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Before - Legends The Mute: Recruitment. (Exar Kun War. Concrit requested)

Discussion in 'Fan Fiction- Before, Saga, and Beyond' started by Ninjer-8492, Sep 6, 2012.

  1. Ninjer-8492

    Ninjer-8492 Jedi Youngling

    Sep 5, 2012
    He was covered in blood. That was the first thing the black armored Sith Troopers noticed about him. He wore the dusty brown and grey clothes of a farmer, now speckled with bloody hand prints and blood spray.​
    He pulled out a white handkerchief from a pocket and continued walking down the dirt road to the security checkpoint that led to the prosperous colony town, newly paved with stone since the Sith had occupied it. The buildings of the town the man was walking to were newly painted over. The Sith had moved in heavy farming equipment in order to get the colony up to speed with the crop quota. And they weren't taking no for an answer and had proceeded to raise up cold, imposing buildings of durasteel that clashed with the Towns quaint country architecture. The Sky was a bright blue, and the sun was shining. A nice day, all and all.​
    "Excuse me sir, are you injured?" one of the helmeted troopers cautiously asked the man, taking note of his handsome features. He had dark hair that had recently been given a buzz cut, and he looked clean shaven. His skin was beige, and he had granite colored eyes. A small cigarette dangled out of his mouth, burning away slowly.​
    The man didn't respond. He just kept walking to the check point, little more than a man sized box set up on the road with a comm array next to it. Two other men waited nearby, tensing at the sight of the bloodstained man.​
    "I say again, are you injured?" the Trooper asked.​
    The man kept walking.​
    The Trooper was alert now. "Hands up! Don't move!" the Trooper ordered.​
    The man stopped instantly.​
    "Let me see your hands!" Another trooper said, raising his blaster rifle at the man.​
    The man raised them. The troopers quickly went over and began patting him down.​
    "He's clean sir. No weapons," one of the troopers said.​
    "Where the hell did you get all the blood?" the head trooper asked, his rifle pointed at the man's face.​
    The Man shrugged.​
    "W-what the hell does that mean?! Who's blood is that?" the Trooper demanded.​
    The man's response was to grab the blaster before the man could blink and slam the stock of the weapon into the troopers helmet, knocking him backward, he whipped the weapon around and hit the second trooper on his right, also knocking him backward and kicking the one on his left right in the groin. All three dropped, trying to get their weapons out.​
    The Man pointed the rifle at the head trooper's neck and fired. It came off cleanly. He the shot another between the legs and then finally killed the last one by hitting right through the helmet.​
    The Man paused at his deed, went over and pulled out the blaster pistol from the head trooper's leg holster, put it in his pant pocket and continued into town.​
    Another boring day, as always.​
    Darth Phlegia, a Zabrak with iron grey skin sighed wistfully as he checked his Pazaak deck.​
    Fortunately his assignment to this excuse for a colony was a short one, simply to cow the population into submission. He had done much of the busy work already, hosting a public execution. Whether those who were executed were innocent were of no concern to him. They were bodies, and they needed dying, that was enough. He'd just snatched them off the street one of them a young woman pleading with him that she was going to get married soon. He'd simply laughed, and let her hang with the rest. The population needless to say, had been much quieter after that.​
    At the table with him in the cantina were Sith Lords Darth Sedis, a Rodian in hideous shades of red and black tattoos, and Darth Knava, a male Chagrian. His horns were inscribed with Sith Symbols and his robes were the color of ash, like Phlegia's.​
    Phlegia fixed his yellow eyes on his hand. 17. He should stay his hand.​
    "I'm staying," he announced, slapping his cards on the table.​
    "You win again. The Force favors you, it seems," Sedis spoke cooly, but there was no mistaking the tone of jealousy.​
    "If you were a better player, the Force would favor you too, Sedis," Phelgia teased.​
    "Hey, When do you think she's going to leave?" Knava asked, gesturing to the only other Sith in the near empty bar.​
    Her robes were black, but not quite opaque. Long and flowing, they gave hints of the shapely figure underneath.​
    Her hood was drawn up, and her face was covered by a cross between a mask and a veil. The top shaped like a skull with a single red crystal inset into the forehead. The veil portion was too opaque to see the face, leading some to speculate. Another distinguishing thing about her was the belt she wore. It seemed to be composed of at least nine joined animal tales.​
    Darth Kitsun never really talked to anybody, Most said she was returning to her stronghold in Sith controlled space, and had simply stopped here to catch her breath and take in the scenery.​
    "I don't know, why don't you ask?" Sedis wondered allowed, focused mainly on his game.​
    "Not interested in having the life sucked out of me," Knava replied, going back to his game.​
    "What, you want to invite her over or something? She doesn't seem like the card type," Phlegia laughed mockingly.​
    Phlegia stopped laughing when he caught sight of the blood covered man. Dirt and sweat mixed with the blood, caking it all over. He said nothing as he walked in, did not acknowledge anyone except the fat old human Bartender, who he gestured at silently for a drink. The Bartender, terrified by the nearly demonic sight, poured him a shot glass of Gammorean Bourbon and the man pulled the still burning cigarette out of his mouth and drank it quickly.​
    Phlegia tapped Sedis on the shoulder, gesturing at the bloody man.​
    "Suffer an injury, I take it?" Phlegia asked.​
    The man gestured for another drink. The bartender handed him another one, still terrified.​
    The man took the glass, went over to the table the Sith were playing at, and sat down, saying nothing. The cigarette in the man's mouth continued to burn, slowly.​
