Breaking Chains

[Rugs]

Hey Blue

---

Soft.

Coddling.

Those were the first thoughts to pass through Nieraan’s mind when he laid eyes on the Sith Temple’s training facilities shortly after his arrival on Dromund Kaas. Most were inside, unlike at Korriban’s temple; sheltered from the outside, which was already near a paradise compared to that dead, dusty rock. Students who made it to Dromund Kaas traded Korriban’s uncomfortable, unforgiving stone and sand and wind for metal and glass.

Yet, for his initial disdain, Nieraan quickly fell in love with the place. What it lacked in exposure to the raw elements, it more than made up for with a few hidden surprises.

He stepped into a large, empty training chamber. His footfalls, muted on the very slightly padded floor, sounded softly against the metal walls. The room itself looked a bit like the inside of a great grey box, with gunmetal walls and a matte, gray training surface.

He was a few minutes early. This was by design, to afford himself some quiet time before the students arrived for training. Between his own apprentice, the every-growing Tuk’ata pup, Danica and the children, Nieraan often found himself wondering if he could squeeze more hours into a day. And that didn’t even begin to touch his duties as Sith Lord.

You’ve gone soft, Onin, he thought, with a half smile and a huff of air exhaled through the nose. You’re settling in….

Things changed, he supposed. Sort of. Worries for later.

He’d only scheduled two students to meet with him today. Torrance, who he was surprised still hadn’t found a master, and Kol Larkin.

Larkin was a strange one. New to Dromund Kaas, as far as Nieraan knew—though that was true of most Sith there.

He showed promise but he was still young, still raw. Torrance, by comparison was a much more refined product; a suitable foil for Larkin to test himself against, and a well-known quantity for Nieraan to gauge Larkin’s ability.

Hunger to grow, Nieraan thought as he sat down reached to the Force for a moment’s meditation. Thirst to survive or these Sith will eat you alive.

His senses spread to the corridors and walkways beyond the training chamber itself. One of the students came near enough to feel, a pin of life against the Dark Side’s touch that smothered the temple. The other wasn’t far behind.

Almost time to begin…

[Blue]

The screaming never stopped. Even when he was alone, it echoed ever on, filling his ears, his nose, his mouth. His mind rung with the sound of it. It never stopped. Everything was screaming, always. Even in the void of space he was never free of it. It followed him everywhere. Even here. Especially here.

After that events on the space station, he had been able to survive. The administrators had not known what else to do with the strange young man and so he was brought here, a dark center of the Sith, to be detailed further guidance. Or maybe they just wanted to be rid of him. Little fish were not worth the killing, but he could tell they were afraid. They could not climb past him or kick him down, and so they feared him. He understood.

Larkin had spent his time on Dromund Kaas been shepherded from one place to another until they had reached a small alcove with a bunk. He was told to go to a place at a certain time to receive further training. He had said nothing. Too much going on. Every sound or flicker of movement caused him to jump and reach for his weapon.It was overwhelming. He could barely breathe. He felt like he was being crushed by the mere existence of this world.

He had not slept much. He did not sleep much anymore. The fear that sat in his heart like a ever-hungry beast gnawed on his nerves until his form collapsed in exhaustion. And now he awoke. It was time. The thrill of terror clawed at his essence as he stood. He would probably have to fight. Squared off with another, forced to combat a threat. I will eat them whole, nothing left. Climb. Need to climb.

He forced his feet to tread the path to where he had been directed to go. They would punish him if he was tardy. Stabbing pain, debilitating. No strength from that, already know pain, torture. kill them all tear them to pieces He entered the place, found a corner and placed his back to it out of habit, scanned the room for threats. So many threats. The teacher waiting, the pupil with him, all threats. Most too strong. The fear gnawed. He shivered.

NEED TO EAT, CLIMB. DEAD BODIES ALL OF THEM. PULL UP ANOTHER RUNG, THERE IS ONLY THE CHAIN.

