Leon groaned from the pounding running through his skull as he forced himself to his feet. "Kriff..." he moaned, rubbing his temples as soon as he woke up. He placed his forehead on the cool, metal floor to escape the painful heat running through his entire body. "Ah... That's better."
Leon didn't open his eyes, electing to remain on the floor and block out whatever might be in the world. The world did not seem to agree. Leon's eyes flew open as a foot collided with his gut, sending him gliding across the durasteel tiling and into a solid wall. "That's gonna bruise," he groaned, forcing himself to his feet. He glared at his attacker, a Cathar almost two and a half meters tall with black stripes running out from the center of his face, accenting the cruel condescension on his face. There were fourteen other men and women of varying species and age all around the room.
"If it isn't the Flyboy," the Cathar snarled. He walked forward, uncurling his claws at his sides. "What are you looking at, Schutta?"
Leon groaned to himself. "Great. You think you want pick a fight with me?" he sighed. Leon stood up and laughed, smiling threateningly at the Cathar. "You really don't."
"Now, now, why don't you save this for the trial," a voice commanded, muffled through the durasteel walls. Leon and the rest of the group assembled flinched as the walls of the room shuddered and began to fall way. With a white flash, they disappeared, leaving the warriors in a much larger room. Above, on a balcony, stood Lord Var, along with seven other figures. Leon noticed that, from how the rest of the people were glaring warily with respect filled eyes at them, Var and his peers were those in charge. The Gray Council. Leon frowned. No, the Council less one, it appeared. Var smiled down at the men and women. "Hello, Younglings."
"What's going on!?" Leon snapped up at the gray man. He crossed his arms and glared at Var, awaiting an answer.
"Of course you don't know," the Cathar snapped, drawing Leon's glare again. The Cathar's eyes glowed a dark, sickly yellow. "These are the trials, Flyboy. Not that it matters -"
"Indeed. Because not all of you are going to make it," Var interjected, drawing their attention again. "This is a test. Those who pass will remain at the Central Ruusan Academy."
One of the Sith above continued for his peer. "And only the strongest will even survive," he said, a cruel grin on his face. Leon's eyes widened. He was going to kill all of those present whom did not pass whatever test was coming? Leon's gaze rested on Var's serene facade, not sure if he should believe this. Var would really kill eight people for no reason?
"Indeed," the Gray Lord agreed gravely. He raised his hand slowly, in unison with the other seven Lords. The ground shuddered momentarily and eight pillars erupted from the ground; shuddering and slow they ascended. Atop each of the pillars was a plasma-case containing a set of energy cells, power emitters, and a cylindrical container. Lightsabers. "I'm guessing that the test is simple enough, even for all of you. Those who obtain the kits will show us something for which we are looking. It's a good place to start, though by no means the end all be all. This will continue, however, until they are all taken or until all who have not obtained one are dead."
Leon narrowed his eyes and looked at each of the pillars in turn. To survive, he'd have to grab one of the eight lightsaber kits. Leon then quickly looked down, glancing in a circle against the one he had just made. His eyes fell on all of the other potential students. At the end of the day, eight of these people would fall. On the probability of their deaths, Leon was not convinced. Var did not seem the type to allow such pointless violence. "There aren't any rules, per say. Whatever you used in the... 'preliminaries' is allowed. Weapons, abilities, anything."
Leon grabbed at his hip, smiling slightly as his fingers dragged across the hilts of his vibrosword and lightsaber. The Cathar glared angrily at him, obviously questioning the fairness in letting a soldier run around with a plasma sword. Leon smiled to himself; this was a war, if you couldn't win an unfair fight, you didn't deserve to be in the fight anyways. "Any questions?" The hands of a few prospectives rose. "Okay, good. Go."
Leon was already ducking as the claws of the Cathar slashed down at his skull, jumping backwards as the furry fists passed over him. "Whoa, little kitty got claws," Leon snarked as he pulled his lightsaber from his side. He thumbed the activation button for the weapon and a brilliant blue-white blade erupted at his side.
"Original," the Cathar supplied cruelly. He pulled a vibroknife from his hip and buried it in the chest of a Twi'lek running by, killing the alien in a moment. Leon took a step back, ducking beneath a blaster bolt fired from across the room as the hair on the back of his neck prickled. The vibroknife slashed down at him as he ducked, and Leon brought his blade up to block the knife. The knife glanced off of the blue-white plasma, causing the Cathar to stumble to the side. Leon was surprised, however, when his stolen weapon suddenly deactivated and died. Leon fell to his back and rolled up onto his feet. The Cathar spun around, dagger gripped backhand. "Cortosis. Pure cortosis."
