Mandalore

Over the millennia, the planet had spawned many threats to the galaxy at large - the Mandalorian Crusades of old once ran roughshod over Republic forces, their warrior society shaped by their harsh life. Mandalore had fallen in esteem over time, however, as its’ proud warrior people died out.

Now the residents were wild hunters, lowlifes by the esteem of any galactic citizen, numbering less than 30,000. As the Mandalorians of old did, these few allied with the Sith, and it was under this pact that the Sith were able to enter the deep places of Mandalore without ambush by the wild warriors of the jungle.

It was also why a single ship, a sleek personal transport ship registered for Imperial use, sought out the half-forgotten world this day. It would soon be why the Mandalorians would rise again.

Although, perhaps, not as anyone would ever have predicted. In the words of a wise man, “Things are rarely as they seem”, and this Imperial ship, with its’ Sith crew, would weave an interesting place for themselves on Mandalore.



Like a silver eagle, wings outstretched, the newcomers’ vessel skimmed the jungles of Mandalore. Far from the settlement of Guildstowne or the mines, they went unseen. Amongst the overgrown wilderness the ship seemed a tiny piece of civilization, rocketing from the sky to the surface of a wild land.

The ship finally came to rest in a clearing near a ruin wrapped in vines and other vegetation. The boarding ramp lowered, allowing the occupants out. First came a dozen guards, wrapped in crimson. Their armour and cloaks had faded with the passage of time, but they stood just as proud. They were experienced men, men who had seen more than the galaxy offered its’ most devoted explorers. They were armed.

Next came five people enshrouded in black robes. The robes were unadorned but fully concealing, and they proceeded with a certain ceremony and gravity that the more experienced guards had long since abandoned.

With them came another so enrobed, and yet notable. His step was different, as if off-beat. He walked with no sense of ceremony or gravity, and where the others kept their heads bowed, he drank in the surroundings.

Last, came Lord Dioan Silk.

His black robe adorned with the finery of the Sith and a few marks of crimson of his own choosing, Lord Silk appeared aged, yet not yet withered. His eyes seemed blind, yet as he looked about the landing site and saw that it was good, there could be no doubt his senses were still sharp. The Sith Master smiled to himself, and gave a small nod of satisfaction. “It will do.”

As the guards started to fan out and form a perimeter, looking for dangerous beasts or interlopers, the cloaked figures formed a circle around their master. As one, they pulled back their hoods, revealing two women, two men, a Trandoshan and a Twi’lek. All seemed young - terribly so when contrasted against the weather-worn guards or their grey-haired master - but there was a slight hardness to each of them. In the tropics of the jungle, the temperature seemed to drop a degree or two.

Silk turned slowly, looking at each of them in turn with his milky white eyes, his thin-lipped smile entirely unreadable. “You,” he whispered. “You six, you are the most promising of a sea of the unworthy. You answered my summons without question. You traversed the galaxy, in silence, towards an unknown destination. You spoke not another word to your colleagues at the temple of Xa Fel. All for the promise of power.”

The six Sith students remained silent, each meeting the piercing gaze of Silk as he turned to look at them. “Now your loyalty and your hunger shall be rewarded. We are on Mandalore, a savage world of savage beasts and men. It is in crucibles like this that true Sith were forged. It is in the primitive world of nature that the dark side runs strong. Forget the weak teachings of the exiled Naboo Sith Order, here you will learn from me as I learned from my master long ago.”

Silk began walking towards the overgrown ruins, his students falling into step behind him. The ruins seemed to have once been part temple, part fortress, a shrine to battle. Here, in ages past, Mandalorians worshiped the art of war. The Sith also left their mark on this place, and that connection drew Silk through visions and omens to choose this place as his new temple for the training of an apprentice.

The main hall was a vast room with cracked computer monitors, overgrown machinery, and mesh grating covering the floors from where ceiling panels had fallen. Nevertheless, it offered a dry and sheltered place in which to make camp.

Silk crossed over to a throne elevated above the command consoles and workstations that was wound with vines. He seated himself upon the throne, and a sense of familiarity and comfort descended on the former Sovereign Protector, although exactly why he couldn’t guess.

“This will be your new temple and school. Far away from the opulence and complacency of Vance and his lackeys, you will be tested and worked, and the unworthy will be consumed by this place. For the worthy, however...” he smiled, as the darkside began to coalesce around him once more. “Power will be your reward.

“Now go! Carve out a place in this temple for yourself. My brothers and I will remain in this central chamber, but if you want to sleep with the benefit of shelter then claim a space of your own.” He then grew silent and contemplative, signaling his instructions were finished.

The six students fanned out, exploring the room they were in. One, the muscular and heavy-set Trandoshan with many scars and jagged claws, felt along the wall until he found a door hidden by thick shrubbery.

“I’ve found a way in!” he exclaimed, clearly proud of being the first to do so, and began tearing the intervening vines out of the way.

“You’re quick to share your discoveries with others, I see,” Silk cryptically stated, a thin smile breaking through his otherwise impassive features. “A Sith is not normally so charitable, Keth.”

The reptilian figure growled, but bowed his head in agreement at his masters’ words. The other students gathered at the door and worked to pry it open. Musky air, trapped for years - decades, centuries, millennia? - spilled out into the chamber along with a cloud of dust. The six pushed past this into the hallway beyond.

Here nature had not much intruded, for though the building was ruined it was still mostly sealed from the outside. In silence, the students explored cris-crossing corridors and empty rooms. Eventually, passing through another ruined hallway they found one door sealed by heavy blast paneling. Old blast-marks scattered about the walls suggested it was a room once hard-held from intruders. The group was naturally uneasy to proceed.

“...Who should open this one, then?” said one of the two men in the group, who was tall and of an athletic bend. He stood out from the group as especially aware and fearsome, black eyes darting about from face to face and a slick of neatly groomed black hair reflecting the few rays of light in the darkness. “The security system might still be active.”

“It’s stupid to open it now,” spat Keth, who appraised the door. “There’s so much more of the ruin left to explore. Let’s come back later.”

“Well, I don’t mine opening it,” said the Twi’lek, who moved quickly up from the back of the group. He was blue-skinned and bright-eyed, grinning with jagged teeth. “Of course, I also claim anything I find inside.”

“Hm?” said Keth, who raised a scaley eyebrow. “Why should you get anything?”

“Because none of you want to open it, so it’s mine by right.” The Twi’Lek crossed his arms. “I don’t see the problem, this place has been abandoned for years. What do you think’ll happen if you open the door? Palpetine’s ghost will get you?”

One of the women, with a tightly-bound pony-tail of brown hair and smooth features, frowned at the Twi’Lek’s comments. “How are you going to open it in the first place? It’s an armour-plated blast door, it’s not like we have any explosives.”

