Chapter Five: Rituals
The Valley of Forgotten Lords. Once more the Imperial shuttle touched down amongst the hidden ravine, its single organic occupant stepping out amongst the cracked and invaded tombs. The hooded, masked inquisitor stood amongst the dusty winds of the Korriban canyon, but in his return he carried more than the traveler's bag draped over his shoulder. This time, he toted a quiet, motionless body, wrapped head to toe in white cloth. Adequately holding up the weight of the sheet-covered humanoid, the inquisitor stepped from the shuttle and made his way toward the tomb of the ghostly alchemist.
Lorrik marched, across dirt, across stone, across light, across shadows, focused only on his destination. Delving deeper into the darkened tomb, the Human steeled himself for what possibilities awaited him. He could not afford to lose his confidence now. He had to maintain control. If he didn't, he would stand to lose much, much more.
Entering the chamber of the red sentinel, the inquisitor saw the beast no longer bound by the Sith sigils, standing outside the circle in its unfolded stance. Upright, the towering guardian of the tomb watched the Human approach with its glowing, piercing eyes, its two blackened fists clenched. Beside the corrupted Massassi stood its master, the ethereal image of a Sith Lord lost to time. The pair waited, as they always had, as they never had.
Stopping in front of the two, the ghost wordlessly directed the inquisitor to drop the body within the circle of runes. Lorrik complied, tossing it off of his shoulder, letting it impact against the ground with a sizable thud. The trio remained as silent and motionless as the tomb around them. Carefully, Lorrik firmly grasped the sides of his mask, tugging it free from his face. The sensation was overpowering as a surge of feelings he had almost forgotten came rushing back to him. It was like breaching the surface of a murky sea from which he could draw only distant, careful breaths. Regaining total control of his organic senses, the inquisitor reaffirmed his stance amidst the overload that threatened to dominate his mind.
"Are you ready to continue?" the spirit asked.
"Yes," Lorrik plainly stated.
Looking down at the wrapped body, the spirit adopted a coy smirk. "I must say, I had my doubts."
"You wouldn't be the first," Lorrik muttered, lowering himself to his knees. Putting the mask away in his traveler's bag, the inquisitor turned his attention to the wrapped body he had retrieved. Carefully he began unfolding and unwrapping the white sheet that covered it. Removing the cloth, the Human tossed it aside without a care.
Looking over the uncovered body, the spirit's countenance contorted into a disapproving scowl. "Is this some sort of joke?"
Back within the halls of the Academy, the true halls, the normal day to day operations were proceeding as usual even amidst the introduced chaos of the upcoming invasion. Imperial personnel still moved about the halls at the whims of their Sith masters, tending to their various duties and works. Overseers still monitored the progress of acolytes within the Academy halls and amongst the Korriban exterior.
Passing through the institution's main entrance, two individuals, two Humans in their relative youth, journeyed deeper into the Academy. One was garbed in black leathers and armorweave padding, a heavy cloak encasing his strong frame, trailing him with every step. The other was garbed in far more civilian garb, but still upheld to the Imperial standard of dress. A series of orderly, snug grays. A Sith and an Imperial. A warrior and a weakling. A tourist and a guide. But as contrary as it might have seemed, it was the lowly Imperial who led the Sith through the Academy.
"I apologize, my lord," the sheepish Imperial stated, keeping his head lowered and facing forward. "Things around the Academy have been hectic as of late. Matters not related to the war have been given a lower priority."
"I did not require nor desire an explanation," the Sith muttered, his voice as bitter as the permanent scowl etched onto his face. "Just take me to see my father."
The Imperial went rigid, straightening his posture alongside the scolding Sith, moving forward without another word. The two journeyed deeper into the Academy, past the entrance hall, into the cold, darkened corridors that made up its interior. Past the offices of personnel and staff. Past the training and sparring chambers. Toward a place nestled amongst the institution's medical facilities. A place not meant to treat the living, but the dead.
A holding room for the various cadavers and corpses eventually produced amongst the Academy grounds. Usually reserved for acolytes who were lucky enough to perish outside the local caverns and tombs, the visiting Sith sought a person of much greater rapport.
