Introductions – 3662.189 BY
Tentatively Zanleya approached the gathered group of acolytes, trying as best she could not to show fear or trepidation. This was her first day of proper training at the Sith Academy on Korriban and she was understandably nervous. She had spent the last year under the tutelage of Darth Kharvak, time he had spent teaching her about the Sith and allowing her to get into physical shape for the trials ahead. Years of slavery had not been kind to her, but now, at last, it was time for her to truly embark upon the path that Kharvak had set before her, the journey to becoming Sith. Likewise, the other individuals on the sand before her were here to try and carve out their own destinies. The group consisted of a wide variety of beings, alien and not, male and female. At their head and facing them stood overseer Harkun, a human clad in light armour with a peculiar red tattoo over his right eye.
"Good, that's the last of you miserable akk dogs," Harkun stated as she took her place with the others. Casting a glance back she saw Darth Kharvak stood on a gantry above them. As usual, he was wearing his black plate armour, the Imperial insignia embossed on the left breast plate. His burning orange eyes were scrutinizing the other acolytes, assessing and judging them all. He turned his gaze upon her and gave a barely perceptible nod and hastily she turned away, giving her attention back to her new overseer.
"Welcome to the Academy. It is my job to pick out which of you sorry lot are worthy of becoming Sith… although by the look of it that could be a hard job," he sneered, hands clasped behind his back. Zanleya let her gaze wander over the gathered acolytes, there were eighteen others, the majority clad in simple grey tunics. A few were in tattered rags, clearly those lucky enough to be picked out from amongst the many slaves of the Empire. Two of the aspiring acolytes wore fancier garb, one in light armour another in grey hooded robes, unsurprisingly they were both Sith purebloods. She suspected they came from prestigious families and that their parents had sent them to Korriban to train. The other rather noticeable individual was a human female clad in white, like herself she had conspicuous bright red hair; Zanleya guessed her to be only a few years her senior. Zanleya herself was dressed in a basic grey acolytes robe, light enough to prevent her from overheating beneath Korriban's merciless sun but sufficient to protect her pale skin. Any further examinations of the group she might have carried out were cut short by more insults from Harkun.
"Some of you may think you're special, or that you're tough, or that you deserve to be here… but let me tell you now, the majority of you are worthless until you prove otherwise. I've seen scores of scum like you and I shall go on to see scores more… and I can't say you look any less disappointing than the rest. Well, most of you at least. We do thankfully have two true Sith amongst us so at least when the rest of you die I'll still feel like I've accomplished something," he went on, his harsh voice dripping with contempt. "These are Jandra and Anral Merrek, pay attention because they are what a true Sith looks like," he said gesturing to the two purebloods, first to the one in armour then to the one in robes.
"Sadly I can't just let the purebloods loose on you and be done with it, I need to at least try to train you first and so that is what I am going to do," Harkun stated. Zanleya noticed out of the corner of her vision the white clad acolyte narrow her eyes at Harkun.
"I shall try to teach you basic combat and how to use the force to deceive your foes. Overseer Tremel, who you shall meet later, will set your trials and teach you the ways of the Sith. Tremel has already told me great things about Anral so while I doubt that you can follow in his footsteps you can at least wallow in his glory," Harkun explained, indicating the pureblood in robes. Zanleya examined him, whilst trying to make it look like she was not doing so. His skin was a bright scarlet and his hair deep red. Small fleshy tendrils, characteristic of his species, hung from his chin and cheeks. He seemed to sense he was being examined though and his head snapped round, his pale blue eyes meeting her inquisitive gaze and forcing her to look away.
"I won't bother getting my expectations up, but if any of you actually excel then you can hope that one of the true Lords of the Sith will deign to take you on as their apprentice. Although evidently one of you doesn't have to worry about that," Harkun stated, now turning his gaze to Zanleya. She put on a defiant face as most of the group turned to regard her with looks ranging from envy to derision.