The second women let out a frustrated sigh and rolled her eyes. “Can we get on with it already? If we can’t break down the door let’s just go somewhere else.”

“I could break it down,” snapped Keth. “I just think it’s not worth my time!”

“Fine,” said the Twi’lek with a shrug. “Then I’ll do it and claim whatever’s on the other side.”

Frustrated, Keth pushed past the Twi’lek and grabbed each part of the door. With a bellow of anger and great strain, he drove them apart - and in doing so suddenly received a heavy electric shock. The party averted their eyes as he screamed and leapt back, clutching his clawed hands in agony.

The Twi’lek smiled maliciously. “Good work, Keth. You get everything behind the door.” The room beyond was totally empty. Keth spat curses in his native language.

“An amusing manipulation, Polron, albeit crude. I see you spotted the loose wiring hanging over the blast doors as well.” The voice was Silk’s, wafting down the hall behind them as if carried by the wind. The group went quiet and felt a slight shiver pass between them. They were still being watched and judged, even now.

Despite Keth’s cursing, the group pushed forwards into what had once been the main garrison. Rotten beds and rusted footlockers filled the room, as did the dust of skeletons and the growth of nature. Even stepping into the room, however, a sense of the darkside filled them. Something in the air hungered to be discovered after an eternity in darkness.

One student, the girl with wild black hair who had until now expressed disinterest and distraction with the trip, suddenly perked up as the wave of darkness touched her. She almost licked her lips with anticipation, “There’s something in the room. Something dark! I can feel it!”

“Then it’s mine,” hissed Keth, still cradling his burned hands. “I was promised whatever we find in this room!”

The upright man with the dark eyes glanced at Keth, saying “If it is of the darkside, then it goes to our master. Do you think he can’t see us still?”

The girl wasn’t listening, though, and instead picked through the refuse with a hunger. “I think I can feel it in the Force... It’s got to be something left over from the Sith who visited here. Probably an artefact or a-”

“Is this what you’re looking for?” The speaker was the sixth student, the one who seemed off a beat from the rest. Comparatively thin and unremarkable, his face was gaunt but his eyes were like twin galaxies, each disturbing to view even behind his normally half-closed eyelids. He proffered a bundle of rags before him, within something that resonated with the darside.

The girl excitedly snatched it from his hands, partly unwrapping it to reveal a dirty piece of metal. She examining it with hungry eyes. “Yes! I can feel the darkside in it! It probably came from some ancient Sith’s armour or-”

“Pardon my interruption to your babbling, Isabel” Silk’s whisper commanded. “I assume that you will hand over that interesting trinket to me on your return, as any artefact of the darkside belong with me, its’ master in this place.”

The girl scowled, but offered no argument. “Yes, master” she said, with little conviction.

So far as they could tell, the group had explored the entirety of the aboveground portion of the ruins - at least, those sections that had not fallen into such disrepair as to collapse entirely. Polron had found a staircase leading underground, however, and being that no one wanted to be the one to suggest that they stay away, the group proceeded into the basement.

The architecture changed from twisted steel to ancient stone, carved in the manner of a true temple and lit by artificial lights that flickered to life on their approach. Water filled the corridors up to ankle height, and rats and other vermin slunk into hiding as they passed.

“What are we even looking for down here?” said the girl with the ponytail near the front of the group. She examined a few runes in a language she couldn’t read. One more step, however, and she divined the meaning of the phrase. Warning: Open shaft.

Submerged in years-old sewage and vermin, she bobbed back up screaming and slimed. Several of the other students burst out laughing at the sight, as she flailed uselessly in the water trying to find an edge to pull herself back up on.

The two who weren’t laughing were the two men. The taller, fairer of the two instead listened intently, expecting at any moment for his masters’ scorn to arrive in whispers. After a few seconds more, it did.

“Why,” the voice asked, “do you draw such amusement from an accident that could have befallen any of you as easily as it befell Hestia?” Silk didn’t seem amused. “If the vagaries of chance are all that amuse you, then I can only hope you have the sense to watch your step down there. I have no use for drowned apprentices.”

The other man, the gaunt one, pulled the floundering Hestia from the water. She coughed for a few moments, brushing dirt and bugs from her robes, before the group proceeded in glum silence.

At last reaching the bottom of the labyrinth of sewers and tunnels, the artificial lights illuminated a large circular chamber at the lowest point in the complex. There, a raised platform stood above the water. It was built as an amphitheater around an altar, one clearly consecrated to the darkside. The stains of ancient blood were still visible on the masonry.

The six students climbed on to the raised platform, their rough senses feeling out every space of the meditation chamber. The Mandalorians had had many brushes with the Sith over the millenia, sometimes as slaves, allies, or servants, other times as enemies. The discovery of this shrine to darkness was no surprise considering the nature of the extinct warrior people.

“Congratulation,” Silk’s voices whispered, dripping with satisfaction. “This room will make a fine place to impart the teachings of the Sith. Even from here I can feel the energy in that place. Go ahead, lose yourself in the dark power that remains in the rock - it is quite safe for you to do so there, and it is but a taste of the power that awaits you if you prove worthy to master the Force.”

Eagerly, the students spaced out along the amphitheater, entering the basic meditation trance common to all students of the Force. The shadow of Force power that still remained was like giving a wooden sword to a training soldier - though too weak to be of any real use, simply the feeling of it running through their veins was exhilirating.

One, however, was unsatisfied with such a paltry power. The tall, fair man rose from his cross-legged position and went over to the altar. After a few moments of considering its’ purpose, he drew a knife from within the folds of his robes. Without hesitation, he drew the blade across his arm so that a thin line of red spilled out on to the altar.

In a flash, the powers of the chamber flooded back to life, the taste of blood gathering shades of the dark side like sharks in the ocean. The meditating students drank deeply of this power, letting it wash over them and overwhelm their senses - a flow of raw emotion.

Intrigued, Silk’s voice returned, now audible both to the ear and through the Force. “Interesting, Aurum. Your commitment to the darkside is sealed in blood. The Force respects such power, and those with the will to reach for it, though I wonder if your undeveloped senses are enough to handle such power...”

Near the back of the group, the gaunt young man with the unusual eyes got up from his place on the floor, breaking his meditation trance while all around him his fellow students sat dazed and spellbound by the renewed power of darkness. He turned to leave, when the whispers kicked up again.

“Wait, student,” said Silk. “Why do you shrink from the very power you have come here to claim? Is it too much for you, perhaps?”

“It’s too much for any of us,” he replied, taking in his fellow students with a wave. They were all too spellbound by the darkside to notice or even hear him. “I have no interest in being submersed in a power I can’t control. I will go elsewhere to meditate in peace.”

