Author's Notes
I was waiting on it getting Beta'd but ended up nearly finishing the chapter after this so I might as well put this out. I'm also about to go on a bender with CK3 so I should give you all something before I just go silent for awhile.
Howland climbed up the ruined tower where he had sensed an aura of strangeness in the Force. These Crucibles were not what he was expecting. It almost felt unreal how simple they turned out to be, to the point where he was almost sure that they were fake. He would have never come to this point if not for the fact that the most prominent acolytes were nowhere to be found. Victarion, Thoren, and the Snow and Sand girls, were on the second ship and taken to a different start position. He knew that all of them planned on staying with the Order, so knowing these facts made it easy for the Reed heir to understand what was happening.
"I shouldn't be surprised… Darth Nagash is far more than the fool he sometimes plays." Howland mumbled as he pulled himself up onto the broken stone floor of the tower's top level. There he saw nestled in a crag of the stonework a small rock with a painted rune on it.
He doubted that anyone else would figure it out. Those that were planning on leaving either weren't cunning enough to figure it out or lacked the information that he had. He looked back, the tower was at the top of a hill so he had a great view of the Valyrian countryside. It was like a mix of blackened grasslands, smoking rivers, and dark swamps. The last of which were a far cry from the ones he grew up with before traveling to Harrenhal. The rest of the acolytes he arrived with were out there, possibly dying to the Stone Men or just the environment.
As he thought more on it, those that were here were among those that the Instructors paid the least attention to. They were the least equipped to survive this and the least capable in all aspects of being a Sith. Howland disliked the underhanded approach but could respect how masterfully it had all turned out. The cream of the crop would stay with the Order and those that were subpar would be sent out with a shiny Valyrian Steel sword and be given the title of Sith. Why would Darth Nagash want this, it seemed counter productive. Sure, he kept the best for himself but those that left would go on to disappoint the realm. The Seven Kingdoms have been waiting for this just as much as the Sith were, to see the products of Darth Nagash's Order. Those that he had come with were adequate in swordsmanship and were just about as learned as any noble. Their only real difference to a knight would be their power in the Force, and even that felt diminished in value given their skill in it.
But now it was too late to change his mind, even if he could. He was Howland Reed, the future Lord of Graywater Watch. He had a duty to contend with and he would bear it with pride. He would very likely be the first Sith Lord of Westeros, an accomplishment that wasn't earned but of circumstance. So he turned back and walked over to the first of five rune painted rocks he would have to find to finish this fake test.
By the Drowned God he was getting tired of these rapid curs that kept popping up from out of nowhere. Victarion grit his teeth as he sent his trident into the air and using the Force commanded it to rip through the head of another Stone Man. He had spent the past two years perfecting his own style of combat, controlling a spear or trident with the Force while keeping a simple short sword in hand for anything that got too close. But having real enemies to contend with was different than training dummies or his crew in the sparring ring.
He was tall and broad, the body of a bull cased in human form. Victarion Grayjoy looked to be what one might expect out of a sailor's tale of a young but grizzled sea captain. His Iron Born blood ran thick in his veins and had much of the strength and build of his people, but living on land and raised in the Sith Academy had made sure his mind while as unflinching and brutal as his kin was razor sharp. He had learned well from his teachers and quietly admired the control of Instructor Rathari and sought to emulate it. He was clothed in traditional Iron Born style of clothes and medium armor, but with the added extended Sith sleeves and lower robes, as well as pointed hood that at the moment was down. What he wore had been a gift from his father and modified by Victarion's instruction to reflect his allegiance to the Sith Order. He was a Grayjoy yes, but first and foremost a Sith.
"Nice work boss." Victarion snarled back at the only acolyte from his crew that came ashore with him. He had two but one chickened out and stayed back on the ship.
"Yeah, great work when I lost concentration and lost the blood again." This was the third time he had to make the blood orb. He stormed over to the Stone Man he had just killed and glared down at it. He felt his rage and annoyance build in him like a storm over the ocean, deep things lurking beneath the tearing waves. But then, with a breath and a low growl at himself he calmed the seas of his soul and mind. Then the Grayjoy dispassionately looked down and held out a hand to the fallen Stone Man. The thing's ripped open head made pulling out the blood easier.
"It's really stupid that they're making us make bigger and bigger balls. I mean, what's the point of it all." That was one thing that the North and Dornish bitches had, at least their group had brains evened out among them. Finding the biggest, the strongest, and the meanest acolytes for his crew had its downsides. It was great before the Assembly as it meant he had the most power simply because of sheer brawn.
"It's to punish us, and to show that one failure only makes everything harder. Get it right the first time." Victarion scolded his brutish minion. He looked forward to when he became a real Sith, there he could leave behind these childish games and get in on the real schemes. He was no fool, he knew what kind of man Darth Nagash was. The Grand Master of the Sith was not content with Harrenhal and was plotting for the Iron Throne and possibly beyond. He had ambition, drive.
His brother and father both had the same but both lacked what the each other had. And a brain and spine respectively. But Darth Nagash had both, he played the mainlanders at their own game like it was child's play. Then when it came to backbone… all you needed to do was see his wrath to know that it was made of steel. Victarion respected no one more than Darth Nagash, he was a man that took and earned all he desired and then brought spoils of his greatness to his people. That was what it meant to be a leader, to be so great that everyone that prospers just from being around you. And Victarion knew that it was his destiny to become a great Sith Lord and stand at Darth Nagash's side as he claimed all of Westeros for the Order.
"WYYYYYYHY!" The howling screams of more Stone Men caught his ear and caused the Grayjoy to curse. He was already putting more and more of his mind to maintain the blood ball in hovering in his hand. His style of combat really didn't mesh with this test at all. He tossed aside the scavenged short sword had called back his trident. Even if he was forgoing his ranged capabilities, he still had to keep up his concentration on the blood or else he would have to make an even larger ball.
"Hey." He looked to his minion. "Let's split up, try and divide their numbers." Victarion said knowing that that would do nothing to help their situation. But, he stayed put and quiet then the Stone Men would follow the sounds of a running acolyte. It was cruel and dishonorable but then again… his minion wasn't fit for the Sith. He was just that… a minion. Not a friend or even a comrade, but a tool to be used to make sure a truly worthy acolyte made it.
"Right, let's meet up at the big tree we saw ahead." He nodded in agreement and then watched as his minion ran off, with not the least bit of stealth. He was a brute, there was nothing subtle about him. Meanwhile, Victarion just kneeled down and sat in a basic meditate position. He could feel the Dark Side claw at his being for what he just did. If that was the cost of survival and success then so be it.
Nearby in the shadows of the ruins, the Nightsister that was assigned to Victarion watched the development carefully. They had orders to watch and later account for every Acolyte's actions during the Crucible. She had little doubt in her mind that this would firmly place the Grayjoy into the Sect of Morgoth right out of the gate. But it was still early in these young adults' lives. Time would only tell if who they were now was what they would always be. Or, if they would grow, change, or break into something else.
"Is it really worth it? I mean we could try and take shifts holding each other's blood." Miana asked as she set up the primitive tent that they had made for the night. Really it was just a bunch of fallen branches and the scavenged clothes of fallen Stone Men. But it would do for the night.
"I really rather get a good night's sleep than anything." Mysa said as she sat back to the wall of the ruin they were camping out in. Above them was the starry night sky, and below was three stories of hard stone and only one busted stairway up. They would be safe for the night from the Stone men. "We made good distance, one of the temples is just another day's trip. I'm fine with having to recollect blood if it means I can sleep with you." The Sand said as she hugged her knees and stared into the fire.