Arriving at their target destination, the pair found themselves within a cold chamber, even by Imperial standards. Dark and sterile metals comprised the entirety of the morgue, which was stocked with a series of slabs and storage lockers built into the walls. The Sith stood motionless in the chamber's center as the Imperial looked up and down the numerous square hatches that lined the walls.
"I've heard the man responsible for my father's death was not one of his students," the Sith coldly stated.
"That's what the official report says," the Imperial replied, carefully looking over the lockers' labels. "Unofficial word is they weren't even students of the Academy."
"My father could not have been felled by a non-Sith."
"He wasn't," the Imperial stated. "The killer was Sith, trained on Korriban, but not a legitimate students of the Academy. I guess his master just enjoys the scenery."
"Is the killer still on Korriban?" the Sith asked.
"I'm afraid not, my lord. The Sith as well as his fellow apprentices were exiled from Korriban. However, their master remains within these halls."
"Perhaps I should pay him a visit."
"If that is your desire, my lord," the Imperial replied as he found his target. "This is the one."
"Open it," the Sith bluntly directed.
The Imperial complied, wrenching the handle and opening the metallic hatch. Peering into the shadowed locker, the Human puzzled for a moment before sliding out a long, metallic slab. The slab and the locker were completely empty.
"Maybe… maybe that wasn't the right one…"
"How do you expect me to inhabit a body that is missing half of its head?" the spirit chided.
"Only the back half," Lorrik replied, kneeling beside the Overseer's corpse. "The face is a bit puffy, but-"
"The vessel needs all of its organs to function as a successful host," the spirit harshly explained. "I cannot bond with it if it's missing its brain."
"You can still inhabit it, correct? Mobilize it?" Lorrik asked.
"The connection won't last. The body will rapidly decay until I'm left with nothing," the spirit declared.
"How rapidly? Will it last the month? The week? Long enough to get you to Coruscant?"
"I'm not sure. No one, not even my fellow exiles successfully practiced the art of transference," the spirit admitted.
"So even if I had procured a perfect body you still wouldn't be sure of your success?" Lorrik plainly stated.
"Now is not the time to test me, boy! Remember, your friend isn't here to protect you this time."
"Yeah, but if I die, he'll feel it. Then it's only a matter of time before he comes here to avenge me. And believe me, he'd figure out a way to kill a ghost. Assuming he wasn't intent on making you suffer first."
"Big words from a small Sith," the spirit countered, unfazed.
"Maybe. But the last person to threaten me…" Lorrik began before offering a polite point of his finger toward the corpse between them. "I'll admit, the likelihood of things turning out perfectly for either of us is slim to none. But I'm giving you a chance for something you'd never receive otherwise."
"By stuffing me into the brainless cadaver of a dead Sith?" the spirit replied.
"I may not know much about raising the dead," Lorrik stated, "but I'm well-read enough in Sith histories to know how they've managed to cheat death. Sith have managed to remain amongst the living after their bodies have expired. Sometimes by keeping their organic shell intact through sheer force of will. Sometimes by abandoning it in favor of an artificial vessel. For the purposes of the ritual, let's consider this an artificial vessel instead of an organic one. Once you're on Coruscant, you'll have the pick of the litter, living and dead, to do with as you please, along with your newly acquired artifacts and treasures."
"Very well. This vessel will suffice… for now," the spirit declared. "And in return for it, I will take part in the invasion."
"Not quite," Lorrik countered. The spirit offered the firm arch of his ghostly brow. "The conditions of the trade were for you to take part in the invasion and protect a group of acolytes, and in return you'd receive full contents of their vault and the chance to strike the home of the Jedi and Republic. In exchange for me giving you a new body, I want something else."
"Something else?" the spirit disdainfully muttered.
"Don't worry," Lorrik warmly offered, patting the side of his traveler's bag. "It's something you can do from right here."
"How can you just misplace a body?" the Sith shouted as the stomped through the Academy. The Imperial followed in his wake, trying to keep up whilst minimizing his presence. The two Humans were of opposing natures, a scream beside a whimper.
"I'm not sure, my lord," the Imperial dishearteningly admitted. "There's nothing on record regarding plans to move or dispose of it."
The Sith stopped dead in his tracks, spinning on his heels to put his face directly in front of the Imperial's. "Then where is it?"
The Imperial winced. "I… I don't know."