“Very well then, Dacian,” Silk’s voice whispered, now even quieter and more distant. “Meditate on your own if the power of the darkside is too much for you. Your fellow students will bask in the shadow and be stronger for it.”

A scream echoed around the chamber. Isabel had tried to drawn on too much of the darkside, feeding her hunger without consideration for her ability. She writhed and struggled on the floor briefly before passing out.

Dacian Palestar allowed himself the scarcest smile before departing the chamber, dim artificial lights guiding his way.



The next day, the students were gathered once more in the ruin’s grand hall.

A beast had been felled in the night by one of the guards and was slung on a spit over a great fire pit. Silk looked down on to the fire, yet appeared not one speck like the primitive chieftans who in the past would observe such spectacles. His guards and students crowded hungrily around the cooking meat, but Silk’s eyes seemed distant and far-sighted. It was hard to tell, however, for they were still as pale as twin moons.

Once the simple meal was finished and the guards went back to their vigil, the students assembled before their master once more. Silk looked down at them from his place on the raised throne.

“Each of you who has learned anything of the Sith already knows the basics of the code of the Sith, and some small part of our beliefs. Not the whole of them, however. For example - why would I be interested in training apprentices?”

Keth stepped forwards to respond. “So that the strong may rule and the weak will serve them, as it should be.”

“Is that so?” said Silk, who raised an amused eyebrow. “Then who between us is the stronger?”

Before Keth could reply, a bolt of lightning shot from Silk’s hands and earthed itself at his feet, leaving a bad scorch behind. “I am beyond doubt stronger than any of you - and you will not forget this during your teaching. Why, then, should I try and train any of you to become stronger than me when all you will do is try and replace me? Why should I not simply remain the strongest indefinitely?”

“You won’t live forever,” said Isabel. “The Order will need a new generation of Sith - if you don’t train a new, stronger generation then the Sith will be wiped out and the Jedi will rule.”

“Ah, but the Sith favour personal freedom and strength above that of an organization, do we not?” said Silk, clearly enjoying toying with his would-be apprentices. “Why should I care about what goes on after my death? Or speed that day along by training my assassin? Although I will admit you have gotten closer to it.”

“I know why, my master,” stated Aurum, who moved to the front of the group. “By training a new Sith, you gain the power of your apprentice to wield. It is the foundation of the Sith Order - by agreeing to serve the more powerful, we receive power, and in return your power increases through your loyal servants.”

This answer pleased Silk, and he nodded. “Good, good. You are right. You become strong by serving me, and I become strong by using your services. It is the unspoken foundation of the dark side - that we are united by the common cause of strength, and by passing on our teachings to those who prove the most loyal we become stronger. So was it true during my master Lord Maim’s day, so is it true today.”

Dacian seemed mildly interested by the answer, and spoke before the lecture could continue. “Yet in the end, the most loyal apprentice always seeks to overthrow their master, or else the master destroys an ambitious apprentice. That doesn’t sound like a common cause to me, it sounds more like a cycle of slavery and rebellion - far from loyalty.”

For some reason, this idea displeased Silk greatly, and he scowled at Dacian. “You who know nothing of the Sith, the dark side, or our ways have no right to lay judgement on them. You are no apprentices yet, and I will select only the most worthy of you for that honour - until then, you do only what I command, or you are nothing.”

Somewhat more settled, and assured he’d stomped out any arrogance in the crowd, he continued. “I am in need of powerful apprentices and servants, and much as my master taught me I shall now teach you. The ways of the Sith have much to promise, but most of all freedom - everything in life is of your own deciding and of your own making. The Jedi would blind and bind you, but the true disciple of the darkside is always free even in the heart of a prison.

“To be free, however, you must first be strong enough to break your chains. Your training will begin today!”



Dacian thrashed out of the headlock, but took another jab in the face. As he was off-balance, Aurum rushed him again and lifted him into the air. Dacian tried to rain blows down upon his opponant’s head, but they went unnoticed as he was slammed against the ground. Letting out a weak gasp, Dacian signaled submission and the bout was over.

“You must draw upon your aggression,” Silk repeated, drumming his fingers impatiently. “The Dark side favours the strongest will as much as the strongest fighter. Use your emotion, and let the dark side flow through you.”

The next into the ring was Keth, who roared a terrible noise borrowed from the age of dinosaurs at his opponant. Aurum was strong and quick but Keth was savage and lashed out with claws and fangs to bring his human opponant down. The two grappled furiously, flailing rolling around in the dirt.

Irritated, Silk struck them both with his walking stick. “I said to use your aggression, not spasm about like a Yinchorri with his throat slit. Get up and try again.”

Dacian dragged himself over to one side, where the students and a few of the guards watched two at a time fight out in the rough dirt arena. Besides the critique of Lord Silk and the sounds of struggle, only the quiet whispering of the onlookers broke the silence of nature.

“I don’t understand the point of the fight,” said Hestia. “We’re just beating each other’s brains out. What’s the purpose of it all?”

“Oh come on, Hestia, don’t you feel it?” said Isabel, who smiled despite nursing a bleeding lip from a previous fight. “The Force is in the air, with every blow. When you’re fighting, you let go of everything and get lost in the dark side.”

“Get lost in mindless rage, is more like, and look how that did for Keth..” Hestia pointed to the Trandoshan who had just been unceremoniously hurled from the ring. He rolled for a little before coming to a rest.

The last one standing was Aurum, battered and panting but victorious. Silk smiled, and stepped into the ring.

“Very good job, Aurum. I can see that you can feel the dark side flowing through you. Let me feel its’ flow.”

Without a moments’ hesitation, Aurum swung for Silk’s face. With a speed and strength that belied his old age, Silk dodged the attack. Getting under his guard, Silk placed his hands upon Aurum and instantly the younger, larger man screamed and dropped to his knees. Steam escaped from where Silk’s hands and Aurum’s chest met as agony born of the dark side.

Silk lifted his hands and left Aurum gasping in pain. “Though I am not the old man you may mistake me for, the Force is my true strength. You have felt a drop of the force today, whereas I have felt it every moment of every day for a lifetime. Whatever strength you think you have, you will need to train and drill your strength of the Force like anything else if you are to become strong.”

He pulled Aurum to his feet, stepped out of the ring, and signaled for Polron to fight next. “Again.”



So it continued for three days. In the morning, Silk would lecture them about the ways of the Sith, and after a meal hunted the day before they would fight until all sense was beaten from them. Only then, as the barriers came down and the world became a place of pain or triumph, did they begin to tap in to the dark side.

Subtly, at first. Slightly increased speed or reaction time, a sudden burst of vitality, all forgettable in the larger scheme of things. Over the course of the three days, however, senses sharpened and became more aware, and the power of the Force fueled more and more elaborate displays. By the third day, the circle was abandoned to allow for fights covering a larger area.

