Quick summary: This is a story loosely based on Star Wars, about what would happen if the Sith came first, and the Jedi were the ones who broke away, instead of the other way around. I'm also making a lot of changes to the SW universe for my convenience, including compressing the galaxy into a single planet.
Disclaimer: I don't own Star Wars, even though I'm using various pieces of information from the games, movies, Wikipedia, and Wookieepedia.
Prologue:
I don't remember much from back then. All I remember is the day my life was turned upside-down.
"Isaac, pass the ball!"
I was seven years old at the time. I grew up in a sheltered environment, away from the war. Being kids, my friends and I never imagined the war would ever reach us. The adults kept assuring us that the Mandalorians would never come to our home, a cluster of villages surrounded by wilderness on the edge of the world.
"Rawr!" yelled a kid, bursting into our game with a basket on his head and a toy blaster in his hands. "Look at me; I'm a Mana-orian!"
"Rawr, I'm a real Mandalorian," said a muffled voice. We spun around to see a man in a big suit. There were several others behind him, dressed in the same outfit.
We all fell over giggling at the sight of a bunch of adults playing dress-up. They always made fun of us being silly, but now they doing the same thing!
What morons we were.
"Stop messing around and shove them in the transport. We have a battle to fight."
The laughter continued until one of the adults picked a kid up with one hand, and tossed him to another standing next to a real airship. The kid shrieked.
At that point, all of us scattered, most of us screaming, right into a circle of armed soldiers.
As I stared up at the barrel of that rifle and its wielder's cold, emotionless mask, I felt a wave of terror wash over me, far stronger than any emotion I had ever felt before. And just for a few moments, I felt the fear from the other kids around me, their terrified confusion melding into my own. During that seemingly eternal lapse in time, my head ached with the soundless wailing of nearly a dozen different voices.
"Papa! Mama!" one screamed.
"Let me go! I want to go home!" another cried.
I think a soldier was about to grab me around that time, but I'm not completely sure. My headache was building up so much that I couldn't help but scream as long and as loud as I possibly could.
When I came back to my senses, I realized that everyone around me was clutching their ears in agony. My mind was still so flooded with fear that no thought of rescuing my friends occurred to me. I simply ran.
For a while after, I didn't know where I was going, and I'm not sure I cared at the time. I might have been a kid then, but even I understood that I betrayed my friends by leaving them behind.
"MANDALORIANS!" yelled some people.
The thought of betrayal soon vanished from my mind, however, as the fighting began. Men and women called each other to arms, while children ran around crying for their families. Some that could have been considered kids also took up weapons. Likewise, some that could have been considered adults ran and screamed.
Though I called it a fight, it was more of a slaughter. Sure, some people might have an old blaster rifle stored away somewhere, but these were Mandalorians in full battle armor, using their advanced weaponry to wreak havoc upon poorly defended, backwater villagers.
People were shot down when they tried to stand and fight, and they were shot down when they tried to run. The Mandalorians mowed down everyone in their path, regardless of their age, gender, and actions. Groveling and begging were about as useless as trying to fight back. Upon seeing all this, I briefly wondered if it would have been safer to allow myself to be captured with the other children.
"Isaac!" shouted a voice.
I turned to see my brother running my way, wearing his favorite jacket. Other than simply being comfortable, he liked it because it had blaster-resistant properties. As soon as he got near, he pulled it off and wrapped it around me.
"Why did y-" I began.
"Shut it, you need it more than I do," he hissed.
As we continued running, I realized that I knew this area. It was close to our house. I immediately felt hope. For whatever irrational reason, I thought that when I got home, everything would be fine again; I thought that I would be together with my family again, and we would be safe from the Mandalorians.
Suddenly, my brother stumbled. I grabbed his arm and tried to pull him back up, then I noticed his leg was scorched. I also noticed a rather large shadow covering us both.
"Nothing personal, but we can't let you go," said the muffled voice. He pointed his rifle at me, but my brother somehow found the strength to lunge at the Mandalorian, forcing him to the ground and knocking his weapon away.
"Get away from my little brother, you murderer!" he snarled, wrestling with the trooper.
"You've got guts, kid," was all the Mandalorian said.
During this struggle, I was frozen in place.
"Run! Isaac, move it!" my brother shouted.
I bolted without a second thought, leaving my own brother to fend for himself. Shortly after, I heard a sickening thud that made me slow to a walk. My ears were constantly pounded by the sounds of screaming, shouting, echoing footsteps, and blaster fire, but somehow I knew that my brother had just taken a fatal blow to the head.
I found myself wandering into a pile of rubble, and I simply curled up inside it, leaving the soldiers to sweep by. As I gazed through the gap I came in from, I found charred corpses, flattened buildings, and scattered debris. And fire. There was always fire.
