serious? Accidentally e-married to sinre?
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oqidaun Title: Manager Emeritus Registered: Jul '05	Date Posted: 4/7/07 4:24pm Subject: RE: The Wise
	I'm really glad to see this story posted. It looked great in BetaLand and even better over here on the boards. It's a bit of a change from the usual Yodalicious Laugh Fest of Planet Hopping, but I really like it and look forward to seeing more. In fact I know where I can find more. -----signature----- . . . .
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1Yodimus_Prime Registered: Mar '04	Date Posted: 4/8/07 1:02pm Subject: RE: The Wise - Date Edited: 4/8/07 1:03pm (1 edits total) Edited By: 1Yodimus_Prime
	Healer:"Whoa. That is quite the start. Toally sucked me right in. " That's cuz I hid a black hole in the first chapter. I recommend not getting too close.. Niobe: "What a perfectly excellent chapter! I can't wait to read more." Thanks! Though, could we maybe go with 'imperfectly excellent'? Nothing against this chapter, but I'd like to think they get better as time goes on and...well, I don't want the bar set toooo high so soon. I'm afraid of heights, you see. Mr. Ale: " I loved the opening when you set the stage with Lady Averus (very cool name btw), with the coldness..." Why thanks! You can thank Oqi's Beta Powers for making me expand on the 'colors of the voice' thing. Otherwise, you'd be scratching your head instead of applauding. I'm sorry to hear I've given you the tingles. I thought it wasn't contagious... VaderLvr: "Excellent start!" Thank you! That means a lot coming from you. I fully intend to live up to that excellent startness. Time will tell. NYCg: It's a good line because it's true. The Sith really are like finding a needle in a haystack...except the haystack is the size of Jupiter, and the needle is actively trying to avoid you. MsLanna: "Ooooh, very interesting start. I like those two." Yeah, ya almost wanna hug 'em. (except then you'd die) Oqi: "I'm really glad to see this story posted...It's a bit of a change from the usual Yodalicious Laugh Fest of Planet Hopping, but I really like it and look forward to seeing more." Oh come now, this story is full of laughs If you're a psychopath. And hey, who isn't these days. Expect another Tuesday update. See ya there! PS: Consider yourselves on the list. Watch yer backs. -----signature----- Rule 12: A soft answer turneth away wrath. Once wrath is looking the other way, shoot it in the head. --- http://boards.theforce.net/b/b1/26481069 - The Wise http://boards.theforce.net/B/b1/21283317 - Planet Hopping
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1Yodimus_Prime Registered: Mar '04	Date Posted: 4/10/07 8:56pm Subject: RE: The Wise
	Chapter 2: Give and Take It was the touch of an icy morning sunlight that woke him. He shivered. The dead-still air hung cold as frost about him, but this was not what made him shake. He’d dreamt of it again. The Shadow Beast. And this time, it did not hide in the Darknesses of his mind. This time it attacked. Faceless and terrifying, it leapt fiercely from the dark and crushed him beneath its weight. He remembered vividly how it sliced open his stomach with its inky black claws. Then it bent down, not to pick at him the way he’d seen predators pick at newly killed carcasses, but to deliver a bite so large and so strong that it severed his spine, ripping him in two. It continued its savage assault going for his face. And when all he could see was the Shadow Beast’s gaping, slavering maw, he awoke. His Master was already up. She seemed cheerful and bid him to get dressed for a trek outside. “I had a dream last night,” he said forcing evenness into his voice. “I know. We’ll talk about it on the way. Today begins your real training with the sword. After this week, I suspect you may even be ready to wield your very own lightsaber.” All thoughts of Shadow Beasts left his mind. All at once, his heart both leapt for joy and shied away. He wasn’t stupid. He knew what she really meant: that he’ll become her Apprentice. Not that this mattered since he was her apprentice, in all but name. More frightening and wonderful to him, it meant he could finally take his name; it meant he would become a Sith Lord, “Lady Averus, do you really think I'm ready?" “We’ll see, boy.” They spoke of much as they hiked through the forest. His Master made sure there was something to split his concentration at all times: balancing equipment, a sudden ‘think fast’, a last-second order to levitate brush out of her path – and when they arrived at the clearing she