The students took to this training in different ways. Aurum grew by leaps and bounds, to the point that his leaps and bounds actually grew through the power of the Force. Keth, too, showed a savage proficiency. Others were finding the manner of training arduous and primitive, however. Polron was not a natural fighter, and found his talents for communication of little worth in the arena, while Dacian continued to accept beating after beating with little offensive commitment.

After each beating, Dacian dragged himself back to the collection of rocks and fallen logs that served as the spectator stands. There the guards would fix dislocated joints and bind cuts, but beyond that the students had no medical assistance and no exception was made when they were called to fight for past injuries. He had to tap into the dark side for enough energy to survive each bout, which he took without complaint.

Between fights, each student killed time in their own way. Hestia knew a great deal about kinesiology and stretched in silence between each fight. Polron and Dacian, feeling the sting of their inferior physical abilities, tested themselves mentally against each other by playing tug of war with a pebble and the Force. Isabel enjoyed ruining their games by blasting the pebble from their point of concentration, but such base displays of power impressed neither Polron nor Dacian, who found the game far subtler than the bruising sessions they spent in the ring.

On the morning of the fourth day, after the morning meal, the students and all the guards were gathered by Silk in the main hall of the ruin. Lord Silk smiled to see those gathered before him, scarred and beaten as they were.

“Today we’re going to try something a little different,” said Silk, as he looked down on the students.

“Fighting one another is one way to the Force, but Mandalore offers many unique opportunities to hone your skills. My guards and I will be spending this day in meditation and rest, while you must go out into the jungle to hunt food for tomorrow’s meal. I will accept no half-measures - we have lived long enough on the slime off rocks and what can be scavenged from a wasteland, my men and I will eat only fresh meat.”

“Will we get weapons?” asked Keth, eager at the thought of the hunt.

Silk shook his head. “Use only your natural abilities. The dark side of the Force feeds your instincts and your animalistic nature. Let it be your senses and it will find your prey for you.”

Without any more questions, the group set out for the jungle. Once they were well and truly out of range of Lord Silk, Polron hissed with dissatisfaction.

“His training is so harsh and coarse,” muttered Polron. “Not everyone’s a brute like Keth. There are powers beyond the physical we should be learning.”

Keth snarled, saying “Then use them, tail-head, and see if that helps you catch fresh meat!”

“Lord Silk’s guards hunt for food every day without too much trouble,” said Aurum. “I don’t see this as a real challenge... unless, of course, we choose to make it one.”

There was a brief silence while everyone turned this over in their heads. “What,” said Polron. “Like a bet?”

“Something like that, perhaps,” said Aurum. He smiled broadly. “Lord Silk respects those who prove themselves worthy. Whichever of us returns with the most fresh meat will earn prestige in his eyes. What say we split up, and the one who brings back the most - by any means necessary, of course - will be the winner?”

“I don’t think that’s such a good idea,” said Hestia. “We’re unarmed and the jungle’s full of wild beasts and primitives. We don’t have the powers yet to hunt big game on our own.”

“What’s the matter, Hestia?” sneered Isabel. “Scared you’ll lose, or are you just so weak with the Force that you can’t do this on your own?”

“If you want to be a part of it or not, whoever brings back the most meat will still be the winner in Lord Silk’s eyes,” said Aurum. “It’s a game he wants us to play.”

“Your ‘game’ is foolish, Aurum,” remarked Dacian in a surprisingly neutral tone.

“What’s your complaint, weakling,” barked Keth, who was already limbering up to dash into the jungle. “Afraid you’ll be eaten alive out there?”

“Not especially,” said Dacian airily. “I just think all this cloaking of meaning is pointless, considering we all know you’re actually recommending we split up so hopefully a rival will get killed thus raising your esteem in the eyes of Silk.”

There was an uncomfortable pause, before Aurum said “Okay, do you have a problem with that?”

“Oh no, of course not,” said Dacian, who began breaking off from the main group. “I just like to be honest about what we’re doing to each other.”



In the jungle, only the strong survive.

An oft-misunderstood concept, which has for generations encouraged the foolhardy to focus on physical strength. The jungles of Mandalore, however, are not something that can be conquered purely by brute force.

Keth was discovering this as he dragged himself through the mud, swatting at stinging insects with his claws. If not for his scales he might have been eaten alive, but the wave of gnats was still a major irritant.

His hunter’s senses, however, were still finely tuned. The slight sound of breathing touched upon his ears, and in a moment he was down to his nose in the muddy swamp, the gnats forgotten.

Ahead, in a clearing squeezed between ancient tree trunks, a huge scaled beast feasted upon the scrubland. It didn’t compare to the long-extinct Mythosaur whose skeletons still made up Mandalore’s legendary City of Bone, but by any humanoid’s standards the four-legged behemoth was more than large enough.

Keth would have grinned with wicked delight and satisfaction, but he was a stalker of prey, a predator without time for such distraction. With glacial patience, he inched along the swamp bed towards the shore, where he would be just a short leap through the air away from the huge creature. Foetid, humid air clung to his nostrils, and flies still crowded his eyes, but he ignored these minor irritants.

At long last, he reached the edge where the swamp touched the shore, just the slightest gap away from his prey. The smell was driving him mad, the thought of triumph against all rivals fueling his will and patience. Keth paused, letting himself wind up for the pounce.

Quite suddenly, the beast began to thrash about, slicing its’ tail along the ground and whipping its’ head in the air. It roared and bellowed and stomped the earth, and Keth had to pull back just to avoid being crushed. Isabel leapt down from one of the trees at the edge of the clearing, moving towards their prey with hands outstretched. The giant lizard stopped its’ trashing gradually, falling into a stupor, and finally fell unconscious altogether.

“Yes!” hissed Isabel, throwing up her hands with glee. “I crushed its’ puny mind! I used the Force to defeat it - I’m invincible!”

Keth barked at her from the swamp. He climbed on to the shore and walked towards the smugly triumphant woman with his teeth barred. “That prey is mine, ape-girl! You have defiled the hunt!”

Isabel simply sneered at Keth, resting her hand on the head of her prey. “I didn’t see you bring it down, and even if you had, how did you expect to get it out of the jungle? Drag it? It’s bigger than you are!” she snorted, and caressed the lizard’s head. “Probably smarter too. I can make it walk all the way back to Silk’s camp. We can kill it, gut it, and cook it there.”

Angrily, Keth slapped Isabel’s hand away from the lizard’s head and sunk his own claws into it instead. “You may have broken this beast, but I am no animal and your tricks won’t work on me! I’ll be bringing this back to Lord Silk, you can find your prey elsewhere!”

