This is the beginning of a retelling of the entire Old Republic, from Korriban/Tython to KotFE and Beyond. There are going to be a number of changes, particularly in the number of heroes/villains.
It never made sense that there were only four republic and four imperial PCs, as no four heroes could always be puled away from world destroyers, or psychotic Jedi, or Covert military operations. Thus, most Flashpoints would be unable to be covered, and the other side planets and stories would be shoved aside, and never fully done.
To compensate, I've approximately doubled the number of characters to nine on each side, with a primary Wrath, for example, and a secondary Darth, or a Voidhound, and their chief captain, as well as promoting a few side characters as new 'Companions', two for each class, and only appearing in Flashpoints or Ilum/Makeb 'Secondary' planets.
This should increase the population of the flashpoints, making them more realistic, while not actually completely abandoning the class stories during their events.
The planets will be in separate stories, with the shared planets split by faction to prevent having to tell eight stories simultaneously. Thus, Korriban will be far shorter than say Voss or Corellia.
The hot arid desert of Korriban spread out across the horizon. Standing on the peak of the cliff outside of the Academy, Shreave Rhell stared out into the distance. Hands clasped behind his back, the Sith Pureblood let his deep gold eyes scan across the tombs strewn across the valley floor.
"Acolyte."
Shreave turned, staring at the dark skinned Sith Lord standing there. "And you are?"
As he watched, his grey-red face impassive, the Sith sneered. "I am Overseer Tremel. And you will respect my title and position."
Shreave raised one eyebrow, his facial protrusions adjusting accordingly, and said calmly, "I only respect those who earn it. Now, what must I do to be Sith."
The question was more of a demand, and Tremel glared, reaching out his hand. Shreave grunted as invisible fingers closed around his throat, and he threw out his own hand, causing Tremel to grunt and take a step back. The blow, however, did not loosen the choke, and Shreave knelt, gasping for air.
"My Lord." Sheave said, gulping in air as the pressure vanished.
Tremel nodded shortly, and said, "You are strong. But you could be stronger, and must be if you want to survive Korriban's nights." Shreave glanced up questioningly, and Tremel nodded. "There are many Acolytes here at the Academy. And many of them want your position as Baras' future apprentice."
Shreave sneered, and said, "Then I'll crush them where they stand! None will dare stand against me."
Once again Tremel snorted. "Many have been here longer. Made allies, trained, and even gained the loyalty of Lords. Admittedly, there are few that have a Lord's loyalty before rising to that title themselves. Vemrin, however, is an exception."
Shreave stood, and asked, "Vemrin, My Lord?"
"He is the current favorite for Baras' apprenticeship. You must eliminate him, but not now. Vemrin is too powerful for you at the moment."
Aside from a disgusted snort at the comment, Shreave accepted it, and asked, "Then teach me. Make me strong enough to kill that huttspawn."
"That has been my plan all along, Acolyte. Deep in the tomb of Ajunta Pall, there is an ancient armory. You will enter the tomb, retrieve the blade, and report to me in the Academy itself. I will be awaiting you. Oh, and while you're at it, please deal with any issues you come across in the tomb."
Shreave nodded shortly, and watched as Tremel left. He stroked the two slightly hooked protrusions on his chin, idly wondering, once again, what it would be like to have the scruffy looking hair that humans called beards. Shrugging it off, he shook his head to clear it before walking away from the landing pad he'd recently arrived on.
Stepping out of the mini spaceport, Shreave glanced at the other new arrival, an admittedly rather attractive looking female. Human, but he had done his best not to allow his own parent's prejudice towards anyone not pure to cloud his mind.
As he stepped off of the last step, he noticed a number of bloated worms writhing around, massively fanged mouths sucking in air, and flailing around with their sharp bladed arms. "Revolting," he muttered, drawing his own training saber.
Not as elegant or as effective as either a vibroblade or a lightsaber, the blade was by no means useless. Running forwards, he spun the blade to rip through the soft belly of the first K'lorr'slug before stabbing a second and bisecting a third. They fell, their guts slopping across the dry sand, the foul stench rising to assault his nose. Stepping back, he grimaced as his heel landed on one of them, coating his heal with odd greyish green blood.
"Very smooth." The girl was standing there, completely clean, with a trail of dead K'lorr'slugs sprawled across the desert. Stepping nimbly down the sandy bank, she slid her blade back into the straps on her back. Quickly adjusting her hair, swiping a stray strand away from her face, she gave Shreave a calm look, then, throwing her hand out, sent a few precisely aimed tendrils of electricity into a K'lorr'slug that was passing too near. With a dying screech, the beast collapsed, and with a single stab she finished it off.
"A little fancier, but not really my style." Shreave said, flicking some blood off with a single quick motion and hen sheathing his training blade. Stepping forwards, he held out his hand. "Shreave. I just got here from Ziost."
