Chapter Four: Gambles
Within the palace foyer, six of the eight apprentices continued their diligent regiment of training, knowledge of their upcoming battle firmly planted in their minds. Six tested one another, as the seventh watched over, arms crossed, eyes sharpened, back pressed against one of the many decorative columns that lined the chamber. The Pureblood's discerning gaze passed from one individual to the next, watching the displays of martial skill and spiritual prowess with a subtle admiration. But as he watched his fellows, his eyes were immediately drawn to the individual making his way across the chamber's edge.
Lorrik headed toward the palace entrance, donning the outer coat of an older outfit, a hooded black robe with purple trim, Part of the ensemble first gifted to him by Syrosk when they had begun their studies under him. The hood raised, the inquisitor kept his head lowered as he silently walked across the foyer, a small traveler's bag draped over his shoulder. As surreptitious as his maneuvering was, he couldn't escape the Pureblood's notice, nor the notices of the other apprentices. One by one, they laid eyes on the departing Human, putting a pause to their various tests and duels as they puzzled over the inquisitor's actions.
"Where's Lorrik going?" Ryloh asked, him and the others setting their eyes on the Human, slowly watching him make his way across the foyer.
"Korriban," Jresh bluntly declared.
"Korriban?" Kar'ai repeated. "What's he thinking?"
"There are preparations to be made," Jresh explained. "Lorrik has chosen to make them himself."
"They aren't going to forget about the expulsion," Arlia declared.
"He knows. He has a plan," Jresh stoically stated. The apprentices fell quiet as the Human faded from view, stepping past the confines of the palace interior. Each student possessed a number of thoughts swirling in their head. Confusion. Concern. Disappointment. All wondered what the inquisitor hoped to accomplish, but more importantly why they weren't included in his plans.
"So," Arlia muttered, breaking the silence. "We're just letting him go off on his own? Is that safe? Is that smart? I mean, I know he has a knack for pulling things off, but there's a significant chance things could backfire, especially on Korriban, especially within the Academy."
"You've placed your faith in him up till this point. I see no reason for that to cease," Jresh adamantly declared. "If he sees a problem, he seeks out a solution. The best thing we can do is trust him. And be prepared when he eventually returns. Every moment he spends out there is a moment spent without training. So we'll have to push ourselves that much harder to make up for him."
The apprentices supplied a steady supply of nods, returning to their various bouts and trials. The warriors clashed against one another with body and blade, testing the limits of their strength. The once perfectly smooth flooring beneath them cracked and warped beneath the immense pressure of their blows, their boots and clawed feet firmly planted and unshakable. The inquisitors tested the limits of the connection to the Force. Fine sculptures and pottery were lifted from their pedestals and flung across the foyer with expert precision, shattering against the walls and pillars that surrounded them. With great focus and concentration, Ryloh and Arlia carried a spark in their hand, cultivating it before releasing it in a sharp bolt of Force Lightning.
Over the course of the day, Jresh joined in, keeping his mind on his companion even through the rigors of battle. The seven apprentices faced one another, going all out, stopping just short of utterly breaking each other. For hours they toiled, until the lands around them were subjected to the falling sun. After a full day's worth of challenges, the apprentices retired for the night, returning to their rooms to rest.
Only Jresh returned alone. As his partner flew toward Korriban, he was left with a quiet bedroom, and an empty bed. Passing by his companion's desk, the Pureblood puzzled for a moment, as he had expected a single item removed from its surface. Instead, he found the tabletop completely unoccupied, all of the artifacts missing.
He thought to piece together what Lorrik was planning, but chose instead to trust in his partner. After all they had been through together, he was confident in his companion's abilities. His decisions. Returning to his own belongings, the Pureblood began sifting through the clothes and armors, preparing the next day's outfit, only to find a pair of gauntlets missing.
