POST NO 36
'Lord Vader," A voice called from a far. It was his combat teacher, Lord Razur. The old Sith stood baffled as he took in the shamble that was previously his well-kept training room. Swearing and spluttering something upon Exar Kun's bones, the old Sith drew out his saber activating it as he released it from his belt. His first thought had been of intruders; Jedi intruders. Silently, poised for immediate action, the saber held high up over his head, Razur crept inside cautiously. He was contemplating how those stealthy vermin had circumvented his flawless security measures when he spotted something dark by a pillar near a corner of the room. It looked like a sleeve, attached to a bloody hand resting lifelessly on the floor.
Lord Razur feared the worst for his young charge as he ran towards Vader. Of course he could have used the force to detect whether the boy was well or otherwise but his first glimpse of the jumbled and broken furniture had filled him with so much panic as to render his brain useless.
"Lord Vader!"
The hand moved slightly. Razur cut his pace down to a hurried walk.
He saw the boy then, his back resting against the pillar his knees pulled up tight against his chest. Vader lifted his face and noticed that the master trainer was staring down at him.
"I cut my knee," Vader stated stonily as though he were reporting on a damaged droid or ship. But the look in his eyes, which were usually alert and sharp, were, today, dim with defeat and hopelessness. His trouser leg was drenched in blood, but what alarmed the old Sith, was the blood on half of Vader's face and neck.
"Are you all right, Boy?" Razur enquired, shaking his head at the pathetic figure that bore no resemblance to his proud and sometimes obstinate student. He relaxed when it dawned on him that the blood on the boy's face was from the knee wound where Vader's head was probably resting, as was his wont when he was in a brooding mood.
Lord Razur had seen him like this before, years ago, when he had first brought him to Coruscant. The death of his mother and the drastic change of environment from a desolate waste land to the Galaxy's most vibrant city had had that effect on him, but with the old tutor's prodding-and some well placed energy bolts and a stern lecture about discipline from Lord Sidious's, the only time Lord Sidious had to go that far on the boy-had soon gotten the boy out of his shell, thereafter he had taken to his training with a devotion that surprised both the saber master and Lord Sidious.
Though Razur knew about Vader's other obsession, revenge for his mother's murder, the ex-slave had managed to bury that molten hot iron of vengeance deep within his chest. Ever since Lord Sidious had warned him that he was not to take any action in any capacity unless he was ready and that too would be determined by his masters only. On his knees Vader had apologized to his master and had promised him that he, Lord Sidious, would not have cause for concern over his conduct ever again.
After that the boy had rarely shown any kind of emotion aside from a minor show of frustration when he could not master some skill fast enough. The only other thing that seemed to provoke his ire was the misplaced personal effects or parts from his perpetual projects of some droid or speeder or something of the sort that he always kept himself busy with while on leave from the academy or between training spells. For that the servant or droid could expect at most a deathly glare from the young lord and that would usually suffice to see that the mistake was not repeated again.
"Who did this to you? "Razur demanded, rage burning in his eyes as he flicked his comm on and called the med droid to hurry over.
Vader did not answer instead he bit his lower lip trying to stop it from trembling and stared up at the ceiling, he seemed so far away that Razur wondered if he hadn't suffered any injury to his head. "Who?" Razur repeated this time more vehemently.
"Padmé," Vader said in a voice raw with pain. The boy not looking at him but rather through him his eyes shimmering with the ebb and flow of pent up emotion. For a moment Razur was back in Tatooine, back in the dark canyon where he had found a pitiful little creature barely passing for a young human male, battered and almost dead. That was the only time in his life the hardened Sith had ever felt pity for any living creature and now his heart tore to see him like this again. Young Vader was almost like a son to him.
"Padmé!" Razur cried in disbelief, "Impossible! How could she have…?" He swept one hand to the mess in his training room, not a single thing was left intact.