"You said the killer's master is here? Right now?"
"Yes, my lord. He never leaves," the Imperial explained.
"What is his name?"
"Syrosk. Lord Syrosk."
"And where is he?"
"Very well. I agree to your terms," the spirit softly declared. "Are you ready to begin?"
"Now or never I suppose," Lorrik replied, setting his traveler's bag on the floor beside him. "I trust you'll guide me through the process."
"The burden of the ritual falls to me," the spirit explained. "You'll act as a tangible coordinator. The Massassi can endure the physical toll, but I require someone who can think and wield the Force to channel the various energies over the course of the ritual."
"What kind of physical toll is there?" Lorrik asked.
"Fairly agonizing pain and mental anguish," the spirit nonchalantly stated. "But my creation is rather durable."
"I noticed," Lorrik said, shooting a brief look to the towering, motionless Massassi. "Alright, let's do this."
The spirit looked to his monstrous guardian, wordlessly guiding him. The lumbering beast slowly lowered to its knees before scooping the vessel into its spiny arms. Lifting the empty shell off the cold stone flooring, the beast kept it raised, both of them resting within the circle of Sith runes etched onto the ground. The spirit faded from sight, but his presence could still be sensed by the inquisitor.
"Focus," the spirit's voice pounded Lorrik's senses. "Enter the circle and place a hand on the vessel. We're going to need a spark of dark side energy to get started."
Lorrik looked to the hunched form of the Massassi holding the vessel in his hands, almost as if on display. The beast waited, without protest and without movement, like a statue, a prop more than an actual participant in the ritual. The inquisitor passed the threshold of the runes, standing directly in front of the Human shell. Hovering his right hand over the vessel's chest, he began to concentrate, until he produced a charge of blue electricity arcing between his fingertips. The Force lightning grew in intensity, until it arced from its wielder's hand to the cadaver, singeing the surface of its under-robes. The inquisitor carefully lowered his hand until it made contact with the vessel's chest, small strings of electricity hopping around and over his gloved hand.
The red sigils etched into the ground began to shine with a harsh intensity, immediately shifting the chamber into a crimson hue. The vessel's body began to darken as some otherworldly shadow crept from the inquisitor's hand, eventually covering the entirety of the cadaver's frame. The once silent and stilled chamber began to whistle and whirr as a breeze began to encircle the ritualists. The breeze soon turned into a harsh bellow of wind and energy, but those within the circle maintained their adamant stances.
Syrosk's meditations were interrupted by a series of powerful knocks on his front door. The Sith Lord's eyes shot open, a curious arch present in his brow. He felt a foreign presence, one that held no place in his memories. Slowly, Syrosk raised himself from the floor, still donning the black plates of his armored suit beset by a heavy cloak.
The Sith Lord opened the door of his domicile to find an unfamiliar Human casting a harsh glare towards him. The young adult possessed a heavy, disapproving scowl bordering on a snarl. His body below the neck was encased in the garb of a warrior, one who had long ago graduated from the Academy and earned a place within the Sith Empire.
"Are you Syrosk?" the Sith bluntly asked.
The alien Lord maintained his stoic visage as he stared at the visitor. "Yes."
"Your apprentice killed my father," the Sith said through gritted teeth.
"I have many apprentices, and the galaxy has many fathers. You're going to have to be more specific," Syrosk coldly rasped.
"Don't test me, filth," the Sith chided. "My father, the Overseer."
"Ah yes, the one who cost my apprentices their training grounds," Syrosk replied, scratching his chin with his gauntleted hand. "Is there a reason you've come to interrupt my meditations?"
"Shut it!" the Sith shouted. "Your apprentices killed an Overseer within the halls of the Academy!"
"Actually it was just one that was responsible. He killed your father as well as a few of his underlings," Syrosk unabashedly explained.
"You dare speak of this with pride?"
"I would not equate a lack of shame with pride," Syrosk declared. "But I will not apologize for the justified actions of my students."
"But you will answer for them," the Sith declared. "I am invoking the Sith rite of challenge!"
"Is that so?" Syrosk stated, unimpressed.
"That's right. A duel. You and me," the Sith challenged.
"And if I refuse?"
"You can't refuse! The only way to call off the rite of challenge is through the intervention of both party's masters, and I know you've no master to speak on your behalf."