"For now, I shall at least try to get you ready for your trials," Harkun said in mock resignation. He spun and swept off without another word, stalking across the rusty red sand of the training grounds. There was a moment's pause, the gathered acolytes still unnerved by the rather brutal introduction. Anral however strode after the overseer with barely a pause and the rest quickly followed. Harkun led them to an open area with a series of padded training dummies against one rune covered wall and a rack of training staffs besides them, which he waved to.
"Take one, I shall attempt to teach you some of Shii-Cho… that's form one for all you uneducated slaves. This is the first and most basic form of lightsaber combat. Whilst it is rarely used in actual lightsaber duels it's a good place to start… not that I expect many of you will ever get to use a lightsaber," Harkun lectured. Obediently the acolytes each took a staff and instinctively formed a pair of rows in front of the overseer. Zanleya ended up next to Anral and the Sith threw her a look of barely concealed disdain.
"Now, there are six body zones in Shii-Cho and attacks should be diagonal strikes. Hold your staffs in front of you like this…" Harkun began. Soon Zanleya and her peers were lost to the world of bladesmanship as Harkun began to teach them the basics. Darth Kharvak had not deemed it worth his while educating her in the art of combat, stating that he would leave that up to her overseers once she joined a cohort of acolytes in the Academy proper. Instead she had spent the last year learning Sith philosophy, history and turning her malnourished body into one capable of enduring upon Korriban. As a result she was as much in the dark as the other former slaves when it came to stances and proper form. Anral on the other hand appeared to already have quite a foundation in lightsaber techniques and when she thought he was not looking she would check how he was moving and attempt to copy him. It was hard going though, particularly as she had never had any form of combat training before.
"Right, that's enough of that you spineless bogwings! Let us see if you've learnt anything," Harkun snapped a couple of hours later. "Pair off with the acolyte next to you, first to disarm their opponent wins, I don't care how you do it, just no force powers." The group of acolytes stopped their drills, relaxing aching weapon arms and turned to one another.
"Wait, shouldn't we pair up with somebody of our own stature?" A female yellow skinned twi'lek objected. Zanleya turned her head to see that the unfortunate girl had been paired off with a hulking rattataki.
"No… that's not what I said… why would you want that?" Harkun said slowly, his eyes narrowing menacingly. Zanleya almost winced as the twi'lek responded, knowing full well that the girl should have shut her mouth.
"To make it fair!" The twi'lek retorted crossly. Harkun scowled and held out his right hand, the unfortunate twi'lek was wrenched from her feet and shot across the training ground to halt abruptly at his outstretched hand. He clasped her by the throat, legs dangling in mid-air a look of shock and terror writ upon her face.
"Well, it may have escaped your notice, wretch, but life isn't fair," Harkun hissed, but loud enough that all the rest of the acolytes could hear. "And if you dare answer back to me again, I shall throw you into the wilds with both of your dainty little hands severed and strung around your neck, understand?" Petrified, the girl just stared at him, her eyes wide in fright and her mouth unable to form words.
"Now, go and duel Traz," Harkun snapped, dropping her at his feet. She collapsed in a quivering heap, limbs visibly shaking. "Get to it then you worthless maggots and make sure you show some respect to your superiors!" A slightly more anxious group of acolytes turned to each other. Zanleya felt a slight twist of nervous apprehension in her stomach, she turned to her left but the acolyte on that side had already paired off. Reluctantly she instead turned right to Anral, not somebody she wished to duel.
"So, you're Kharvak's little protégé are you?" Anral queried. He held his staff at the ready, both hands gripped close to the base as if it were a lightsaber. "You don't look like much."
"Then that gives me the advantage of surprise," Zanleya retorted hotly, copying his stance. Anral gave a short bark of laughter in response.
"You have spirit, I'll give you that," he stated. "It'll almost be a shame to see you mulched."
"Those who accept the power of the dark side must also accept the challenge of holding on to it," Zanleya quoted. "I don't plan on failing that challenge." She adopted the ready stance of Shii-Cho.
