Disclaimer: Don't own SW or SWTOR. They belong to Disney, Lucasfilm, and Bioware, not me.
Death surrounded the boy as his knees were buried deep in the snow. Lying in the frozen wasteland of Ziost were the fallen soldiers of the Sith, who fought and died for their emperor. Their black armored and robed forms lied in frozen graves with the enemies: Mandalorian armor, Jedi robes and even the uniforms of rebellious Sith. And he, a boy no older than fifteen standard years, sat in the center of it.
Ziost's cold winds scattered snowflakes on his black robes and his crimson skin, a sign of his Sith Pureblood heritage. His face was frozen stiff as if encased in carbonite. Tears fell from his eyes, which he focused on a single Pureblooded Sith lying before him. A century of that Sith's life was extinguished in a moment as the shock of defeat marred his crimson face, as the smoking hole of a lightsaber burn penetrated through the dark breastplate of his armor.
Grief filled the Sith boy. Staring back at him were lifeless eyes of the emperor of the Sith; his father. The emperor, who manipulated the Mandalorian Wars and ruled the Sith, lied dead on the snow.
A man's voice broke through the seemingly deafening silence. "What do you have to report?"
"The Sith have gone into retreat," said another man, his voice filtered by a helmet. "All their dead have been taken into account already. Their casualties are higher than ours."
"Any survivors?"
"None," came from the filtered voice.
There was a brief moment of silence, as if contemplating something, before the questioner asked, "What about your prisoner?"
This time, a woman's voice–soft yet with command–emerged as she answered, "We found him at the Sith camp. We brought him here for you to see."
Finally, the boy rose teary eyes to the living beings standing around him. One of them was a woman in Jedi robes while another wore gray Mandalorian armor. Each stood off to either side, avoiding any notice from the Sith boy. His eyes were focused on the two beings standing right before him.
One was a man, dressed in a black cloak and his hood covered his head and red Mandalorian mask. Through the black visor, the boy saw pity and sadness in his eyes, which could not be said for the massive figure next to him. The bald head of a Sith Pureblood stuck out from his black armor and cape, a snarl etched on his crimson face and cheek tendrils, and his red eyes burned with relief at the corpse before him. The other, the boy did not know his name. What he knew was that this was no real Sith Lord. He was a traitor to his own kind, a traitor to his emperor.
The young Sith recognized the other man immediately; Revan, the famed Jedi who discovered the Sith Empire, the one who defeated the Mandalorians and turn on the Sith he made…
… the one who killed his father.
Anger welled inside of the boy. His mind was filled with unadulterated rage. He wanted to let it out, but he stopped. For all of his anger, he knew his limits. He could lash out and attack, and all four of his captors would overwhelm him. So, the young Sith just glared at his father's killer and the traitor.
The Jedi woman's voice broke through the silence, "What should we do with him?"
The Sith traitor, who had remained silent, finally spoke, "We know what to do." A familiar snap-hiss rang from the traitor. The boy did nothing as the traitor's swung his red lightsaber down.
Another lightsaber turned on and its green blade met Scourge's red. "No, Scourge!" Revan shouted as smacked the blade away.
Outrage replaced the shock across Scourge's face. "You can't let him live!" Scourge pointed his blade at the boy. "If you do, he will come back and attack the Republic!"
"I said no!" Revan did not deter as he deactivated his lightsaber. "There's been enough death for today. I will not add more blood on my hands!" With that said, he took his leave.
The boy saw Scourge's own lightsaber die away before he was face-to-face with the traitor's disapproving snarl. "He's spared your life, boy," Scourge said, his breath touching the young Sith's face. "I suggest you don't throw it away, and get out of here."
With that, Scourge backed away and left with the Mandalorian and the Jedi woman close behind him. The son of the fallen Sith emperor watched the trio follow Revan away from the battlefield and to their allies. No doubt, they expected some celebrations for their victory.
But the boy knew their victory was short-lived. He would return and take his father's place. All would tremble before him and all who wronged him would pay.
The name of his first target was burnt into the Sith's mind: Scourge…
…
Yellow eyes snapped open as the crackle of thunder awoke him from his meditation. Under the shadow of his hood, he saw not the snowy tundra of Ziost, but gray walls and the emptiness of a vast chamber. It took the emperor a moment to recollect his thoughts. He was not on Ziost but in his throne room on Dromund Kaas.
He rested against his throne, the black metal pressing against his dark robes. As a boy, he witnessed the Sith Empire fall to a single Jedi and his army. That was three centuries ago. Now, as the emperor, he engineered the return of the Sith Empire, his empire, to the galaxy, and the Sith waged war against the Republic.