"You're having the nightmares again?" Miana asked as she sat down next to her best friend. For four years, Mysa had been having nightmares of that day on and off. Both Darth Nagash and Instructor Fay had spoken to her about it, and they had a trained member of the Natural Order speak to her for monthly check ups. She got better, but Miana knew that she was still never the same. "You can't crack now, we're so close. This is what we've been training for."
"I-know-I-know-I-know… but I just can't stop thinking about the fact that they won't ever have the chance to be where we are." Mysa admitted as she continued to stare into the fire. She had never seen death before that day, the smell of blood still lingered and the memory of the killer's uncaring gaze haunted her. "There are still times I wonder-"
"No!" Miana shouted as she grabbed hold of Mysa. "You can't blame yourself. We all knew who to blame. That's why no one, not even the teachers, punished you when you beat Kathyn bloody. I still think she got off too easy." Mysa frowned at the mention of the spoiled little brat that had taken them all out that day. Even after the deaths of her so-called friends she didn't show the least bit of concern. That had enraged Mysa and so when the opportunity came in the form of a sparring match she took it. Mysa had left the ring with her fists bloody and her opponent with some lasting scars. "By the gods it was amazing seeing you like that. So strong and brutal."
"Miana, you really can be weird with that." The Dornish girl said with a blush on her face, and her Northern lover smirked as she leaned in closer. The sounds of the fire crackling and the rustle of the nearby trees was broken up by the sudden thud of Miana suddenly but gently pushing Mysa onto her back. "You know I love it when you're the forward one for a change but this… ah… really isn't the place." Her words petered off into a whimper as Miana nipped and kissed her neck, finding all the soft places that she knew were weak.
The two Bastards had grown since their arrival at Harrenhal. No longer children but grown women that did the seductive Sith ideal justice. Mysa was an olive skinned beauty, her Dornish heritage benefiting her greatly. Her body slim and graceful, a moderate bust and tight rear had many boys longing after her. With luck granting her a noble look despite her bastard status. Miana on the other hand did not inherit the noble features of her father, instead she had the comely beauty that had drawn her father to her low born mother in the first place. Skin as white as her last name, and curling brown locks that fell to her upper back. And as opposed to her best friend, she had a much more curvy figure with a full chest and wide hips. The two were envied and lusted after in equal measure.
"We're completely safe, and I can tell you're interested." Miana whispered into her lover's ear as one of her hands trailed down her stomach and skimmed the edges of her skin under her clothes. They had their moments of intimacy in strange places, there was an abnormal amount of broom closets in Harrenhal Keep so that made for easy getaway places. Their favorite however had been when they sneaked into Victarion's room when he was on a training trip with other acolytes to the Vale. The fact that he still didn't know they did it in his bed always caused them no end of laughter. "Besides… wouldn't be cool if we came back and said we were the first people to have had sex in Valyria in centuries."
"That… would be a story to tell." Mysa perked up at this, and Snow smiled in between her attentions as she knew that she was successful in lifting the spirits of her girlfriend. Her mission accomplished, Miana decided to have her reward and quickly began to remove pieces of clothing. With near trained swiftness both of the young women soon found themselves naked and in each other's grasp.
The Dornish olive skinned pressed against the milky white of the Northerner, a land so far apart but so close right then. During the rushed removal of clothes, Mysa gained the upper hand and found herself on top, their bodies intertwined as they rubbed against each other. Miana let out a small moan as she felt Mysa's hand reach between them and gasp her breasts, fingers squeezing her flesh and slowly rolling the hardening nub at its peak. In kind, the Snow raised her leg and found a nice slippery spot between the Sand's legs and began teasing it.
"Oh you little bitch, well there's no way I'm losing my record." Mysa gave a hungry growl before darting forward and taking the other girl's lips with her own. Her other free hand reaching down to Miana wet snatch and without warning slipped two fingers into her folds. A gasp was muffled by the kiss and was followed by a long whine as Mysa slowly pulled in and out of the northern girl. Her own attempts on Mysa started to fade a bit as the pleasure from both her pussy and her breasts fogged her mind. "Yeah, you like your big tits groped while I finger fuck your tight pussy huh? Say it."
"Mhmm… I like my big tits groped while… ah… y-you finger my pussy." Miana moaned as Mysa sped up the pace with each word. The girl squirmed under the careful and deliberate moves of her lover, letting out the most adorable of squeals and gasps as Mysa pinched and prodded all of her weak spots. The sounds of pleasure grew and grew until finally Miana couldn't take anymore and gave out one last cry as she came to her climax. A sheen of sweat covered the girl as she breathed in deeply as she came down off her sex high. But then as she looked up she paled as there was naughty glimmer in her girlfriend's eye. But this is what she signed up for when she initiated things.
The sounds of their moans and panting continued to escalate, and if not for the Nightsister that stood watch over them they might have had to stop due to the unwanted attention they drew. The Dathomarian woman took pity on the lovemaking girls and took it upon herself to kill any Stone Man that found its way too close to their campsite.
"So how has the first day gone?" I ask from the comfort of the command tent set up in the middle of the Dathomirian village. Unlike back home it was mix gendered, as per my order. The Nightsisters and Nightbrothers were initially uncomfortable with living in such close proximity to each other but as time went on they were at least able to cohabitate. The separation of men and women would do them no good here on Terra and in my plans. Back on Dathomir they were the dominate race and were afforded luxuries like discrimination and segregation. Nope, not anymore.
"Three have died so far, two from the deserters and one from the Acolytes." A Nightbrother reported as he read off a just arrived report from the Nightsisters out watching over the kiddies. I cared little about the fates of the rejects, except for one, but if too many died then I might have some political backlash on my hands. "Also… two of the Acolytes engaged in sex and the Nightsister watching them had to cover them. They apparently got quite loud."
"Ha! It was the Sand and Snow wasn't it!" I laughed as I applauded their vigor and daring. It took some real lady balls to fuck in the middle of a cursed, zombie infested, ancient dead city. But that was the exact type of person I was looking for. I waved away the Nightbrother and sat back in my seat, closing my eyes and letting the Force guide me. I could still sense the covered Wound in the Force below us, it was calm and unresponsive. Just as it should be. It was a risk holding the Crucibles in a place so close to a Wound, even if it was contained. But I feel the experience would help the Acolytes. "The day is done, what will the next bring us?"
For as far back as he could remember he had an answer to any question that anyone asked him. At first it was just a snappy comeback to someone picking on him because he was small and not very strong. And he got better at it. Then when he joined the Sith as an Acolyte, he started doing the same in the classroom. He studied and studied to make sure he had those answers coming. But now, as he sat in the middle of Valyria Puff could not for the life of him answer the question of the Crucible
"You think you'll do okay Puff?" One of his friends Royn asked as they cleared out their camp site. They had gotten through the first day well enough, both Royn and their other companion Berth were able to get through the night taking shifts with each other's orbs of Blood. But Puff was alone in that he had yet to kill a Stone Man… or anyone for that matter. He was doing his best to keep whatever contents in his stomach in his body at the sight of the blood in his friends hands.
"I'm fine." He answered quickly and both of the other boys shared a look of concern. They knew that their friend and former bloc leader wasn't the type of person to be okay at the sight of blood and gore. He had bribed his way out of the Killer Field Trip that all the Acolytes of sixteen years were required to take. During it they would be taken to a random spot in the Seven Kingdoms and be given an axe and a criminal and told of the crimes of the criminal in gruesome detail. At the end of the day, they all had to take the life of the condemned. This was what they were training for, it's why they trained in combat and even less than honorable means of solving problems. Puff had avoided all of it, but now he was forced to face that fact.