The Imperial shuttle slipped out of hyperspace, the faintly glowing ball of orange dust resting firmly in the sights of the vessel's single organic occupant. Urging the ship forward, Lorrik approached the Sith planet as fast as the sub-light engines would allow. He had his eyes set on making it planetside, forgoing a stop at the world's orbital space station. Passing through the dusty atmosphere, the shuttle made its way to the surface, but the area beneath the vessel was utterly unoccupied. Neither person nor structures dotted the lands below, only the stretching wastes and jagged ravines. The Korriban Academy was but a small blip on the horizon, but Lorrik had no interest in that place. At least, not yet.
As the Imperial shuttle descended, the sandy winds parted ways, revealing a fissure in the ground below, shaping into a sizable canyon. The Valley of Forgotten Lords. Its location gleamed from his quick perusals of the Academy archives, Lorrik had reason to return to the place that almost cost himself and his partner their lives.
As the shuttle touched down in the middle of the valley, the Human tapped away at the vessel's console, giving the mechanical pilot more control than it already possessed. The droid regulated the stilled machine and Lorrik ducked into the passenger bay behind him, setting his eyes on the traveler's bag he had brought with him. Opening its top, the inquisitor rummaged through the meager belongings, returning with the Sith faceplate gifted to him by Ryloh.
Lorrik stared at the artifact, face-to-featureless-face. Turning the item over in his hands, the inquisitor took a deep breath before affixing it to his hooded visage. Without straps of fixtures, the faceplate secured itself to its wearer with the Force. As the mask hugged the Human's flesh, Lorrik lost his sight, no eyeholes in the solid plate. Things grew quiet as it felt as if everything faded away, only the booming sound of his own breaths dominating his senses. He immediately felt alone. Isolated. Trapped. Suffocated. The inquisitor's hands began to shake, then his legs, then his entire countenance.
But slowly, Lorrik's vision began to return. The image of the passenger bay's interior appeared in the inquisitor's mind, as if seen through a wide lens. His breathing calmed, and one by one his senses returned. He felt himself returning to normal, except for an enduring feeling of isolation. No amount of focus or concentration could overwhelm that dominating sense. It was if he was trapped in a vacuum.
Regaining control of his body, the inquisitor straightened his stance, lifting the traveler's bag and slinging it over his shoulder. Slowly, he exited the shuttle and stepped onto the Korriban surface . A gentle breeze swept through the valley, the sandy winds nipping at the Human's legs. Examining his surrounding, the inquisitor set his sights on his destination, the tomb he and Jresh had entered.
Approaching the opened tomb, Lorrik saw the cracked door still laying a short distance from the entrance. In their absence, nothing had changed. Only a small amount of dust and dirt had breached the tomb's threshold, the olden stones that made up its interior going unscathed and unstained since their previous departure. Standing at the gateway between light and shadows, the masked inquisitor reaffirmed his grip on his traveler's bag and marched inside without an errant thought.
Walking through the shadowed halls of the forgotten tomb, Lorrik was constantly reminded that he was without his partner. Each step that echoed throughout the chambers were his and his alone. But he walked with confidence, enough so that his lightsaber rest at his hip rather than within his hand at the ready. As dim as the halls were, he image he received of the tomb's interior proved more than sufficient to navigate the narrow corridors. Though the mask threatened to bury its wearer in their own mind, it was dedicated to serving its master's well-being.
Before he could even see the next chamber, Lorrik felt the presence of a familiar figure. Eventually, he laid eyes upon the circle of runes that emitted their red luminescence in the center of a grand chamber, encircling the same crimson monster he and his partner had faced once before. The enduring, undying Massassi. The various wounds suffered by the Pureblood's lightsaber seem to have faded. All but one. The beast's hide had recovered from the scorches and cuts that had been inflicted upon its spiked hide, but it still lacked the blackened hand that had been severed from it.
Lorrik approached the kneeling beast with a series of careful, quieted steps. Face to face with the corrupted being, the inquisitor felt his presence not yet revealed, until the Massassi's eyes quick locked with his own. Nothing else on the beast moved, his glowing eyes fell upon the masked inquisitor with a burning intensity. The glowing runes that surrounded the guardian remained firmly in place, not releasing the beast as they had last time. Carefully, the Human reached into his bag, retrieving the beast's severed hand, the Massassi's expression not changing with the presence of his lost appendage. With no further delay, the inquisitor set the blackened hand on the ground in front of its former master.
