"What is this world called?" Vrehk asked.
Perdition glanced at his apprentice as he guided the ship into the planet's atmosphere. "Officially, it has no designation. My master used his network of agents to delete its location from Republic records. He called it 'Kursid', a word in an ancient Kel Dor dialect which means 'Crucible of Blood'." Outside the viewport, their freighter became wreathed in heat from the friction of atmospheric entry.
"How did he discover it?" Vrehk asked, ever inquisitive and hungry for knowledge. His Wookiee slave sat in the seat behind him, a silent mountain of hair and muscle.
"While on a mission for his master, he ran afoul of a raider group seeking to steal his ship. He killed them all, but his ship was damaged in the battle. This was the only habitable world in range, so he was forced to land here. The natives attacked him in great numbers, but he slaughtered them all. After repairing the damage to his ship, he left. Years later, a vision led him back here. He discovered that the natives built a monument commemorating his visit. For years, he would return here, sating his bloodlust and keeping his martial skills sharp by killing them. They always came in large numbers, worshipping him as a sky visitor. During my apprenticeship, he brought me here when I was learning the intricacies of combat. Each time we came, we found another monument carved in the image of our faces."
Vrehk gazed out the viewport as the clouds parted. "And now it is my turn to make my mark on these people."
"They are spectacularly brutal, but otherwise unimportant. Were it not for us, they would be one in a million species doomed to be forgotten. They recognize the honour we bestow by coming here. Through their blood and sacrifice, they, in their own infinitesimal way, contribute to our ultimate goal. One day, every mundane in existence will serve the greater good in the same way."
"I understand, master."
Perdition brought their freighter low over the valleys and hillsides where the natives made their settlements. They were nothing more than loose arrangements of tents made from animal hides and some clay houses dried in the sun. As Perdition made several passes, he sensed the natives rousing themselves at the return of the sky visitors. He then brought the freighter to land on an arid plateau. Memories of the past bubbled up to the surface, from when he had been the apprentice. Darth Umbris had been fond of saying, 'By spreading death and despair, we infect the rest of the galaxy. The Dark Side is an infection, but unlike the Jedi, we know the truth. The infection is the cure."
As Perdition and Vrehk rose to their feet, the Wookiee did the same. "No," Vrehk said. "Stay here. This is for me and my master alone." The Wookiee started to growl something in protest, but Vrehk cut him off. "Stay. Here."
The walking carpet growled, but relented and sat down.
The two Sith descended the boarding ramp, each wielding a force pike. The metre-long weapons were a powerful alternative to other, lethal, implements. Tipped by stun modules, their settings could be lowered to deliver a painful shock, or higher to overwhelm a target's nervous system. The landing site, as before when Perdition came here as an apprentice, was lined with foodstuffs, sacrificial victims strapped to steaks buried in the ground, and works of what passed for art in the natives' eyes fashioned from precious metals.
At Perdition's direction, they ignored the offerings and knelt on the dry ground. Horns bellowed all around, heralding the newest round of sacrificial ceremonies. Perdition and his apprentice meditated, focusing the power of the Dark Side for six days. Groups of natives gathered on the hillsides overlooking the ceremonial site, the chosen battleground. They traveled from many miles away, all for the glory of the Sith.
"The Dark Side is strife, the victory of the strong over the weak," Perdition said. Slowly, the biggest and bravest native warriors separated themselves from the crowds. Their bodies were covered in intricate patterns of pigments created from plants, clay, and soil, and they wielded sharpened stone axes as well as javelins and bows. "The next few hours will test you. Here, you will discover the limits of your agility, speed, and accuracy. More than that, it is a rite of passage, for both you and these braves who come to face us. By besting them, we take their strength into ourselves."
Vrehk licked his lips in anticipation. "Through strength, I gain power. Through power, I gain victory."
"Power is a means to an end, apprentice. Not an end unto itself."
Drums banged with a clamorous boom, and the onlookers wailed as the ceremony began. The warriors brandished their weapons, gave a collective war-cry, and rushed to attack. Perdition nodded, and the two Sith seemed to fly across the dry, arid plain. With the Force at their command, they dodged volleys of arrows, deflected axe blows, and directed javelins into the ground. Over the next few hours, master and apprentice faced the natives one on one, two, three, or even four, disabling them with taps from their force pikes. Between the two of them, they rendered hundreds of heavily muscled warriors into twitching wrecks. Only one brave remained, the strongest of the bunch.