The girl smiled, and took his hand. "Zalia." Noticing her lack of information as to where she was before Korriban, Shreave decided to drop that subject. Her hand weren't the soft and tender ones that all the Sith ladies he'd met. Rather, they were rough, and with a strength that didn't seem to match her appearance. He mind running through likely scenarios, the one he stopped at was once that made the most sense to him. Zalia wasn't a Sith trainee in the sense that he was, she was still only trying to prove that she wasn't worthless. When one is a former slave, it takes a long time to gain any respect.
Nodding at her, Shreave spun, letting go of her hand and drawing his blade in a single smooth motion. The blow carved into a slug, and a quick side jump let him sail over the next. Turning, he drove the blade into the back of the next beast, and then ran for another. Even as he reached the beast, it jerked away, and he stumbled. Rolling away, he evaded the claws and teeth, then his foot hit a rock. In an attempt to use it to launch at the beast, the rock rolled away, sending him crashing to the sand again. He looked up to see it's right claw raised, ready to swing down and decapitate him.
The Slug screeched, it's entire body quivering and straightening convulsively as it's body was infused with electricity. Shreave scrambled up, and cut down the dying slug. "Thanks." He said, irritated at himself for his weakness, and disgusted by his own clumsiness.
"I suppose that means you owe me one." Zalia smiled, and reached out to brush some sand off of his shoulder. Shreave grunted irritably, and violently shook the sand out of his crimson hair. "I hate this place." She said, glancing down at her dust coated clothes.
"As do I." Shreave said, shaking his pants and boots off. The dust and sand fell off, and he looked up to see Zalia letting down her black hair out of it's current arrangement, and shaking some dirt out of it. Instead of putting it back up, Zalia merely pulled it back into a loose braid. Realizing that he was slightly staring, Shreave turned, ostensibly to watch for more slugs.
"So where are you headed now?" He glanced up, and shrugged.
"The wonderful and glorious tomb of Ajunta Pall. A beautiful symbol of Sith power." Shreave said, gesturing towards the crumbling monument that was decaying in the harsh sun and torn by the shredding sandstorms that blanketed the planet every so often.
Zalia gave him an odd look, and said, "If you say so..." Shreave chuckled, and started towards it, twirling his training blade casually and whistling. "You know, this is important, Sheaf." She snapped, glaring at the cocky Pureblood. He laughed, loudly and deeply.
"Sheaf? Nicknames already Zalia?" He said, grinning widely.
"That's your name, isn't it?" She asked, wincing slightly, a holdout from her slave days.
He smirked, and said, "Shreave, Zal. Shreave. But if you like Sheaf, then by all means..."
She glared slightly. "I never gave you permission to call me Zal." She almost spat the nickname out, and he smirked slightly
"Hey, I never gave you permission to call me Sheaf! Fair's Fair." He said, now walking backwards to keep an eye on the rather attractive blush coloring her cheeks.
"Shreave!" She snapped, followed by a gasp as his foot landed on the top step. Falling backwards, he pushed off, hoping to rotate fully to land on his feet. He half succeeded, landing hard on his knees across two steps.
He smirked up, with arms spread wide in triumph. "And Shreave emerges with dignity intact!" He said, wide grin belying the pain shooting through his legs. Then he smiled. "Were you concerned? Not very Sithy of you."
She sneered. "First? Your dignity was lost long ago. Second? I just don't want a murder on my record this early." He smiled easily. "Believe what you will, Zal. You care."
She glared. Then her hand shot forwards, arcing streams of purple lightning dancing towards him. He started to move, when it connected with something behind him. The shriek of a pained and dying K'lorr'slug caused him to spin, lashing out low, in time to bisect a rather carnivorous larva.
He saw a second pair scuttling forwards, and hurled himself forwards, slashing the stinking guts out of the first, spinning to halve the second one. He turned, smiling at Zalia triumphantly. His face fell as he saw her fourth slug burst as lightning overloaded it.
She smiled, asking "Something you wanted to brag about?"
He sniffed pretentiously. "Your form was off."
She snorted. "You are a warrior. I'm an inquisitor. Totally different. And you're an idiot. Also a difference."
"I'm tougher. I've got better gear. Also a difference."
"I'm better looking." She snapped, and he replied, "Very true. You have me there. I've got a cybernetic implant, so, more effective!"
"Far smarter than you, Pretty boy."
He smiled at that. "Aw, you think I'm pretty?"
She smacked his chest irritably. "Oh grow up."
He smirked. "I'm already way taller than you. You really want me to grow?" She rolled her eyes, and stomped off in a huff. She slashed through an exceptionally stupid slug, and then fried it's equally idiotic partners.
"That attitude won't make many friends!" He called to her retreating form.
"I'm Sith!" She snapped back, and he laughed.
"Not yet, Zal. Not yet." She took half a second to glare at him, before disappearing around the corner deeper into the tomb.
With a sigh, he jogged after her. "She has no idea how to make it around here." He muttered. "Everyone needs allies."