At that moment, the lizard awoke screaming from the pain of Keth’s claws, lashing about madly with its’ head and sending them both to the ground. There they scrabbled for cover from its’ stomping feet as it became wild and untamed again.

From another tree, Polron looked on with satisfaction at the scene. It had been child’s play to lure both Keth and Isabel towards the same target, and after that their nature was enough to take things the rest of the way. He lowered himself from a vine so that he dangled just out of reach of the lizard prey, smirking at Keth and Isabel who cowered in a tree hollow below him.

“Thanks for the distraction!” he exclaimed, as he lowered himself towards the lizard’s back. “Now if you don’t mind, I’ll be able to ride this thing all the way back to Lord Silk’s camp. Maybe he’ll let you have some of the scraps when you get back!”

His laugh of triumph was cut short as a crude spear cut through the air, snapping his vine handhold and dropping him to the ground. The lizard rounded on him, and Polron turned a pale shade of green as he scrambled for shelter with Keth and Isabel.

The three of them struggled for room in the hollow that was too small to fit them all, while outside the normally gentle lizard beast roared and rammed his head against the tree, his eyes wild and bloodshot. As the three gibbered fearfully, a wave of primitive javelins shot through the air into the lizard’s hide. It screamed and bucked wildly, only for another spear to land squarely in its’ forehead. The beast staggered for a moment, then fell dead.

Keth, Isabel, and Polron leaned out of the tree trunk. Knee deep in the swamp stood Hestia and Aurum, holding a fistful of primitive wooden javelins each. Hestia returned to a neutral stance, having thrown the brilliant toss that killed the beast. A dark light faded from her eyes, revealing that the Force had some hand in her accuracy.

Aurum smirked with mild amusement at the three fellow students as they stumbled out of their hiding spot. Speaking to Hestia, but loud enough for the others to hear, he said “An excellent throw, but why kill the beast before it finished off your competitors?”

Hestia smiled, watching the discomfort of her colleagues as they eyed the deadly spears in her hand. “Somebody has to help us drag the carcass back to camp. Come on, between the five of us we’ll be back before sundown easily.”

“Very well,” said Aurum, pointing his spear-tips in a very meaningful way towards the other three. “Then I expect we’re all clear on to whom the honour goes?”

Mutely, the three defeated challengers nodded. Bitter feelings were for now cowed - the hierarchy of the group had been firmly established. Aurum gave a genuine smile and lowered his spears. “Excellent. Then let’s get going.”

“Wait, what happened to Dacian?” said Polron, feeling cheated already that his plan had been unraveled so quickly. “I didn’t see him anywhere.”

“Neither did I, what’s your point?” replied Aurum, grabbing his prey around the neck and beginning to drag. “He lacked the strength to take the power of the dark side, nothing more.”

Hestia paused before grabbing on to the prey, scanning the jungle. “He couldn’t have gone far. Should we look for him in case Lord Silk wants to know what happened?”

“Of all people, Lord Silk will understand,” said Aurum. “Let’s get moving. If we don’t get back before sundown, scavengers will tear our kill apart.”



Silk waited alone, sitting in meditation before a grand bonfire arranged in the grounds before the ruins. The sun was low in the sky, but not yet sunset. His eyes were closed as he allowed his senses to explore the place around him, retracing the steps of routine developed over a lifetime of service and discipline.

The Force. There was no greater master - no more powerful ally. Silk had served many masters and been master to many men, but the one great constant had been the Force and the power of the dark side. Where the philosophic Jedi or the spoiled Sith of Vance’s order were distracted with debate over the nature of power, for Silk there had only ever been one decision - become stronger or die. The dark side had fed that power, and consequently, was both his greatest master and his greatest servant. It was a paradox he became more and more willing to embrace as time went by.

The dark side flowed easily on Mandalore. His words to his students hadn’t been idle banter - here, where predator stalked prey in a pure cycle of nature, the emotions of the dark side were strong. There was no room for weakness. Life on this planet, like Silk himself, had learned to grow strong or die. Silk’s meditations then became easier, letting his senses spread to every corner of the planet.

As Silk’s mind wandered and mixed with the energy of the planet, he was struck by a sudden vision. His eyes flew open and turned to the bonfire, that burned deep blue and slowly changed to a dark purple. Finally, it seemed to turn a shade black, as though it were the currents of the galaxy. In this fire, he saw orbs of light, hanging in the darkness.

Each one was pale white in contrast to the purple-black fires of space. They formed intricate patterns and danced in orbit around one another, wondrous beads of light in an oasis of shadow around which the fire raged. The fire began to burn harsher, however, and one by one the orbs were dimmed until everything was consumed in fire and darkness. Then, as if nothing had happened, reality restored itself.

The portent was... obscure, although Silk had had some strange visions in his day. Many of the strangest had been during his exile on Yinchorr, although to be fair after a few years it had become difficult to differentiate between visions and mirages. The meaning of it all would take some time and further meditation to discover, but as he saw his students emerge from the jungle he pushed it aside for now to inspect their progress.

Exhausted and weary, five of Silk’s students dragged their prey clear of the underbrush and into the clearing around the ruin. They were cut and scraped from fighting off scavengers and challengers for their meal, but alive and triumphant - and dripping with the dark side, as their emotions ran and flowed with the thrill of the hunt.

Silk gestured for his men to take custody of the kill and string it over the fire. Emotions still running high, his students began to shout and scream, leaping around the fire and waving their crude spears in triumph. It was uncivilized, it was undignified, it was something primal.

It pleased Silk greatly. Though he and his men had crossed that phase of their conditioning a long time ago, the wild ecstasy brought on by the raw touch of the dark side was familiar to the old Sith. Here, perhaps, he would find one gifted enough to mold into a new apprentice, thus making him a true master in the process.

It was after the wild revelations had died down and the students of Silk lost their energy that the meal was consumed. Sunset came, and silence reigned as they feasted on lizard meat while the fire slowly burned down.

The day’s “lesson” had had profound impact on the students, and as they exchanged looks all that needed to be said was said - an extension of their senses through the Force. Of all of them, Aurum was the most triumphant, for in the end although Silk hadn’t singled out any one for special recognition in the minds of the group the image of him standing over them spear in hand was firmly affixed. The three defeated were discordant in their thoughts, ranging from Keth’s brooding to Isabel’s rage to Polron’s two-faced sycophantic plotting.

Only Hestia’s position remained unchanged, though her taste for the dark side had grown alongside her peers. Her mind, however, was occupied with another matter - that of a dark figure approaching from the treeline.

“Wait,” she said, breaking the spell of silence on the group. “What’s that in the distance?”

In a moment Silk’s guards were alert and watchful, trying to spot the approaching figure in the fading light. It wasn’t until the firelight illuminated his features that they could all tell it was Dacian, seeming somewhat the worse for wear but still just a dour and neutral as ever. His cloak, though muddied and torn, remained wrapped around him tightly.