Perdition cast aside his force pike and ignited the crimson blade of his lightsaber. The onlookers gave a collective lament, knowing what would happen. Looking his apprentice in the eye, he said, "Feel the power of terror." Holding the remaining warrior in place with a stasis field, he carved open the native's chest cavity. With deliberate slowness, Perdition reached into the cavity and extracted his still-beating heart.
He held the heart high, and the cries of lament reached a fever-pitch. Then, all was silent. After a prolonged vigil, the ceremony ended. The fallen warriors were helped and guided out of the battlefield. A mournful chant began as the crowds dispersed, though their grief was lessened with the knowledge they had discharged their duty. The slain warrior would be martyred by his people, held in beatific splendour to join the myriad of others who had fallen in these visits.
"Remember this, apprentice. When you experience doubt, think of what happened here. We spread death and misery, and in so doing remove corruption from the galaxy. When disease ravages the body, the only cure is to cut off the ruined limb. The Republic is the infection, rotting the galaxy from within. The Jedi could be the cure, but instead they delude themselves into believing the infection is the true cure. They blind themselves to the dangers of allowing those deaf to the Force to decide the fate of the galaxy. They willingly shackle themselves with chains of obedience and a childish belief in equality. The Sith are the cure for this corruption.
"By spreading anarchy, we promote true healing. That is why we support groups that create chaos and destruction. Anything to crack the structure of the Republic so one day we might shatter the foundations. Weakness is cleansed through bloodshed. It is not enough for us to become schemers, apprentice. In a galaxy of simple-minded cattle, we must become beasts."
As if to prove his point, he brought the still-beating heart up to his face and took a bite from it. Blood dripped down his chin as his teeth tore into the flesh. He passed the blood-filled organ to his apprentice. Vrehk stared at the heart for a moment, and Perdition sensed the briefest flicker of doubt. The flicker became drowned by a wave of surety, and the Devaronian took the heart in hand.
He took his own bite from the heart, to Perdition's satisfaction. Vrehk smiled, his sharpened incisors stained red as he appeared every bit the demon most sentients labeled his kind.
Vrehk felt the sweat drip down his face and back, but he didn't break his concentration. He'd been sitting cross-legged in the same place for two days straight. Absent food or water, he relied on the Force to sustain him.
In front of him was a small cube-shaped object with a clear, rounded lid in the centre. Within rested a crystal. When complete, it would serve as a focus for Vrehk's lightsaber. Normally, the creation of a synthetic crystal required raw materials, high in carbon content, to be formed into a single mass empowered by the Dark Side. But the one inside the geological compressor was already complete; all it required was an extended period of meditation and focus.
The first crystal, the one he'd taken from the geode five years earlier, was finished. It sat beside the compressor, softly glowing the colour of blood. It hummed with the power of the Dark Side. The crystal Vrehk worked on now was taken from another geode. The day after he and his master returned from Kursid, he'd ventured into the catacombs and acquired another one. Two crystals, one for each blade of the weapon he intended to build.
He maintained his focus, pouring the Dark Side into the crystal within the compressor. He felt its every facet, visualizing it perfectly in his mind. Not as it was, but what it would be. He shaped it to his will, guiding its evolution so it took the necessary form.
Its potency would be many times that of the natural alternatives used by the Jedi. They relied on the natural world, finding their treasures after pointless rites of 'self-discovery'. The Sith, in contrast, forged their own. They did not wait for the perfect opportunity, creating it instead. Order from chaos. It was the way of the Sith. The hours dragged on, and Vrehk's strength ebbed. His heart pounded, his lips cracked, and his skin moistened from sweat. Almost to the end; he could feel it.
Finally, his patience was rewarded. He opened his eyes, blinking away fatigue as the compressor gave a pleasant ding. Opening the clear lid, he plucked the crystal from the bowl-shaped depression within and inspected it. Blood-red, like the first. To his ears, it seemed to ring with untapped power. Vrehk clutched it in his palm, smiling. Two crystals to give the blades power, and two to focus them. In addition to the synthetics, the other two sat on the floor beside him. The Krayt Dragon Pearl, cleaned and ground down to size, and the amber shard taken from the Rakatan computer on Kashyyyk.
As he recovered from the fatigue of his intense meditations, he finally noticed Khelrikk standing off to the side. The Wookiee, as per the life debt, insisted on following Vrehk wherever he went. It would be useful to have such a powerful servant and bodyguard nearby, but he anticipated future friction when the need to be alone came along.