was searching for – katas with a training staff. The staff itself was made of a light wood, balanced so that nearly all of the weight was near the end he held. He guessed it was meant to simulate a lightsaber. It was almost as long as he was tall, and performing Averus's katas with it felt awkward. Yet she added strings of them in swiftly progressing complexity. Not a second of understanding went by without a new challenge being thrown into the training to up the difficulty. Averus was acutely sensitive to the boy’s ability to learn fast, something everyone else he ever met seemed to miss. It was the one thing, above all else, that made the boy so attached to Darth Averus: she saw his potential. And boy did she. No matter how foolish they sounded, she answered every single question he put to her that day, always giving him abundant information and then some. Nobody, in all his life, had ever been this open with him. Especially not those selfish, ignorant monks who’d raised him. He never knew his parents, and he never wanted to know his parents. If the Force could only damn one kind of person to Hell, then he hoped it would be the kind that left their children on doorsteps. In his case, that doorstep led to a temple of the Shimuran Order. The Order was composed of a collection of monks who practiced what they called ‘The Way Of The Ka’. Their devotion to this particularly strict interpretation of the Force had caused them to split from the Jedi many centuries before. So they had about four long centuries to create and refine a solid philosophy, happily free of Jedi interference. He had it torn to ribbons in under seven years. They knew from the moment he said his first words that the boy was bright. But they were never able to appreciate just how bright. When, at four, he began picking up and reading texts about The Way Of The Ka, left carelessly on the floor, they called it ‘playing’. Playing! It took him two years to read everything in their library. They never noticed. He became a problem child exactly one day later. It had been an innocent enough question, posed to the abbot after meditation one day: “Why does the Force let bad things happen?” He smiled warmly and laid a hand on the child, “The Will of the Force is mysterious to us, young one.” “But what would its Will be, that it requires the suffering of others?” “I dare say, child, that the Force never requires anything. It is our’s alone to either choose to do its Will, or not.” “Is it also the weather’s choice to cause hurricanes, then? And the mantle’s choice to erupt volcanoes?” “Of course not,” he said without hesitation, though his response had been a bit startled. It was doubtful that before this conversation, the abbot had even realized the boy knew the word mantle, let alone its geological meaning, “Those things have no free will to make choices with. They are just a few of the side effects of our beautiful universe, and they must be respected and understood.” “But…what if you’re a tribal village that doesn’t know anything about hurricanes and volcanoes? How can the Force expect us to respect and understand what we don’t even know exists? If those things have no free will, shouldn’t the Force step in and be their Will, and do the right thing by avoiding crowded beaches and populated islands?” …It went downhill from there. He got sweeping duty for the rest of the week. His photon-fast advances in knowledge made him impatient and arrogant. He grew angry with the Monks more and more often and they rebuked and punished him more and more often. When he brought up carefully worded, intelligent explanations for why he was right and they were not, those rebukes and punishments were simply more severe. When they discovered he was Force-sensitive at six – a fact he’d been trying to tell them for three years by then – they openly held him back, a decision made even more infuriating because he didn’t think their ‘The Way Of The Ka’ was even a trillionth of what the Force truly had to offer. Three months before his seventh birthday, after one rebuke and one punishment too many, he walked out on them. He never looked back. And even when, alone and naïve in the city beyond, slavers captured him and sold him to a vile creature from a distant world, he had no regrets. Those fools weren’t worth regretting, and after all, what was a slaving imbecile compared to someone with power like him? Sure enough, with what little he knew of the Force, he managed to escape the stupid creature not a month later. It took him several weeks after that to navigate his new city, find his