Chapter Six: Gambits
The sun rose from its slumber behind the jagged mountaintops of the Korriban landscape. As the hours of morning were fading into those of midday, the eight acolytes had long since moved on from their camp, leaving little evidence of their overnight stay amongst the dusty ridge. Wind swept across the plains, across the hills, across the tumultuous rocks, kicking up dust and providing a subtle tune for those who would care to listen. Further down the path traveled by the Sith students, a much harsher sound echoed far and wide.
A painful howl emanated from a wounded acolyte. At the base of a mountain ridge, Lorrik sat amidst the rustling dirt, clutching at his leg in agony. No others to be seen in any direction, only the unforgiving terrain that surrounded him. No words, only the unclear ramblings of a pained individual cursing the wind with all his soul. The shouts traveled far, and they were not without their recipients, intended or otherwise.
In distance, upon the stretching plains before the wounded acolyte, beasts were beginning to take notice of the feeble Human's plight. A pack of wild tuk'ata. Sith hounds with blackened, jagged hides fast approached the fallen inquisitor. They approached fast and low, kicking up more dust as their claws raked at the dirt for traction. Clutching at the ground with each step, they feverishly propelled themselves toward their intended bounty as the distance between the pack and the Human grew shorter and shorter. Six strong, the pack would decimate the wounded inquisitor the moment one could sink their teeth into the howling man's flesh.
Just as the pack leader readied its final assault, it stumbled to the ground without notice, tumbling and tripping the hounds directly behind it. Taking no notice, two flanking beasts pressed forward uninhibited, until they found themselves losing traction as their paws no longer touched the ground. Gently floating into the air, the tuk'ata lashed out with their legs and snapped their jaws at the invisible forces enwrapping them. As the four hounds behind them recovered from their fall, they found the injured man was not alone.
Emerging with frightening haste from the surrounding rocks, four warriors stormed the pack, sabers drawn, energy arrays ignited. Fight or flight engaged. All parties selected to fight. The pack leader lunged at the figure of crimson flesh before being stuck down by the infernal blow of the Pureblood's weapon. The horned individual faced the spiky hound that graced his presence and extended his clenching hand, suffocated the beast with his invisible grip. Another hound charged the marked female, who stood still in the face of the barreling tuk'ata, stepping aside only at the last moment to offer a gentle riposte, flooring the beast. The lizard charged upon the fourth tuk'ata, matching its ferocity as it bashed the hound with his clawed hand before finishing it with a twist of his blade.
The floating tuk'ata watched as three more figures emerged from the rocks. The blue male gazed upon them with his arms outstretched, whilst the purple and orange figures approached them each with murderous intent in their eyes. In no time at all, the pack had been rendered lifeless. Inert. Dusting off his legs, Lorrik slowly raised himself from his fallen position to no detriment.
"Told it so," Nesk snarled with an unusual confidence.
"Okay, I'll admit it was a good plan," Lorrik stated. "My datacard spoke rather highly of the beasts, I wasn't entirely sure if they'd fall for it."
"To be fair, you make a convincing victim," Arlia joked.
"Because I've had so much practice?" Lorrik warmly added, finishing her insult for her. The Twi'lek offered a hearty laugh as she sheathed her saber.
"Keep in high spirits. You're going to need it when you eat these things," Arlia stated.
"Can't be worse than your field rations," Lorrik muttered.
"I'd be hard pressed to disagree. Well, there's certainly enough here for all of us. If we have a nice meal we can stretch out our rations. Might be inclined to share some later on," Arlia teased.
"It was Nesk and Vurt's plan, they get to decide who eats," Jresh declared.
"Must harvest meat. Then decide," Nesk explained as he began dragging tuk'ata carcasses into a tidy pile.
"We don't exactly have the tools to flense and clean these things, so we don't have an exact figure for how much edible meat we can retrieve for cooking," Lorrik admitted.
"Will prove it wrong again," Nesk muttered as he finished his piling duties. "Vurt!"