Taking all four crystals in hand, he tried to stand on shaky legs. Khelrikk came to his side and helped him stand. Vrehk took a few moments to get his breathing under control, then walked to the fabrication shop. Perdition waited within, as did RZ-87. Vrehk held out his hand, presenting the crystals to his master.
Upon inspecting them, Perdition remarked, "You fashioned them well. Now you must assemble the hilt."
He gestured to a flat, empty table. Vrehk deposited his crystals on it, then glanced around the shop. Boxes of parts were stacked against the walls, enough to construct an airspeeder or industrial loading droid.
Under his master's watchful gaze, he went from box to box in search of the right components. Blade emitters, power cell, focusing lenses, leather for the grip, and others. The hilt itself would be made out of Cortosis ore purchased from the Outer Rim Oreworks corporation. How appropriate that a Sith of the Rule of Two purchased lightsaber materials from the company that helped forge Bane into a Dark Lord of the Sith. To unlock its full potential, the ore had to be purified, a laborious process that magnified the ore's price. But Perdition had no shortage of funds.
Vrehk got to work, assembling the internal components with a welding torch and hydrospanner. All the while, his master observed his progress with a discerning eye. He manipulated several of the inner fittings and bolts with the Force, levitating them in a cloud of metal just as Perdition did when showing the components of his lightsaber. His imagination took form. The hilt was mostly complete, only requiring the crystals. While built as a single piece, the hilt was split in half vertically for the assembly. With utmost care and precision, he placed the two synthetic crystals in the slots closest to the centre of the hilt. Then the two focusing crystals were placed in the slots near the blade emitters. Their placement had to be precise down to the last nanometer, lest the blades short out and the circuitry fry from feedback. Making a few minor adjustments, he joined the two halves of the hilt and fused them together.
There it was, complete. For so long he'd imagined what it might look like, formulating the configuration of components as if he were a sculptor creating a work of art. The extra long hilt was coloured steel-grey, with the grips made of Corellian leather etched with arcane symbols of the Dark Side. Blade guards marked both ends, each consisting of a pair of sharpened blades. Gripping the weapon –his weapon— in one hand, Vrehk held his thumb over the activation stud. Taking a deep breath, he pressed it.
The two crimson blades ignited with a snap-hiss, bathing the fabrication shop in red light. They gave a threatening hum, as if their deadly power was barely contained.
Vrehk had never seen anything so beautiful in his life. He grinned like a lovesick schoolboy, twirling it in his hands experimentally. Its weight was almost negligible, hence the need for someone trained in the Force to properly wield it. Khelrikk gave a low bark of amazement, mouth agape. Vrehk looked at his master, who nodded approvingly. "Let us put your weapon to the test."
They moved to the training room, shedding their black cloaks. Perdition ignited his lightsaber, and they both entered ready stances. Khelrikk and ArZed remained by the door, knowing their masters' wills enough to be silent observers. While his master chose Makashi, Vrehk chose the fifth form, Djem So. The Way of the Krayt Dragon. Like its namesake, the form emphasized strong, powerful attacks, a quick defense, then immediate counterattacks. Practitioners sought to overwhelm their opponent in battle.
Perdition gave a slight nod, and the sparring began.
Vrehk made the first move. Charging forward, he twirled his weapon before slicing one blade down diagonally from right to left. His master blocked the attack, and he responded by slicing upwards with the second blade. Perdition blocked that attack as well, pushing Vrehk's weapon back as he spun on his heel to create some distance between them. Vrehk held his lightsaber in front of him in a horizontal grip, waiting for his opponent to make the next move.
Perdition advanced calmly, then lashed out with a number of elegant slashes and quick jabs. Vrehk met the flurry of movements by twisting the hilt of his weapon, using both blades to block each attack. The lightsaber blades sizzled and cracked whenever they made contact, causing flashes of light as the beams of plasma flared. When his master attacked with a horizontal slice, Vrehk blocked it, then twisted his weapon so as to redirect the other's blade towards the floor. This created a temporary opening, which he exploited by aiming a slash with his second blade at his master's neck. Perdition ducked –though Vrehk noticed with his Force-enhanced senses that a few hairs were singed– stepped back, then aimed a jab at his back.