"But what's stopping me from simply ignoring you?"
"Aside from the dishonor forever tied to your name?"
"I'm an alien Sith Lord," Syrosk bluntly declared. "A few honor points gained or lost isn't going to change my life."
"If you refuse the challenge, I reserve the right to slay you where and how I see fit!"
The Sith Lord released a low, raspy sigh. "Fine. Where and when?"
"The Academy steps. Right now!"
"Very well," Syrosk drearily muttered, stepping from the confines of his home.
The air itself carried an electric charge as a cloud of dark side energy coalesced above the ritualists. A heavy aura, a shadowed veil enwrapped and encased the vessel as the chamber became increasingly chaotic. The inquisitor tried to keep his mind focused on the ritual, but found himself drawn toward the swirling vortex of Force energies that surrounded them. Even as he channeled his powers through his hand, he knew that he alone could not possibly be responsible for the grand display.
As the spirit melded with the empty vessel, Lorrik was catching a glimpse of what the dark side was truly capable of. The scene was of chaos, but the actions were of control. Within the glowing lights of the runes and crackling electricity, there was an enduring, consuming darkness. It was a contradictorily satisfying feeling that welled up within the inquisitor before sinking back down deep, deep into the recesses of his mind and spirit. He was a catalyst for change. A fundamental part of creating something new from something old. Something of worth from something discarded. Something of purpose from something without.
As the competing forces and energies surrounded the ritualists, they lashed out as the spirit connected itself to the tangible world. Arcs of lightning and shadowed whips wracked the Massassi's body, singeing and flaying his red hide. But still the beast did not budge from its stance. It had long abandoned any thoughts of pain, along with most vestiges of thought itself. It was a sentinel. A tool. A device to serve its master. And serve it did.
The surrounding storm heightened before releasing an immense flash of light and sound. The sigils etched into the stone floor released a final glow before going completely dark. The winds tore at the fringes of the ritualists before utterly stopping. And the vessel that was once consumed by darkness brightened, before radiating a forceful blast.
Lorrik was kicked back, flung across the chamber by the wave of kinetic energy. The inquisitor impacted against the hard floor with a resounding thud, releasing the breath he had been holding longer than he could remember. Slowly, raising himself, he saw the blast had not been enough to shift the Massassi from its spot, feet dug into the stone below it.
The chamber was quiet and dark. The crystal fixtures that hung from the structural columns has been pulled from their spots and shattered against the walls by the forceful winds. The sigils had lost any vestige of the magical glow they once emitted. The only light in the entire room, was the piercing glow of the Massassi's orange eyes. And beneath their gaze, the vessel began to twitch and move.
The Academy steps. The prime entrance to the institution. In plain view for all manner of Imperial and Sith, of student and master, of young and old to see. Two figures stood ready to do battle. A duel, called upon by the Sith rite of challenge.
In that moment, the normal bustling and movements of the Academy grounds had been put on hold. Those who had no choice but to continue their work did so without intrusion, everyone else gathering to watch the two Sith fight. Acolytes. Overseers. Imperial Guardsmen. All eyes rested on the duelists. Watching. Waiting. Each with unique purpose.
"In accordance with the rite of challenge, this shall be a duel to the death," the challenger declared. Syrosk remained silent, standing opposite the other Sith with a dulled expression. "You should be honored an alien like yourself is being treated accorded to Sith custom."
"And you should be honored your father was killed by a Sith of actual worth," Syrosk rasped.
"How dare you!" the Sith shouted. "Your apprentices had no right to challenge him!"
"They didn't. He attacked them."
"If he wanted them dead, it was their duty to die!"
Syrosk let out a low chortle. "That's what this is about isn't it? Honor. Duty. You don't even care that it was your father than was killed do you? You just care about the fact that he was an Overseer. That he was beaten by the students of a filthy alien like me. For a moment, I felt sorry for you, understood how you felt. When I lost my master, a man who felt like a father to me, I wanted nothing more than to lash out at those responsible. Because I cared for him. Because I felt the galaxy worse off without him. He had worth beyond what had been prescribed to him by his superiors."
"A Sith who would take you as an apprentice is no Sith," the challenger countered.