"You're gonna need to get your own blood Puff. We can't just give you ours." Puff opened his mouth to protest that but then closed it when he remembered that they were being watched. It was frustrating to know he couldn't squirm around the rules like he usually did. Unlike the Grayjoy gang or the North Dorne Alliance, his Mysteries Bloc needed to operate with more guile to offset their low numbers. And they couldn't just have good relations with the Acolyte Council like the Honor Bloc did, they were more interested in discovering new mysteries of the Force than following the rules. So Puff's playbook was filled with schemes and tricks to maintain the small amount of power he had in the Assembly. None of them were working out here.
The three of them worked their way through the ruins, following the rare markings on the buildings. The danger of the Stone Men frequented them less and less as they delved deeper into Valyria, much to the detriment of one of them. Each time one of the Stone Men would scream their way toward them, Royn and Berth would bat him between them giving Puff a perfect shot to kill him. Only for the intelligent boy to choke and one of the others would be forced to finish off the lunatic. The ruins grew denser and denser until finally they stopped at a wide open river that once was a canal in the capital city.
"I think I see a bridge over there." Berth pointed out a structure that crossed the gap of the river. It wasn't so much a bridge but a fallen spire that still held its shape. It was the only way across and that was where they were being directed. So the three boys made their way to the fallen spire and climbed up its crumbling ruins and slowly began crossing it. Every crack and echo caused them to freeze up, wondering if they had disturbed this long abandoned structure enough to make it collapse into the smoking river below. "Almost there."
"The Temple has to be close, then we're one step closer to becoming Sith." That was the goal, they all wanted to become Sith and learn all the secrets that Darth Nagash was keeping from them and the entire realm. They all knew that Darth Nagash had great powers, some he showed off but for Puff and his friends they knew that he kept the most powerful to himself. That's why they wanted to become Sith, to learn those mysteries of the Force that were forbidden to everyone but those truly wise enough to know them. "I don't think we'll need to camp for the night, those buildings in the distance look important… maybe one is a Temple."
"Great." Puff droned as they all descended off the spire edge and onto solid ground. The other boys frowned at his lackluster response. Puff looked back at his friends as they had their backs to the spire and stopped walking with him.
"Listen Puff, you need to get over yourself. We all had to kill and… it was hard. But becoming a Sith isn't going to be easy." Berth started getting into Puff, having gotten fed up with his friend's reluctance to commit to the Crucible. If he was being honest he was sick of Puff weaseling his way out of a lot of the hard work of Acolyte life. Every time that they all would be punished by Darth Nagash, Puff would find some way to get around it, and if there was something like the Killer Field Trip he would be the first with an excuse on why he couldn't do it. "There's no way out of this. And if you don't start trying, you're going to be left behind. You heard Darth Nagash, there's no leaving this place unless you are a Sith."
"Hey, you're going a little hard on him." Royn said with concern in his voice that irritated Puff to no end. Berth's words also angered him, he wasn't some spoiled noble child that complained when they didn't get their way. He worked for everything he had. He plotted and schemed using brain power trained to a fine point with hours of study.
"Don't coddle him! I'm telling him the hard facts. This test isn't one that he can just study for and get full marks like he always does. It needs real effort and hard choices being made!" Berth shouted and Puff had enough. His anger at what they were saying and stupidity they were showing in the moment was boiling his blood. Enough to where he didn't even think about the queasiness in his stomach as he slashed the air with his arm and chopped off the head of a sneaking Stone Man that had been making its way toward Berth and Royn. The two other boys turned their heads back in shock and then turned them back to Puff as they heard him fall back on his butt in shock over what he just did.
"I… I did it." He muttered as what he had just done caught up with his brain and the Dark Side pulled back from his soul.
Nearby, a Nightsister opened her eyes as she returned from her meditative trance. Her job was done, having sent some of the Dark Side she felt in her into the young boy, allowing the momentary emotional rage to do the deed. While she felt disgusted that this whelp couldn't do it himself, her emperor had given her specific orders that if they got too close to the Temple without the Acolyte having killed for himself she would assist. She then watched as he threw up while extracting the blood, and for the first time since kneeling before the Emperor of Quills… questioned his judgement.
Fay exited Naraiz's command tent with a frown, she didn't appreciate his causal attitude that four people had already died at the hands of his Crucibles. She also did not like the complete lack of empathy he had for those that chose to leave his order.
"And here I thought I was having an effect on him." Fay grumbled as she walked through the Dathomirian village. She ignored the glares that several of the locals were giving her, even if she wasn't a Jedi anymore that association stay did not play well among the Nightsisters and brothers. But it was kept to glares and nothing else.
"And I have my effect on him." Fay stopped as she saw Talzin walk toward her. The former Jedi huffed at the Great Mother's presence, to say they didn't agree was a great understatement. While Fay dedicated her effort to pulling Naraiz to the Light, Talzin seemed to effortlessly remind him of his Dark roots. What made Fay even more apprehensive to Talzin was the odd way that the witch seemed to enjoy being around her. The feeling was not mutual and Fay didn't understand why Talzin acted the way she did. "Everything is going as planned, the Acolytes are playing their role as they always would. Trying their hardest, we can not mourn those that fell short."
"He tells me that the real Sith Acolyte experience is worse but that's hard to imagine." Fay had a difficult time believing some of the stories that Naraiz would tell her of his time. It sounded ridiculous how he described the Academy on Korriban. How could any order survive with so many of its youth dying so needlessly?
"It is impressive that such a naïve viewpoint is held by someone such as yourself." Fay glared back at the woman for the backhanded comment.
"Is there a point to any of this, I'd thought I'd made it very clear last time I do not enjoy your company." A faint blush formed over Fay's face as the muddy memories of that conversion came back to her. She really had to stop herself from letting Naraiz get her drunk. His insistence on them being drinking buddies was childish but it was the only way for her to really get in close with him.
"In so many little words you did so." Fay's blush grew a little at this. "And no, there is no real point to my desire to speak to you. I only wanted to remind you of our roles." Talzin said knowingly and Fay scowled at the insinuation. She did not subscribe to the Dathomirian superstitions, she was not some Empress of Light and had no intention of becoming one. The fact that Talzin had lightly suggested that part of that role was Naraiz 'other wife was another point of contention.
"I mean, he's not horrible husband material if you look past all the… him." The former's Jedi's blush came back with a vengeance as other memories came back to her. Ones of catching Naraiz shirtless in the middle of his workouts, the smiles of the women he slept with after they did the deed, and that time when she had been peeping on… no… surveilling Naraiz when he unexpectedly went skinny dipping the God's Eye. "Nope-nope-nope-nope…" Talzin watched as a nearly steaming Fay muttered to herself and walked off, the gray skinned woman smiling to herself knowing that all would fall into place.
Jarman stood at the entrance of a building that felt… newer. It wasn't covered in plants and it had smooth stonework. It also differed from the other buildings in terms of design, reminding Jarman of the style Harrenhal was being rebuilt in.
"Welcome Jarman Buckwell." The Acolyte turned and saw a gray skinned woman standing behind him. If he had not already known that he had been watched for two days he would have jumped at her announcement. "You have brought the blood of a slain, are you ready for your staining?"
"I am." He didn't know what this staining was but he was ready for anything. He had forgone the path of a knight to become the Sith's moral compass. Many of his friends in the Honor Bloc had questioned his choice as it was him that always said he would become the first knighted Sith. But what Howland said rang true, he couldn't just leave the order in the hands of honorless. So even if it meant he would never be knighted, he would make sure that the Sith Order was respected and honorable.