    "I do believe your senses are addled," Knava spoke menacingly. "This is a Sith table. The Sith are the law around here."​
    The man said nothing. He just downed his glass.​
    Phlegia, for some reason strangely apprehensive, covered it up by chuckling. "Perhaps our friend is a little exhausted and just wants to sit down. Is that it? Or is it a death wish?"​
    The man said nothing. He pulled out his handkerchief and wiped some blood away from his eyes.​
    "This is interesting," Knava said, eyes narrowing.​
    Phlegia chuckled still. "I think he wants us to ask something about him. Am I right?"​
    The man turned to Phlegia, and the Sith almost gulped at the empty gaze as the man simply nodded.​
    Phlegia calmed himself. He was Sith. This man simply wasn't capable of triumphing over his command of the Dark Side.​
    "Okay, I'll start with the most obvious question interloper: Whose blood are you covered in?" Phlegia asked.​
    The man took a draw of his cigarette, reached into his pocket, and pulled out a metal cylinder with a curved, spiked blade guard.​
    Phlegia stared as he recognized the saber.​
    It belonged to his apprentice, who, now that he thought about it, hadn't reported back to him this morning.​
    His apprentice's ears had been brutally nailed to the weapon, damaging it, but the message came through all the same: You're next.​
    Before Phlegia or the others could recover from their shock, the Man flipped the table over, busting the shot glass deliberately and raking a jagged edge across Phelgia's face, who screamed, clutching his face as the man tackled him wrapping his hands around the Sith in a death grip.​
    The other Sith recovered and rushed over to grab the man, but the bloody man held fast to his victim, squeezing his thumb's ever deeper into Phlegia's trachea, drawing blood and making the Sith's eyes roll into his head.​
    The man only let go when he felt the trachea collapse. The two Sith finally ripped him from their fallen comrade.​
    The man didn't give up. He grabbed Sedis' belt and pulled him down with him. Dodging the Rodian's belated burst of lightning and instead forcing the hand away and causing the lightning to hit Knava, killing him instantly.​
    Ripping the lightsaber from Sedis's belt he plunged the hilt straight through Sedis' eye.​
    The man paused, gazed at his handiwork and then stared at Darth Kitsun.​
    Kitsun held up a placating hand.​
    "Oh please, don't let little old me stop you. I'm just passing through," she spoke in a voice heavily disguised by a synthesizer.​
    The bloody man said nothing. He just shrugged, took another puff of his cigarette and walked out.​
    Darth Kitsun and every one of the other patrons stayed inside as blaster fire and yelling from the Sith troopers outside sounded off.​
    "What do you mean, you have no idea who he is?" Captain Mirthra, an Alderaanian with a weather beaten face and a balding crown of grey hair asked in his black and red Sith uniform.​
    "Town doesn't keep records on that sort of thing before we arrived. Nobody knows who he is. The locals say he was a farmer. Never spoke to anybody. Never gave a name," the Corporal, a red-skinned Twi-lek, answered.​
    "So we have no ID. What did the interrogators learn?" Mirthra asked, regarding the bloodstained man behind the transparisteel. He was wrapped in heavy chains in the slate grey interrogation room, his face betraying nothing.​
    " don't understand..." the Corporal said, regarding the bloody, nameless man with a look that alternated between fear and fascination. "He killed fifteen of our troopers, And three fully trained Sith and one apprentice. One of them was simply strangled to death. We can't even FIND the apprentice, who I'm told was in his late twenties and had a good amount of kilos on our culprit. He killed the Sith Interrogator-another Force User-when he tried to strap him to the table, and got another two out of the security team sent to arrest him."​
    "Frak," Mirthra breathed. He stared at the man.​
    "Why'd he do it?" the captain asked.​
    "He won't say. All he did was put an 'X' on the confession letter.​
    "So we don't even know why he went on a rampage?"​
    "No. But Darth Kitsun has requested to talk with him."​
    Mirthra cursed. The case was open and shut. Another few minutes and the man would be marched out to the firing squad and disposed of quickly. Quietly. After all the Sith couldn't have it get out that one ordinary man could strike such a blow.​
    But rank was rank. Darth Kitsun would have her little interview.​
    "Let her in. Monitor them."​
    The man simply stared as Darth Kitsun seemed to float into the interrogation room.​
    "My my, that was some display out there! You got some nerve on you. Nerves of steel. I like that. I respect that," Kitsun began in as jovial a tone as her synthesizer would allow. "Y'know, I can't even imagine the kind of gumption you had to work up to do this. Did you have to take drugs, or something?"​
    The man did not answer.​
    "No drugs, huh? What, you just decided to do it?"​
    The man did not answer.​
    Kitsun tapped her fingers against the desk. She was getting nowhere.​
    "So why'd you kill them? Guy like you, you thought this out. Hell, you improvised at the bar, which is really impressive. You took out three! Three! At the same time! I couldn't believe it!" she gushed. "They must have done something to upset you. Wanna tell me what it was?"​
    The man did not answer.​
    "Phlegia in particular was not well liked around here. Messy business with public executions. I've never understood why they had to do that. That just makes the populace start plotting. Bribing is a better option. Anyway I was going over the list of recent executions and I noticed in particular a young woman Phlegia had grabbed off the street named Ana. The locals said she was going to get married, and had been shopping for several days. But the locals don't know who she was going to get married to. You wouldn't happen to be the lucky man, would you?"​
    He didn't answer. He just stared.​
    Kitsun stared back.​