bearings, learn who to trust, learn who would give him food, learn where to avoid. He learned the planet was called Dolus. And he learned, above everything else, to hate it. There were too many other urchins on the streets and too many were bigger and stronger. Sweeping floors, reading and meditating had been poor ways for the Shimuran Monks to keep him in shape. Furthermore, the other cities were too far away, and the fares to get to them were too expensive: too much competition, no way to escape. Hiding was out of the question. During the day he could walk openly in the streets, so long as he appeared purposeful and kept to the neighborhoods that tolerated him. But at night, they all came out. Violent, territorial gangs of children, older than he (always older), who sniffed out every safe place in the town and called it their’s. He had no protection, he couldn’t sleep, he was terrified and cold and exhausted from always having to keep moving, every night and every day so he didn’t look suspicious to the merchants or look like a target to the gangs. They didn’t even offer their victims a chance to join. They just surrounded them and beat them up until they bled. Until they bled a lot. Until they became wrecked little heaps on the dirty ground. Then he would creep over, after they’d gone, and concentrate on the little cells and fibers that couldn’t be seen, help them get reoriented, find their way, make them want to reconnect, regenerate, seal up, get better. When it worked, the being for whom all those little cells and fibers made up would awaken feeling better than ever, wondering if the gang’s actions had been nothing more than a bad dream. The boy, of course, would be out of sight by then. Except, sometimes he was too scared to go near them afterwards, to help. Maybe because of what the older kids had said, or because they didn’t run off far enough. And sometimes, he didn’t help them because frankly, he didn’t think they deserved it. In those cases, he’d just sit there behind a parked speeder or a dumpster or looking out the shattered window of an abandoned building, and he’d watch the wrecked little heap as it shuddered and shook and mumbled wrecked little things from its wrecked little mouth…and sometimes, staggering, they got up and limped off…and sometimes, to his regret, they stopped moving altogether. Eventually, he knew in his heart that such a fate waited for him here. It was only a matter of time. If he didn’t find a way to get off the street, as soon as possible, he would die. He would be ganged up on, and would die. And no amount of intelligence and no amount of pure brilliance would stop that. He had to get out. Any way he could, he had to get out. So on his seventh birthday, he got a job in the only place that would take him: a sweatshop. He knew what it was, but what choice did he have? Dolus had no regulations, was beyond Republic control, and was ruled by vicious monopolies, as far as the boy could tell. It was a way out. That was all that mattered. That he wouldn’t earn enough to pay back the debts he would eventually owe them…that the mindless labor was likely to drive him crazy…that he was only going to receive one meal a day…those were hurdles he would get to later, after he knew for sure that he wasn’t going to die tomorrow. He managed to set a record on the first day: not an hour after being hired, he’d pissed off his overseer so much, he spent the next four days in the hospital. When he returned, they put him to work at the toughest part of the line. At quitting time, sixteen hours later, his overseer strutted over to him, and let him know that he’d be putting in some mandatory overtime. The boy’s response got him a loose tooth. They kept him on the line till mealtime…of the following day. One of the more well-rested kids stole his food. When he came back from his foodless break, he passed out. The overseer saw it and slapped him awake. They had another discussion. It was colorful. He found himself back in the hospital for another couple of days. Broken arm this time, among other things. The nurse joked that the staff would know him by name if he kept being this clumsy, always falling down stairs and such. That’s silly, he thought, I don’t have a name to know. When he returned, they dropped him right back into the tough part of the line, without so much as a ‘howdy’. Then, a few hours later, his favorite overseer stormed over. He waved a medical bill in his face. There was a gleeful sneer on his own. “See this?! We ain’t doin’ you no favors, payin’ this for you! You’re gonna be here till you’re sixty