"Follow me." She said and walked right past him. The stone slab doors of the Temple then… vanished in a sparkle of light. Jarman's eyes widened and the orb of blood vibrated as his concentration was interrupted momentarily. But he reigned in the Force and then followed behind the strange woman. As they walked, the stone hall lit my torch light, he wondered about these overseers. They were unlike any person he had seen. Jarman knew about people with ebony skin from the Summer Islands but he never heard of people with gray skin before. Perhaps it was like that because they lived in the ashen waste of Valyria? He deemed that it would be rude to ask. "We have arrived." She said simply as they came to the end of the tunnel. This time, the stone slowly descended down into the floor and revealed a closed dome chamber.
"I… expected a bit more." He said as they entered and the strange overseer brought him to a stone bowl whose stone looked unlike anything he had seen before. It was covered in runes and marbled in black glassy rock that looked to Jarman like veins.
"Place your blood in the bowl." The overseer said as she motioned to the bowl. The acolyte looked between her and the bowl before doing as told. Using the Force he pushed the blood through the air and into the bowl. The second a drop of the liquid touched the stone he felt it all rip out of his control and watched as the blood seemed to snap to the bowl, it leveled out to a pure flat surface and perfectly even to the rim of the bowl. Jarman then watched as the overseer pulled out a vial of glowing purple liquid and then let a single drop leave it into the blood. The purple vanished into the crimson. Jarman took a step back and waited… for anything. He then watched as the overseer glanced at the bowl expectedly… like she was also waiting for something to happen.
"These trials have been tested right?" Jarman asked and got a horrible death glare from the woman but it softened as she looked back to the bowl.
"It's supposed to…" Just as she spoke the bowl's black veins glowed bright white and the blood began swirling into a rippling whirlpool. Jarman then watched with awe as the liquid started to condense into a small puddle in the bowl. The light died down and the overseer took the bowl and pulled it off its pedestal, then handed it to Jarman. "Drink."
"What?! That's the blood of a Stone Man, wouldn't that give me Grayscale?" That was his first worry but there was also a host of problems with this. Wasn't this also technically cannibalism was among the forefront of issues.
"Drink it." The overseer said with a grave certainty and annoyed tone that told Jarman he didn't have a choice here. He looked down to the small pool of blood that couldn't be more than a single gulp. He had to trust that whatever had been done to it had removed the threat of Grayscale and as for the cannibalism thing… yeah there was no getting over that. But it was either this or likely be killed by this woman and so knowing that Jarman reluctantly lifted the bowl and drank the concoction. Immediately he dropped the bowl from his hands only for it to be caught by the overseer.
The world began spinning. And Jarman's vision filled with tendrils of bright white with purple leaves branching off them. Beyond those, the rest of the world turned to a patchwork of reds, yellows, and greens. His entire body felt like he was suspended in cream, but he wasn't drowning. Just this strange pressure on his entire form. Then something latched onto him, like a hundred little hooks stuck themselves to his core and yanked him down. There the colors changed to darker reds, grays, and blacks. But the vines of white and leaves of purple never left. Then something else grabbed hold, his limbs felt entwined with rope and they yanked up, he returned to the yellows, reds, and greens before they turned to blues, pinks, and gold. The hooks pulled back and he soon found himself in a tug of war between these two forces.
All the while, the purple leaves grew and grew. Until finally they were large enough to show the tapestries printed on them. In all the shades that purple could be, they all told a story that Jarman felt like his own. But it wasn't. A man, born in a city that had thousands of turns and twists. His childhood of running with the other boys, strange men with bound cloth around their eyes kept showing up. And then one day these blinded men took the man and put him on a ship and told him to fish. For years the sea was his new home, with land only being a short respite. Dreams of sailing and finding a mythical fish bride and then finding one that was less fishy. Engaged but never married as a jealous man poisoned a fishing net with sickness. The seas that became the man's new home once he was found out, they smoked and sizzled. The land was dead and hated him. And the only company he had now was others sickened and rotted in the mind. The last leaf showed the man charging at a young man with a rage he himself didn't understand.
"What just happened?!" Jarman gasped for breath as he felt his mind crash through sobriety in an instant. He was sweating, and his sanity cracked and fixed itself as he tried to make sense of everything. Then he calmed as he felt the Force flow around and remind him of who he was. His special and one of a kind presence in the Force became an anchor that drove him back to himself.
"You have seen the life of a man you killed, you are stained with the guilt and knowledge that few are blessed with. Childhood friends that have found each other on different sides of a battle, brothers caught in a duel of fate, lovers torn between love and duty. You now know the cost of death." The overseer said as she gently kneeled down next to him on the floor, putting a hand on his shoulder. Jarman's eyes snapped to her and then back to the empty stone above. He could remember it, the moment he had killed that Stone Man but now he could see it from their perspective. "Every life you take now you will treat with care and reverence. You will now know that every person has their own story, and you will become the end of that story."
"That is… a wise lesson." Jarman breathed and promised himself that he would take it to heart. His sword would be used to kill again, on the criminal and deserving but even then he would honor them. Everyone had their reasons, choices that led to their ends. It was an important lesson but one he would not like to repeat in the same fashion if at all possible.
"Now that you have been stained, you shall now proceed to the next Crucible. The Crucible of Doubt." At that a new door opened with a large stone slab descending down into the floor at the back of the chamber. "Travel down these stairs, defend yourself against the specters of the fallen Valyrians, and come to terms with your doubts. The Force will guide your way."
"You will always just be that s̵͖̠̝̯̞͋͠m̶̮̳͊̌́̀̎a̴̝̠̯̽̋͋̽͂l̶͈̯̩͐̑̽̍l̷̩̞̟̭̏̀͌͂ ̴͓͐̒̋̃͋ǵ̶̻̭̈́̈r̵͙̺̓ḁ̷͂̀̎̂ͅͅi̴͎͊͐̈́͆͜ͅņ̸̹̎̿̓ ̶̳̥͕̬͎̓̓̃͘͝ò̵̞̂̾͝͠f̴̧̛̮͕̩̊̎ ̶̛̩͇̪̯̄s̴̜̲̲͌̒̈́̕a̷̛̟̯̟̓̃́͋ṋ̸̿͂̉͛͘d̵̫͙̓͊̑̿ no one remembers, why even try?"
"Shut up already!" Nathar Sand shouted at the bodiless voice that had continued to mock him since he came to the tunnels. But the second that the words left his lips he cursed them. The shrieks of the ghoulish men that he had been avoiding echoed closer. Dread crept into the young man's eyes as he looked down the tunnel and saw a group of the cursed things stumble their way into the crossroad he just passed. They turned their heads and reeled back before charging forward with insane shrieks.
Nathar cursed as he floated up several rocks and sent them spinning forward. Before they even made contact however he turned back and continued to run away from the ghoulish monsters that haunted these halls. The Crucible of Doubt was in his opinion far more what the worst fears of the Acolybeen prior to them getting on those boats. After he had been Stained, the overseer brought him to the entrance to this labyrinth of tunnels and then shoved him inside and locked the door behind him. At first things were fine, he kept to the left wall as he knew that eventually it would lead him to some sort of exit… but then the voices started.
"In a vast desert of talent, you are n̷̖̟̓̆́͐o̶̜͖̹̦̍̃̈́́̊͠ţ̶͖̰͇̳̈́h̴̛̟͔̻̮̘̳̋i̸̖̜͔̰͋͛̄̆͗͜n̵̖̽̏̎̌g̴̰͇͖̘̭̜͠ just another grain to be past by and forgotten." They cut to the bone of his fears and terrors. They mocked and spoke things he didn't want to hear. And no matter how much he tried to deny them or shut them out they just grew louder. Eventually it had gotten to Nathar and he shouted and punched a wall in frustration. That was when the monsters started coming after him, drawn in by the sound and his negative emotions.