“Look who returns to us at last,” sneered Keth, pointing a bloody claw at Dacian. “Let’s see then what the proud one has brought us from the jungle.”

“Nothing,” Dacian curtly replied, taking a seat on a rock distant from the fire so that his features once again dropped into shadow.

“Nothing?” said Keth, who laughed, and tossed a bone towards him. “Then I’m afraid you’ve nothing to eat either. Meat is for hunters, for the strong. Maybe you can forage grubs at the edge of the jungle.”

“Now now,” said Polron, who leant towards Dacian with interest dancing in his eyes. “I’d imagine our friend has some interesting stories to tell about the jungle. If you didn’t find meat, maybe you found something else worthwhile? More ruins, or treasure? I’m sure if you did and told us about it, no on would think less of you for getting lost in the jungle.”

“I wasn’t lost,” said Dacian, who paid little attention to Polron. “And I didn’t find anything for you, either.”

“Don’t waste your time, tail-head,” Keth exclaimed through a mouthful of dripping meat. “The coward clearly got lost in the jungle and has come begging for scraps! He is weak, and we are strong - the rule of the Sith. That’s our lesson.”

Polron frowned at the laughing Trandoshan and turned back to Dacian. “Come now, Dacian, we both know you’re more clever than that. Tell us what it is you discovered - knowledge is power, but only if you use it. Maybe you found something of the dark side?”

Isabel’s interested perked, causing her to lean in from the other side. “Did you? ‘Cause you know, if you did, you couldn’t handle it on your own. Remember what Lord Silk said about turning over all Force stuff over to him? You better tell us, just to be on the safe side.”

“Your petty enticements are wasted,” Dacian replied, ignoring both intruders to his personal space. “I found nothing of value. I return empty-handed.”

Both sneered and leaned away from Dacian in bitter disappointment. Aurum watched Dacian with a half-smile, idly cooking a haunch of meat over the fire. “I believe him,” he said, nodding towards Dacian. “Though I also agree with Keth - this food was hunted by us. It’s out of no malice that I deny you it. Maybe that hunger will make you stronger, who knows?”

“I’m not hungry,” said Dacian, matter-of-factly. “And if it’s alright, then I think I’ll retire to my quarters and get some sleep.”

The group watched as Dacian got up and walked into the ruins, Keth’s mocking laughter following him with no apparent effect. Aurum turned to Hestia, a grin of satisfaction on his face. “Don’t worry about him, he seems to still have some use, right Lord Silk?”

Lord Silk, who had observed the passing argument with a distant interest, seemed to awaken a little more as he addressed Aurum. “Perhaps, but perhaps not. The dark side is for those who are strong enough to take it. Power for the worthy, but for the unworthy, death. It is so in nature, and it is so with the Force.” There arose the barest hint of discomfort with this notion amongst the group, so Lord Silk added “The unworthy are free to abandon this road at any time, but they will forever after be slaves without the Force. Don’t forget this.”

His attention returned to the fire as the students continued to talk amongst each other. In the heart of it, a tiny sphere of pale light was still visible from his vision, burning with an intensity that defied the dying flames around it until a darkness within emerged and once more erased the speck from the world.



Under the shadow of darkness, decisions were made, and events were set into motion. Keth had been woken in the middle of the night by Lord Silk’s scarlet-clad guards, and brought before the master who sat awake upon his vine-wrapped throne. Keth started to realize he hadn’t seen Lord Silk sleep since their arrival, yet was seemingly unaffected. The vines on his throne, however, had started to blacken and wither.

Silk smiled when he saw the lizard approach. Though not the brightest, his passion had proven great, and an excellent instrument of brute strength he might make.

“I have a task for you, Keth - a test of your loyalty and your skills.” Lord Silk’s eyes were the only visible part of his face in the dark of night, leering at Keth unsettlingly. “I have decided Dacian Palestar is not one of us. He is no Sith, and will not learn the ways of the dark side. He must be disposed of, but to avoid an incident I have chosen you to be my hand in this matter. Prove your loyalty and your skill by ending his life, and you will gain prestige in my eyes.”

The twelve guards, each wrapped in their red cloaks and armour, stood between Keth and Silk. One of them stepped forwards and swept back his cloak to offer a long knife to Keth, who took it gladly. He marveled at the armour of the soldier and wondered if he would earn his own suit with this deed.

“Yes, my master” he hissed, slipping the knife into his robes. “It will be so.”

Keth left the main chamber and snuck through the pitch-black hallways of the abandoned ruin towards a small maintenance room favoured by Dacian. He couldn’t see, but by scent and sound he followed the pathways towards his prey, hunting again in a new jungle of steel and shadow.

Finally he reached out and felt the doorway to Dacian’s quarters. It was distant from the rest of the ruin’s residents, meaning that no one would hear the deed or see him commit it. It would remain between Silk and Keth - Keth had to calm his excitement and restore his hunter’s composure. The dark side singed in him, the blade gleamed in his hand. Truly, this was what it meant to be a Sith! Only the strong survive.

He quietly creaked open the door.

*Bang!*

Keth was flung back against the wall, his chest reduced to a mass of burning flesh and robe. The dagger fell from his hand as screams of pain tried to erupt forth. His lungs were pierced, however, making even breathing - nevermind screaming - impossible.

Out of the absolute darkness of the maintenance room, Dacian stepped into the half-light of the corridor beyond, a thin wisp of smoke escaping from the barrel of his blaster. A DH-23, its’ narrow silvery muzzle glinted in the faint light of the corridor, the only visible extension of Dacian’s whole arm.

“A... blaster?” wheezed Keth with his last breath of air. “Where did you... get...”

Dacian leveled the pistol down again and fired, reducing Keth’s head to ashes. He died instantly. Dacian kneeled to the ground and examined the dropped dagger. Barely visible were the worn markings of the scarlet protectorate. Without further action, Dacian replaced the pistol in the folds of his robes and went back into his room, closing the door behind him.



The day before, after having left the group in the jungle, Dacian had set out with a purpose. Despite appearances, he knew Mandalore to still be inhabited, and that finding such inhabitants might be far more useful to him than winning a contest for Silk’s attention.

Dacian was no prime athlete, however, and found it hard going through the jungle. He pushed himself over rocks and vines, ever forwards, looking for signs of civilization. It took several hours in the oppressive humidity of the jungle but eventually he was rewarded. Dacian spotted tracks on the ground. Not those left by some scaled beast, but by heavy human boots.

He followed the footsteps along a roughly-hewn trail, until at last upon breaching a fresh clearing he reached a cliff that looked down on a small settlement. From that cliff he could see out across the jungle to where a further, larger settlement stood. Both seemed ramshackle and primitive by his standards, but salvaged technology still bristled from the roofs of long-houses and tower-tops.