Trees, bodies, houses, vehicles, food; a quick glance around and one could see all of these things burning before them. Or smell it, at least; there was a nauseatingly foul odor in the air. Even to this day, no smell bothers me more than the mixed scents of mashed bananas and burning flesh.
When I could no longer hear the Mandalorians, I got out from my hiding spot and wandered towards my house in a daze, wondering if there was anyone left of my family. Were they out there somehow, still alive? Or were they like my brother, lying dead in the middle of the road?
I soon found my answer. In the middle of the road, I might add. I could barely make out my parents' faces on the smoking bodies, but there was no mistaking them. The same went for my older sister, lying in front of the ruins of my home.
"Hey, a kid!" a voice boomed, making me jump.
I spun around to see an armed group of Mandalorians. I almost bolted again, but even I realized how stupid that would be.
"I thought this sector was supposed to be cleared out," one of them muttered. "Kid, you're coming with us. We'll feed you and give you a place to stay, as long as you do as you're told."
I felt so scared, but at the same time, I felt enraged.
"You're lying," I said. "I saw you! I saw you guys kill lots of people!"
The one talking to me sighed. "You know, I hate these 'pick-up' procedures. Why don't we just get rid of him?" he asked his comrades.
They all chuckled in agreement. I grew angrier and angrier with each sneer that came out of them. Another of the Mandalorians walked up to me.
"Kid, I'll give you a head-start. Go ahead and run; I'll wait a few moments before shooting," he said with a mocking laugh.
That was the final straw. I don't remember exactly how it happened, but the next time I knew, I had torn off the Mandalorian's helmet and I was trying to claw at his eyes.
But even though I caught him by surprise, he was still a lot stronger, and he easily threw me away from him. He picked his rifle back off the ground and took aim. As he was about to fire, a strange sound was heard.
"AAARGH!" howled a Mandalorian as his arm fell. Everyone turned in time to see his head fall next. Both his neck and the stump of his arm briefly glowed with heat before fading to black.
The corpse fell to reveal a man encased from neck to boot in a flexible suit of black armor, with dark red markings all over it. His face was oddly pale and creased, and his coarse black hair and beard ended in white at the tip of each strand. In his hand was a metal tube that emitted a blood-red beam of light. Obviously, the laser-sword was more dangerous than a simple light.
Two more Mandalorians were cut down before the others were able to start firing. A series of swift movements allowed the man to dodge some of the blaster bolts and deflect the rest away. After a second or two of doing this, the stranger started reflecting the shots back at the soldiers themselves, forcing them to drop their rifles. Once the barrage ended, the four remaining Mandalorians were cut down so quickly that none of them managed to even draw their side-arms.
I stared, open-mouthed. The whole fight took under ten seconds from the moment the first soldier screamed to the instant the last one was slain. When the dark warrior looked my direction, I flinched, but I didn't run. How could I? Standing before him felt like was standing before an artificial gravity well; I wanted to run, but something about him kept pulling me towards him.
"Little one, what drives you?" he asked.
I tilted my head in confusion. "What?"
He walked over to tower in front of me. "What makes you scream out so strongly? What makes you attack when you can't win? What keeps you standing, despite how dizzy and tired you feel?"
I shrunk back from his gaze, but I didn't dare look away from his bloodshot, black eyes. I whispered, "I was scared and my head hurt. The men-in-armor made me really mad. And I think you will hurt me more if I sit down; Daddy said it's rude."
A flicker of a smile appeared on his face. "A Force scream that strong from a headache, and a refreshing sense of etiquette. I think you'll do nicely."
"For what?" then I added, "Mister."
"Have you heard of the Sith?"
"Yeah, but they're not re-" I was about to say "not real," but then it occurred to me that I have never seen anything that looked quite like the material he was wearing, nor have I ever heard of a laser-sword before. His appearance was also a little strange, too.
"We're very real, and this is your chance to join us."
"But, but, you guys do dark magic, right?"
"They call it 'magic' because they don't understand us. Does it matter where power comes from, as long as it helps us achieve our individual goals? Unlike the stories you may have heard, there is no price to pay for 'sorcery.' You just have to believe in your own power."
"My own… power? You mean, I could get revenge on the Mandalorians?" I asked excitedly.
"You'll need a lot of training, but yes. Are you prepared to work hard to release your power, little one?"
"Yes."
"Say it once more, with conviction."
"With con-vic-tion?"
"With feeling, little one. And one more thing: from now on, you will call me 'my lord.'"
I grinned. "Yes, my lord!"
A New Task:
When I was first invited into the Sith, I promised I would work hard, but it's been almost ten years, and I'm still an Acolyte. I knew that only a few talented individuals ever progressed to Elite in so little time, but I had higher hopes for myself. What a moron I was. I'm not very well-respected among the other Acolytes, either. Most of the others don't even see me as an equal; most of the few who do are the beginning Acolytes. Hmm, I suppose I should go over the Sith hierarchy before I start talking about my own rank.