The alien Lord cemented his cold, sharpened glare upon his opponent.
"Who even are you? Who even was your father?" Syrosk asked. "I'm not talking about names, or titles, or who your masters were. I mean, who were you? What did you do? What did you provide beyond the reach of your blade? What have you accomplished, that isn't measured with a body count? Anything? Anything at all? What have you given the Empire, besides another generation of unchanging lackeys? You want to know what I've done? Take a look around you! I gave you this! I gave all of you this! This Academy? This planet? It still belonged to the Republic went I stepped foot on it. I cut through lines of defenders to give this place back to the Empire! I stood, right here, when Malgus shook the mountains with his shouts of victory! My master and I provided the Empire with hundreds, thousands of Force-sensitive children! I am responsible for this generation of Sith, and it would just as soon spit in my face as look at it! I have given the Empire eight of its best sons and daughters, and it has punished them because they had the gall to strike back against the Overseer who thought them weak, who thought them worthless! I have given more of my own blood for the Empire than any of you here! My filthy, tainted, alien blood! I have given more than any of you! And I have had more taken from me than any of you! And you, you think to tell me what constitutes a Sith? My master was Sith! I am Sith!"
"Then prove it," the challenger declared, igniting his lightsaber. Pointing the crimson blade toward his opponent, the Sith Lord let out a brief sigh.
"I shall," Syrosk muttered, subtly shifting his stance. Placing his body perpendicular to his opponent's, the Sith Lord slowly raised his gauntlets.
"Draw your weapon!" the challenger demanded.
"Already have," Syrosk replied, content with his empty hands.
The challenger sharpened his gaze, visage filled to the brim with disgust. Adopting an offensive stance, the Human readied himself before charging the alien. The Sith Lord took a deep breath and held it in. The challenger lashed out with a wide sweep of his blade, only for Syrosk to quickly snatch his sword arm by the wrist, bringing its arc to an instant halt. The Human was stunned, momentarily frozen, unable to act as the Sith Lord drove his gauntleted fist into the challenger's unprotected neck. The Human plummeted to the ground as he began grasping for air, esophagus collapsed.
Syrosk loomed over the body for a moment before walking away in silence. The gathered audience looked on with a mixture of disbelief and confusion. Writhing on the ground, the challenger continued clawing at his own throat. Through some manner of miracle or skill, the Sith used the Force, telekinetically reopening his airway. Popping his esophagus into its rightful position, the challenger struggled to lift his dazed self from the Academy steps.
"The duel… was to the death…" the challenger struggled to vocalize, still on his hands and knees.
"I really don't care," Syrosk rasped, continuing to walk away without a second glaze. The Human offered a low growl as he pushed himself up off the ground. Saber in hand, the challenger launched himself at the Sith Lord's back, ready to punish the retreating alien.
Syrosk immediately turned on his heels, and in one swift motion, drew and ignited his weapon, ready to defend against the attack. As the Sith Lord faced his opponent, guard raised, he puzzled for a moment as he saw the challenger halted mid-step, sword arm raised, as if frozen in time. There was a soft shimmering around the Human's stilled frame, and a powerful presence emanating from the gathered crowd.
Looking around, Syrosk saw a familiar figure donned in a vibrant red coat standing amongst the onlookers, hand outstretched, fingers in a clawing motion. Vai Thorel held the challenger's entire being in his hand, slowly crushing him with telekinetic force.
"You have a problem with turning your back on people, you know that?" Thorel joked, under no apparent strain keeping the challenger under his total control.
"I did not require your assistance," Syrosk rasped.
"No, I guess you didn't," Thorel admitted. With a quick turn of his wrist, Thorel snapped the challenger's neck and sent him crumbling to the ground once more, this time for good. "Duel to the death, remember?"
"A duel usually concerns only two people," Syrosk countered.
The Human released a soft chuckle. "Yeah, I guess you're right. I guess we've never been that big on rules, have we? Nice speech by the way."
Syrosk watched as Thorel dipped his hands into his coat pockets and quietly disappeared amongst the gathered audience. He was left alone, the prying eyes of bewildered Imperials and Sith falling solely unto him.
Leaving the lifeless body of the challenger and the various onlookers behind, the Sith Lord continued his walk back into the Academy. Back to his home.