    "Fine, keep your peace. But know this. I'm going to walk out of the room depending on what you decide next. Keep in mind there are a whole bunch of people out there who want you dead. Now depending on what you decide, I'm going to walk out of there with you, or without you. And if you walk out of here with me, all is forgiven. No man will raise a hand against you. Because you have something, something special. Something that will open up a lot of doors...but only if you're strong enough. If you leave with me, you'll be my apprentice. You will serve me until I deem you ready. But if you don't walk out of here with me, then these fine gentlemen will march you out the back and shoot you in the head. Now what's it gonna be?"​
    The man stared-and then shook his head.​
    Kitsun regarded him sadly. "Brave. I like that."​
    Kitsun removed a small, polished black case from within her thin robes. She pulled out a cigarette.​
    "Here," she said, sticking one in his mouth and lighting it with a tiny spark of Force lightning. "A last smoke."​
    The man took a draw, gave a slight nod and stood up as the guards marched in and removed him.​
    It was raining outside as they put a blindfold onto the bloodstained man. Mud made walking difficult. It didn't matter though. He'd have no need to walk soon.​
    The Troops had marched him far from the town, Darth Kitsun following close. They didn't need him unexpectedly screaming about resistance, or some such.​
    He didn't care. His vengeance was sated. The men he hated, the men who wronged him, were dead. That was that.​
    He was stopped after ten minutes. Heard the sentence being carried out.​
    "For the crime of which he is accused-the wrongful death of loyal soldiers, and the heinous slaying of Sith Lords, the sentence is death by firing squad, too be carried out by the captain of this colonial outpost. Has the prisoner any last words?" Captain Mirthra asked.​
    The man simply allowed the cigarette Kitsun had given him to burn. He did however, deliver a rude hand gesture with his finger to all present, despite the fact he had shackles on him.​
    "Insolent scum. You're lucky we don't have time for slower methods of death!" Mirthra roared, pulling out his pistol. "Burn in hell!"​
    The blaster shot hit him square between the eyes.​
    The bloodstained man fell backward, and did not move again.​
    Mirthra went over to his victim and knelt down, spitting on him, then reached his neck to check for a pulse.​
    The bloodstained man sprang back to life, head butting Mirthra and pulling away his pistol, which he promptly used to shoot the Captain with.​
    Every soldier present took a step back as the man rose up, still smoking his cigarette. A fresh blaster hole in the blindfold was still smoking and singed. Blood leaked out of it, running down the man's face.​
    The silence at the moment was louder then a starfighter in the atmosphere. Somehow, that made the moment worse.​
    The soldiers shifted, and so did the man at the same time. He fired at the closest foot step. He heard the trooper scream as he went down.​
    The blood stained man dived for cover as the remaining troops, five in all, opened fire. He twisted the dead captain's body over him for use as a shield as he hesitantly fired at the sound of the soldiers movement in the mud. He hit one in the leg, and another in the face. The remaining troops panicking at the horror of how things had suddenly gone against them, suddenly fled, only to be cut down by some quick fire from Kitsun, who had produced a small holdout blaster from her robes.​
    The man paused as she walked toward him.​
    "Do you see now?" she asked without a hint of irony. "It's a sign! You were meant to survive! Now will you come with me?"​
    The blindfolded man still hesitated.​
    "You deflected the shot at the last possible instant with your power, but not so much. Some of it still got through, and I'm sensing damage. You need medical attention," she said.​
    The man removed his blindfold trying to see her. to his dismay, nothing but darkness greeted him, even though his eyes were wide open. He felt a sharp pain-a crater between the eyes.​
    Kitsun took him by the hand. "It's okay, you're eyes aren't much use in this business anyway. Now will you follow me?"​
    The man tried to speak, but no words came out. Though he wanted to, he just wasn't quite sure how he could speak. He could understand her just fine, but responding coherently was sadly out of the question for the moment.​
    The man thought some more, put his blindfold back on, and let her help him up. With a wave of her hand, she undid the locks on his manacles.​
    "Come, my apprentice. We must move quickly. Once they realize you have escaped, they will hunt you down, to say nothing of how much trouble I could get in by helping you," Kitsun ordered, marching deeper into the forest for a roundabout pathway to her private shuttle, leading the bloodstained man by the hand all the while.​
    Planet Ojos,​
    He was covered in blood. That was the first thing anybody noticed as he nearly stumbled off the shuttle, wearing a white cotton shirt and brown slacks. His leather boots were caked and bloody. His skin was a shade pale, dark hair trimmed to a buzzcut. His strong, slightly round jaw fixed as he puffed on a cigarette. He wore a tattered blindfold of some dark wool-like material, with a scorched hole in the middle, right between the eyes. Following him off the shuttle was a woman veiled in black frome head to toe, her face covered by a mask whose top half was white and skull like, the bottom black and veil like. The robes, though thin, were opaque allowing no=one to glimpse anything underneath. Set at the waist was a belt composed of tails covered in orange fur with a black and white tip.​
    It was raining, just as it had been at the colony the bloody man had been taken from. A colony whose name he had already forgotten.​
    Had he been able to see, he would have marveled at the city of gleaming white towers, a verticle field of brilliantly colored roses in many different shades covered the buildings. Sith star-fighters streaked overhead, their sonic boom catching his ears. It hurt.​
    Had he turned to his left he would have spotted a quaint castle of black stone surrounded by a dark red forest, it's fort walls looming over everything except the castle's main tower, which jutted into sky, simple and forlorn.​