They were horrifying, the specters that old grandmothers told their grandchildren in their beds to scare them into being good. The shades of old Valyria still haunt their ruined homes. Ghostly bodies in tattered robes, their skin dead and lines of dried blood coming down from every orifice in their face. In their hands they gripped with unnatural strength a Valyrian Steel sword that they dragged behind them or waved frantically in the air. If it wasn't for the Dornish Scimitar Force Blade in Nathar's hand, he was sure that one of those ghouls would have cut him in half by now. They weren't very skilled fighters but their numbers and frenzied state made up for that. Nathar had also focused more on dueling styles of sword work in his training than defending against masses.
"I need to get out of here!" He shouted not caring if more of the shades heard him. Panic filled his mind as he desperately tried to find an exit. These weren't the warm homely halls of Harrenhal that he had spent most of his life in. These were cold, rocky, and at times odd metal plates. He was totally out of his element and could only feel fear in his soul at everything happening to him.
"Accept it, you will always be f̷̬̳͘o̵͙͐͗r̵̹͙̍̕͝g̵̥̳̐̇͗o̶̫̩̊͑̍t̷̘̪͎͆t̶̠̬̀͆é̷͙̳͔n̸͓̝̒̈́ compared to your brother." Nathar stopped in his tracks, his frantic rush to find a way out as his mind cleared of buzzing worried thoughts. The sounds of the ghouls grew louder as a horde of them scrambled their way toward him. "Forever in his shadow, where you belong." The Sand was eerily still, small pieces of stone started to vibrate around him. "Crawl back to him, beg to forever be c̶̖͛̑̆h̴̤̟͌̒a̸̹̰̖̅͠ȉ̴̼̫̍͗n̴̨͖̲͍̍̑̾̑e̴̛̖̰̺͚͚̊̂d̸͈̆̔̇͜ to his glory."
"That's what I should do?" He asked the voice as his insides started tossing in turning, emotions flailing about. Meanwhile the mass of monsters barreling down the tunnel was quickly coming upon him. He turned his head back, his eyes blazing yellow and with a dead set determination that flew in the face of the scared horror that had been in them before. The sound of falling steel hitting the floor echoed in the tunnels as all the Valyrian shades withered away into nothing but dust. "That spoiled little pissant doesn't deserve to lick my boots."
Nathar growled at the mere idea of being compared to his little true born brother. The chubby lazy good for nothing failure that constantly complained when he didn't get his way. The boy that venerated every letter that came from their father telling him who was the favorite son that could do no wrong. All the instructors at the Academy told Nathar the truth, that he was the genuine golden child and every time his brother would throw a fit. Long has his brother given up the Dornish tradition of respecting bastards and has taken on the opinions of their peers from other kingdoms. Even though it was obvious who was better, he had the better grades, he was strong and athletic, and he was blessed with an innate connection to the Force. No, Nathar would no longer play the dutiful and submissive bastard brother anymore. Now he was going to make sure his entire noble family would be overshadowed by him.
And just like that, the Force started to open up. The fog that had been on Nathar's mind that had been there was broken and his fears were replaced with anger and disdain. There was the sound of more of the ghouls coming further down the hall, but Nathar knew which way to go now. He could feel the Force guide him, the beckoning call of the Dark Side now appeased with his fury and pride would show him the way.
"Empty, nameless, surrounded by nothing but corpses. That's all that you are ever going to become. A̴̡̢̢̫̖̱̤͉͈̍l̷͇̘̼͋̽ǫ̷̻̣̩̠̙̹̺͚̗́́̿̌n̸̡͉̣̱͇̔̀͛̿͋̆̉͠ͅe̷̢̖̱̣̥̘̪̗̱̺̬͋̆̉̎̓̇̾̋̔͘." The voice was but a small whisper. Cayle Caswell smiled as he walked through the halls of the Crucible of Doubt, sneaking his way around corners and avoiding the packs of deathly shades that stalked the tunnels.
"Yeah right, even if I do die, I'll have my trusty steed with me." He was a horseman to the bone. His dream of traveling to Essos and proving himself a better rider than the Dothraki was a fire that burned his chest. Cayle listened to the melodic call of the Light Side, it's soothing presence guiding him to the way out of this network of tunnels. His light frame and quick moves aided him in this regard. While he was the first to admit that he was quite the opposite when it came to expected masculine features, his smaller and leaner body was useful for avoiding being seen. He could have used it without the pretty boy comments that came from time to time but he took it inside.
He supposed that this Crucible was supposed to torment those who still had doubts in themselves. To cloud their minds with fear and dread so that they couldn't feel the Force's attempts to guide them out of the trap that was this labyrinth. But for him, his fear of dying alone was a well healed wound. He no longer doubted himself as he did as a child. Not since he made real friends in the Acolytes. Friends that would now be coming with him to the Sith. Him and Thoren had been worried that Karne was going to up and leave to use his skills and powers to help his family back in the Westerlands but were surprised when he showed up and said that he would be staying.
"They will die, they will leave, a̴̹̣͎̜͎͙͍̫̻̋̌͐́̏̅͊͑̕̚b̷̞̳̭̖͑̒a̷̱̣̜̫͕͎̳͂́̂̓͑̽͠͝n̷̡̹͙̮̝͎̓̄ḑ̵̳̞͈͉͉̲̤̈́͆̇͐̂͜ȏ̸̧̨͖̪̬̜̮̯̪͕͖̯̕n̵̡̘̏̉́̉̏͑̀̍ you and leave you with ņ̸̤̘̦̠̿͌̀͂̽̎͌͆͑̾̾̚ǒ̸̡̼̮̯͈̩͇̱̰̹͍̆͝͝t̵͈̾̌͒̌̃̍̌̃́͘h̷̨̢̡̫̲̬͔̙̳̟͖̬̳̼̅̓̒̈́͑̽͆̃̑̈́̓͒̈̓̈͘̚ͅį̷̡̛̜̳̲̗̻͂̀̊̌̿̄̾͜͝ṅ̶̰̱̦̹̲͐̊̈́̄͗͛͠ģ̴̤̳̫̖̞͈̯̳͙̜̍̀̀̓̽̅͜." Cayle snorted at that thought, Thoren and Karne were some of the best warrior's in the Acolytes so the idea of them dying was unlikely. Especially before him. He was a great rider, and the best jouster among the Acolytes but on foot and with a sword he was okay at best. Hence why he was sneaking about. As for them leaving, that also makes him want to laugh. Thoren was a prideful bastard at the best of times and who needed Cayle to smooth things over when he said something insulting. And Karne… he was about as loyal as they come.
"I have my friends, my brothers. I'm never alone." With that bedrock belief in the bounds he had made at Harrenhal, the Light Side was pleased at the blissful loyalty and care Cayle had for his friends and opened the way to the next test. Cayle felt the Force pull him forward and knew that the final test was at hand.
"U̸̮̳̺̗̠̓̽͋͒̾s̴͉͈̭͆̊̎̋̅͒͜ě̵̺͔̫̘l̵̳̤͎̓͘̚é̴̙̂͒́ͅs̶̗͆š̷̲͙͆̓̔͘ , that is all you will ever be. A poor excuse for a man that can't even save his family."
Karne Westerling growled as more of the voices whispered into his ear as he blocked another of the monsters' attacks. They circled him and with a perfect parry he sent one of them back and, using the Force tossed his broadsword forward and sent and spinning like a top, cutting them all to ribbons.