paying this off, ya hear me?!” The boy didn’t even flinch, “Ha. Looks like I got you then,” he smiled wickedly behind his pale cheeks and exhausted eyes, “at this rate, I’ll be dead by ten.” Which landed him back in the hospital. When he returned the third time, he was assigned to a new overseer. The supervisor had apparently decided that productivity was ultimately more important than obedience. This overseer was different, but the boy couldn’t really pinpoint why, save that the guy didn’t beat him quite so much. It actually took him several days to realize what it was: he already had a reputation. The overseer was scared of him. And when he opened his eyes and the Force to the other supervisors and overseers, he realized another thing: so was everyone else. In fact, most of the children he labored with were just as frightened of him. He found himself sitting alone during mealtime. He was given a wide berth at the sewing tables. He heard them talk about him in whispers. But they were different, because they weren’t just frightened of him. They respected him, too. But why? What had he done that was so different, so special? Oh yeah. I stood up to an overseer. He had so taken for granted his stubbornness – his ability to hold his ground no matter the threat – that it never actually occurred to him that it might be unique. Now, all of the sudden, he had new weapons. Now he had fear. Now he had intimidation. He used it to scare the biggest kids into becoming his ally. With them followed their cliques, for he only targeted those who surrounded themselves with others. With his new mob, he went after the meanest bullies – the kids who, for instance, stole food from other kids – and pressured them to join. If they refused, that was okay. At the end of the workday, his mob would corner the kid. They would have rocks. He’d simply nod toward the bully cornered there and he would casually walk away. The kid would not return to work the next day, or ever again. And when overseers started asking where they went, nobody knew a thing. Word spread. Soon the whole factory knew about him, soon the whole block, the whole neighborhood. They called him Ten, because by now, his famous comeback had become legend. Now everyone tried to sit with him, practically gave him food when they would have taken it before. Now everyone tried to work near him, to gather around him. Now when he spoke, they hushed and hung on every syllable. When he put word on the street that anyone from the factory not in his gang would regret it, he suddenly found a surge of support where there had been none. Now the urchins who would have killed him only a few months ago simply for being alive, now they were his enforcers on the outside. Now they only killed for him. And now he had everyone’s attention. It was time. One hour. That’s how long it took him to build up the concentration. He watched that overseer – his first overseer – intently the whole morning so that he didn’t miss a detail. He turned it into a scene in his head, like something out of one of those holovids he’d watch through the windows of other people’s houses: the overseer walks by the third story window, then a sudden gust of wind from out of nowhere knocks him off his feet with such force that he crashes through the glass to his death. Repeat. Repeat. Concentrate. Repeat. Concentrate. Repeat. And wouldn’t you know it, an hour later, that’s exactly what happened. The police force couldn’t for the life of them figure out how the guy managed to end up ten meters away from the warehouse. And the mess: he looked like he dove from a skyscraper, rather than the middle floor of a six-story building. But everyone gave the authorities the same answer: it seemed like he jumped out, officer. And it did seem that way to them. That was the beauty of the Force. But the kids all knew better. Ten meters? That’s a sign. Who else hated the guy more…who else had the guts…who else had the power, but Ten. He became more than just a hero or a legend. He became an icon. An anchor. A rallying point. Every child there hated at least one of the overseers just as much as Ten had hated his, some even more so. Every child who ever threw a rock for him, who ever knowingly led a kid Ten didn’t like into the wrong part of town, who ever voluntarily gave him half of their already inadequate meals, each one was calling for blood then. Each and every one was calling for War. And the day he planned to give it to them, he met Baroness Sarogga instead. And she took him home. And she fed him, and gave him a bath, and let him rest. And she promised