    "Welcome to your new home," Darth Kitsun said merrily, her voice disguised heavily by a synthesizer. She began to lead the bloody man by his hand along the landing pad walkway to the giant gates of the castle.​
    She stopped when she realized she had unwanted company waiting for her at the looming square gate.​
    "Well, well, if it isn't Darth Kitsun. I trust your sightseeing was productive?" Darth Ino, a lean muscular Nagai male asked, His head was shaved bald, and his tattered black robes hung on his body loosely. His poisonous sulfur eyes shot the blind man a curious look.​
    "Ino. What a surprise. I take it the local Sith Overlord sent you to keep me company?" Kitsun asked.​
    "Hardly. I'm here on the next few days on inspecting the local efficiency in dealing with threats to the Sith Rule. I hear there is quite the underground here.​
    "Slander, of course. I keep a tight rein on all my subjects."​
    "I see. But why have you not ordered any executions? Fear is a Sith's greatest weapon."​
    " I will order executions when I deem them needed," Kitsun cut him off with a wave of her hand.​
    "I see. This is just routine, you see. I am only doing my job," Ino replied clinically in his cultured tone.​
    "Of course. Which is why I seemingly get visits from you monthly," Kitsun said. "Return when you have more to do than try and intimidate me,"​
    "Careful, Kitsun. Your reign is weak and your policies weaker. You may know how to run a town, but the day is fast approaching when-"​
    Ino stopped as the blind man slammed his fist into the Sith Lord's jaw. Ino flew backward into the gate.​
    Two ash-like blades sprang out of his production-issue lightsaber an instant later.​
    "How dare you, you dirty mongrel!" Ino shouted.​
    "Careful, Ino, this one has a temper. And less patience," Kitsun chided. "Meet my new apprentice,"​
    "This weakling?" Ino chuckled, though his eyes flashed a killing rage still. "This blind man is your student?"​
    Ino approached the blind man, who grimaced, letting his cigarette burn slowly.​
    Suddenly, Ino smiled.​
    "Of course he's new. Only that could explain the fatal error he 'nearly' made," Ino said slowly. "Do you know who I am?"​
    The man did not bother to respond, the wound from the blaster bolt to his face having robbed him of his ability to speak.​
    "I am regent for the overlord of this sector. I bring forward the disloyal, the traitorous...the weak. Tell me, do you think you could kill me in a fight?"​
    The blind man gave no indication that he had even heard what Ino was saying.​
    "If you will not speak, then I shall have to content myself with hearing your screams one of these days," Ino chuckled. "That is, if your training doesn't kill you first. Mark my words, fool, if you survive your training, you shall not savor your accomplishment long. And as for you," he went on, turning to Kitsun. "I'll shall once again suggest to the Overlord that you be stripped of your power,"​
    "Go ahead," that's what you're good at. Pestering," Kitsun scoffed.​
    "Your influence will not protect you forever, Kitsun," Ino replied calmly brushing past the bloody man.​
    The bloody man pulled out his cigarette and tossed it to the ground, stamping it out with his boots.​
    When Ino was out of earshot, Kitsun turned to her apprentice.​
    "Do not do something like that again. He has a great deal of authority. He could have given you a death sentence. No one, not even I, would have been able to save you," Kitsun quietly admonished the bloody man, who merely nodded.​
    "Follow me," she instructed, leading him by the hand as he listened to her footsteps, walking through the gate entrance.​
    Of course, The bloody man had no intention of staying. He had seen firsthand the kind of destruction the Sith were capable of, having already experienced it. If Darth Kitsun was of a mind to teach him, than he would simply learn enough to eventually escape her grasp. Then he could go and vanish.​
    "While you are my apprentice you will not be permitted to leave this place unless I accompany you. You will need to learn proper manners for a Sith. One false move, one wrong action can leave you dead and me paying for your funeral arrangements," Kitsun added. "It is not a task I would enjoy, and I shall not remember my experience fondly. Now, to business, you shall have your own quarters. We shall train from dawn to dusk. Steel yourself, because I've made certain the regimen is brutal. Your first task starting tomorrow shall be to learn how to adapt to your new situation. In the meantime, I promised you medical treatment. I shall leave you in the sick-bay, as I have other matters which require my attention, namely, covering up evidence of my presence on that colony I found you on. I must depart. My servant girl Foxe, in the meantime, shall see to you," with that, Kitsun walked away from him heading down an arched hallway mad of some dark red wood.​
    The castle interior was mostly stone and wood, with dark, cavernous rooms holding amenities fit for royalty, it was silent. Odd. The blind man figured it should be crawling with servants. Maybe droids took care of most of the work. Its many connecting halls and stair ways were dark and lonely, covered in dust, the dark red wood running through all of it.​
    "Hello," called out a voice calmly. The tone was sweet, like honey.​
    The bloody man wheeled around to the source of the voice. Had he been able to see, he would have noticed a strikingly beautiful young woman with tan skin, and chocolate brown that was slightly floppy, yet did not go past her ears. He would have been intrigued by her dull green eyes-and the fetching, sheer beige dancer's outfit, a pair of sheer slacks and a top with black dancer's shoes, thin as well. Her heart shaped face and lips would have taken his breath away.​
    All he could do was content himself with having heard her voice.​
    "I'm Foxe. The mistress told me about you. Come, let's get you to sick-bay and see how bad the damage is, shall we?" she said, gently grasping his arm.​
    They soon reached it after going down a few sets of stairs. It was small, but fully stocked with the latest in surgical equipment and antibiotics. An opal scanning bed adorned the center of the sterile white room.​
    "Lie down," she ordered gently.​
    The bloody man went to the bed and lay down.​