"Could a poor excuse of a man do that?" He challenged as he pulled back his broadsword to his hand. The faint echoes of more of these things traveled down the halls. And Karne was breathing heavy as he had been butchering these monsters for an hour now. He wasn't like Cayle, it wasn't his style to sneak around and avoid a fight. He certainly had the body for it, as one of the largest Acolytes he was often compared to an angry bull in the training ring. "Hmph… is there any real point to this except to getting me pissed off."
He started walking away from the largest source of noise, while he was willing to fight hundreds of these monsters he wasn't stupid and knew that he didn't have the energy for that. He tried to calm his mind and take in the Force to help the healing process like Instructor Fay taught them all to do but the Force just felt so muted here. And he wasn't exactly one of the best at doing all that Force stuff in the first place.
He was the muscle, Thoren was the brains, and Cayle had been the face of their little group. Since they all arrived they had been together and kept each other safe. Eventually things got a bit more complicated with so many of the Acolytes looking up to Thoren due to his skills and overall leadership ability. First being a representation in the Assembly for the large number of unaligned Acolytes, then being elected the first Acolyte Council President. But Karne waded through it all, just happy to have some people by his side. And it was from these friends that he had come to understand that he had a place in this world.
"The L̷̢͕̩̺̹͍̳̉ͅą̵̞̣̮͙̺͂͊̄̾́̐͋n̷̡̘̮̔̿̋̄͑͌̑̐͠ṇ̵̞̺͛̎̑́̐͐̕į̸̧̢̦̖̈̂̐́͌̔s̸̩̭̤̳̣͕͖̮̽͊̀ṯ̵̛̛͓̠̖̹̖͗̂̾̌̏̄̕ë̴͉̟͊ŗ̴̻̮̲͙̬͎͒́͘͘ś̸̢̳͚̮̿͑̌̀͝͠ laugh at your kin, use them, steal from them… and you can do nothing. A wasted attempt at moving a mountain of g̵̰̥̞͖͂͊̓̐̾͜o̵͇̣̍̓͐̑ͅḷ̴̡̡̫̥̂̂͠d̷̨͔̩̼̖͌ȩ̶̯̩̲̤͌͋ͅn̶̝͕̟̬̤̦̿ power." Karne snarled as the voices decided to just get to the point already. Reminding him of what he hated most in this world. How his older brothers were left back in the Westerlands still under the thumb of the Lannisters. They had tried to put their hopes on him to return back to them once he became a Sith, and help free them of those bounds. But he wasn't coming back.
"That's right, it is pointless… What can I do about the Lannisters? So why even try?" He said with a cruel smile as he looked to the side and raised a hand to the wall. He could feel the vibrations of moving feet on the other side of it. With a quick grunt and a push of the Force, he knocked the wall down and crushed several ghouls under the stone walls. "But they're not my problem anymore."
It was the letter he had gotten just before they left Harrenhal for King's Landing. He had already been conflicted between staying with his friends in the Sith and traveling back to his family's keep and serving his House. But the letter he got from his father decided everything. He wasn't talking to a son but a tool he had ordered and now was expecting to be delivered to him. Everything that he hated most about the Lannisters and how they used their subjects was dripping from every word his father wrote.
"Disappointment, worthless, your family will forever be buried in ç̶͖̌̆̌̽̽̓̇̂̂̊͘͝͠h̵̢͉̼̟̗͍͚̳̪̬͖͙̩̫̥̏ͅa̴̡̧̛̼͎̰̹̖͋̀̀́͆͐̃͊͗̚i̶̢̡͇̩̗̙͍̺͎̼͓̇̉̇n̴̢̢̬̤̠̬̫̫̣͈͙̯͉̬͌̋̈́͋̇̅͘͜ͅs̸̨̧̛͇̗̙̰̼̯̞ thanks to you."
"Good." Karne knew that he still felt some echo of love for his House and siblings. But his family was with the Sith, and he would be far from useless to them.
"The Crucible of Failure." Thoren Smallwood said aloud as he stood before an archway, those words were inscribed across its top. He looked beyond the arch and saw… he wasn't sure what he saw. And he had just come from several days of camping in a cursed ruin surrounded by rapid wild men, experienced the entire life of a sorry Valeman that got Grayscale, then had to fight off ghastly cursed shades of dead Valyrian while being mocked by his own worst fears. So he had experienced some very strange things and this by far was the strangest.
Past the archway was a great cavern, clearly damaged by some sort of titanic battle. But in the middle was some sort of ritual site, an empty blackness in the shape of a triangle sat in the middle of the cavern with small altars built at each of the points. Above the darkness clinging to the floor was a shimmering line in the air, it trembled and vibrated like it was being contained and just at the point of opening up. Thoren gulped as he swore he saw something moving in the very thin split in the line. But then he looked down and saw a floating mask that pulsed with purple energy. It then gave off a rather large wave of energy and the line in space snapped completely shut and just almost became invisible with how thin it got.
Thoren wasn't sure what he was supposed to do here. The last test was pretty easy to understand, don't die. He walked forward into the cavern, assuming that something would happen. It was called the Crucible of Failure so he tried to think just what that could mean. As he was doing so, he approached the Mask of Revan and all of a sudden felt a pull on… something inside him. The Force felt like a billion eyes were on him, judging, waiting for him to do anything. Then all of that swirled into one condensed spot in front of the mask. Thoren watched as the darkness of the ritual site seeped out of its boundaries and crawled its way forward. Coalescing in a small basin in the floor. The Sith hopeful raised his Force Blade, a simple long sword of the classic Westerosi design with a bit thinner blade and a wider cross guard.
He watched as the darkness bubbled and spun, until small vines of that blackened surface started wrapping around each other until they began to form human legs, then a body, arms, and then the head. Color and more defined shapes started to form out of the darkness and Thoren's frown deepened and his eyes narrowed at the sight of his father standing before him. It had been years since he had seen his father, the brother of the Lord of Acorn Hill and a true and fervent servant of the realm. The last he saw his father was when he and several parents of Acolytes from the Riverlands visited Harrenhal, invited by Darth Nagash.
"My son." His voice however was far from the stern yet proud voice he recalled. While unmistakably his father's, it was garbled and distorted. And even its shape was somewhat twisted, the colors blended together in unnatural ways, like he had been painted on a mannequin. "How you disappoint me, you have failed in your duty to your very nature."
"Is that all you have falsehood? Empty words spoken in the voice of a great man." Thoren said unamused at this trickery. The last Crucible was more of a challenge than this. Thoren steadied his body and turned himself with the Force. Then shot forward, his feet guided by an air current created by his power in the Force. He held back his sword, ready to lob off the head of this imposter. With a battle cry he readied himself to finish the Crucibles and take his place as Sith. But then a loud clang rang in the cavern and Thoren's eyes went wide as he saw his blade stopped by the imposter's wrist. It's eyes never even glanced at the attempted beheading, they just kept staring down at him. It was only thanks to a premonition in the Force was he able to pull back before the impostor's free hand would have stabbed him in the gut.
"Your skills are not befitting you, they are wasted on a boy that has tarnished his blood." The impostor started walking forward, slowly and with purpose. Thoren was thrown off by the unexpected toughness of the enemy but he quickly recovered and took a more serious stance. The air began swirling around him, guided by his years of training his senses and presence in the Force. Thoren lifted off the ground and with a slight nudge to the side bolted to the side of the impostor. He rushed in and took another swing at the foe, then flipped back as he was reflected. The Acolyte became a whirlwind of strikes, always moving and trying to out maneuver this opponent. Him, Karne, Victarion, were at the top when it came to combat training. No one could compare to them. But even still, the impostor of his father reflected every single one of his swings all while standing still and with one hand. "Wasted potential. You could have been great, a new legend. But you had to sully yourself. Reduce yourself to the level of the dirty masses."
