Zalia Bronwyn sighed, hearing heavy boots clattering down the steps after her.

"You know, you're going to need allies, Zal. Not that you're not tough, but there are always going to be stronger Sith out there." The gravelly voice of the Sith Pureblood said, with a trace of a smile in the voice.

She spun, and snapped, "Quit following me, Shreave, don't call me Zal, and I can do this myself!"

He smirked, and shrugged, saying, "I'll have your back, if you watch mine, that's all I'm saying."

Shooting him a final glare, Zalia stormed away, her blade and force lightning leaving a trail of dead K'lorr'slugs behind.

She didn't hear him following her, and smirked coldly. That friendly fool wouldn't last an hour inside the academy.

Smiling grimly, she raised her hands, and let out a stream of purple energy, catching a charging tomb raider in the chest, and lifting him off his feet.

His two allies started forwards, but she blasted one with a sharp shock, and charged the other, the tip of her blade slashing out the robber's throat, before driving it through the chest of the other twitching man.

Striding quickly through the crumbling monument, she left both slugs and criminals sprawled through the halls in various states of death or maiming.

Arriving at the entrance to the chamber Spindrall had claimed as his own, the young lady paused, taking a deep breath, and steeling herself for the trial that awaited her.

Striding into the room, she saw a lowered room, with half a dozen acolytes meditating or dueling in the center.

Across the room, a withered old man stood, hunched, yet radiating power and confidence.

Stepping delicately down the stairs, Zalia made her way across the room, feeling the eyes of the other acolytes on her.

Spindrall took a single step forwards as the inquisitor reached the top step.

His voice was a dry rasp, yet far stronger than his frail frame implied. "Another acolyte. Good. Come to get my approval, yes? To give to your Master, yes. Tell me, why have you come to these tombs?"

"Fresh air, mostly. And a chance to stretch my legs." Shreave's mocking voice caused her to spin around angrily.

"Get the Hell out, Shreave!" She yelled, anger rising within her, and she felt electricity crackling around her hands.

The Pureblood raised his hands in a conciliatory way, winking at her with a smirk, and backed out of the door, disappearing into the tunnels beyond.

"You have great power, and hate, that is good, but not enough." Spindrall's crackling voice snapped her back to the present, and she turned back to him.

"What must I do, My Lord?" She asked, and he repeated his question.

She shrugged. "Harkun sent me, though I won't deny the power that once resided in these stones calls to me."

Spindrall nodded, and said, "Good. Power and rage alone are not enough, Acolyte. You must know the Sith Code. Memorize it, live by it."

She nodded, and his rasp began, turning into a near thunderous roar by the end.

"Peace is a lie, there is only Passion. Through Passion, I gain Strength. Through Strength, I gain Power. Through Power, I gain Victory. Through Victory, my Chains are Broken. The Force Shall Free me. Know this, Acolyte. No Sith Lord who has ever rose to greatness did so without this Code."

Zalia nodded quietly, repeating it in her mind. Peace, Passion, Strength, Power, Victory, Broken Chains.

"I see, My Lord." She bowed, but Spindrall raised his hand.

"You trial is just beginning, young Acolyte. Do you see these other trainees? They all desire to be Sith. Each one of them arrive with Passion, with Strength, with Power. But Victory? No."

Zalia looked over the other acolytes, each one a formidable opponent, some muscled, and training to be warriors, others slight, and training to be inquisitors.

She began to walk towards them, and Spindrall said, "You all desire to be Sith, but only one of you will gain my seal. Any who wish to turn back may leave this chamber. Those who stay, will almost assuredly die, save for one lucky contender."

The seven Acolytes glanced at each other, Zalia recognizing a crimson Twi'lek from Harkun's group.

"No takers. Then let us begin." Spindrall said, and Zalia instantly blasted the nearest fighter with lightning, dropping his smoking body to the stone floor.

Driving her blade through the next one's neck, she saw the Twi'lek smiling wildly as he ripped another Acolyte open from crotch to neck, blade opening him up like a surgeon's model.

The other two acolytes were dead, and they turned to each other, blades raised.

