Chapter Four: Provisions
The eight acolytes arrived at the quartermaster's desk at roughly the same time. And it was indeed awkward. Rather than wait around looking like a fool, the Trandoshan pushed past the group, receiving the quartermaster's attention with his immense size.
"It has items from Lord Syrosk," Nesk brokenly informed the lulled Human behind the counter. The quartermaster remained silent, slowly passing his dulled gaze over each individual acolyte.
"You belong to Syrosk? All eight of you?" the quartermaster slowly asked. He found his answer with the acolytes' collective nods. "Hmm. Let's see…"
The quartermaster drifted off as he ducked beneath the counter slowly retrieving a small handheld datapad.
"Your… master… has provided the following provisions," the quartermaster said in an even more pacified tone than before, reading from the electronic tablet. "A new place of residence in one of the Saarai suites. A new datapad, containing the access codes to said residence and a redeeming voucher for a personal training saber. Within your quarters, you will find a new set of robes that will serve as your uniform."
Returning to the depths below the desk, he gathered eight identical, palm-sized datapads, and arranged them on the countertop in four stacks of two.
"Nesk, Vurt. These two are yours," the quartermaster stated, pointing toward the far stack without peeling his eyes from his personal datapad. The two acolytes quickly snatched the devices and began awkwardly manipulating them with their un-dexterous clawed digits.
"Kar'ai, Ryloh. The next set belongs to you."
As the next two went to pick up their devices, Nesk could be heard growling at his. The trouble lied in Nesk and Vurt looking at the information regarding their new accommodations. Both datapads displayed the same room number. The couples were officially roommates.
"Explain meaning of thiss!" Nesk snarled.
"I know very little regarding your master's intentions, but the Saarai suites are very large with multiple beds. To give one to a single occupant would be irresponsible," the quartermaster stated, in as condescendingly a way possible.
"What's the matter Nesky? Buyer's remorse?" Kar'ai joked. As the Rattataki and blue Twi'lek retrieved their datapads, they showed no evidence of dampened spirits by the news.
"Isorr, Arlia. You're next," the quartermaster continued. Isorr was keeping his cool, showing neither positive of negative feelings toward the prospect of a roommate. Arlia also showed no change, bearing the same haughty expression as always. Wasting no time, the Zabrak beckoned his companion to follow and they made their way toward the new quarters.
"Jresh, Lorrik. The last two are yours," the quartermaster stated. Picking up the devices, the duo wasted no time heading for their objective.
"You all are worth nothing! Here's a bunch of free stuff!" Lorrik said to himself in his best Syrosk impersonation. "Certainly has a strange way of doing things. I mean, usually Overseers use the first day to run their students through the gauntlet, so to speak. Still, can't wait to see the new accommodations."
"We should make our way toward the weapons master first," Jresh calmly stated. "The last thing we want is to be without a weapon after the master has given us all a free day."
"What? Those six upstanding Sith? You'd think they'd try and establish their dominance this early in the training?" Lorrik asked, oozing with sarcasm.
"The warriors alone are bad enough, but with the inquisitors whispering in their ears…"
"Should I be whispering in your ears?"
"No. Anything that needs to be said to me can be said as such that everyone can hear it," Jresh plainly stated.
Lorrik cracked a smile. "You're going to regret saying that."
The two made their way to the combat wing of the Academy. With the absence of the recruiting warriors, the student occupation levels died down back to normal. There were still duels to be had, but only amongst the riff-raff that warranted little to no observation by their peers. The weapons master operated behind an enclosed desk, much as the quartermaster had, located next to the main combat area for students.
The arena was little more than a large, rectangular room with floor markings designating different sorts dueling rings for acolytes who had requisitioned the space and a training saber from the weapons master. One group managed to catch the eye of the traveling duo, an instructor and a class of ten or so warriors who were currently missing one of their fellows. Two acolytes were battling it out within the borderless ring, while their instructor berated their technique from the sidelines.
As Jresh and Lorrik approached the weapons master's counter, they noticed a familiar face on the Human tending the Sith armory. Specifically a face resembling the one they had just seen not a few moments ago on the quartermaster. In truth, the two were brothers. Family wasn't something you saw often under the Sith. Perhaps doctrine never truly covered who was truly qualified to manage the storing and distribution of supplies.
Placing their brand new datapads on the counter, the weapons master looked at the two acolytes in silence, before taking a look at the devices' screens. A final glance towards the students, and the Human drifted off into the hidden back room. Upon his return, he clutched a training saber in each hand.
Deactivated, the device was little more intricate than a silver and gold metallic pole with a hilt. Closer inspection revealed four thin, rectangular emitters spanning the length of the 'blade'. When activated, they produced a white glow from the saber's energy producing 'edges'. Not hot enough to slice through anything an acolyte might wish to slice through, but the emitters caused enough pain from burns to teach the students the harsh reality of failure. And its material made it a more than capable bludgeoning instrument.
The two acolytes took their weapons and held them in their hands, knowing that for once they were never going to have to return them. A single hook hung out from the saber's cross-guard, allowing easy attachment to one's belt. The weapons bonded easily enough with the gray acolyte robes, but the warrior's cloak was meant for concealing flesh and an actual lightsaber, not a full length blade.
Jresh removed his cumbersome black cloak without hesitance. Only needed for the initial recruitment phase, Syrosk cared not if he wore it after the meeting today. As such, the warrior thought to rid himself of the frivolous garment. He folded the cloak and held it within his arms, looking around for but a moment before setting off. Jresh approached the instructor watching over the dueling students not too far away.
Lorrik was outside of listening distance, but when Jresh returned, cloak-less, he could see the instructor holding up the garment in the distance, promising it to the last duelist standing. Reunited, the similarly dressed pair acolytes could now make their way throughout the Academy without being caught without a weapon.
