Chapter Fifteen: Consequences

A forceful fist struck Lorrik on the back of his skull, sending the inquisitor tumbling forward to the ground. On his knees, the acolyte used one hand to steady himself whilst the other grasped his newfound wound.

"Ow. If that was intended to knock me unconscious, you need to do better than that," Lorrik muttered through the pain, not bothering to look up from the floor.

"Oh, why would I want you unconscious?" a familiar voice resonated in the darkened halls. "Then you would be ignorant of all the pain you were about to suffer."

"Ornell," Lorrik whispered, clenched fists resting against the floor. "Well, if you knocked me unconscious so you could drag me back to your lair… oh wait, I forgot, you're too much of a worthless insect to possess anything of the sort."

Lorrik found his insults brought to an abrupt end as Ornell delivered a powerful kick to the inquisitor's side. The injured acolyte rolled over with a muffled grunt of pain. Facing upwards, Lorrik could finally glimpse his attacker.

"No, I suppose I haven't a lair yet, but I do have a legion," Ornell enthusiastically stated, four classmates standing behind him trying their hardest to appear intimidating.

"Did the meaning of the word legion change while I've been gone?" Lorrik joked, before being stomped by the flustered acolyte once again. The injured Human writhed on the ground, trying to keep his smile through the fits of discomfort. "If this is how you plan on killing me, we're going to be here all day."

"What makes you think I have any intention of killing you, Lorrik?" Ornell asked, kneeling closer to the grounded acolyte's face. "Are we not still bound by Academy law? I'm sure if you screamed loud enough, someone would hear you. That's all it would take to put a stop to this. So go ahead, beg for mercy."

"Pass," Lorrik bluntly said. Ornell's visage twitched in anger before he promptly struck the prone inquisitor's face with his clenched fist. Rising, Ornell paced in a small circle with his hand stroking his jaw.

"You know, that wasn't nice what you did the other day. Still don't think I'm back to tasting things right."

"Sorry to hear that," Lorrik stated with faux compassion. "If you'd like, I could cook you up something to accommodate your particular tastes."

Ornell's pacing increased as he became more and more visibly displeased, eventually getting right in the fallen Human's face. "Why? Why are you like this?"

"I figured if I'm going to be the one on the floor, I might as well do anything that would prevent you from deriving any pleasure from this experience," Lorrik warmly stated.

"Oh. No. It's quite alright if you stay silent," Ornell whispered, his breath warming the other Human's ear. "This is nothing. I'll show you pain. Real pain. We'll see how long you can hold your tongue."

"Since when have I been holding my tongue?"

"Make your jokes. Soon, you'll understand the cost of your actions."

"Is it still against Academy rules if I die of boredom?"

Lorrik provoked a primal response from Ornell as the enraged acolyte stomped on the fallen inquisitor's torso. Collecting himself, the instigator turned his back on the writhing acolyte.

"Rough him up," Ornell called out. The lackeys who had since only stood by with quiet contemplation began to move. With no weapons, the four plainly robed Humans went about continuing their boss's work, delivering kick after kick to the already brutalized inquisitor.

The beating continued for what seemed like ages to Lorrik. Pain exuded from every nerve of his body. But aside of the wayward grunt of exhaustion, the inquisitor remained silent.

Only after Lorrik lay sufficiently battered, bruised, and bloodied, did Ornell recall his henchmen. "Come on, we're done here."

The lowly acolytes offered their own quick scoffs toward the broken inquisitor before returning to their master. The one nearest Lorrik didn't notice the hand grasping at his right ankle. The retreating aggressor stopped to look down, and was met with the sight of a soft blue light emanating from the inquisitor's hand.

Sparks crackled for but a moment, before surging through Lorrik's contact point. In a flash, the standing acolyte's body had become wrapped in short arcs of Force lightning. The victim stiffened as the energies coursed through his body, before slumping to the ground unconscious.

"One down," Lorrik muttered, still prone, head raised only enough to make eye contact with Ornell.

Finishing his words, Lorrik spat a glob of blood from his mouth onto the floor in front of him before succumbing to several fits of coughing. Ornell scoffed before he continued to go about his business, walking away from the inquisitor and his single fallen lackey.

As Ornell turned the corner, Lorrik rolled onto his back to gather himself. Looking up at the ceiling he found it hard to gather his thoughts through his own heavy breathing. Grasping his yet unhooked saber, Lorrik used it as leverage to pull himself up off of the ground.

Slowly but surely straightening himself out, Lorrik gathered enough strength to stand straight. Slightly twisting his neck, and emoting with his jaw, the inquisitor made sure all of his parts were still sufficiently functioning. He still tasted the presence of blood as he licked his lips, but was unsure if the source was his mouth or the thin strip stemming from his nose.

Wiping his face, Lorrik saw that his gloved palm received a brush of red. The sight provoked a slight grimace as the inquisitor hesitated to wipe the fluid onto his pant leg. With a heavy sigh, Lorrik propelled himself forward, intent on finishing the task he had been given.