The Twi'lek lunged forwards, his blade whirling in a blindingly fast up-down series of strikes that drove her back, before she let loose with a powerful burst of Force lightning.

He stumbled back, and she shot forwards, thrusting and slashing, accentuated by a few well timed shocks.

Zalia pressed in, but the other Acolyte rallied, his saber technique far more advanced, though his shocks were more easily absorbed.

Finally, Zalia lashed out with the Force, throwing the other Acolyte against a wall, viciously slashing his right arm midway above the elbow, and then hitting him in the head with her hilt.

Kneeling over his unconscious body, she quickly wrapped a bandage tightly above the wound, preventing him from bleeding out while she finished with Spindrall.

He moaned slightly, and Zalia bent over and hissed into his ear, "I own you know, red-skin."

Seeing her rise from the body, Spindrall nodded, and said, "Excellent. It appears your desire was greater than theirs, and their blood became the mantle of your victory. But you are not Sith yet."

Zalia nodded in acceptance, knowing her place, but resenting in all the same.

"Remember the Code, Acolyte, and take your injured servant with you." Spindrall said, handing her a tablet, engraved, with deep scorch marks on its surface.

Zalia's head whipped up, and Spindrall, if her could have, would have smiled slightly.

"A fighter like that is not to be discarded lightly, Young Acolyte. And now he owes you his life. While Twi'leks do not believe in the Life debts of the lesser species, like Wookies, they do have a strict code of honor, and now, you are the only way for him to claim power, with his position as Acolyte revoked."

Zalia studied the old Sith suspiciously. "And how do I know he won't stab me in my sleep?"

Spindrall shrugged. "You do not. But he is a clever man, whether he shows it or not, and being your ally is better than a life of fear hiding in a tomb."

Zalia glanced around unconsciously, then her gaze returned to Spindrall, who was glaring.

"Go. Return to Harkun, and nurture you hatred for him. And use your fear of him to grow stronger. He may raise him fist to strike, but it is Lord Zash who determines where the blow strikes."

Zalia thought about this for a second, beginning to turn, then smiled faintly.

"But who controls Zash, I wonder?"

Spindrall nodded approvingly. "When you have the answer to that, you will have power over both your Masters."

Turning abruptly, Spindrall made a shooing gesture. "Now go. Leave me to my rest."

Bowing slightly, Zalia turned, making her way quickly down the staircase, and hauling the badly wounded Twi'lek to his feet.

He groaned, but Zalia merely pulled him along, his feet barely stumbling along fast enough to keep up, even though she was supporting ninety percent of his weight.

Leaving Spindrall's chamber, she heard a chuckle.

"You ditch me, and pick up some psychopathic cripple?" Shreave asked, his ever present smirk irritating her more than usual.

"You watch my back, I'll watch yours, huh?" she asked, and he nodded.

"Then carry the dead weight." Pushing the Twi'lek at Shreave, the Pureblood caught him, then pulled him over his broad shoulders.

"Lead the way, Zal. I'm relying on you to kill everything, so don't let me down, okay?"

She shot him a frosty glare, and his flirty wink left it a few dozen degrees colder.

The two began the long hike through the rest of the tomb, the massive Pureblood hauling the unconscious Twi'lek, while Zalia used Shreave's ancient war blade and her own mastery of the Force to slaughter every K'lorr'slug that writhed across their path.

"There it is!" She called back, and Shreave stumbled up to her a second later, looking at the massive staircase between them and daylight.

"Give me…. A moment…." He panted, lowering the Twi'lek to the ground for a brief respite.

"What? A little Twi'lek to heavy for a big, muscly guy like you?" Zalia asked, raising a mocking eyebrow.

"Well, you know, three hours is too long for carrying that much dead weight!" Shreave said, stretching out his back with a pop.

"Wimp." She sneered, and began up the stairs.

Shreave hoisted the Twi'lek back onto his shoulders with a grunt, before following her up, as the sun sank enough to burn a path down the stairwell.

Due to a desire to keep the characters interacting and together(ish), Not every moment of the class stories will be covered, Instead, the story will move linearly, and pick up where the previous chapter left off, skipping any missed missions. Also, the POVs will alternate, with the eight main heroes taking the lead on different planets.