Dragging a tuk'ata, the Trandoshan laid it down away from the others, it's abdomen exposed to the sky. Vurt silently approached and took a knee in front of the displayed carcass. Nesk knelt at the opposite flank and traced a line with his claw from end to end, beginning at the beast's neck. Closing his eyes, Vurt removed his gloves and placed his sharped nail at the point his partner had instructed. Concentrating, the Nikto grimaced as he focused his power through his hand. Instead of the usual forceful push, a precise cut manifested. As Vurt went to work incising upon the tuk'ata, the other acolyte watched from the sidelines with mixed reactions.
"It may taste better, but when it comes to odor… I'll stick with the rations," Ryloh admitted.
"Just wait till you see me work my magic," Lorrik stated, tinged with self-confidence.
"You don't mean, like, actual magic, right? I've tasted what Sith alchemy does to food," Arlia offered with an inherent dread.
Lord Syrosk stood, resolute, amongst the drifting winds in front of the Sith Academy. His hands behind his back, his figure utterly motionless aside from the gentle wafting of his cloak in his breeze, the Sith Lord waited. And waited. For something. For someone. His eyes fixed upon the distant horizon, the sight he awaited finally manifested, prompting no joy in the alien's exposed visage. Descending from the sky, an Imperial shuttle made its way toward the landing pad that lay a short distance in front of the Sith Lord.
Touching down, the vessel let out a soft bellow as it relaxed upon its gears. As the panel concealing the shuttle's side exit extended, the hatch withdrew revealing only the darkness of the ship's interior. Such darkness was only broken when the vessel's sole inhabitant stepped out into the illuminating light of the Korriban sun. Though basking in the rays of the midday luminance, the arriving figure manage to preserve the aura of darkness in his presence.
The man stood in the blackened armor of a Sith warlord. Heavy fabric beset by armored plates, a black cape trailing him. Only the pale flesh of the Human's head lay exposed from the fully encompassing suit. Taking a step away from the shuttle, followed by another, the figure walked with an intimidation heavily seeded in his gait. The Sith drew ever closer to Lord Syrosk, who refused to shift from his planted position. The dark figure matched the alien in height and bulk, but countered the alien's perpetual scowl. The Sith appeared sufficiently aged, even more so than Syrosk. His skin was pale and creased, and the grayed hairs atop his head were meticulously kept. Though far in his years, the Sith's face possessed a sense of charisma in his visage, unburdened by the typical signs of dark side corruption. But the Sith's power was certain to all who gazed upon him, to all whom possessed even the slightest connection to the Force.
"Lord Tash," Syrosk coldly greeted with his usual rasp.
"Darth Tash," the Sith quickly corrected. The two matched cold stares, each unrelenting, each unforgiving. "Surely you do not intend to keep me from my students?" The Darth's speech was utterly measured. Calm. Bitterly cold and unyielding, yet continuously smooth.
"From your students? No," Syrosk answered.
"Ah yes, don't believe that your meddling into my affairs has escaped my attention," Tash said, no overt hatred in his voice. "While I was out conquering worlds, you intruded upon my flock and plucked eight students for yourselves. Interrupting and disrupting the work of my appointed instructors."
"You've not as much control of this Academy as you think," Syrosk rasped. "My actions were carried out with the permission of men above both of us. You're free to continue your operations in the forgotten halls. I'm sure the absence of eight lowly acolytes will make no difference."
"You should mind your place, " Tash said with a harsh whisper, breaking his previously serene facade. "I still have the power to put a permanent end your intrusive meddling."
"You forget the difference between power and authority," Syrosk countered. "And here… you've neither. Tend to your crop, but don't expect to find any weeds. I've ensured that they remain far beyond your reach."
"You have no idea how far my reach can extend," Tash replied with a slight curl to his lips.
"You'd be surprised," Syrosk emphatically stated as he finally removed himself from the Darth's path. Unflustered, the gray Human continued on his path. Syrosk watched with dispassionate eyes as Darth Tash distanced himself from his position before finally disappearing into the bowels of the Academy. Returning his gaze to the distant horizon, the Sith Lord once again stood alone as the wind gently swept by.