Redemption: Erul Monn's Tale

Circa 223 BBY

A line of fire traced its way across Erul's left cheek; flesh and fur were singed away down to the bone. The wounded Shistavanen snarled in pain, baring his yellowed fangs which gleamed dully in the dim artificial light. The exotic weapon hummed close to his ear, unmoving after its painful bite.

"Erul Monn," said a smoky female voice. Its smooth even timbre seemed to act in harmony with the buzzing magenta blade held a hair's breadth from Erul's face. The light blinded him, blotting out his attacker in an amorphous blob of color hovering over his vision. But her scent was strong in his powerfully sensitive nostrils. She had recently eaten nerf steak, she wore Rancor leather, and she was Human. But what her scent didn't tell him was who she was. A full-grown Shistavanen like Erul was far from defenseless, but everything he sensed about this woman told him that he was hopelessly at her mercy. Indeed, he found himself unable to move, incapacitated as though an invisible hand was pinning him down.

Who are you? he demanded in the harsh, snarling language of Uvena Prime, his homeworld.

"I am your savior, Wolfman." She lit another glowing blade; the additional light seared Erul's sensitive eyes and made him wince in pain.

He was lying, mysteriously paralyzed, in a grimy alleyway on a tiny moon inaccurately, or perhaps satirically, called Leviathan. Originally a resort moon orbiting the gas giant Belerephon on the Outer Rim, the company fell on hard times and over the centuries, Leviathan had degenerated into a den of thieves and homeless of all species. Some had dubbed it "New Nar Shaddaa." Others simply cursed it and fled the moment the could.

Erul was one of several hundred homeless Shistavanen who occupied the dirty shadows of Leviathan. He had been the pilot of the Fra'shnok, an old Gravnii-class transport, and had once made his living shipping goods from the Republic Core to the sparsely populated Outer Rim Territories. He'd soon discovered that smuggling brought in far more credits than his transport business. His arrangement worked beautifully for several years. He was wealthy, successful. But he had grown complacent and stupid. It didn't take long for the Republic to catch on that he spent far more credits than it paid him. He was forced to flee Republic space, leaving his business, his money, and his family, a mate and small pup, behind. That had been ten years ago. He'd been living on Leviathan ever since. Whoever this person was, he assumed she was a Republic agent sent to bring him back.

I'll not go to prison! You will have to kill me! he growled. He shifted his position, putting a hand up against the glare. An invisible force shoved him back down.

"I'm not here to bring you to justice, Erul. Your smuggling record doesn't concern me. I am here to bring you to glory." With an ascending hiss, the two blades of light receded back into their hilts. He'd heard of lightsabers before but had never seen one up close. He knew they were the Jedi weapon of choice. Was this woman a Jedi of some kind?

"What do you want with me?" Erul asked in heavily accented Basic. His tongue fumbled with the alien language. "I have done nothing." Though the blades were gone, their bright afterimage remained burned into his retinas, blocking out his attacker's face. He made a move and when she didn't try to stop him, he stood and dusted himself off with heavy clawed hands. He stood easily a full head taller but didn't dare try anything against her. He'd felt the power she wielded and wasn't in a hurry to feel it again.

"Follow me," she commanded, turning and walking away without further instruction. His vision was clearing and he could see that she was a petite red haired Human perhaps, forty years old, and not unlike the millions of other Humans on Leviathan. Though he hadn't had much interaction with Humans, he recognized that she was a very attractive specimen. Though she wore thick black robes, she moved with finely honed grace and Erul could tell that she had a fighter's build. The aura of mystery that enshrouded her was practically a tangible thing. She carried lightsabers but was no Jedi; of that he was certain. So who was she?

The silent walk toward the docking bay where her ship was berthed gave Erul a chance to gauge the severity of his now throbbing wound. A centimeter-deep furrow had been burned into the flesh of his snout and the hair around the wound had been singed and fused together. He'd be scarred for life. However long that would be.

I demand you tell me who you are! he roared after several blocks of agonizing silence. His blood was pumping hot and the anger exploded like a volcano. He reached out with one massive paw; before she could react he had grabbed her by the throat and shoved her up against a wall. Her feet dangled centimeters above the garbage strewn ground. Tell me NOW!