"I know that line, who said it?" Anral queried, lowering his weapon a fraction and frowning as he searched his memory.
"Darth Revan," Zanleya answered.
"Yes, yes that's it. Huh, I'm impressed. Perhaps you're not just another worthless acolyte after all," he mused nodding his head thoughtfully. "At least you seem to be more knowledgeable than the rest of this rabble."
"Anral stop admiring that girl and start beating her! She's too young for you anyway!" Harkun's voice yelled from somewhere to their left. Anral snarled in response and swung his staff at Zanleya, swiping down in a vicious strike. Zanleya was so startled by his sudden change in attitude that she barely managed to block the attack. The pureblood pressed his advantage, striking left then right, forcing her to parry as fast as she could. The force of his blows jarred her arms; he was quite a few years older than her and substantially stronger. After deflecting a leg strike she just about managed to make a counter attack, swinging at Anral's chest, but he merely batted her staff aside and swiftly struck her right wrist. She cried out in pain and dropped the staff, shaking her stinging wrist. Anral pulled his next swing, but held his staff at the ready.
"Better!" Harkun shouted. Rubbing her injured wrist Zanleya retrieved her staff and took a few paces back from Anral, then assumed the ready stance once more. If the contest had been to recount where Shii-Cho came from she would have been well equipped. She knew from her studies that it was the first lightsaber form invented and was actually designed by the Jedi whilst they were still using solid weapons, as opposed to the modern lightsaber. However, such theoretical knowledge was of little use to her against a real opponent.
Anral attacked again, this time with more measured blows, chopping diagonally and aiming at her wrists with the intent of disarming her. Bringing to the front of her mind the last few hours of training Zanleya attempted to put what she had learnt into practice. Unfortunately for her, there was a substantial difference between being told and shown how something worked and actually doing it oneself. It did not take many moments before Anral disarmed her again, this time by striking her shoulder and then knocking the staff from her grip.
There was a resounding crack and a scream of agony, causing both of them to pause and turn their heads. The rattataki had just delivered a brutal blow to the side of the yellow twi'lek's head and she was on the ground hands clutched to her bleeding face. As Zanleya returned her attention to her partner she spotted Kharvak looking on. She knew she had to do better, it would not do to be shown up so badly in her first martial lesson. Gritting her teeth with determination she resumed the ready stance. This time though she lunged forward, before Anral got the chance, swinging for his arms. Whilst the sudden attack took him by surprise, it was not terribly well executed and he sidestepped, rapping her knuckles with his staff. White hot pain shot through her hands and she dropped her weapon with a cry.
Growling in frustration she swept it up again, ignoring the pain and once more faced off against Anral. He lunged for her, a sweeping overhead strike flashing down. This time she dived forward rather than ducking back, swinging at his legs as she went. Anral was taken aback and managed a moment of surprise before his legs were swept out from under him, sending him tumbling to the sandy ground. The move was not strictly part of Shii-Cho, but Harkun had said that he did not care how they disarmed their opponents. With a grin of wicked delight she spun with the momentum of her strike ready to lay into him as he lay in the dirt. Part of her wanted to strike the fallen pureblood with all of her might, to inflict anguish upon him for the last trio of defeats she had suffered. Common sense however outweighed the need for revenge, he was quite obviously the better fighter of the two and inflicting pain upon him now would only make the subsequent fights worse for her. Instead she lowered the tip of her staff and held it by his head just brushing his ear.
"Drop it," she commanded with a note of savage glee. Obediently Anral dropped his staff to concede the round and Zanleya stepped backward with a smile. She turned her eyes up to Kharvak in triumph and saw him nod his approval.
Nevertheless, the next couple of bouts saw her once more biting the dirt, quite literally the second time. Anral offered his hand as she lay face down in the sand, gratefully she took it and he pulled her back to her feet. Neither of them said anything, but the gesture spoke volumes.