Sadly, there were setbacks. Both sides frivolously fought in this 'Great Galactic War' only to squander their resources with no clear victor in sight. That was to change. The emperor's Dark Council offered a peace treaty and the Republic, the fools they were, willingly accepted. Yet the Sith fleet had been ordered to take Coruscant as ransom. The Republic would be forced to sign the treaty, and then, peace would follow.
The emperor almost snarled. Peace. Though a hateful thought, the emperor knew it was the only way. Attacking Coruscant would shatter his enemies, but they would eventually recover and attack with greater resolve. His empire needed to time to rebuild its strength and could not afford any more obstructions.
The emperor's mind was brought back to reality as the entrance to his throne room opened. A man strode through the double doors, wearing the familiar red armor of the Imperial Guard, specifically the armor of the Guard's captain.
The captain bowed. "My lord emperor."
Yellow eyes fell upon the man. "What is it?" The emperor hardly recognized his own voice for a second as the echoes replaced his boyish high-pitch.
The captain clasped his hands behind his back. "The treaty has been signed, my emperor. Lords Malgus and Angral are returning from Coruscant. Darth Baras is returning from Alderaan as well."
The emperor let the new information to sink in and softly exhaled. "Very well. Leave me."
The captain gave his master one bow and left the throne room. The two other Imperial guards, who opened double doors, closed them behind the captain with a loud bang echoing across the throne room.
Alone, the emperor closed his eyes and immersed himself in the Dark Side. It coalesced around him as he extended his senses past the walls of his citadel to outside, to Kaas City. There, the emperor saw his subjects scurrying about on the streets and ignoring the rain.
There was loyalty from his people. He used that loyalty against the Jedi and Republic. It could be used again, and the emperor would use them against the Republic, the Jedi, and all who opposed him. And he would have his revenge.
He just had to be patient...
Soft whirls and bleeps of ancient machinery echoed throughout the chamber. A dim lighting spread out and fell onto the zigzagging walkways and planks. One of them stretched across to the center, where a line of computers circled around a vat.
There, a woman leaned against a console and waited as she had been for the past several standard minutes. Unlike her Iridonian compatriot, who spent his time at a terminal, she had little to do.
She pushed a lock of her long red hair off the shoulder of her Jedi robe. "How much longer is he going to take?"
"Not long," the Iridonian answered in a soft and calm tone.
"Well, let's hope so. All this waiting won't do us good if he won't show up."
At that, the Iridonian spared a small smile. "Whatever happened to patience, Master Sunrider?"
She snorted. "Being the new grandmaster doesn't mean I have to act like it all the time. Besides, Revan wanted us here for something."
Not a moment later, the entrance slid open with a loud clank and thud. Both Jedi turned to see a familiar cloaked figure walking towards them. The long cape dragging behind as his footsteps echoed loudly on the grated floor.
The Jedi were met with the Mandalorian mask. "Bao-Dur, Vima," Revan nodded to the Iridonian and human respectively.
"General," Bao-Dur regarded his former commanding officer.
Vima got off the console. "Revan," she greeted with a nod.
"I had some things to take care of first,"
"Bastila giving you a hard time?" Vima teased with a light grin.
"Not as hard as you think." They knew Revan was smiling beneath his mask, if only slightly.
The light attitude dropped when Revan stared past the two and at the large vat. "How is she doing?"
Bao-Dur turned back to his terminal and checked the readings. "She's fine, for now. I've been monitoring her life signs as often as I can. T3 has been a great help with that."
"But you're not here for her," Vima cut in, her eyes staring at her fellow Jedi before her. "Something's happened, hasn't it?"
"Astute as ever," Revan said with a monotone that brought concern. "I've received word from Mandalore. A few of his scouts have reported a small fleet of ships gathering around Rishi."
Alarm rang in Bao-Dur and Vima. They did not show it, but Bao-Dur glanced over and inquired, "Do you think it's them?"
"It is them, alright, and they're after me." Revan paused before he said, "I have to face them. I've already talked with Juhani and few others. They've agreed to come with me."
"Take me with you," Bao Dur said.
"Me too," Vima agreed. "You'll need all the help you can get."
Revan held out a hand. "No. I have more than enough to fight them. I need you both to stay here. You, Bao-Dur, will wait and watch over her."
"But…"
"That's an order," Revan cut Bao-Dur off and turned to Vima. "And the Jedi Order will need you, Vima. It hasn't fully recovered from the Sith Triumvirate… Besides, I don't think our friend here wouldn't like to know if her former master was killed." To that, Revan gestured to the vat.
Vima crossed her arms and frowned. "Then, what do you expect us to do? Just sit and wait for the enemy to come to us?"
"Yes."
Vima was taken aback by the straight answer, allowing Revan to continue. "Sometime in the future, the enemy will return to Known Space. I don't know how long it will be. Decades, maybe centuries–whenever it is, the Sith will return and the Jedi must be ready."