Their eyes met for the first time and Erul was shocked to see sickly pools of yellow rimmed in blood staring back at him. There was no fear in those eyes, none at all. If anything, there was admiration. She struggled to smile against his tight grip but managed only a weak grimace. He loosened his hold for just a second; that second was all she needed. Before he knew what was happening, he felt a strange pressure in his chest and he was flying through the air. He slammed hard into an overflowing trash receptacle, denting the duranium casing. Stunned, he didn't even try to get up when he heard her light footsteps approaching.

"Very nicely done." He heard the respect in her tone, the approval. Her compliment was sincere. "I'm impressed with you, Erul Monn. You've just convinced me that I made the right choice." Erul involuntarily shrank back when she extended a hand to help him to his feet.

"Please," he said in Basic. "Who are you? What have I done?" Her hand retracted and Erul felt the pressure again. It was a sensation like invisible hands grasping him around the arms and waist. Untouched by any physical means he was hoisted bodily to his feet.

"Walk with me and I will tell you." She swept her arm ahead of her, inviting him to go first. He caught a glint of metal as her robe was briefly parted with the gesture, revealing the lightsabers at her hip.

Erul nervously shuffled in the direction she had motioned, his fur standing anxiously on end. When she spoke again, he gave a soft whimper at the abrupt break in silence.

"What do you know of the Jedi?" she asked him pointedly.

His ears flicked forward in confusion. "The Jedi? Nothing. Why should I?"

She shrugged. "No reason," she admitted.

"You are Jedi?" he asked her.

"No," the woman said, almost too quickly, as though he'd unknowingly touched a nerve. "No, I am not Jedi," she assured him. "I could never be that cruel."

"But Jedi…," Erul said, "…are they not protectors of the Republic?"

"Ha!" Her sharp laugh bounced off the high buildings around them and echoed mockingly back at them for several seconds. "That is what they would have you all think."

Erul risked stopping in place. He turned and looked her in the eyes, those eyes which frightened and disturbed him but also intrigued and fascinated him. "You carry the Jedi weapon," he said, putting a massive hand to his injured face. "The laser sword, yes?"

"The Jedi are not the only ones who wield the lightsaber." Her tone had become flat and icy; whatever she was, she resented being compared to the Jedi. "Some have opposed the Jedi over the years. They wield the Force and the lightsaber the same as the Jedi but follow a very different code."

"And that is what you are? One of these 'opposers'?"

"Yes." She smiled, a gesture which somehow only served to frighten Erul even more. "We are called Sith. I am Darth Varnix, a Dark Lady of the Sith."

Erul didn't know what to say. He'd never heard of the Sith. He couldn't imagine what this Darth Varnix wanted with him. "I still don't understand."

"You have a power," Varnix said. "A power that will make you great. You are very strong in the Force."

Erul's lower jaw opened as if to say something then snapped shut again.

"In your life, have you never felt as though you were different? Perhaps you knew when something was about to happen, or you could sense when someone was lying to you even though you didn't understand how."

Erul shook his head. "No," he growled doggedly. "No, that is instinct. My kind has such instinct. It's no power. No Force."

"Oh, but it is," she pressed. "It's a wondrous power that, over time, you will craft and bend to your will. It will do your bidding and submit to your every command." She extended a hand that began to glow with crackling energy. What appeared to be electricity arced between her splayed fingers. Harsh blue light sparkled in Erul's unblinking eyes, which were wide in amazement. "Do you want this power?" she asked. She watched as the Shistavanen stood transfixed by her show.

Erul slowly nodded his head. "You say I can do that?" he growled skeptically.

"In time," she answered with a nod. "Your training will not be easy. The life of a Sith can be…brutal."

Erul shrugged. "More so than this place?" he asked, looking around at the crumbling structures.

Varnix raised an eyebrow. "Perhaps." She closed her fist and the crackling energy evaporated in her palm. "But you will be made better for it. Broken and rebuilt stronger."

You truly believe I have the potential to be one of these Sith? he snarled in his own tongue.

Varnix nodded her head a fraction. "I sensed your power from orbit. Your pain and anger drew me to you like a beacon in the fog of life on this pathetic world. If you can be taught to tap into it, your potential is unimaginable." She nodded toward the half-vacant spaceport several blocks away where her ship sat waiting. "Come, your destiny lies ahead."