Over the next few minutes she succeeded in disarming him once more but was herself unarmed a further trio of times, receiving a smarting blow on each occasion. Harkun patrolled around the ground, giving constructive criticism, or sometimes just plain abuse, to the acolytes. Her body ached from the series of blows she had received, although she was at least mildly satisfied to see that Anral was limping slightly after a particularly vicious strike of hers.
"Enough! This is like watching armless jawas attempting to fight! There's only so much stupidity I can handle in one morning. It is clear it's going to take a lot of work to get any of you near a reasonable standard. Go, you are dismissed. Tremel will see you this afternoon at fourteen hundred," Harkun snapped. Zanleya relaxed her arms with relief; the sun was at its zenith and was mercilessly blazing down on them. She felt like she had been left in the wastes on Tatooine for days, her mouth was parched and her back damp with sweat. So the call for what she presumed was a lunch break was welcome indeed. She returned her staff to the rack and rested it besides the others, eager to get out of the sun and give her battered and bruised limbs a rest.
"Not bad young Zanleya," Anral remarked as they headed out of the training area. "You appear to be more competent than the majority of your peers." It was a backhanded compliment, but a compliment none the less. In fairness, she was very pleased with herself, she had not expected to be able to hold her ground as well as she had.
"Have you already seen them fight, or were you just watching them as well as me?" Zanleya asked.
"I've seen a few of them before, I've already trained with some of them under Tremel you see," Anral replied, starting to walk back toward the body of the Academy and the nearest cantina.
"Who is worth watching out for then?" Zanleya inquired, hoping to gain some more information about her fellow acolytes. Darth Kharvak was fond of the phrase 'knowledge is power, just as much as power is power' and she planned to follow his teachings to the letter.
"That one there is Traz, the rattataki, brute of a fellow, he looks like a street thug but he's phenomenally quick. The white clad acolyte is Änastasiä, she's a weird one, I've heard rumours that she's from a rim world somewhere and that the Imperials experimented on her… probably best not to cross her," Anral advised. Änastasiä turned her head to look at them, as if she instinctively knew she was being talked about, despite being out of hearing range. An unnatural shiver ran down Zanleya's spine, but she returned the strange girls stare nonetheless. "The only other person of note is Jandra, I know him quite well as our parents are acquaintances. The rest of the acolytes are probably worthless trash like Harkun said," he remarked, a note of haughtiness creeping back into his voice.
"Your parents?" Zanleya queried, curious to learn more about the pureblood seen as he had deemed her worthy of his time.
"Darth Alanra and Darth Rowarn," Anral said proudly. Zanleya's eyebrows rose in surprise. No wonder Harkun had held him in such high regard she mused, with parents like his he was undoubtedly a skilled force user already.
"Both Darths… wow," she uttered; Anral smiled in appreciation of the awe he was inspiring.
"Still, you've somehow attracted the attention of Darth Kharvak, which by all accounts is no mean feat," Anral stated, it was Zanleya's turn to smile.
"Yes, he came to find me on the Smuggler's Moon," she replied, using the common name for Nar Shaddaa. "He says that the force guided him to me, that I had the potential to fulfil the role of his apprentice. He said that I was destined to meet him," she continued with no small amount of pride. "I have to admit to not fully understanding how that all works, but he rescued me from Bragga the Hutt… saved my life I guess."
"Ugh, Hutts, they truly are filthy animals," Anral huffed in disgust.
"Believe me, I know more than most," Zanleya hissed, her normally melodic voice taking on a harsher tone.
"Oh, why so?" Anral queried. She was reluctant to divulge the details of her past to somebody she had only just met, but decided that, if things went well, Anral would be a strong ally to have. Getting on good terms with him could only be beneficial for her.
"Before I ran away I was a slave to one of them. A repulsive individual… when I complete my training, I'm going to go back for him," Zanleya replied, clenching her fists. Anral paused and turned to her with a knowing smile on his face.
"I sense the hate in you, good, let that anger fuel you, let it give you strength, because trust me young Zanleya, you're going to need it here. The Academy does not tolerate the weak or the half-hearted, only the strong survive."