But the young stricken man did not seem to notice, "My scar, it scared her away. I know now why she…" Razur suddenly let out a heavy breath, evident with much relief and also disbelief. He had been aware of his pupil's obsession with the pretty Senator from Naboo and realized early on that the young teen was infatuated with her. But as he grew Vader kept his attention focused on his studies he didn't mention the former Queen of Naboo again. His nonchalant approach towards females in general had given Lord Razur the impression that he'd gotten over that infatuation. But now he realized how wrong he was this was not an infatuation it was something more deep...and dangerous.
'Lord Sidious would not be happy about it.' Thought the Sith Master.
"Skywalker you will get up this very minute!" Razur bellowed. Pity was soon leaving him and anger taking its place. "Look at you! Just look at what you have done to your self and to my training room? Lord Sidious will not like it, Boy, not one bit." He thundered shaking his head disapprovingly.
"I…I want her…to lov…like me." Vader muttered pitifully. " I want her. She should be mi..."
Razur caught him by the collar and hauled him up as easily as when he had been thirteen. Though Vader was tall he wasn't yet as tall or as heavily built as his training master.
"Listen to me," The older Sith cut in with a menacing tone. " I will not have any more of this love poodoo!" He said shaking Vader easily, the boy though did not resist. "This kind of feelings belong to low life, Sith warriors are devoid of such base and weak emotions." He screamed in the boy's face.
"It's all Rami's fault, if he hadn't destroyed my face she wouldn't have run away like that." Vader went on in the same monotonous tone. Razur finally lost his patients and threw the boy aside, Vader slid away on the polished marble floor his long legs flaying behind him and banged to the far wall with a thud.
The old man balled his fists to keep the rising anger in then he threw his hands up helplessly as he watched the fruit of his labors, the form of his proudest disciple crumpled up against the wall with hardly a care. 'And to think he is 'The chosen one,' Razur thought.
Presently the med droid did arrive only to be rewarded with a hearty kick from Lord Razur. "Is this the fastest that you could come?" And with that he stormed out of the room. He had to report to Lord Sidious concerning grave matters.
'Lord Vader," A voice called from a far. It was his combat teacher, Lord Razur. The old Sith stood baffled as he took in the shamble that was previously his well-kept training room. Swearing and spluttering something upon Exar Kun's bones, the old Sith drew out his saber activating it as he released it from his belt. His first thought had been of intruders; Jedi intruders. Silently, poised for immediate action, the saber held high up over his head, Razur crept inside cautiously. He was contemplating how those stealthy vermin had circumvented his flawless security measures when he spotted something dark by a pillar near a corner of the room. It looked like a sleeve, attached to a bloody hand resting lifelessly on the floor.
Lord Razur feared the worst for his young charge as he ran towards Vader. Of course he could have used the force to detect whether the boy was well or otherwise but his first glimpse of the jumbled and broken furniture had filled him with so much panic as to render his brain useless.
"Lord Vader!"
The hand moved slightly. Razur cut his pace down to a hurried walk.
He saw the boy then, his back resting against the pillar his knees pulled up tight against his chest. Vader lifted his face and noticed that the master trainer was staring down at him.
"I cut my knee," Vader stated stonily as though he were reporting on a damaged droid or ship. But the look in his eyes, which were usually alert and sharp, were, today, dim with defeat and hopelessness. His trouser leg was drenched in blood, but what alarmed the old Sith, was the blood on half of Vader's face and neck.
"Are you all right, Boy?" Razur enquired, shaking his head at the pathetic figure that bore no resemblance to his proud and sometimes obstinate student. He relaxed when it dawned on him that the blood on the boy's face was from the knee wound where Vader's head was probably resting, as was his wont when he was in a brooding mood.
Lord Razur had seen him like this before, years ago, when he had first brought him to Coruscant. The death of his mother and the drastic change of environment from a desolate waste land to the Galaxy's most vibrant city had had that effect on him, but with the old tutor's prodding-and some well placed energy bolts and a stern lecture about discipline from Lord Sidious's, the only time Lord Sidious had to go that far on the boy-had soon gotten the boy out of his shell, thereafter he had taken to his training with a devotion that surprised both the saber master and Lord Sidious.