The locals were still a mystery to Dacian, so he approached with caution. The small settlement before him was just a dozen or so rough buildings arranged in a semi-circle against the cliff. It appeared to be a mining outpost, but also seemed somewhat tribal, with a miner’s pickaxe leaning next to a vibrosword.

As he approached, he could see some of the people. They, like their settlements, seemed wild and ramshackle, but still with a touch of civilization - or awareness of it - about them. One building seemed to be the bar. A man outside wore clothes fashioned from cured lizard hide, but lit and smoked a cigarra probably imported from across the galaxy. It was a curious place, to be sure.

Dacian decided he needed to know more about these people and what they could afford him. He entered the bar.

As he expected, it was crude to the extreme. Rough-cut tables, a bar made out of barrels, and liqour most likely brewed locally contrasted with a las-rifle hanging on the wall behind the bar and the head of some ferocious monster mounted on the wall nearby. The barman and a few sullen, quiet patrons filled the smoky room with the gloom of serious drinkers.

Dacian’s arrival didn’t go unnoticed - nor was it particularly welcomed. It occurred to Dacian that he might have been better served by leaving his Sith robes behind, but no outright action was taken against him, so he took a seat at the bar.

“I’m looking for information,” Dacian said to the barman, maintaining the strictist indifference to the curious looks of the bar’s residents.

The barman, who was a fat and bald old man with rotten teeth and the smell of a thousand banthas, squinted at Dacian. “What kind of information, stranger?”

“Any will do,” replied Dacian, who kept his gaze fixed on the barman’s, his galaxy eyes consuming him. “I’m new to this planet. I could use some directions.”

The barman nodded to one of the men at the rough wooden tables in the bar. “You’ll be wanting to talk to Kale then. Kale’s a Guildstowne hunter, travels these parts a lot to keep the mines safe. Knows more than most about Mandalore.”

Dacian nodded in aknowledgement and got up from the bar. He walked over to Kale’s table, and without asking took a seat opposite. He said nothing for a few seconds, using the opportunity to gather his bearings.

Kale was on his third bottle of something fairly alcoholic, but didn’t seem overly phased. He was a hard-bitten, hard-living type of man who appeared twice as old as his relatively young age would suggest. His armour was half homemade, half scavenged, and he bore scars made from everything from advanced laser weapons to the claws of a rabid wolf.

Kale eventually noticed Dacian. “Whad’yer want?” he said, his voice dark and brooding.

“I want information, and I’ve just been told you know a few things about Mandalore.”

Kale hacked a laugh and drained his third bottle, placing it next to the rest. “Oh really? And just what did you want to know about Mandalore?”

“Nothing special, just general information. Think of me as... a tourist,” said Dacian. “I’ll pay for your next drink, I’m just interested in hearing what you can tell me about this planet.” He settled into his seat and affixed his attentions to a spot on the table.

Kale gave Dacian a strange look, but eventually gestured for the barman to bring over another bottle. “All right then, tourist huh? Well, first I’d probably tell you you’re a fuckin’ mad man to pick this place for a vacation spot, but you probably know this already. Mandalore’s a hunter’s world, has been since Mandalore the First founded civilization here by hunting giant fucking dinosaurs and living in their skeletons.

“Nowadays though, not much left of those glory days. We’re the Mandalorians now, a few thousand wild hunters in the middle of the jungle, living off shit. Last good Mandalore we had was Beff Pike, and the Sith chased his ass off a while ago.” Kale took a drag of the bottle and glanced at Dacian. “Friends of yours?” Dacian didn’t reply, so Kale shrugged.

“No skin off my nose. There was a bit of a fight, but now the Sith buy all the metal these miners can drag out of the mountains. For what I don’t know.” Kale snorted, and shook his head. “Mining? The sons of Mandalore reduced to this? You can’t hunt metal, kid.” He took another drag and turned back to Dacian. “There’s a lot of discontent in Guildstowne - that’s the big settlement down the road. People’re arguing over wether we’re still the great warriors of the galaxy or whatever the fuck they care about down there. The new Mandalore’s got no respect because he’s a Sith puppet so there’s not much else we’ve got left to do but hunt.”

Dacian nodded, taking this information in, though his attentions remained distracted. “Do you have any ships here?”

Kale shrugged. “A few, I guess. Beff took most of them when he left so mostly they’re just Sith ships picking up ore and carting it away. No one cares for that shit much, really. Mandalorians care about hunting, and we do a damn fine job.” Kale finished his drink and leaned back in his chair. “Not much to tell, unless you want a guided tour of the area. If so though, you’ll have to find yourself a new guide. I don’t work for free and my drink’s empty.”

Dacian didn’t have any money. He was relying, instead, on a new form of currency with which to pay the tab. As the barman approached, Dacian said “Thank you, that will be all,” and waved with a dismissing air to the barman.

The barman seemed puzzled for a few minutes, and scratched his head. A moment ago he’d been certain Kale’s tab was due, but for just a fleeting moment he wondered if Kale had already paid and the money was in his register. He nodded, and mumbled “Uh, okay then. See you around, Kale.” before returning to the bar to count his cash.

Dacian and Kale got up from the table, Kale eyeing Dacian suspiciously as they left the bar, saying nothing. “You’re a Sith, aren’t you?” Kale probed as they walked. “Don’t see many of you guys in the flesh these days... they say you’re impossible to kill.”

Dacian was aware that Kale was leading him towards the dark, sheltered, hidden edge of town. What Kale was perhaps unaware of was that Dacian was leading him there as well.

“Even ole’ Pike wasn’t able to best one of you guys,” murmured Kale, his hand brushing against a holstered DH-23 on his belt. “You’d get quite a reputation, being a Sith-killer, you know...”

Kale was a quickdraw from years in the bush. He had the edge on pure reflexes and experience. What he didn’t know was that while they’d been talking, Dacian’s attention had been focused on switching the safety on Kale’s gun on. Dacian felt the slightest glimmer of satisfaction that his mental battles with Polron had yielded an actual result.

Dacian used that moment of surprise to slap the gun from Kale’s hand, catch it, and turn it against the hunter. He had the sense to flip the safety.

He didn’t pull the trigger. Kale froze.

“I need something else besides information,” said Dacian. “I need a contact. Someone I can use on this world. You seem just borderline competent enough to be that man, but the odds of me being able to exert authority on you are small, so I’ve resolved to rob and kill you unless you can provide me with a convincing and workable alternative in the next ten seconds.”

Kale just stared at the barrel of his own gun looking back at him. “Five seconds.”

“I can introduce you to the Mandalore!” shouted Kale, his eyes frantic.