"Be quiet!" The words that had been spoken in the twisted version of his father's voice started to circle on one thing in particular. Thoren knew what it was but was determined to kill this abomination before it could go further. He jumped back and with his free hand sent forward a blast of pressurized air. It had more impact than a normal Force Push as it physically hit the target rather than just move them. The impostor just flung back to the ground, not even trying to avoid skidding across the rocky floor of the cavern. Thoren watched as once it had stopped completely, it simply stood back up and started walking toward him.
"To lay with a commoner, that is nothing. They are but subjects meant to be ruled over and it is our right to take from them as we desire. Be it their crops, their money or their bodies." It spoke and Thoren was growing angrier and angrier. He charged forward again, his power in the Force growing wilder and wilder as his Failure continued to get closer to striking at the heart. With growing speed and ferocity Thoren cut at every vital spot a human had, along with every critical weakness one could find to weaken a person. A flurry of attacks came down on the impostor, who for the most part deflected the attacks but also just let them carry out. His body seemingly being able to handle the strikes. It was once he noticed this that he jumped back.
"You're that tough all over, blocking my attacks as just been for show." He stared at the impostor trying to figure out what he should do. The impostor started walking toward him again and trying to buy more time to think, Thoren sent another air blast at it. The impostor was sent flying into the air but this time it effortlessly spun around and landed gracefully on its feet. Then without another reaction to what just happened, started its walk back to Thoren. This was different, why allow itself to be tossed about like a ragdoll one time and stop mid air the next. Thoren looked behind the impostor and saw the inky blackness of the ritual site. The answer clicked instantly and a plan was starting to form. "Go back to where you came from demon!" Putting all his strength into a focused air blast Thoren tried to hit the impostor with all the power he could, however this time the abomination jumped to the side and avoided the attack.
"You're a failure to your own blood, your status, your lineage. Tossed aside all the lessons I gave you, and forgone your birthright… all for a commoner girl."
"Shut up!" Thoren roared as he circled around the impostor so that his next air blast would correctly send it flying into the blackness from where it came. The rage and anger he was feeling fueling him, the Dark Side digging at the edges of his psyche. But the slimy feeling of the Dark Side on his mind sobered him and his training locked his emotions down. He retreated back, it might give his foe some distance between it and the pool of darkness, but he needed to reign himself in. "Will is the steel that controls our Minds." Thoren breathed in deep as he recited the first axiom of the Rule of Three Code.
"You'll never amount to anything son, you have already tainted yourself beyond redemption. This bestial love you feel for this commoner, it weakens you and pollutes your noble blood." Thoren thrusted his sword into the rocky floor and further calmed his mind. Closing his eyes he focused his hearing on the sound of slow, methodical steps of the impostor. He felt the Force, the natural flow it had in the air and how it felt for it to enter his body. He breathed out, and reached out to the Force and started his plan. He had attempted this many times with his friends in training but it never worked. But now, he will prove himself.
"You are nothing but a relic of shame and guilt in my soul. I know that I am superior but not because of my blood but the skill and talent I have worked to sharpen to a fine point." Thoren said before he grabbed a hold of the air that surrounded the impostor's feet and using it lifted it up into the air. It suddenly started to flail and try to free himself. It wasn't a Force User and so didn't have the normal Force Shield that all Force Users employ when they fight each other to prevent things like this but that wouldn't matter with this power. Thoren wasn't using the Force to lift the impostor into the air but he was controlling the air to do it for him. "I am Thoren Smallwood, and the blood in my veins belongs to me and me alone. And it will be by my blood that I ascend to greatness!" With that he pushed and carried the impostor back to the ritual site.
"̴̢̥̻̅̌̌͗́͋̿̄͛͝Ỳ̸̩̣͓̖͕̤̩̎̑͑͘͜Ȍ̴̳͎̗̌̇͝Ư̴̢̡̢̛̗̹͈̖̻͑͐͑͋͐̚͝ ̵̧̳̘̟̘͚̳͐̋͘Ǎ̸͇̕Ř̵̨̳̳̝̺̖͔̀͊͝E̴͇̺͔̰̺̋̔̎̏̑̋̌̀̾̃͝ ̷̪͎͇̏͋͊̇̓͒̈́͘̚͘͜Â̷͖̟̗͕̤̈̎ͅ ̸̪͕̬͉̲͇̹̳͔̥̓̎͗̏̈̔D̸̗͂̆̐͌̊͘̚I̵̢̧̝̠̘̦̣̘͋̀̒͆̂̌̾̌͋́̕S̸̡̨̛͈͓̣͓͕G̴̨͕͙̲̔̇̈́̎̄͗̐́R̵̨̡͓̹͎͇̮͎̊̔́̚͜A̵̞̥͎̠̻̘͕̦͍̐̏̑̅Ç̸̨̙̮̳̰̯̹͗̇̋̍̍͋̐̊E̷͇̍̆͗̈́̈́̋͌̈͠ ̷̱͈͔̖͓̗̏̊̈́̌͐͌͘͝͝B̷͉̯͎̗̥̟̭̤͗͗̍̐͘O̷͉̮̳͇͑͛̄̎͜Y̶̧̛͚̬̲̗͐͌͐̾͗́̀̆͑̓͜!̴͍̪͚̙̣̱̓̈́̈̓̓̒͜ ̸̨̢̛̛͖̱̜͖̦̭͚̄̉̈́͋͂͝Á̴͓̱̭͇̝̖͝ ̸̨̡͖̳̖̭͉̤̫́̔̔̂̒̋͘S̴̮̈́̽͑̅̔͐̔T̸̨͓͓̳͎̱͖̥̓̋̄͐̚͘A̸̡̢̭͉̜̙̠̼͑͝I̴̲̯̳̿̽̍̒͂͆ͅN̸̞̼͖̉̔ ̷̦̙̳̜̲̪͕̳̂̒̈̈́̏͜ͅŬ̴̡̪̲̭͔̰͇̞̦̗̲̔͘͠P̶̧̠͖̫̫̩̞͔̔͌͐͆̒͂̆̚̚Ò̷̢̭̭̹̲͖͍̈́̅̋̎N̸̤͇͒ ̸̳̬̪̈̎̒̄͂̆̿̀͂͛͘T̴̛̞̬̮͔̞͙̼͎̀͊̆̑͐͗͂̚͘H̷̙͐̈E̷̛̘̠̭͇̒́͋̒̀̐̄͝ ̸̨̛̤̝̙͎̮̤̠͌͗͊͛͋͛͝ͅN̵͇̣͇̟͙̺̜̜̜̓̈̑͜Ȁ̸̡͚̭̥̽̃͠M̶̢͓̫̤̠̫̋͂̒́̀͜E̴͇̳̼͊̕ ̵̘̱͉̃̓͂̎Ớ̴̘̌̈́͆̐̂͊̉͘F̸̦͂̈̾̽ ̵̧̘̮̏S̵͙͈̃͐̑̅̌̿͠M̶̛̭̮̣̜̖͍̠̒Ȧ̶͕̠̻̹̺̒̑̒̿L̷̼̿̉̆͑̽̀̈́͂͘̕͠L̴͉̺̳̱̖̳͔̠͇͋̓̔̒͂̈́̔́͒͜Ẃ̷̬̋̾̇͂Ọ̷̢̙͇̜̣̖̺̦̈́̍̎̓̄̄̉͘̕̚̕O̸̡̯̰̪̗͊̉́͊̎̕͝͝Ḑ̵̲͔̗̬̭̱̻̫͂̿̏͐͌̎̅̈́͛̄!̵̧̺̞̠̹̖̗̩̘̆̃̈́͗͜͝" The impostor screamed before it was flung down into the darkness it came from. It didn't splash, but phase back in without a sound or ripple in the blackness.