Though Razur knew about Vader's other obsession, revenge for his mother's murder, the ex-slave had managed to bury that molten hot iron of vengeance deep within his chest. Ever since Lord Sidious had warned him that he was not to take any action in any capacity unless he was ready and that too would be determined by his masters only. On his knees Vader had apologized to his master and had promised him that he, Lord Sidious, would not have cause for concern over his conduct ever again.
After that the boy had rarely shown any kind of emotion aside from a minor show of frustration when he could not master some skill fast enough. The only other thing that seemed to provoke his ire was the misplaced personal effects or parts from his perpetual projects of some droid or speeder or something of the sort that he always kept himself busy with while on leave from the academy or between training spells. For that the servant or droid could expect at most a deathly glare from the young lord and that would usually suffice to see that the mistake was not repeated again.
"Who did this to you? "Razur demanded, rage burning in his eyes as he flicked his comm on and called the med droid to hurry over.
Vader did not answer instead he bit his lower lip trying to stop it from trembling and stared up at the ceiling, he seemed so far away that Razur wondered if he hadn't suffered any injury to his head. "Who?" Razur repeated this time more vehemently.
"Padmé," Vader said in a voice raw with pain. The boy not looking at him but rather through him his eyes shimmering with the ebb and flow of pent up emotion. For a moment Razur was back in Tatooine, back in the dark canyon where he had found a pitiful little creature barely passing for a young human male, battered and almost dead. That was the only time in his life the hardened Sith had ever felt pity for any living creature and now his heart tore to see him like this again. Young Vader was almost like a son to him.
"Padmé!" Razur cried in disbelief, "Impossible! How could she have…?" He swept one hand to the mess in his training room, not a single thing was left intact.
But the young stricken man did not seem to notice, "My scar, it scared her away. I know now why she…" Razur suddenly let out a heavy breath, evident with much relief and also disbelief. He had been aware of his pupil's obsession with the pretty Senator from Naboo and realized early on that the young teen was infatuated with her. But as he grew Vader kept his attention focused on his studies he didn't mention the former Queen of Naboo again. His nonchalant approach towards females in general had given Lord Razur the impression that he'd gotten over that infatuation. But now he realized how wrong he was this was not an infatuation it was something more deep...and dangerous.
'Lord Sidious would not be happy about it.' Thought the Sith Master.
"Skywalker you will get up this very minute!" Razur bellowed. Pity was soon leaving him and anger taking its place. "Look at you! Just look at what you have done to your self and to my training room? Lord Sidious will not like it, Boy, not one bit." He thundered shaking his head disapprovingly.
"I…I want her…to lov…like me." Vader muttered pitifully. " I want her. She should be mi..."
Razur caught him by the collar and hauled him up as easily as when he had been thirteen. Though Vader was tall he wasn't yet as tall or as heavily built as his training master.
"Listen to me," The older Sith cut in with a menacing tone. " I will not have any more of this love poodoo!" He said shaking Vader easily, the boy though did not resist. "This kind of feelings belong to low life, Sith warriors are devoid of such base and weak emotions." He screamed in the boy's face.
"It's all Rami's fault, if he hadn't destroyed my face she wouldn't have run away like that." Vader went on in the same monotonous tone. Razur finally lost his patients and threw the boy aside, Vader slid away on the polished marble floor his long legs flaying behind him and banged to the far wall with a thud.
The old man balled his fists to keep the rising anger in then he threw his hands up helplessly as he watched the fruit of his labors, the form of his proudest disciple crumpled up against the wall with hardly a care. 'And to think he is 'The chosen one,' Razur thought.
Presently the med droid did arrive only to be rewarded with a hearty kick from Lord Razur. "Is this the fastest that you could come?" And with that he stormed out of the room. He had to report to Lord Sidious concerning grave matters.