Leon stifled a groan and placed the lightsaber back onto his hip. It wouldn't be much use against the Cathar. He looked around. "Half of the damn lightsabers have already been taken," he hissed to himself as he returned his gaze to the angry cat man. Who wasn't even going for a saber. Leon nearly laughed to himself. The guy was a plant, some idiot meant to make the test harder. Well, for Leon at least. And the maybe dead Twi'lek. Which meant that wasting his time on fighting the guy would only cause problems. Leon pulled his vibrosword from his hip and the blade snapped out from its cylinder, the grooves of the handle a familiar fit against his fingers.
Leon rushed away from the Cathar towards one of the empty pillars. He shouldered a combatant aiming a blaster at the chest of a bruised prospective on the ground, sending the weapon flying and saving the life of the human. His vibrosword flashed downward as he ran, slashing off the hand of the attacker and eliciting a scream of pain. "Serves you right!" he snapped, kicking the man's head as he ran. He groaned to himself as he saw another two prospectives make it up to another two lightsabers. "Only two left? Ah, kriff..."
Leon's attention was being pulled from his task by three warriors, too stupid to realize that working together wasn't going to pay off anymore, advancing on another, weaker combatant. Now, Leon was a Sith soldier through and through. Definitely, with all the respect for strength that brought to his psyche. On the other hand, he was not a big fan of the whole 'using your power to threaten those weaker than you.' It didn't prove anything, except how weak you are. He almost hated that he was going to stop going after the lightsaber to save whoever needed his help, but in the end he found he couldn't stop himself. He wouldn't kill anyone – Force knew that the Empire needed everyone it could get what with the war in a virtual deadlock.
Leon glanced up at the two remaining lightsabers. Those who had reached them were stuck atop them, awaiting further instructions from the Council, all of whom watched the butchery below with varying degrees of placidity. Var's face, for instance, was a stony mask with the only hints of emotion being how the movement of his gaze would speed up when crossing something unsavory. On the other spectrum of things, one of the Sith was taking a genuine amusement in egging on the trio Leon found himself sprinting towards with ignited lightsaber and vibrosword. "Kriff."
He crouched down and stopped running, letting his moementum drag him across the floor that was slick with blood. Leon swiped through the body of the first attacking the weaker participant, cutting her legs off at the knees with the blue blade. He set his front foot as he stopped sliding across the ground and spun, bringing his vibrosword down and nicking the tendon in the middle attacker's upper arm. The arm fell, limp, to the warrior's side even as Leon cut off the final enemy's hand and knocked the both of them unconscious with simultaneous blows. Leon turned from the surprised victim and ran off towards what was now the only available lightsaber pillar.
"So you're an altruist, huh?" Leon groaned, a crescendo that eventually evolved into a full angry growl. He sighed defeatedly and turned around to glare at the Cathar, who held the knife at one of the few living, conscious prospective students left besides the two of us. "That'll get you killed."
Leon sighed and glanced up. Above the Cathar stood the eight members of the Gray Council, examining the situation with unveiled interest. Var's knuckles were white against the railing, giving away the emotion that still hid behind his facade of calm detachment. The Sith looked like he was about to explode from anticipation. The face he was making gave Leon a disturbing feeling, as if this was not dissimilar from how the guy acted with his women. Leon returned his attention to the Cathar. "Let him go," Leon commanded. He deactivated the lightsaber and clipped it to his hip, then brought his hand up and held the vibrosword before him in a double grip. "And I'll give you the fight you're obviously just mewling for."
"Another cat pun?" the Cathar asked. He slammed the pommel of the cortosis knife against his hostage's skull and tossed the unconscious body to the side. He pulled another knife from his hip and snarled. "Ready to die, Schutta?"
SWSWSWSWSW
A conversation between
Darth Revan and Doron Var.
Unspecified amount of time before creation of Central Academy
Contains a paragraph etched into Gray Council Chamber floor.