"Lorrik," Jresh began with his usual stern tone. The Human acolyte froze in place, unaware what would follow. The Pureblood could not help but raise an eyebrow at his wide-eyed partner. "Will you be okay gathering and moving your possessions to the new quarters?"
"Oh, uh, sure. No problem," Lorrik stated with surprise. Jresh respectfully bowed his head and made his way toward the warrior quarters to pack his things. For once, Lorrik didn't have a joke to tell. Rather, he did have one, but made the conscious decision to keep it to himself.
Lorrik made his way back to his personal inlet amongst the inquisitor quarters, and began rummaging through his rather limited possessions. He double checked the loose drawers of his desk and under the bed for any important pieces he may have left there during his previous studies. Nothing of importance except for his fake holocron. Only the contents of the locked footlocker at the end of the bed held anything of significance.
Kneeling in front of his bed, the acolyte punched a code into the container's electronic keypad. Opening the lid only enough to allow sufficient amounts of light to reveal the locker's innards, Lorrik quickly examined the container's interior for any missing materials. A few extra sets of acolyte robes took up half of the container's space.
The other half was occupied by a large, folding, dual-screened datapad, and a grand assortment of insert-able datacards. Opening the lid just enough, the acolyte tossed the pyramid-shaped paperweight amidst his other belongings. His attention so focus on his possessions, Lorrik did not notice the approach of one of his former inquisitor classmates. He didn't even notice the subtle tug as his training saber became unhooked from his belt.
"So. Lorrik. I hear you've finally become an apprentice. That's a surprise," the male inquisitor spoke up, examining the weapon in his hand behind Lorrik's back.
"Ornell," Lorrik muttered as he shut the footlocker closed. Looking over his shoulder, Lorrik found the other acolyte leaning against the wall a short distance away, rotating the training saber in his hand. Familiar slicked back blonde hair. Familiar snidely face.
Ornell stood over the kneeling inquisitor, lips curled into a sharp smirk. "What I don't understand is, why would they just give you a training lightsaber like the rest of us lowly acolytes? And dressed like us too? Tsk tsk."
"Maybe it's because I'm still technically an acolyte," Lorrik state as he lifted himself from the floor. "Maybe it's because even if I were an apprentice, one doesn't just obtain their lightsaber in their first three hours. Maybe it's because in the end it doesn't come down to weapons and clothes, but knowledge and skill. Now give me back by saber, I must be leaving." As he spoke, his eyes grew increasingly sharp, and his words increasingly hostile.
"Surely an acolyte of your caliber should be able to take back their saber, I mean you said it yourself right? It doesn't come down to weapons, only knowledge and skill," Ornell scornfully stated. "So go ahead. Knowledge and skill your way out of this."
"I won't validate your petty jealousies Ornell," Lorrik countered. "You've always been envious of my talent, and now you just can't handle the fact that my ascension has proven every inkling in the back of your mind that ever said I was better than you."
"This proves nothing," Ornell said with a snarl. "Have you heard the rumors of your new master? The Sith Lord from the Great War? Why do you think he's returned here? Now? To take on students no less? The other Lords constantly question his authority. Some even say the war broke him. A shell of a Sith. Driven insane by his inability to cope with the conflict."
"Ornell, if your wish is to drive me to anger, you surely must realize that insulting a man I only met hours ago is not the proper procedure," Lorrik calmly stated.
"Oh, then what about the Pureblood that you seemed inseparable from for such a time?" Ornell asked. "To think an inquisitor sold himself out so easily to one of the brutes of the Academy. Lorrik. Apprentice to a false master. Slave to a mindless warrior."
Lorrik remained silent for a beat. "That warrior, Jresh, in the few hours I have spent in his company, has already proven himself to be greater than anything our class, or any other class, could possibly muster. He has proven himself. As have I."
"So you've gone soft for the swordsman," Ornell stated as he readied the training saber in his right hand.
Lorrik stood silently, his head hung low. The other acolyte grew dismayed at the subdued reaction he was only able to get out of Lorrik. A flick of the switch later and the weapon ignited, energy bands lighting up. Ornell readied another insult, but it would not be heard that day.
Blue energy crackled around Lorrik's right hand, arcing from fingertip to fingertip. Ornell only had time to raise a single eyebrow before the other inquisitor lunged at him. Lorrik's left hand gripped the 'blade' of the training lightsaber. In shock, Ornell did not even notice the other charge straight for his face. Lorrik's right hand surged forward, gripping the other inquisitor's mouth and jaws.
Ornell watched with wide eyes as arcane energies crackled beneath his nose. With a surge of light, the lightning transferred from Lorrik's hand to his enemy's face. The target's body convulsed as his eyes rolled to the back of his head. Retracting his hand, Lorrik watched the inquisitor slump to the ground, a gentle stream of smoke drifting outwards from his open maw.
Lorrik looked to his palms, each searing with pain from the separate burns he endured. Gently, he retrieved his saber from his unconscious foe, deactivated it, and carefully reattached it to his belt.
"Not quite Force lightning, but enough to put you in your place," Lorrik addressed the unconscious inquisitor. "Have a nice nap."
Lorrik returned to his footlocker and pulled out an extendable handle from the container's side face. He tried gripping the handle with his saber-burnt hand, but it proved too painful. Gripping it with his Force-burnt hand was only slightly less excruciating, but he would have to endure.
Lifting the locker by the handle, Lorrik activated the micro-repulsors implanted in the container's base. Allowing for ease of transportation in the absence of wheels, the footlocker's lower end hovered a few centimeters from the ground. Giving his fallen foe a quick kick, Lorrik was finally ready to make his way toward his new quarters.