    Foxe pulled out a small medical scanner and undid the blindfold.​
    "Whoa. I thought Lady Kitsun had merely embellished her story. It's remarkable it's healed so well. You're a very lucky man. At least that is what I would say if luck had anything to do with it. But the Force gets all the credit for this one," Foxe said absently. "Are you still having trouble speaking?"​
    The man nodded. Much though he wanted to he could not remember how to form words with his mouth. The blasterbolt had messed whatever controlled that up, yet he could still think coherently. Small blessings.​
    "Can you still write?"​
    The blind man, if he could have gone quieter, would have.​
    "Can you still write?" Foxe repeated. "I need to know your name and medical history."​
    The man shook his head.​
    "It is odd you don't remember how to write. Maybe the shot went deeper than Lady Kitsun thought...or was that before the blastershot?" Foxe asked. "Illiterate?"​
    The Man nodded. Dyslexia, actually, but the result was the same.​
    "In this day and age..." Foxe trailed off, more surprised than anything else. "Let me guess, lived below the poverty line?"​
    The man did not answer.​
    "Any friends? Family?"​
    No answer.​
    Foxe sighed. "I'm trying to help you, you know."​
    The man nodded in agreement.​
    "But I take it you would rather keep your past separate from your present?"​
    The man nodded.​
    Foxe sighed again. "Fine. There isn't much that I can do anyway. Injuries like this would normally take months of recovery yet you've healed in a matter of hours. Strong in the Force, indeed," Foxe said.​
    The man felt her remove his blindfold. He fixed his useless eyes on where he hoped her face was.​
    "Granite colored. Strange. Y'know, it reminds me of stories I've heard of a scout for hire who had strange eyes such as yours. Heard he was on the run from Republic army after some business he had with them went south. Are you the man they speak of?"​
    No answer. No reaction.​
    Foxe shrugged. "Ah well. Worth a try. They're nice though, I'll give you that. I suppose you would rather I not know your name either?"​
    The man nodded.​
    "Fair enough. I know, let's just call you 'Mute', or 'The Mute'. How's that?"​
    The Mute thought a moment, then nodded.​
    "Perfect. Come, I'll show you your quarters," she said happily, once again taking his hand.​
    Ten months later.​
    "Again," Kitsun commanded.​
    The Mute, clad in a brand new simple set of black robes stretched out his arms.​
    The set of rocks, stacked on top of one another, floated gently off the stone floor of the white, spherical chamber they were training in.​
    "Feel the contours of the rocks with your mind," she said as gently as her vocal synthesizer would allow. "Size means nothing to the Force."​
    The Mute had taken this lesson to heart after Kitsun had telekinetically tossed a vehicle at him one day just to keep him on his toes. He had caught it, but barely. Telekinesis was no strong suit of his.​
    "Let your emotion fuel your strength. Move the rocks to you."​
    He could see flashes of the worthless stones in his mind's eye floating toward him. He focused his annoyance at his lack of ability in this particular area into anger and made the stones do his bidding. They floated neatly to him.​
    "Good. You're learning," Kitsun noted merrily. She pulled a cigarette from her little black case and handed it to him. He lit it with a small spark of Force Lightning.​
    "These months with you have been difficult but well worth it. You have come farther in these few months than any other student I have ever had. No doubt that when the day comes to strike me down, you shall have an easy time of it. But that day is not here, and you still have much to prove," Kitsun said as he smoked contentedly. "Which brings me to your task,"​
    The Mute turned his head toward her. He was finally being given an assignment?​
    "A Sith Governor has been feeding the Republic information on the defenses of this planet. Naturally, if word got out this happened under my watch...let us just say it would make me suspect in the eyes of certain individuals. I want you to eliminate this man. Currently, he is here on business, in the city. I have learned he will be meeting with Republic spies at a military base within the city."​
    The Mute nodded, relieved he was at last being allowed to test his new abilities.​
    Kitsun in their first months had been absolutely pitiless, pushing him harder than even he thought he could go. Sith Training was an unflinchingly brutal challenge to the unprepared. Had the Mute not already been experienced in hardship, it was unlikely he would have passed half of the regimen.​
    But now-he was stronger. He could feel it. The Dark Rage was harnessed properly, and now he could do things just like his worst enemies could.​
    As the months had gone on however, thoughts of escape had only increased. He had carefully studied Kitsun's teachings on morality and the Sith and determined that he wanted no part of it.​
    Curiously, he was certain Kitsun knew where he leaned on the subject and yet did not attempt to sway him. Perhaps she too saw the foolishness of it all.​
    Still, he knew he was a marked man. The thought of taking over Kitsun's position, even if he wanted it, was small comfort if he was not going to be alive to savor it. It was better to vanish. He had nothing to prove to Ino or anyone else.​
    And when he vanished, he would be sure to never resurface.​
    All the same, he couldn't help but be a little impressed with himself. If anyone could cut it as a Sith, he could.​
    "Another Sith will accompany you, as this is a two-person job. Be wary of the other Sith, however. She is...unhinged," Kitsun warned. "Her name is Whips. She's a Twi-lek. She is also quite mad. Be on you guard," his Master instructed. You leave tonight. Foxe will give you the directions," Kitsun finished. "Impress me."​
    The Mute nodded and left the chamber.​
    The Mute gave an experimental twirl of the cane saber Kitsun supplied him. She never said where she had gotten it from, but he had long suspected it was her old Jedi weapon that she had simply decided to loan out to him. It felt like it had gotten a great deal of use. He could feel the roughness of the wood, the worn feel of the metal, T-shaped handle that covered a hidden saber emitter. The brass tip on the bottom of the cane was dented and scuffed. He used telekinesis to activate the internal switch in the weapon.​