The Sith are split into two groups: the soldiers, and the Force-sensitive. The lowest rank of Sith is the average Sith trooper. They're pretty much like the Sith's private army, highly disciplined and carrying high-tech equipment. Above them are the commandos, who have distinguished themselves in battle, and are given even better equipment that sometimes come with specialized gear. Although these two groups make up the bulk of the Sith forces, and are feared by people who know about the Sith, they aren't at all respected by most of the Force-sensitives.
"Sir!" a trooper saluted me as I walked past him into the Sith Academy of Nar Shaddaa.
"Keep up the good work, soldier," I replied.
"Yes, sir!"
The Force-sensitives include myself; we're set apart from normal humans because of our connection to the Force, as well as our specialized training. All beginners start off as initiates, who are taught the basics of using the Force and the basics of using a lightsaber. When they finish this first stage, they pick their class of specialization (I'll go over them later) and move on to the rank of Acolyte. Acolytes make up the majority of the Force-sensitive Sith, and generally are more dangerous than the commandos because of the reasons above. Those who are deemed worthy are known as Sith Elites, masters of their specialization and great enough to train their less-powerful comrades. However, the Sith hierarchy goes beyond just students and teachers.
"Lord Vanquis!" This time, it was my turn to salute. "Did you just return as well?"
My lord simply stared at me for a moment before responding. "I won't be staying very long. You should have duties to attend to as well. If you have nothing more to say, leave me, little one."
"At once, my lord." I hurried past.
In our empire, there are those who could be considered living legends, known as Sith Lords. The man who brought me to the Sith homeland of Korriban, Darth Vanquis, is an example of a Sith Lord. Only the most fearsomely powerful, deadly, and/or wise Sith become Lords and take on the title "Darth." They are embodiments of power and achievers of unbelievable feats. The greatest of them is also the most powerful being in the world: our Emperor.
Although he is sometimes referred to as a Sith Lord, the Emperor stands out even among them. Rumors whisper that the Emperor could best any Lord in lightsaber combat, stealth operations, and manifestations of Force powers, which are, as any Sith knows, the specializations of the three classes (Marauder, Assassin, Warlock, in that order). They also say that he could telepathically contact any Lord at any time, no matter where he is. Very few know whether or not the rumors are true, as few have ever seen him, but all the Lords agree that the Emperor does exist.
As I walked down a hallway, I passed a classroom and heard an Elite lecturing a group of initiates.
"The Force will bend to your will more easily if you focus stronger emotions into it. Anger is the most powerful emotion; change your fears and uncertainties into hate, and channel it into your intent."
I am often told that the reason no one important ever notices me is because I am too docile. I am told that I do not hate enough, and that my inability to hate at will is a sign of weakness. Most of my colleagues are rude and spiteful creatures who hate everything around them, something that is actually encouraged.
But despite that, I can't bring myself to hate them back. They're just doing as they were taught. They probably have their reasons for wanting power, even if I don't know what those are. However, there is at least one person who isn't rude to me just for the sake of being hateful.
"Einz, why are you here?" asked Jace Thren as he matched his pace with mine.
Thren was a classmate from my early days as an initiate. Although we were the same age, he was shorter than me, and a lot more respected. He rarely lashed out at everything around him, but his presence alone exuded an aura that chilled the air around him, making an enemy think twice before attacking. There was also something about the fact that he always slicked back his short black hair that gave a more "refined" impression than most other Sith.
"I was contacted while tracking someone. A certain smuggler thought he could make a profit off of synth-crystals."
"How noble," he mocked. "Who cares if some fool got a hold of a few crystals? Even if he had a lightsaber to take apart, he wouldn't know how to use it properly."
"It just didn't feel right to let him distribute Sith technology to who-knows-who," I muttered. "Besides, if everything I do is such a waste of time, why do you keep pestering me about it?"
"Because it annoys me to no end. Why do you insist on these meaningless, self-assigned chores? You gain nothing from it, and it causes everyone around to ridicule you every chance they get." Thren certainly sounded annoyed.
Every time I did something that others consider "pointless," I always got a lecture from Thren. Despite that, however, he was the closest person I have to a friend. Occasionally, he would give a particularly harsh lesson, but over time, I discovered that almost every piece of advice I've ever gotten from him helped me as much an instructor's training session. When I first arrived in Korriban, Thren was the first other student I met, and he was the one who taught me that the Sith didn't have as much of a sense of comradeship as I thought, something that nearly got me killed early on.
That doesn't change the fact that his pestering is a pain in the back, though.
"It's not my fault that I can't find much work… a little exercise is better than none, right?" I said defensively.