Vrehk, seeing the attack through the Force, didn't even look as he swung his weapon behind him and held it parallel to his back. The blades sizzled, then Perdition took several steps back. Normally, the strength of Djem So would break through the elegance of Makashi. But Vrehk was still a novice with a lightsaber, while his opponent was an unparalleled master.
"Impressive," Perdition remarked. "Most impressive."
"You've taught me well, master," Vrehk replied with a smirk. He switched to the opening stance of Niman, the sixth form, also known as the Way of the Rancor. The most moderate of all the forms, it was a hybrid that allowed for the inclusion of Force-based attacks. Many Jedi, who preferred diplomacy over combat, chose this form. Perdition chose Shii-Cho. Even the most basic form could be deadly when used by an experienced warrior.
For the next several hours they sparred, alternating forms and switching between the roles of aggressor and defender. Vrehk wholly understood that Perdition held back to match his current level. But one day, he swore to himself, he would be his master's equal. When Perdition declared an end to the session, he gestured to Vrehk's lightsaber and said, "A fine weapon, apprentice. Let it carve through our enemies and pave the way to our success with the skulls of the unworthy."
Vrehk deactivated his lightsaber, clipping it to his belt. Despite only possessing it for one day, he felt more complete with it than he ever had without it. "Thank you, master," he said, bowing. "Your wisdom and guidance gave me the tools to succeed."
Perdition regarded him for a few moments. Then, he said, "There remains one final step. Complete this, and you will assume your proper place as my heir."
Feeling the excitement burn in his chest, Vrehk replied, "Tell me what I must do, master!"
Retrieving his robe, Perdition reached into the folds and produced a small object. It was a four-sided gold pyramid, with arcane glyphs etched on its surface and a black capstone. It took Vrehk a moment to comb through the memories from his studies until he recognized it. A holocron! A repository of knowledge, constructed by the Sith. He could feel the dark power pulsing from the artifact, and he nearly salivated at the prospect of learning its secrets. His fingers twitched, and he endeavoured to keep his breathing even.
"You will only see this when I deem you fit," Perdition explained. "Among all the treasures and artifacts I and those who came before have collected, this is perhaps the most precious. It is the core of our order's teachings, the foundation stone upon which our glorious temple is built." Treating the holocron with reverence, Perdition placed it on the floor before Vrehk, who knelt before it. "Reach out," his master told him. "Let it feel your power. The gatekeeper will judge you." Perdition turned to their respective servants and ordered, "Leave us."
ArZed complied instantly, shuffling out of the room. Khelrikk hesitated, looking down at his charge. Vrehk returned the look, nodding for him to go. With clear reluctance, the Wookiee stepped outside, closing the door behind him.
"Proceed."
Vrehk centred himself. He reached out with the Force, sending a wave of Dark Side power to wash over the holocron. At first, it didn't respond. He tried again, this time poring more of his power into it. This time, it came to life. The symbols began to glow an etheric violet as the crystalline network within projected its stored power. A beam of light projected from the black capstone, coalescing into a ten centimetre-tall figure. Even in miniature, the figure was large and muscular. Its black robes were open enough to reveal a chitinous layer of insects which covered its entire body. A cage-like helmet covered the figure's face, creating the visage of a terrifying warrior.
"I am Darth Bane, Dark Lord of the Sith."
Vrehk felt his heart skip a beat in shock and elation. The Sith'ari himself! The founder of their order, who annihilated the pitiful Sith of old and redefined their existence. Logically, he knew it was not Bane himself, nor the Dark Lord's spirit. This was simply a gatekeeper, a representation of Bane constructed from memory stored in the crystal matrix. But it was enough of an approximation to make Vrehk feel inadequate. "My lord," was all he could say, inclining his head in respect.
The gatekeeper appraised him. "Identify yourself."
"I am the apprentice of Darth Perdition, my lord. My name is Vrehk Chund."
"If you are his apprentice, then you are either a replacement of the old one or your master has elected to train two apprentices." There was no mistaking the mistrust and anger in the figure's voice.
"My former apprentice challenged me for the rule of the Sith," Perdition explained. "I ended his life."
The gatekeeper nodded. "Then he proved to be unworthy. I wonder if this apprentice will similarly disappoint."
Vrehk's hackles rose, and he slightly bared his incisors. "I will not fail, Lord Bane! I am the chosen apprentice to the Dark Lord of the Sith, the heir to your legacy. I have felt the power of the Dark Side, and I crave knowledge and ultimate power. These things will be mine one day, I swear it."