After several moments, Vima conceded. "Alright, I'll stay, but it'll be difficult. You know everyone will want to know where you've ran off to. What should I tell them?"
"Tell them I'm chasing after a few visions."
"And Bastila?"
Revan stopped. "Tell her to not wait for me," he said softly before slowly walking away...
…
As the image faded into the holocron, Satele leaned in her seat and sighed. She stared at the holocron on her desk intently, wonder what she had seen for the past two hours.
Satele sat and watched scenes of past Jedi talking and planning for the future. It was a wonder to watch, and learning more of her famous ancestor would have been fascinating if not for the vat. The same one retrieved from Nar Shadda with the recordings.
A living being, a Jedi, trapped inside a vat of kolto to preserve her body and mind. Satele would have considered it unfathomable if she was a Padawan, but she wasn't. She was a grandmaster of the Jedi Order, and she had to find a way to release the Jedi from her sleep.
Sadly, Satele was not learning fast enough. With the renewed war between the Republic and the Sith Empire, she had little time to study the recordings and formulate battle plans. If only there was a way to open the vat, then maybe…
Footsteps brought Satele to the entrance. She saw a familiar woman entering her bed chamber. "Ah, Master Yuon! I didn't see you," she said to the woman.
"Master Shan." Yuon, Lyrana Marr's former mentor, gave a small bow. Noticing the holocron, she inquired, "Have you learned anything?"
"A little, but I'm afraid it's not enough. There's little I can find out the Jedi in the tank." Satele glanced back. "We still don't know who she is?"
"Lord Scourge still hasn't given any information. He continues to say that his input would not help anything."
Satele withheld another sigh. While she appreciated the help from Windu's Sith ally, his unwilling attitude was information. "How is the Jedi doing?" Sateke asked, hoping to change the subject.
"She seems to be stabilized for now, but there is something else you must know." The lines under Yuon's eyes creased with worry. "Master Kaeden has reported from Ilum. He says the Sith fleet has arrived… Malgus is with them."
Satele was silent for a few moments. "Very well, I'll talk with Master Kaeden," she finally said. "Be sure to let me know if anything happens."
After Yuon left, Satele sat there in silence. The Jedi Grandmaster contemplated on the news.
Ilum. The Sith were certainly getting bolder, if they were gathering at one of the Jedi's most sacred places. The same could have been said of the Republic with reports of more forces on worlds like Balmorra. It wouldn't be long before the war got out of hand. Satele hoped to stop the war before that happened.
Silently, Satele rose and left her chambers. Her research would have to wait.
The dark cloak fell over the grass, coveting them from the pouring rain. Grunts and pounding fists of Mandalorian training went ignored as a line of footprints trailed from the muddy floor up the metal ramp.
As he entered the complex, Revan sighed inside his mask. It had been several years since the last time he was on Dxun. The old Mandalorian camp was still around and was occupied by Mandalorians as it had been during the Mandalorian Wars. Unlike their brethren, the new Mandalorians served under a new Mandalore. And Revan needed them now as he did, fifteen years ago.
A series of light technical whirls caught Revan's attention. He continued his long stride into the complex's gray metal until he came across a bunch of computer terminals, shining the only source of light on the metal.
Revan saw Mandalore the Preserver at the terminal, his helmed head turning away the computer screen. "I was wondering when you would show up," Mandalore said to the approaching Jedi. ""
Revan wasted no time when he reached his friend. "Has there been any news?"
Revan could see the stern stare under Mandalore's T-shaped visor. "My scouts just came back from the fringe systems," Mandalore answered. "They found the missing Republic ships. They were destroyed and most of the crew were killed. The marks on their bodies… well, you can guess."
Revan grimaced under his mask. So, they started their approach. "Did they find the Sith?"
"They did. They fought hard, but my men fought harder. They made it back with the survivors."
The pride was obvious, even without the Force, but Revan could sense something else. Sadness, regret. It was not hard to guess where it came from.
"What about Mira?" Revan asked, barely able to hide his concern. "Did she make it out?"
Mandalore silently bowed his head in respect. His fears confirmed, Revan bowed his head as well. Mira had been one of the few connections left to Meetra. She trained to become much more than the bounty she had been, and she did. By the time Revan return, the young woman was a fully trained Jedi Knight. Now, she was gone.
Revan finally spoke. "How did she die?"
"She stayed behind," Mandalore answered. "She helped the rest of my men escape and fought off the Sith… She died like a true Mandalorian."
Revan's mask hid his sad smile. Mira wouldn't have liked to hear that but it did not matter. There was a more mortifying truth behind the new. Mira fell at the hands of a returning enemy. The emperor's son and his growing army…
The red mask met the relic adorning Mandalore's face. "We need to move," Revan said. "It won't be long before the Sith will try to head for Known Space."