    A violet blade snaked forth as the handle split open.​
    He shut it off and stood up in his private quarters.​
    Foxe lay on his bed, lazily playing one of Kitsun's guitars. The room was circular, sparse, and had a maroon color theme running through it.​
    "Are you sure you're going to be alright?" Foxe asked. "I've heard of Whips. She's no joke. Don't turn your back on her."​
    The Mute nodded, raising from a kneeling position. Foxe handed him some credits and a long black robe, but he refused it. It would only hinder his movement.​
    As her fingers brushed by accident, the Mute suppressed a giddy feeling that he had been trying to avoid whenever he was around her. It was too soon for that. Especially after...​
    The Mute cut off all thought of his past and strode out of his chambers. Foxe lay back on his bed and continued plucking the strings away.​
    Planet Ojos, Military District. Night time.​
    It was raining as the Mute got off the mass transport shuttle, careful to follow Foxe's directions as he took a left down one rain soaked street. Thunder cracked over head, but that was good, as the Mute could use the sound to help his brain distinguish the surroundings. He took a tentative few steps forward, careful to avoid the two black armored troopers patrolling the street. He relaxed as they didn't seem to notice him. He continued to this meeting place where his erstwhile ally would be waiting.​
    The imposing low built buildings of the military district all had cannons mounted on the top to defend against space craft. This was a place where soldiers were always around, so it would be unwise to act until the timing was perfect. In and out, quietly and with a minimum of fuss. Not that he wasn't capable of demolishing the base if he had to, but that had been when he relied on a mostly berserker approach to combat, and Kitsun's teachings had instilled in him an appreciation for strategy. And he had no one to rescue this time.​
    The last time he had ended up completely destroying a base, it had forced him to go into hiding. In fact, that had been the reason he had been on the colony Kitsun had found him on.​
    And to think, all of it had started over a woman.​
    The Mute stopped and turned into the alley set between a small pair of pawn shops, and waited.​
    After a few minutes he heard a sound.​
    He smelled perfume. He tapped his cane.​
    When the sound came back to him, it produced an image of a voluptuous Twi-lek. All albino skin and cold, icy eyes, a prominent scar started at the right side of her face, cut through the bridge of her nose and terminated at the bottom of her left ear.​
    Her outfit-if it could be called an outfit-was little more than a pair of black leather boots that went up to her thighs and a black, silky, T-shaped article of wear that covered only the bare essentials. A black sash hugged her waist, and a stun-prod-like weapon hung from it. A black headdress typical of her people finished the look.​
    The Mute straightened up as she approached. This was his contact?​
    The woman chuckled, beckoning him to follow her.​
    He liked the smell of the perfume, and the woman-wow.​
    He followed as she walked out of the ally back onto the street. The rain soaking both of them.​
    The woman giggled as she activated her weapon.​
    The Mute tensed. A lightsaber whip. No wonder the woman was named so.​
    The red blade crackled as she cracked it through a nearby landspeeder, breaking out into more giggling.​
    The Mute was on full alert. Kitsun hadn't been joking when she said Whips was unhinged.​
    Whips cracked her blade through a liquor store, sounding an alarm.​
    The Mute wanted to hiss that she should stop, but his amnesia regarding how to speak stayed him. He instead grabbed her weapon arm.​
    Whips spun around, getting close to him, licking her lips. "Mmmm..." she moaned, running a hand down his chest.​
    The Mute put a finger to his lips. "Shhh."​
    "Shhh," she imitated, pulling his hand away and running her tongue slightly across his lips.​
    The Mute pulled his hand from hers, desperately hoping she hadn't noticed him blushing. Whips dashed that hope by laughing as he walked past her.​
    This was going to be tougher than he thought.​
    The silent pair approached the main gate of the circular military base casually, ducking behind a nearby airspeeder as they got closer.​
    The Mute figured he could simply stun the guards and knock them out, then proceed silently into the heart of the base using the Force camouflage technique Kitsun had taught him.​
    Whips however had other ideas.​
    Before the Mute could stop her, Whips cackled and sent large, loud bolts of lightning into the eightman squad overseeing the gate, cooking them in their armor, exploding the grenades on all of them as she charged, the Mute struggling to contain his surprise and adapt to the situation as he followed her.​
    Whips conjured a giant ball of lightning into her hand hurling the projectile into a a set of electrical generators, exploding them and taking out all power in the base before a general alert could be sounded. That would delay the arrival of reinforcements, but not for long.​
    She giggled charging into a crowd of troops firing at her. She cracked her weapon this way and that, severing heads and limbs, brutally cleaving through her opposition as the Mute activated his cane saber, slashing through more soldiers confused and frightened as to what was going on.​
    This felt all too familiar to the blind Darksider. His whole life he had been getting into trouble like this, either because others had acted upon him deliberately, or because he had simply been in the wrong place at the wrong time. Today, it seemed, was going to be no different.​
    The Mute heard Whips moaning as they stood back to back, deflecting blaster fire from troopers pouring out of the barracks and mess halls. The pair launched Force pulses to their left and right at the same time, Whips chuckled as they slammed into hapless troopers, killing them instantly.​