"I'm not sure I understand, my Lord," Var told the masked Revan. Like most in the Empire, he had never seen the face of the man. Rumors abounded, of course, and the former second in command of the Imperial Knights was inclined to believe that the Sith Lord's visage was rather unassuming given his parentage. He probably looked attractive, as his parents had been, but dark hair and durasteel gray eyes were common enough that Var was sure Revan examined everything from behind the mask of a second persona, a method of seeing what happened when his underlings were not aware of his presence. "The Central Academy is... I'm not sure if I understand what you are asking of us here."
"This will be the most elite academy of the Force in the galaxy, Doron," the masked man responded without moving. Revan's hands were clasped behind him, the deep black of his robes making him appear like a shadow in the darkness of the cavern. "The Central Academy will be a secret. On one level it will be... as any academy. Sith, Imperial Knights being trained to understand their skills, to become warriors."
"And on what other level could an Academy be used, Lord Revan?" Var asked, confusedly.
"The Gray Council. It will remain here, far from the scheming of my Apprentice. And of myself," the Sith Lord explained. He crossed his arms and continued to gaze across the dim cave. "Here, the Council will continue with its tasks as they have been defined. As well as something else."
"What, my Lord? Is the Council to train those of the Academy? Why did you ask me here, if that is the case?"
Revan actually turned to Var at that before laughing at the very idea. "Of course, not Var," he supplied as he calmed down. "I would never waste your talents on so many. No, the Council will, each of you, teach a single student to mastery. Well, perhaps teach is the wrong word. You and the rest of the Council -"
"Wait," Var interjected, earning a sidelong look from the Mandalorian mask. "My Lord, are you saying – Lord, I am not worthy of a seat on the Council. It is..."
"I did not choose you," Revan rebutted coolly. He turned from Var. "I placed that duty within the hands of the Council itself, especially for choosing such an important position as the Gray Lord. Not that it means much; I would also have chosen you. Despite who you once trained. Because of it, truly."
"My Lord," Var mumbled, nervous and embarrassed.
"Now, let me finish," Revan continued, treating the recent appointment of the other man as cursory. Revan sighed, retracing where he had left off. "Ah, yes. The Council will not be teaching their students. No, you will not be training your future replacements in the strictest sense of the word. You will test them, force them to create their own styles of combat, to press against the boundaries of the Force."
"How?" the new Gray Lord asked.
Revan looked at the ground. "By putting them in the positions where, if they do not succeed, they will die trying." He looked over at Var, his mask betraying nothing. "As soon as you choose an... apprentice, I suppose, that is it. He – or she, I guess – will succeed or die. Any who do not make it in will never know that they were not chosen for greater things. They will train, become soldiers. Perhaps become more. But until then, they would never know of the Council's true purpose. Training of warriors should not focus on supplying a base skill for all, but on catering instead to the strongest."
Var nodded. He knew the truth, more so than any save perhaps Revan himself. "One with true Mastery of the Force is worth hundreds of Jedi, Sith, or Knights," he acquiesced. "Perhaps even more."
"Something your former student never quite learned from you," Revan responded, a shiver of rage running down his spine. To prevent himself from breaking something with his hands, the Sith Lord clasped them behind his back once again. "Oh, if she hadn't been afraid of it, perhaps this war would not exist. Ah, forgive me, Doron. I am aware that my 'what ifs' do not matter. Still... Poor Ana."
SWSWSWSWSW
Leon sidestepped thee knife that rushed towards his chest deflecting the other one that came around to stab him in the back. He lashed out with his right leg, hitting the Cathar square in the chest and sending the alien stumbling backwards. "Why would you threaten someone just to get to me?" Leon snapped while he jumped towards the prospective Sith, crossing blades with the alien. His vibrosword clanged loudly against the twin cortosis knives, sending sparks flying into the air as they dragged across one another.
"What, do you know the weakling?" the Cathar snarled rhetorically. He dropped one of his blades, switching his grip on it as it fell and nearly burying the blade in Leon's gut. The soldier threw himself out of its path at the last moment before rolling back to his feet.
"No," Leon said, considering his next move.
"So you are just altruistic. That's a weakness," the Cathar growled, advancing on Leon with a sneer.
"No. Attacking those weaker than you for sport is weakness," Leon growled back. He raised his blade defensively before him, yet somehow looked as if he was not going to be on the defensive. The Cathar paused, momentarily, wondering if he was going to survive this fight. His eyes glanced up at Stauen. The Cathar knew that he definitely wouldn't survive if he didn't fight, so he returned his attention to Leon and rushed forward with a throaty battle cry.