Thren rolled his eyes. "You'd be better off sparing against an Elite."
I glared at him. "You're overestimating me. That would be suicide."
"That's what you think," he said quietly.
I was spared from making a witty response when we reached the headmaster's chamber. I knocked.
The door opened. "Enter."
We came in and both went down on one knee each. The headmaster was Darth Shedge, a Sith Assassin Lord, whose thoughts were always perfectly concealed from others. The Nar Shaddaa Academy was particularly well-known for their focus on training Sith Assassins, as the heavily populated yet shady city was a natural training grounds for the stealth-orientated killers. Lord Shedge walked over to Thren and dropped a neatly-folded pile of robes in front of him.
"Jace Thren, class: Warlock, rank: Acolyte. After a brief discussion of your achievements, my fellow Lords and I believe you to be worthy of a promotion. I, Darth Shedge, hereby declare you a Warlock Elite of the Sith Empire."
"I will not fail the Empire, my lord," he said as he took the robes into his arms.
Lord Shedge nodded curtly. "Arise. You as well, Einz."
We slowly rose from our positions on the floor. It was about time Thren was promoted; his capabilities were already well beyond that of other Acolytes.
"I will make this quick: the Neimoidian Trade Federation is attempting to keep their end of our latest agreement by delivering a shipment of crystalline vertex to our warehouse in Fornax. They requested 'ambassadors' to escort their transport, and, being the cowards that they are, refused to accept Assassins on the grounds that they are too difficult to follow. I understand that you know the way?"
"Yes, my lord," we both answered.
But I couldn't help but ask, "My lord, why do they need ambassadors to transport a shipment? And do they not have battle droids to protect them?"
"Are you questioning me?"
I immediately regretted asking. I tried not to squirm under Lord Shedge's stare as I replied, "No, my lord, I was questioning the Neimoidians' motives."
"You think too much for a Marauder; they are cowards, and cowards wish to be backed up by as much authority, fame, and protection as possible. That said, if either of you disgrace us, they might try to back out of our alliance."
"Yes, my lord."
I understood what he was saying, but I didn't like it. The Neimoidians have finally mustered enough courage to meet a few of us, face to face. And that meeting could be fatal for our alliance if I don't shape up and act like a true Sith. The alliance wasn't important because of the Neimoidian battle droids (we had our own army, after all), but because of their resources.
"Failure is never tolerated, but I trust Vanquis knew what he was doing when he recommended the two of you. Now get out."
We left quickly, but I still managed to get a headache before we were out. Lord Vanquis recommended me? How was that possible? He knew better than anyone how dismal my abilities were.
"Nervous, huh? Well, with your lack of self-coincidence, I'm not surprised."
"I'm not trying to be weak. I'm just struggling so hard to accomplish my objectives that I don't have time to meet your ridiculous expectations."
Thren angrily shoved me against the wall.
"You don't seem to realize it, but you're much more dangerous than any of these fools," he said, gesturing to some nearby Assassin Acolytes. Their masks hid their expressions, but I could easily feel their irritation through the Force. He completely ignored them, however.
"So you say. Too bad no one else finds me that intimidating. Let's get you changed so we can meet our 'clients' properly." Normally, I would be pretty nervous if I was pushed up against a wall by an angry Elite, but if it was this guy…
The anger in his face faded as he sensed my thoughts. He sighed and let go of me. "I wish you would take my words more seriously. I won't always be around to help you."
He resumed his walking. I came up alongside him, but remembering his newly-appointed rank, I slowed my pace a bit.
We walked in a silence for a few minutes, but as we neared the guest quarters, he spoke again. "You had faith that I would not hurt you. Trust is not becoming of a Sith. Betrayal, hunger for power, and the pain of suffering alone; those are the ways of the Sith."
I didn't know what to say to that, so I kept silent. He didn't say anymore, either. I waited outside his quarters while he entered to get changed.
Betrayal, hunger, pain. Those three words summed up the darker aspects of the Sith all too well. But there's something about that I didn't understand: if Thren was such an avid supporter of the ways of the Sith, then why did he help me so often?
He came out shortly after, dressed in his new, pitch-black, Warlock Elite robes. Seeing him like this brought me back to the day he became an Acolyte. Naturally, he replaced his pale tunic with dark gray robes long before I obtained my dark gray battle-suit. And now, the robes were as dark as night. I wondered how long it would be until it gained the red streaks of a Lord.
We got a ready speeder and left right away. We didn't talk anymore. There was nothing to talk about, with or without the driver listening in on us. I vaguely felt the trooper's disappointment as we stared out opposing windows in silence.
Chapter Endnote: Hope you liked it. I certainly like this story more than the one I uploaded on Fictionpress (and left it at one chapter for over a year *sweatdrop*). Sorry in advance if I become lazy and stop writing for a while.