Tending to some supplies behind his counter, the Academy quartermaster hadn't noticed the figure approaching him. The slamming of something solid on the counter's surface caught his attention. Turning around, the quartermaster saw Lorrik had completed the task he had been given, albeit returning in a rather haggard condition. The person, that is. The weapon held within his grasp showed no marks of disuse.

Lorrik released his grip on the peculiar weapon he had retrieved for the quartermaster. Like nothing the acolyte had seen firsthand, the weapon was actually a long pole arm matching his height in length, similar to the pikes and staves he had associated with some members of the Imperial Guard.

"I spoke to your brother… asked him for your saber… gave me this… maybe he misheard me… or wanted you to have this instead," Lorrik sluggishly explained.

The quartermaster studied the bloodied and exhausted acolyte before him. "I didn't expect so simple a task to prove so hazardous for you.

"Oh, this… this was nothing. Something else. So… uh… is this what you wanted?"

"This is fine, Lorrik. Consider yourself a favor owed," the quartermaster stated, retrieving the weapon and putting it in a secure area below the counter. "Would you like to request a med-kit?"

"No… no. I'll be fine. It's been a pleasure…"

"Well, I somehow doubt that. Take care of yourself, acolyte."

"Will do," Lorrik said, turning away from the quartermaster with a slight slump in his stature. The inquisitor forged a new path returning to his suite, his gait almost returning to normal, but still marred by the presence of a limp.

"Yes... quite different."

When Lorrik made it back to his dwelling, he fiddled with the door panel for a moment, wanting nothing more than to lie down in his comfortable bed and rest. As the door parted, Lorrik saw Jresh meditating on the inscribed circular mat as he was prone to do. Sensing the intrusion, the warrior broke his stance to gaze at his partner. His brow furrowed at the sight of his companion's condition.

"Do you plan on explaining your current status?" Jresh stoically asked, not budging from his kneeling position.

"Backroom beatings and inflated egos, standard Academy behavior. You know how it is," Lorrik said as he trudged toward his room.

"No, I'm afraid I do not 'know how it is'. Did you initiate a confrontation? Was this the work of Syrosk's students?"

"No… no. A, uh, regular acolyte and a few flunkies. Something of a conflict that was from before our training under Syrosk."

"What exactly happened?" Jresh asked, an atypical level of investment in his inquiry.

The inquisitor paused outside his room, staring at the door. "I was doing a favor for the quartermaster, during which I was struck on the back of the head by an acolyte. Then him and his gang proceeded to knock me around a bit."

"Did you fight back?"

Lorrik turned toward his partner, carefully leaning against the nearby wall. "Not really. It would have accomplished nothing. If I took them down, I'd just be the guy who was picking on lowly acolytes since entering the training of a Sith Lord. If I cried out, I'd have given him the satisfaction of seeing me beg for mercy or hiding behind Academy rules. All of which would have reflected poorly on me… and you."

"Weakness," Jresh muttered, fists clenching his pant legs.

"I'm sorry?" Lorrik asked, taken aback.

"These other students. Their actions contained no merit. They had no clear goal with which they could accomplish. If they were trying to do something of significance, I might understand the overpowering numbers, but to use such force to try and belittle someone such as yourself…"

"That almost sounded like an insult."

"The actions you have described are the actions of weak, foolish cowards."

"They probably weren't trying to prove how 'strong' they are. They just wanted to send a message."

The Pureblood quickly picked himself up off the meditation mat. "Consider that message received. Can you give me the names of the assailants?"

"Whoa, these guys are beneath you. They didn't accomplish anything, it's best not to waste your time with them."

"I will not stand idly by whilst rodents nip at my heels," Jresh firmly stated. "Every message deserves a response."

The Human hesitantly scratch the back of his bruised and bleeding head. "I don't know…"

"Lorrik. I promised to lend you my strength. Just as you promised to lend me yours. You proved yourself today. What other might consider weakness, I consider fortitude. Syrosk told you to test your limits, to endure whatever came at you. And you did just that. You gave me insight into your beliefs, your psyche. You've broadened my horizons, proving that I was not a fool for turning away from the simplistic mindset that the Academy expected from warrior like myself. The least you could do, is allow me to defend you from those who would see you beaten down."

"And here I thought you'd expect me to defend myself."

"I do," Jresh plainly stated. "There will be times when we are separated. When you will be forced to rely only on yourself. I expect you to be fully capable of staying alive by yourself. But in this instance, you chose not to retaliate. I know what you are capable of. I know that you made a conscious decision to act as you did. But while we are together, we are one. An attack on you is an attack on myself. And I cannot abide by that. If it makes you feel better, consider this an act of selfishness."

Lorrik took a couple of deep, careful breaths. "You truly plan to act on this?"

"I am nothing if not determined. Now, I'm going to need names and faces."