Circumventing the stilled guardian of the tomb, Lorrik set his sights on the final chamber ahead. Leaving the beast behind him, the inquisitor pressed forward, eager to meet with his intended target. Stepping into the tomb's final chamber, the masked Human saw the empty pedestal that once held a holocron.
"I see mine was not the only tomb raided," a male voice resounded throughout the chamber, the words tapping directly into the inquisitor's mind. "Who are you and what do you want?"
Pulling the holocron from his back, Lorrik raised it firmly in his hand, as if presenting it. "I think you know exactly who I am. As for why I am here, I desire your assistance."
In front of the inquisitor, the ethereal image of an ancient Sith Lord began to coalesce. The holocron's original owner.
"So you've managed to plunder my neighbors as well," the spirit stated.
"Actually, this was a gift," Lorrik explained, pointing to the mask with his other hand.
"Why have you returned?" the spirit harshly asked.
"Like I said, I desire your assistance," Lorrik declared. Taking a few steps forward, the Human passed through the inquisitive spirit and returned the holocron to its pedestal. The ghost watched with confusion, arching his translucent brow. "I want to offer a trade."
"What could you possibly offer me?"
"Well, for one, your holocron," Lorrik stated. "I also gave your pet his hand back. But more than that, I offer the chance at freedom."
"Freedom?"
"That's right. I want to help you get out of this tomb," Lorrik admitted.
"And how would you do that?" the spirit asked, entertaining the inquisitor.
"I've looked inside your holocron. I know what you were capable of. The knowledge you possessed. I can supply you with a new body."
"Are you offering yourself?"
"Oh, hell no," Lorrik rejected. "But there's a fine stock of Force-sensitive bodies only a few hours away."
The spirit stared at the masked inquisitor, trying to glean some sort of information from him. His faceless visage and impenetrable mind proved it all but impossible. "Even if you could provide a sufficient body, I cannot adequately perform the ritual to bind my spirit to it with in my incorporeal state."
"Then allow me to perform it for you," Lorrik offered.
The spirit let out a low chortle. "Just because you managed to sneak out of here with my holocron, that does not mean you possess power. What makes you think yourself capable of-"
The spirit fell silent as the inquisitor slowly removed the glove covering his right hand. He stared at the marred, blackened flesh that stemmed from his palm. "I see you've studied my holocron thoroughly. You must be skilled to use such a technique without perishing yourself."
The inquisitor wordlessly slipped the glove back over his stained hand. "You underestimated me the first time I was here. I'd advise you not to do it a second time."
The spirit's eyes sharpened as he studied the Human further. "Why offer to help me? What do you hope to get out of it?"
"I propose a trade," Lorrik declared. "The Empire is invading the Republic capital. Home of the Jedi. There's a chance this may be the last great battle of the war." The spirit suddenly became much more interested. "Myself, my partner, as well as a few of our allies are to take part in the invasion. However, our interest is in protecting a group of Sith acolytes. A Sith Lord is sending them to their deaths, retrieving dark side artifacts the Republic and Jedi have kept locked away within a number of vaults on Coruscant. I would like you to take part in the invasion. If you can protect a particular group of acolytes, you can have everything in the vault they were targeting. In the process, you'll get the chance to take part in the greatest conflict in history, as well as kill a few Jedi along the way. You were waiting for your moment to return. This is it."
"Why are you interested in protecting a few lowly acolytes?" the spirit asked.
"Because I'd not see their lives cut short before they received the same chances I have," Lorrik admitted. "Their entire lives, they've been held back, restricted, forbidden from acting as they should. Not by the Republic. Not by the Jedi. But by their own Sith masters. I intend to rectify that. I'm sure you can empathize."
The spirit offered a curt glare toward the inquisitor. "You can get me a new body? Perform the ritual? Get me to Coruscant?"
"I can," Lorrik confidently replied.
"Then I await your return," the spirit muttered before disappearing from view.