The ten seconds elapsed. Dacian hadn’t fired. “Mandalore is the title for your leader, correct?”

Kale nodded quickly. He began to speak, but Dacian cut him off. “It might be of some benefit to me to meet your leader. What are you offering?”

“I’m one of his hunters,” said Kale, still staring at the pistol. “He expects me to bring back anything weird I find in the jungle to him. I can get you an audience with him! Without me, you wouldn’t last five minutes in Guildstowne!”

“Wouldn’t I?” said Dacian, who lowered the pistol - but not by much. “Then I had best accept your offer. I will meet with your Mandalore, but not now. Until I’m ready you will tell no one you’ve seen me, understand?”

Kale nodded, much more relieved “Aye, I understand.”

“Good,” said Dacian. “Because if you back out of this deal, I will wait for you in the jungle until you next go hunting and then I will kill you.” It was not a threat. It was a statement. “I’ll hold on to the pistol for now as well. See you later, Kale.”

Dacian walked for three seconds before spinning on his heel and pointing the gun at Kale - correctly guessing a double-cross, as the hunter stood half-way through throwing a boot-knife a the departing Sith. Kale grinned weakly and replaced the knife. Dacian didn’t return the smile, and exited the clearing back into the jungle.



When Silk’s guards kicked in the door of his room, Dacian was waiting for them. Sitting cross-legged on his makeshift bed, meditating lightly, he was brought back to the land of the waking by the rough grasp of two grizzled soldiers on each of his arms.

They took him out into the corridor, where Keth’s blood slick was still visible, but the body had been moved. Dacian was dragged unceremoniously through the halls and thrown at Silk’s feet.

The light of day was still only just filtering into the ruined hall, and his fellow students had gathered for their morning meal. They looked with surprise at Dacian, who picked himself up off the floor and glanced at Silk.

“What’s the matter, Silk?” asked Dacian, looking nowhere in particular. “Are you perhaps surprised to see me?”

Silk had not risen from his chair since giving Keth his orders, brooding instead in silence over the turn of events. He gave a sinister grin at Dacian’s words. “Yes, now that you mention it. I am unpleasantly surprised. I’m disappointed in Keth - he was a promising servant of the dark side.”

“Keth was a shortsighted brute who planned to stroll through the front door and stab me to death,” remarked Dacian. “Nothing more.”

Silk’s guards tensed, but their master waved them at ease. “It pains me to admit it, Dacian, but you are right.” He turned, addressing the students assembled as well. “For the dark side is the only power a Sith answers above his master. The will of the Force is greater than any one of us, and only the greatest dark lords ever succeed in mastering that will.”

Silk turned back to Dacian, narrowing cold and vacant eyes at him. “It is clearly the will of the dark side that you take Keth’s place and be welcome amongst us, Dacian. Beware, however, for the will of the Force is as always fickle.”

Dacian nodded in agreement. Silk waved his hand and closed his eyes, sinking into meditation so that he could reconsider the meaning of the previous night’s vision, whilst his newly reaccepted student joined his fellows for the morning meal. The mystery of Dacian remained.

Dacian got cool looks from the other students when he went to get his meal. The only one who didn’t grimace was Hestia.

“Keth tried to murder you, so he got what he deserved,” she stated flatly. “We shouldn’t be punishing you for self defence.”

“You misunderstand our master, Hestia,” muttered Aurum, avoiding eye contact with Dacian. “Keth’s mission was his punishment, and by surviving he has been disobedient.”

“That’s just stupid!” exclaimed Hestia, finding it difficult to articulate just how foolish it seemed to her. “So if he died, that’d have made him a better Sith?”

“It means Silk doesn’t think he’s a Sith at all,” Aurum said, before throwing away the last of his breakfast and getting up for the morning hunt.



Daily forays into the jungle had become routine, with the group of students splitting up and hunting on their own. As such, there was little discussion of the recent turn of events or of Keth’s death. Little, but still some.

Aurum was sharpening spears fashioned from fallen branches in the depths of the jungle. It was a ritual that encouraged self-sufficiency and focus, but also allowed his senses to wander and observe the jungle around him. Thus he was able to perceive the approach of Polron, who slunk from branch to branch before quietly slipping down the trunk of the tree Aurum rested under.

“What do you want, Polron?” Aurum murmured as he worked the spearpoint. “I’ve no scraps for you to scavenge yet.”

Polron frowned, but quickly turned it into an inviting grin as he slithered up to Aurum’s side. “Master Silk was pretty quick to accept Dacian after Keth’s death, did you notice?”

“Of course,” replied Aurum. “Dacian proved himself capable and worthy, while Keth failed the test before him. Why waste a good student?”

“No, no, I know that,” said Polron. “I mean... he’s basically saying killing is a way to get ahead. It proves our worth and our power.”

Aurum’s sharpening stopped. He hefted the spear and examined the fine point. “Oh really? And who were you planning to kill, little man?”

Polron threw up his hands in an appeasing gesture, quickly explaining “Oh, no one! No, that’s not what I mean. It’s just that Dacian’s got Master Silk’s attention now. Killing him might be the fast track to getting his attention back, especially since Master Silk doesn’t seem to like Dacian very much.”

Aurum gave a thin smile, finally glancing upwards at Polron. “The Force is fickle, eh Polron?”

“Yes,” said Polron, smiling back. “Especially in the jungle, what with all these wild beasts.” The conniving Twi’Lek got up and started to climb the tree again. “Something to think about, anyways.”

With Polron gone, Aurum gathered up his spears and - seeing that he was unobserved - stashed them in a hollowed out tree trunk for later. One thing the students had learned so far was that it paid to be prepared.



The five students were bloody and worn out from a day of hunting. Dacian was especially battered, for though he was spared for his action against Keth, his weapon had been confiscated. Nevertheless they showed few signs of exhaustion as they gathered in the dimly lit chamber at the bottom of the ruins.

The blood-infusion that had set the place alight with dark energy on the day of their arrival had worn out, leaving only an undercurrent of power. This allowed the students to sit in a rough semi-circle facing Lord Silk, who sat on the altar. The power in the chamber was rich and alluring to the students, but to Silk it was nothing compared to the days when he had basked in the majesty of Dark Lords.

“The Sith,” said Silk, “are above all else the pursuit of freedom and perfection. The Code of the Sith is often misunderstood or mocked for its’ simplicity, but there is meaning in the words! Obey them as you would obey me, and you will be grounded in the philosophy of the Sith. Who knows the Code?”

Isabel stood, and in reverent tones declared “Peace is a lie, there is only passion. Through passion, I gain strength. Through strength, I gain power. Through power, I gain victory. Through victory, my chains are broken. The Force shall free me.”

Silk nodded, not one to