    Finally clearing away enough space for some temporary relief from blaster fire, the pair charged deeper, slicing the occasional stupid trooper who got too close, cursing how this had all gone wrong. Whips covered him, firing lightning at more distant troopers attempting to take sniper shots at them.​
    He knew they didn't have much time. How this Governor had managed to sneak an entourage of Republic spies past base security was beyond him, but his job wasn't to ask questions, especially when he was too concerned with what the beautiful looking but mad woman next to him would do next.​
    Whips suddenly threw herself on him, knocking him to the ground as a blaster shot whizzed over his head. She fired lightning at the offending trooper when he peaked out of cover, causing his head to explode.​
    Whips rewarded herself by chewing on the Mute's ear, moaning and giggling as he struggled up.​
    Whips chuckled as she righted herself, the thunderstorm growing louder as they ran past various buildings as they heard shouting behind them.​
    The Mute turned right as he remembered the intelligence Kitsun had given him.​
    The Governor was held up in a special VIP section of the base, built so as to not draw attention. It was a simple, rectangular white building with a curving roof structure, supposedly lavish on the inside.​
    The pair rushed toward it, aware of how much danger they were in.​
    The Mute blasted the front door away with a Force push, and started deflecting shots from several weak blasters as he spotted the Governor, a male Chagrian, dive behind a lavish desk. as several humen men in brown combat armor opened fire. The setting was indeed lavish. A fireplace glowed gently and exotic rugs and paintings decorated the inside.​
    The Mute sprinted forward, slashing some across the chest, beheading the others easily.​
    He then approached the cowering Governor, clad in a black military uniform.​
    "I'll-I'll tell you everything you want to know-" the man begged in a weak voice, urinating himself.​
    He screamed as the Mute declined his offer, beheading him.​
    Whips chuckled as she waltzed in behind him. She surveyed the carnage and moaned lasciviously.​
    She strode over to the desk, picking up a crystal wine decanter and took a sip from it. She then poured the rest onto the desk and set it on fire with a bolt of lightning.​
    The Mute quickly searched the Governor's pockets and pulled out the holodisk he had also been instructed to find.​
    Whips laughed and the pair ran out as the fire grew serious, starting to creep everywhere.​
    The Mute and Whips had made their way from the now locked down district under cover of darkness. He finally dared to let his heart start pounding in amazement that he wasn't dead as the pair ducked into another alley, the rain still pouring down.​
    Whips noticed his tension and laughed. "Shhh," she repeated mockingly. "Mmmm..."​
    The Mute took a step back as she approached him, running a finger down the front of his chest. He tried not to blush, while still fully aware of how crazy she was.​
    Whips giggled. She clipped her weapon back to her sash and leaned towards him.​
    The Mute's brow raised as she started sniffing his neck.​
    "Mmmm..." she repeated snatching the holodisk out of his pocket as he realized his mistake too late.​
    Whips giggled and back flipped out of his way. His cane saber was active, its violet blade steaming as the rain drops hit it.​
    Whips whistled for him like he was a dog as her snake like blade slinked out of its hilt.​
    The Mute was in no mood for her games. He made a "Get over here" gesture. She would have one chance to undo her error and no more.​
    Whips beckoned to him with a finger.​
    The Mute sprinted towards her, dodging her blade as she cracked it to his face.​
    He went into a roll, dodging the blade, only for Whips to kick him in the stomach, throwing him into the street with the Force. She giggled and dragged her blade on the ground behind her.​
    The Mute rose, pulling out a cigarette from the folds of his black robes. Lighting with a spark from his fingertips, He took a long drag as he heard her whip-saber crack through the air.​
    He parried as it snapped toward his face, but the flexible nature of her weapon caused the tip to wrap around his, which Whips took full advantage of, yanking him towards her.​
    He was ready this time however. He allowed himself to be carried forward-and then twisted his blade around hers, snapping his other fist into her jaw.​
    Her head snapped back and she hit the hard cement, spitting blood as the Mute yanked her weapon away from her, sending it clattering a few feet away. The blade hissed as it burned into the street.​
    Whips wiped some blood away from her mouth. "Mmmm..." she went, and then giggled, slowly standing up.​
    The Mute guarded and backed away as she approached, chuckling. Lightning arced between her fingers.​
    Suddenly they heard a siren from a security patrol speeder not far from them. It was closing rapidly. Someone had dialed the authorities.​
    Whips heard it and laughed. She summoned her weapon to her hand and cracked it into the ground playfully. "Shhh..." she teased, putting a finger to her lips as she slinked away from him, practically skipping down the street.​
    Whips emphasized her playfulness by snapping her weapon through buildings and parked vehicles, twirling the weapon expertly as she skipped happily down the street.​
    The Mute followed. Some people started coming out of the local shops and he gestured for them to stay where they were. No need for them to get killed in his fight.​
    A patrol speeder suddenly landed behind him and four troopers got out.​
    "Freeze!" one of them yelled aiming his rifle.​
    The troopers suddenly started to clutch at their throats.​
    The Mute turned around. Whips was choking all four of them with the Force. "Ooooo..." she moaned, laughing.​
    The four troopers collapsed, their necks broken.​
    The Mute went over to the air speeder they had been using and shoved his blade through the onboard computer, melting the hard drive and then slashed the recording device.​
    Whips chuckled and whistled for him, licking her lips.​
    The Mute charged.​