Lorrik exited the tomb without interruption or objection, returning to his ship. Taking a seat at the controls, the inquisitor kept his mask on as he brought the shuttle to life. Rather than continue to direct the vessel, the Human input a series of commands and lifting himself from his seat as the shuttle raised itself off the ground.
"Remember, ALD," Lorrik spoke to the pilot droid. "I was never here. You are following an automated return protocol."
"Understood, master," the droid sounded out as the inquisitor ducked into the passenger bay.
The droid was now in total control of the vessel, piloting it toward the Academy as Lorrik patiently waited in the adjacent chamber. For hours he sat, stewing in the isolation of the shuttle, of the mask. He thought to remove it, but didn't want to risk enduring the application process again. Instead, he opted to remain alone with his own thoughts, only the sounds of the humming engine and his own breathing keeping him company the entire trip.
The shuttle crossed the arid, jagged lands of Korriban with haste, the Academy directly in its sights. As the ship approached the institution, the pilot droid began to receive numerous alerts and notifications. Trading of security codes. Acknowledgement of trajectory. Acknowledgement of surface-to-air batteries tracking its movements. The droid handled the various inquiries from Imperial personnel within the Academy with efficiency and poise expected of a logistics droid. Finding no faults with the shuttle's flight, it was allowed to close in on the Academy, circling around its back to find a less attended landing pad.
As the vessel touched down, it was approached with an Academy attendant, ready to greet the shuttle and learn its purpose. As the landing gears touched the metallic floor of the landing area and its entrance unfolded, the attendant patiently waited for someone to exit the craft.
Emerging from the shuttle, the masked inquisitor descending the brief ramp and stepped onto the metallic surface below, a confused attendant standing in front of him. Taking a careful step closer, he realized the Imperial had yet to acknowledge his presence, instead continuing to direct his attention toward the ship. Lorrik stepped around the attendant, and made his way deeper into the Academy. The apprentice had an ultimate destination in mind, but decided to make a quick stop prior.
Journeying into the halls of Tash's classrooms, Lorrik caught a glimpse of the preparation his master had spoken of over the holocommunicator. Supplies were being brought in from outside. The instructors and their students were out of the classrooms, performing last minute training for the battle to come. Passing through the old halls, Lorrik saw the old dueling areas filled with acolytes, garbed in simplistic armors and holding standard lightsabers in their hands. Gone were the training sabers and gray robes he had grown accustomed to.
Moving through the corridors, the idea that Lorrik could study his surroundings, study the people around him without fear of reproach was liberating, and yet unsettling. He once wanted nothing more than to be able to operate without the scrutinizing eyes of his superiors casting their judgmental glares toward him. But now, it was as if he didn't exist. Students passed right by him, not offering a second glance. The only way he'd receive attention was if he physically interacted with someone.
Searching the halls, Lorrik sought out a particular individual. Or rather, a set of individuals. He couldn't risk disrupting the plan by including Vai or Syrosk. He needed someone far less invested. Someone with no desire to be there. Someone he could convince to be a part of something greater.
As a batch of students and their instructor left the dueling circles, Lorrik spotted his targets standing behind a desk within the sparring chamber. The quartermaster and the weapons master.
The pair of Human brothers chatted behind the counter, taking little interest in the activities of the acolytes around them. Engaging in light conversation, the duo hadn't notice the approach of the featureless Sith. In fact, it wasn't until he was but a meter away that the pair felt a presence, an odd itch in the back of their minds. Looking up, a masked figure had appeared out of nowhere, casting his eyeless gaze toward them.
The shadowed Sith was a stranger to them, neither recognizing the mask nor attire of the standing figure. They assumed he was a student or master of the true Academy, though why he was in Tash's halls they had no clue.
"Can we help you?" the quartermaster spoke up, maintaining a standard politeness until they knew of the figure's proper rank and station.
"Yes. Yes you can," the Sith muttered.
The voice pounded their sense, harshly loud and yet soft as a whisper at the same time. It was like nothing they had heard before, as if a thousand different individuals spoke in unison, their voices merging and becoming one. Coupled with the featureless visage that continued to stare them down, it all added up to a deeply disconcerting experience.
"I would like to offer a trade."