"Do not let go of your anger, child," the gatekeeper said. It did not chide, but compliment. "It will serve you well. But be warned: the Dark Side offers power, yes, but it does so at a cost. You need only look at me to know this. To those of us who devote ourselves to the Dark Side, we must be willing to sacrifice everything in pursuit of our goals. Even our very flesh must sometimes be offered. You must sever the chains of your old life if you hope to become a true Sith. That is why we surrender the names of our birth and choose new identities that reflect our talents as well as our commitment to the Dark Side."
Glancing at his master, Vrehk asked, "But, my lord, why do we still use our birth names in public? Doesn't that make us keep the chains of our past?"
"When I created the Rule of Two, I recognized the need for secrecy," the gatekeeper explained. "We needed to hide ourselves to avoid the gaze of the Jedi until we were in a position to destroy them and the Republic. But in order to affect change on a galactic scale, we need to interact with the beings of the galaxy. For me and my apprentice, that required several aliases and changing identities. This was because we emerged from the New Sith Wars. The Jedi knew our true names. For you and my other successors, the Jedi have no knowledge that you are Sith. To use your birth name in public is to wear a mask, a façade to fool the common masses. The truth of you will be the name you choose for yourself. Your Sith name will be a mark of the power you wield, the ambition you live by."
Vrehk absorbed Bane's words. As he reflected on them, they made more and more sense. To be a Sith was to evolve, burning away the vulgar qualities of life in pursuit of greater glory. Why, then, would you bother to keep something as plebian as a common name? He'd been named after his great-grandfather, a celebrated hyperspace explorer. His surname, Chund, brough bile to the back of his mouth as he thought of it. It came from his grandfather's side of the family, and he wanted nothing to do with it.
But what name should he choose for himself? According to Bane, it must reflect his commitment to the Dark Side and be a mark of his power. He thought back to the beginning of his training. Perdition had taken him in after witnessing his use of Force Drain and lightning to murder his grandfather and, unintentional at the time, the two pirates. He had an innate talent for the exceedingly rare ability of Force Bonding, through which he could rip knowledge from others' minds. He could also use bonds to drain life from others to benefit himself. A Sith also used his mind as a weapon. Ever since he could remember, Vrehk loved reading and learning new things. He hungered for information and knowledge, especially that of his master's superior archive. Like Darth Nihilus of the Dark Wars, Vrehk sought to devour everything in his path. Unlike the ancient lord, he had the will and self-control to not let it overcome him.
"I understand, Lord Bane," he said after several minutes of rumination. "I have no use for my name, but I will use it as another tool. The Dark Side is my life, and will always be. To the rest of the galaxy, I am Vrehk Chund. To those who come after me, I will be known as Derriphan."
The gatekeeper stroked its armoured chin with a forefinger. "The old Sith word for 'devourer'. Very well. Remember what I have said, Derriphan. Peace is a lie."
"There is only passion," Derriphan finished.
The gatekeeper nodded, then winked out of existence. Perdition levitated the holocron into his hand, then placed it inside his voluminous black overcloak. Derriphan, feeling exultant at the shedding of his old identity, drew his lightsaber and, igniting it, raised it high. He was now a proper Sith, member of a select few who refused to be carried by the Force and carried it instead. Later, at the gilded entrance of Perdition's sanctum, he lowered to one knee before his master. His lightsaber was still activated, the low hum filling the hallway.
Perdition, eyes glowing red, held one gloved hand over his horned head. "By the power of the Dark Side, and the blessing of Darth Bane, I anoint you as a Dark Lord of the Sith. The truth of your existence will now, until the end of time, be…Darth Derriphan!"
For visual reference about Vrehk's lightsaber, you can look up Darth Vindican's lightsaber from the Returned cinematic of SWTOR.
So, our young Devaronian is now a full-blown Sith! This first arc of the story was so fun to write, since I adore diving deep into the philosophy of the Sith and Dark Side. Now that the foundations have been laid, the next chapter will begin the process of our newly christened Derriphan aiding his master in implementing the Grand Plan. Since we know only a little of this era of SW history (apart from highlights like Jabba's birth and increased colonization in the Expansion Region), I'm essentially fabricating the majority of the conflicts from scratch. It'll be a range of stuff for the Dark Lords to face, from criminal cartels to lone Jedi to corrupt politicians. Darth Plagueis made Star Wars politics insanely interesting, so I'll try my best to make intricate galactic manipulations as interesting as Force talk and training.
Until next time!