Leon watched the Cathar sprinting towards him, knives ready to tear through his flesh. He shook his head and deflected the first blade that came near him before grabbing the Cathar's other wrist and bringing the knife around to stab through the Cathar's main hand. The alien shrieked in pain, dropping his knife even as Leon delivered a heavy kick to the alien's chest. The room was silent.
The former soldier turned from his defeated enemy and walked over to the pillar which held the last lightsaber, the other few students left moving aside. Both did so out of a debt, one born from his saving of their lives. Var noticed how much it reminded him, once again, of Revan. He raised his arm as Stauen took in breath to scream in rage about... Force knew what. "And so we have our victors."
Stauen leaped over the railing, landing silently on the floor below. Leon raised his vibrosword as the Sith did, glaring at the gaze that fell on him. Stauen was a Zabrak man with brown-yellow skin. His horns twisted out of his skull at cruel angles to form a blackened crown of bone above a perpetually angry brow. Black, ceremonial tattoos crossed the Zabrak's face, obviously holding some meaning that Leon was unable to glean.
The Sith glowered at Leon with a combination of feigned disinterest and disgust for what seemed to be an eternity. The blood began to pound through Leon's skull, a relentless thud constantly coursing through his mind. Then the Sith turned away. Leon felt relief, cooling and calming, run through his very bones and he let himself slack for a moment.
"Please, Lord Stauen," the Cathar begged. Leon's eyes flew open and he watched Stauen approaching the Cathar slowly. A silvery cylinder was in his right hand, ready to ignite and claim the life of the alien crawling away on the floor. There was a snap-hiss and a fiery orange blade erupted into being, a stark contrast against the deep black robes hanging from Stauen's shoulders. He raised it above his head in both hands, ready to bring it down on the defenseless Cathar.
Snap-hiss.
Stauen turned angrily towards the source of the noise. Leon gulped down the fear as he held the blue blade before him in both hands. His vibrosword dangled from his hip, meaningless in this fight. The eyes of all present – and conscious – were glued to the young man staring defiantly at one of the most powerful Sith Lords in the known galaxy. Stauen lowered his orange blade to his side and cocked his head sideways, glaring with hate and interest at the young soldier before him. "You are protecting this one? This failure, with whom you just fought?" the Zabrak asked.
"Well, you're the one that ordered him to kill me. And probably anyone else you didn't like in the application pool. Way I see it, my fight was always with you," Leon responded. He groaned inwardly as his voice cracked during the last sentence. He coughed and continued. "It's over. Let him go. Or... or else."
The Sith glared at the soldier, then took a single step; his path was immediately blocked by a silvery blade. Leon's eyes widened. He had not even seen Lord Var move from the upper level, nor even heard the saber ignite, yet there the man stood. Placid faced but shaking with anger. Stauen watched his peer interestedly. He thumbed the activator for his saber and the orange blade hissed away into nothingness as he placed it on his hip. "Well, I can see why you like the boy. He's just like that girl," Stauen mocked. He took a step back and glared at Leon, then at Var. "I expect we'll be doing this dance again. Soon." Leon was not sure if the Zabrak was talking to him, or to the Gray Lord trying to protect him. Then the Sith jumped to the upper level, followed quickly by Var, who had also deactivated his saber.
The Gray Lord looked down at Leon, frowning for a moment. Finally: "The eight of you, follow me." He jumped back down from the balcony and began to walk towards one end of the room. He cast a cursory glance back to make his will known to the victors, but did nothing else to make them move.
Leon, without looking at the other victorious prospectives, walked after Var silently. Leon unceremoniously and cautiously deactivated his saber before clicking it to his hip. He could feel the eyes of the other victors boring into his skull – they knew he was dangerous, though, of their thoughts on how to use Leon, the young man was unsure.
The eight of them walked in silence, plodding behind Lord Var, down a long hallway filled with dull, almost gray light. Eventually, Lord Var stopped before a door and thumbed in a code. The durasteel slid open with a hiss and the Knight moved through without another word. Leon glanced over his shoulder at the other victors, then walked in after Var.
"Your old lives are over," Var said from the darkness of the room as the rest of the students entered. Light erupted around the room, suddenly, and Leon saw Var stood, flanked on either side by four tables. Lightsaber parts, robes, armor, it was an armory. "Welcome to the true face of the Imperial Academies. This is no mere academy, no mere school for Force adepts. This is where only the greatest warriors with the greatest minds and the greatest strength will survive to lead the Empire into the future."