he would never have to work ever again. She even went down in person and had the factory shut down; had every single employee fired; blacklisted each one personally. Just for him. *** She did not coddle nor did she dote. She smiled rarely. She hardly did so much as put a hand on his shoulder. What she did do, all the time, was treat him with respect. This woman - with long loose hair so thin it was nearly transparent, with wrinkles that hid decades of wisdom within their creases, with dull brown eyes that looked worn and weathered yet sharp enough to notice even the tiniest guesture, with hands that had the finesse to play instruments and the raw strength to shatter solid stone - she never looked down to him. Never. Not once. She never looked up to him, either. When he needed her to be patient during a lesson, she was without complaint. But when he grasped something instantly, she moved on and actually expected him to keep up. She let him choose the course of his studies, choose where in the spectrum of possiblity the lessons would lead, never forcing any particular doctorine on him. She had the wisdom to care about what he thought, and the authority over him to correct what she disagreed with. It was bewildering to him; it was alien. He couldn't imagine what had made this magnificent person pick such a small and unimportant kid out of the planetary crowd. Her intentions were beyond him. She was scary. She was brilliant. She was ancient and unreachable. She commanded respect without even asking for it. She was Baroness Tira Sarogga: the most powerful woman on the planet – the most powerful anything on the planet – and she had chosen him. But more importantly, she was Darth Averus: the most powerful Sith Lord in the galaxy – the only Sith Lord in the galaxy – and yet still, she had chosen him. Her estate was humble; understated. It was a cozy place, full of life and history. And people. She had guests all the time, at all hours. Anyone could walk in: the wealthy and the powerful, brilliant scientists and engineers, politicians and senators, great military leaders and rulers of distant planets. Everybody loved her. And she seemed to love everybody in return. He expected her to give him a name. Everyone his whole life had given him a name except the parents he never met. The Monks. The Slavers. That stupid creature. That damn overseer. The other children, of course. He owned none of them, and accepted each one the way you might accept a gift you know you’ll never use. But she didn’t. “Names are not given, boy. They are found at birth, or they are taken. There are no other options. One day, perhaps you will be ready to take one. But not today.” So she called him ‘boy’ instead. It didn’t bother him, but at the same time he couldn’t help but think of it as just another name being given to him again. Another gift he’ll never use. He didn’t have long to consider this, though. She began training his Force powers the very next day. And now, four and a half years later, two weeks after his twelfth birthday, this. A new form of training was about to begin. He would take a name soon…he could feel it. -----signature----- Rule 12: A soft answer turneth away wrath. Once wrath is looking the other way, shoot it in the head. --- http://boards.theforce.net/b/b1/26481069 - The Wise http://boards.theforce.net/B/b1/21283317 - Planet Hopping
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MsLanna Title: CR GSFF Central Registered: Jul '05	Date Posted: 4/11/07 3:10am Subject: RE: The Wise (update 4/10: Chapter 2)
	What an update! I'm floored. Love all of it. And since I'm thumb-tied, I'll just sit around here and gawk. The boy didn’t even flinch, “Ha. Looks like I got you then,” he smiled wickedly behind his pale cheeks and exhausted eyes, “at this rate, I’ll be dead by ten.” Which landed him back in the hospital. -----signature----- Padawan owned by Corellian_Ale Master of CloneCaptainRex. Proud FanFic Master of Darth_Sathanos Why so serious? Accidentally e-married to sinre?
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Healer_Leona Registered: Jul '00	Date Posted: 4/11/07 3:34am Subject: RE: The Wise (update 4/10: Chapter 2)
	Ahhh, the monks coul have helped the boy so much more in encouraging and directing his energies instead remaining steadfast in tehir own narrow beliefs. “Names are not given, boy. They are found at birth, or they are taken. There are no other options. One day, perhaps you will be ready to take one. But not today.” Fascinating. Wonder what he'll choose? -----signature----- Still crazy after all these years.