    Whips ran from him, laughing as she ducked into a butcher shop. People ran out screaming as the windows of the shop exploded. The Mute charged in, ready for anything.​
    He spotted a fat rodian in cheap clothing and a butcher's smock, cradling a severed left arm.​
    "The schutta...crazy...cut my frakking arm off as she cackled. In the meat storage. Loading the back," the Rodian man wheezed, before passing out from shock.​
    The Mute rushed to the back of the shop and kicked down the back door.​
    He side large slabs of bantha meet hanging from hooks, swinging gently in the freezing temperature.​
    Without hesitation, he ventured into the meat locker, ready for anything.​
    Whips gave a tell tale moan in the back of the locker, drawing him in further.​
    Her flexible weapon snapped forward, cleaving neatly through a side of beef, the tip grazing the Mute across his ear.​
    He yelled in pain, clutching his left ear.​
    "Shhh..." she giggled in the darkness.​
    "Nnnnughh..." he growled, angrily slicing through meat in near total darkness, trying to locate her via the sound of her breathing.​
    Whips came from his left out of thin air, her fist crashing into his cheek. He fell backward, his head clipping a beef slab and knocking him senseless for about a second.​
    As he struggled to regain his orientation, Whips cracked her weapon toward his torso. He belatedly rolled out of the way, swiping at her legs with his own blade. She simply backed away, chuckling as she vanished into the darkness.​
    He got up, dizzy from the laceration on the side of his head. Blood covered half his face, caking his mouth.​
    "Mmmm..." Whips moaned, tossing something white and fluffy at him.​
    The Mute caught it. It was a small towel.​
    Snarling, he dried his face, ignoring the burning sensation from the cut as he stuffed it into his robe.​
    He tapped his cane, trying to detect her via the echo.​
    He finally spotted her in his mind's eye, leaning against the wall.​
    "Oooo..." she called out, activating her whip, backing away to the loading bay door in the back of the room, slicing it open with two strikes from her weapon. She slinked out through a large hole she had made.​
    The Mute followed her, finding himself outside in yet another trash filled alleyway.​
    The laughter of his quarry drew him deeper in.​
    After ten minutes, he began to feel her presence in an old one story building. It was full of people, meaning she hadn't started anything and was laying low, but why? He shut off his cane.​
    He ventured in. An old human woman, dark skinned, waited behind a cheap metal desk. A single lamp glowed dimly in the run-down reception area.​
    The woman stared up at him. He could feel the fear radiating off her.​
    The Mute made a whip-cracking motion, asking where she was.​
    The woman leaned forward.​
    "Room 12. She's crazy! Get help!" the manager begged.​
    The Mute shook his head. He gestured for her to remain calm as he ventured into the apartment area in the back. It opened into a courtyard with a swimming pool. He smelled burned stone from the whip strikes all over the ground. A kath hound lay dead in the open, sliced in half.​
    He ventured up a nearby stair case where he felt the presence of the mad woman strongest. He got closer and closer, the tension building. This had gone too long, and now they were both in serious danger of capture from the authorities, what had Kitsun been thinking, saddling him with her, she had almost gotten him killed!​
    He clutched his cane, ready for anything, trying to fight off panic and uncertainty. He truly could not predict what his enemy would do.​
    Finally he stopped at the room, he knew her to be in. He hit the side switch. It was unlocked, sliding open.​
    The Mute was unprepared for what he saw in his mind's eye.​
    Whips lay on the motel bed naked, clutching the holodisk in one hand and beckoning him with the other.​
    His face went red.​
    "Shhh..." she teased. "Mmmm..."​
    The Mute slowly walked out of the room an hour later, robes torn, nose bloody, lower lips swollen from Whips chewing on it, perplexed at how his night had gone. Thankfully the robes covered his back still. Only Foxe would ever see the scratches on his back. The bite marks. He clutched the holodisk tightly in his right hand.​
    While it had certainly been an unexpected end to the chase, he sincerely hoped he never saw her again. The woman was deranged with a capital D.​
    He was surprised the authorities weren't all over him by now. The manager must have been too afraid to call the authorities on them, preferring to just let them about their business.​
    As he started down the staircase, still trying to wrap his head around what had just happened, he heard her laughing mockingly.​
    "Nnnn..." he grunted, suddenly regretting his decision on how he had reacquired the disk.​
    He decided to not let Kitsun in on this particular bit of the night. Hopefully, Foxe could clean him up before his master saw him.​
  2. SoA

    SoA Jedi Knight star 3

    Apr 2, 2008
    Interesting story you have started here. It's an interesting view into the Sith society. Although, I admit, I don't see how it ties into the Exar Kun period. That was a very short war involving only two Sith and those Krath kids from Onderon, who didn't even call themselves 'darth'. Without your title, I would have placed it in the TOR period, where there are plenty of Sith to go around. :)

    You asked for concrit, so here's some:
    As to your writing style, there are a number of things you could do to tighten it up. First, you could try to vary your sentence structure a bit more away from subject-verb-object. That will give your writing a bit more flow. Secondly, you might want to find other ways to refer to your main character. "The bloody man" and "The Mute" started to feel a bit heavy-handed, showing up in every other sentence.

    Some curiosities I had that I would love to see more of:
    Your main character has a mysterious past. Hint at it more, make us more curious about it.
    Why was Whips assigned to this mission? She kind of came out of nowhere. Was she a test for him, or was she added to the mission because some other Sith wanted her to be? I'd love to know more about how she got to where she was.