Mandalore did not hesitate. "And I'll gather as many Mandalorians as I can. We'll head out to meet with the Sith."
"Canderous," Revan said, addressing his old friend by his name, "This will be too dangerous. We probably won't come back from this, and the Mandalorians will need their leader."
To that, Mandalore snorted. "I'm an old warrior. If I die, it'll be on my own terms, and you know I'll follow you, Revan, no matter what."
Revan held a sigh. He should have known better than to convince Mandalore, a veteran of both the Mandalorian Wars and the Jedi Civil War. The others already said the same thing, and Mandalore was more loyal than most.
"Be ready, then. We have much to do," Revan said before leaving him…
…
Meetra's eyes snapped open. They fell on the ancient metal of the Mandalorian complex, rusting and cracked from the centuries of abandonment. With the computers long dead, only natural light flooded into the chamber.
Meetra's lips thinned with frustration. She learned how to use the Force to search for memories of the past, much like the Kiffar's psychometry. The vision, however, was too short to find any answers. There was little about Revan, about the Sith, even about Mandalore. Things that she did not already knew.
Sadly, there was one thing Meetra learned from it: Mira. The fiery headed woman was a fine Jedi, one of her many pupils, Meetra remembered, despite her rather 'humble' beginnings as a bounty hunter.
Another hole dug into Meetra's heart. After three centuries, Mira would have been long dead, like the others. However, Meetra knew about Mira's death for a while, even before her imprisonment.
"Her death will occur in many years time on a forgotten planet, saving the lives of others. But it will be her choice, and she will have no regrets."
Meetra stopped herself from frowning. The prophecy of her final teacher echoed in her ears as it did on that day on Malachor V. Now, it became a reality. Mira fell to the Sith, barely fighting them back, and it had been in vain.
A soft sigh left Meetra as she stood and left the complex. The rumbling thunder grew louder with every step through the Mandalorian camp.
It was not the same since Meetra visited, centuries ago. The gray metal of hangar bays and bunkers were weathered down by the constant rain and wing, the training grounds were abandoned by the Mandalorian trainees, and even the air remained silent withouth the whirls of computer terminals and the main generator. Bodies of Mandalorians were everywhere, the armors as empty as the camp they resided in and their bones fed to Dxun's carnivorous beasts.
The Ebon Hawk stood in the center of it all. Though as ancient as the camp itself, the ship looked new with its cleaner hull, save for a few scratches here and there. While Meetra took slow steps to the ship, large footsteps echoed down the ramp.
"Anything?" Scourge's voice followed as the former Wrath got off the ramp.
Meetra shook her head, dejected. "Nothing."
She did not need the Force to know Scourge's rising ire. "This is getting tiresome!" he scowled, and kicked a Mandalorian helmet aside.
"We can't give up, Scourge," Meetra said. "There has to be something. Something Revan might have left for us to find…"
Scourge cut her off. "We've been searching for months. Dantooine, even Manaan. There's nothing left in any of the places we've looked." He looked around. "Let alone here."
Meetra let out a soft sigh. She would not let Scourge completely win this round, but he was right. The search gave no answers about Revan–nothing they didn't already know, that is.
"Did we get any calls?" she asked, hoping to changing the subject.
"Actually, yes. The council called in while you were away."
Meetra raised a surprised eyebrow. "Really? What did they say?"
"They believe the new emperor is planning something," Scourge replied with tight lip. "What, they won't say. They want us to figure out what is it."
That was no surprise. The new emperor, the former Darth Nox, had been largely successful against the Republic and the rebellious Dark Council. Something must have been serious if he was planning for another assault. The Jedi Council, themselves, kept their secrets close after finding out that one of their own was a servant of the old emperor.
Finally, Meetra asked, "So, where are we heading?"
To that, Scourge simply grunted, "Belsavis."
AN: Man, this was a trip down memory lane. If anyone has seen some of my SW fics, then you might know about my attempt at a rewrite/AU of SWTOR game. Basically, changing the backstory and lore so that it respects both KotOR games (which didn't happen seeing how most of the companions were swept under the rug, and the Jedi Exile and Revan themselves were not given fair treatment-another sign of what was to happen under Disney and shows that even EU screws itself over).
Anyway, I was unhappy with my writing style at the time, so I tried rewriting it. Then, rewriting it again. Then, again and again and so on. I don't think what I had in mind for the story was bad-just that my writing wasn't good and I kept on tinkering with things here or there (especially when I wanted to change the setting to make it feel more ancient) that nothing got done. Eventually, I just put it aside. Still, what you see above are what would've been the prologues for each of my TOR AU trilogy. Kinda glad I never wrote it out because I'd probably get stuck more in this god-awful franchise and fandom. Anyway, take care.
Raika out.