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VaderLVR64 Title: Fan Fic Manager in Combat Boots Registered: Feb '04	Date Posted: 4/11/07 7:54am Subject: RE: The Wise (update 4/10: Chapter 2)
	He smiled warmly and laid a hand on the child, “The Will of the Force is mysterious to us, young one.” “But what would its Will be, that it requires the suffering of others?” “I dare say, child, that the Force never requires anything. It is our’s alone to either choose to do its Will, or not.” “Is it also the weather’s choice to cause hurricanes, then? And the mantle’s choice to erupt volcanoes?” “Of course not,” he said without hesitation, though his response had been a bit startled. It was doubtful that before this conversation, the abbot had even realized the boy knew the word mantle, let alone its geological meaning, “Those things have no free will to make choices with. They are just a few of the side effects of our beautiful universe, and they must be respected and understood.” “But…what if you’re a tribal village that doesn’t know anything about hurricanes and volcanoes? How can the Force expect us to respect and understand what we don’t even know exists? If those things have no free will, shouldn’t the Force step in and be their Will, and do the right thing by avoiding crowded beaches and populated islands?” I particularly loved THIS exchange! -----signature----- If you have to choose between tears and laughter, remember that laughter burns more calories. Proud New Army Mom - off to bootcamp!
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correllian_ale Title: Manager Emeritus Registered: Jun '05	Date Posted: 4/11/07 10:07am Subject: RE: The Wise (update 4/10: Chapter 2)
	Great update Yodimus! I love how you started the boys life as being insignificant, but built it - almost to Godfather status, until one day Darth Averus comes along and outs him back into a position of him having to grow back into a position of power. The best part is, the boy seems to welcome it! “But…what if you’re a tribal village that doesn’t know anything about hurricanes and volcanoes? How can the Force expect us to respect and understand what we don’t even know exists? If those things have no free will, shouldn’t the Force step in and be their Will, and do the right thing by avoiding crowded beaches and populated islands?” …It went downhill from there. I love how you captured the mind of a child. -----signature----- Consider this my "throw back" jersey... I govern my life around my own personal code of ethics, and I suggest that you do the same.
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1Yodimus_Prime Registered: Mar '04	Date Posted: 4/14/07 7:24pm Subject: RE: The Wise (update 4/10: Chapter 2) - Date Edited: 4/14/07 7:27pm (1 edits total) Edited By: 1Yodimus_Prime
	Lanna: I'm happy to see that both laughing and crying at the same time didn't cause you to explode. I would hate to lose a reader that way. Well...unless I was there to witness it. Leona: "Ahhh, the monks could have helped the boy so much more in encouraging and directing his energies instead remaining steadfast in their own narrow beliefs." Having someone around who's younger and smarter than you can be threatening. The monks' response was natural. They should have known better, but eh, whatadya gonna do? Heathens. (oh, and let's not think too much about future name choices... ) Vaderlvr: Yep, they were stumped by the skeptic's ol' "if god's so perfect, why do bad things happen?" trap. That's why they're a peripheral cult and the Jedi practially run the Republic. It's all in how well you answer that question. How the boy figured out to ask, I'll never know. He's a devious little kid. Ale: It's funny what intelligent beings are willing to give up for affection, isn't it? (and by 'funny' I really mean 'depressing and kind of tragic') Granted, I really doubt his little insurection would have been a good thing.. "I love how you captured the mind of a child." Hey, hey, let's not go spreading that around town, okay? I appreciate the kudos, but the last thing I want is the cops barging in during an important experiment. I've broken enough brain jars this month as it is. Expect a new Chapter next week. Bout time this story got movin'! -----signature----- Rule 12: A soft answer turneth away wrath. Once wrath is looking the other way, shoot it in the head. --- http://boards.theforce.net/b/b1/26481069 - The Wise http://boards.theforce.net/B/b1/21283317 - Planet Hopping
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oqidaun Title: Manager Emeritus Registered: Jul '05	Date Posted: 4/17/07 5:49pm Subject: RE: The Wise (update 4/10: Chapter 2)
	Beautifully written. Where's my PM!?!!? You know I'm not smart enough to keep up with stories in the absence of PMs. There'll be a beta for you tomorrow at secret Gmail hideaway. -----signature----- . . . .
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