Thoren dropped to his knees, holding onto his sword for support. Had he done it? Had he passed the Crucible of Failure. In his mind and heart he wasn't sure but was he damn happy to not have that thing in his vision anymore. Thoren looked up, and then his eyes widened as fire started forming in the air. He stood back up and pulled his sword up and ready for whatever might come next. But then the fire started to spell out words.
Kneel before the mask of Revan, the First Sith to Find Balance.
Meditate on the lessons learned in your Crucibles.
Under the gaze of Revan, commune with the Force.
The fire burned away once Thoren finished reading it, and he turned his gaze to the mask that was floating in front of the ritual site. He carefully walked over to the center of the cavern and slowly kneeled in front of the T-shaped mask that was unlike any mask that Thoren had seen. The young man assumed that it must be important, how important he didn't know but he lowered his head in respect to the artifact. He sat in silence, and let the Force weave around him as he reflected on what had happened in his time on and under Valyrian soil. He survived the savagery of the Stone Men, and then learned to pity them as he understood their suffering. The fears he had were brought to the surface, the idea that he would fail in his pursuit for glory and amount to nothing but mediocrity. Then lastly, being confronted by his failure to his father's belief that blood matters above all other things. The tests were designed to challenge a person on what they believed themselves to be.
Thoren continued to meditate on the Force but found it lacking. There wasn't some great vision or revelation. And he was disappointed in that. But that wasn't something he could control. The Force was still above all and owed no one anything. So with a sigh of defeat Thoren opened his eyes and stood back up. He looked around and spotted a small door that hadn't been there prior.
Jadith climbed the stairs out into the light of a sunrise. She was on a cliff that overlooked the Valyrian city, it was a breathtaking sight. And welcome things of beauty to behold after the emotionally stressful Crucibles. The low born young woman smiled and committed the sight to memory before turning away from it.
There was a cobblestone path that led past a small cave, in it she saw a small gravestone and briefly wondered whose it might be. A Valyrian king or perhaps someone close to Darth Nagash. She supposed she would never get an answer and continued walking. The cobblestone path continued down off the back side of the cliff face and eventually led to a lagoon where the ship that brought them all to these lost lands was waiting at a small pier. It was off in the distance, probably an hour's walk and so she had time to reflect.
She thought about all she had been through to get to this moment… then moved over to what she might get for a meal when she got back to the ship. She had been living off berries and small rodents when roughing it in the first Crucible and hadn't had anything since she started the second which was several hours ago. She was ready for a real meal for a change. Her mind then wondered about just who else passed their tests. She supposed that she would find out once she reached the ship. She could see several of the overseers standing at the entrance to the pier as she approached. Once they noticed her they began moving, looking like they were getting the ship ready.
"Wait… does that mean I'm last!" She yelled as the realization came to her. Jadith sulked the rest of the way and up the gangplank to the ship where everyone else was waiting. But then she perked up at seeing that there were two people missing. But then the sound of the crew pulling the gangplank back up broke that theory.
"Wait! Berth still hasn't arrived!" She watched as Puff shouted at the crew. But a sickening feeling in her stomach told her why they were leaving now. Everyone was here, she was the last to pass. "You can't-" Puff was about to grab one of the crew members when his hand was caught by Victarion.
"He didn't make it, don't dishonor his effort by throwing a tantrum." Victarion said in an uncharacteristic show of compassion even if he still sounded like an angry bear while doing it.
"Both Acolyte Berth and Dolten have fallen in their Crucibles. Both their remains shall be burned and their ashes returned to their families." They all looked up to see Darth Nagash descend down the stairs to the main deck floor. A sullen silence fell over them all, even those that didn't consider themselves friends with the fallen still felt saddened by their loss. They had all lived with each other for years, seen each other every day… it was a hard thing to know they would never see them again. "But such is the risk that all of you took when you agreed to step onto those shores. You knew the danger, you had the training, and you gave it your best. Honor the memory of the fallen by living as you wished they could."
"What is dead may never die." Victarion said and while none of the rest were Iron Born, they felt the same sentiment.
"What is dead may never die." Darth Nagash repeated with a nod, then smiled to show it was time to move on with the celebration. "You have all passed your Crucibles. No longer Acolytes but Neophytes, the next step would be to find a Master to apprentice under but… seeing as we have only two that would qualify, myself and Rathari. Things are going to be a bit tricky."
"But we are Sith… right?" Jadith spoke up, as the titles she heard meant little and to be honest sounded pretty much the same.
"Yes, you are all Sith. We will be having a ceremony to properly induct you all into the Order once we return to Harrenhal. But for now understand that just because you are Sith does not mean that you are at the end of your studies. In truth that will never end, but for Neophytes it is your job to grow and learn until your master, in the current situation that would be me and Instructor Rathari, deems you worthy of a Sith title. For the Sect of Morgoth that is a Sith Reaver, and for the Sect of Manwë that is a Sith Paladin. Once you have reached that, you will be granted full agency within the order but also be expected to start taking more responsibilities."
"Still feels like we're just Acolytes." Thoren complained as he stepped forward. The others nodded their heads in agreement.
"Well, you get to keep your Force weapons. You'll get an allowance, your own quarters in the Sect Tower of the Sect you will be joining, and myself and Rathari will give you access to a Holocron library where you can learn more Sith Lore, powers, Force Alchemy, and training." That seemed to get their attention a bit more. The newly made Neophytes knew that they still were learning a great deal, and also knew that someday they would be the first to become Masters of the order. As back when Darth Nagash first assembled the Acolytes, he told them that they would be creating the new culture of the Order. They assumed that this would be a bit more controlled by Darth Nagash at this level but were still all excited to leave their marks on the next generations. "And I've told you all before, but leave behind that petty kid shit. I don't care if you still hang out with your old friends but you are above that. You are Sith, we must remain together if we are to survive."
"Don't worry, I'm willing to work with Viki if he's willing to." Mysa smirked at Victarion who growled a bit but said nothing about the nickname.
"The past is the past, just don't get in my way." He responded with others mummering their agreement to put aside old rivalries… at least in public and in front of Darth Nagash. The man himself just Hmm'ed like he didn't believe any of the shit he was being served but said nothing more on the topic.
"Once we return, I will be taking you lot on a little trip that will put your place among everything into a little more perspective. Until then, I suggest you enjoy your accomplishment. Oh… and don't tell those that will be leaving the Sith Order what you went through." He said and everyone looked at him a little confused. And then it finally hit them, that they all were the ones that would be staying. And the others likely had a totally different test… one that was probably extremely easy. Meaning that the Sith that were leaving would be subpar. They all decided that it would best not to underestimate their leader's abilities to plan ahead.
"Can we get food now?"
Author's Notes
So here we had the Crucibles. Next chapter will deal with the Neophytes and their graduation. Along with some other fun stuff but mostly jut some more information on how things have been going in the Time Skip.
Reviews
victorsan12345 - I don't think I was very clear on that sorry. Jaesa is just with Naraiz, she's firmly just with him but is still wild and likes to party. Drinking, killing, all sorts of fun except having sex with strange men and women. The real change in Jaesa is that its a controlled Chaos now, she no longer feels the need to run wild haphazardly. She's now able to stop and disengage if she feels she needs to. Sorry if it was a bit confusing.
Kulha - I just disagree with you, simple as that
AO Black - Naraiz will be doing that and a bit more.
darthwolf - Tasn can't get pregnant, they are just Force energy. Like Force Ghosts but solid.
Guest - I have a few Temps for the Clones and the Mountain is not one of them but his genes will be used for the Astartes project.