Under the darkened plate of his visor, Larkin's cracked lips pulled back into a broken rictus.

Time to Climb.

[Rugs]

Torrance liked the new temple. It was quiet here — different from the Korriban temple and its loud showboats and hungry new Initiates too full of testosterone to do anything other than beat their chests at each other. Here, things were different. Focused. Demanding. Calming. Dromund Kaas, to him, was the embodiment of what the Sith Order could be, if it allowed itself.

Of course, the Kiffar sometimes wondered how long it could last with the personalities the Order tended to draw, but no matter. He’d enjoy the peace here for as long as he could. Let the loud ones compete amongst themselves on the rocks of Korriban, while the cream rose to the top here.

You’re doing it again, he scolded himself. You’re still just an apprentice. A strong one, but nothing compared to the Knights and Lords that filled the Temple’s halls. A thin line separated confidence and arrogance.

Today, he couldn’t be arrogant. Lord Aurellius had scheduled him for a training session, with another student he didn’t know. Torrance knew Aurelius well, but this other student, Kol Larkin, was an enigma. He had to stay focused.

He wore a dark green tunic over tan, loose-fitting pants. His physical appearance alone wasn’t imposing. He was young — not yet to his 20th birthday — and roughly five and a half feet tall and a build that was sleek and lean, rather than broad and bulky.

His slightly feminine face, framed in long, thick black hair and decorated with flowing tattoos that rose form his chest and neck along the sides of his faces and the bridge of his nose, didn’t really help. But he carried himself with a quiet, steady assurance, and a potent, tightly contained power resonated within him, for anyone with the sense to listen for it.

He was a bit later than he’d like, even if he’d still be there early. The new Temple’s halls weren’t completely familiar to him yet, and he’d taken a wrong turn that led him to the mess hall, rather than the temple’s expansive training wing. So now he hurried along, steps tip-tapping quietly along the Temple’s halls.

---

Nieraan opened his eyes as the first student came in. Larkin, here before Torrance. Impressive. The boy hid his face behind a mask. Word had his face was messed up in some way. Nieraan had no particular interest in finding out the validity of the rumor.

Or perhaps he was just another victim to the mask-at-all-times fashion trend sweeping the Sith.

Torrance arrived a few moments later. Nieraan chuckled under his breath at the (subtely) flustered student as he rose.

“Good that you both made it here on time,” he said, rolling his neck. “You’ll be sparring today. I’m sure you figured that out already. But before we get to that, I want to see what you know.”

Nieraan knew well Torrance’s proficies, but Larkin? Not so much.

“You. Larkin.” He pointed at the mask student as a green blade sprang to life in his hand. “Saber out. Strike at me.”

[Blue]

The young Sith did not have to wait overly long for things to begin. Larkin spied the other student as he arrived, his overactive mind studying the student's walk and bearing. He would have to fight him, he knew it, he could feel it in his gut. Would he be better? How strong was he? Beneath that dark visor of his helmet, the boy's teeth chattered as his nerves, already strained to breaking, grew even more taunt.

Hearing the instructor start talking and getting up, Larkin pulled himself to his feet and began silently stalking forwards at a much more measured rate. The black bodysuit that clad his lithe form felt tight against his skin as his senses started going into overdrive. His breathing sounded loud in his ears and the hairs on his neck prickled uncomfortably. What was it? Was it a warning? A threat he had not noticed but his subconscious had? Where? How many? Was it just in his head, was the he just afraid of fighting the student, was he just afraid of the instructor, was he-

Words were being spoken at him now, he needed to try and focus. Larkin's attention fixed upon the instructor, watching every little twitch of movement. No surprise, then, RIP IT UP that when the lightsaber was drawn and the blade ignited, the young Sith's already frayed nerves snapped him into action before his teacher had even finished his sentence. His taunt muscles sent him into motion TEAR IT, his leap across the room carrying him further than physically possible thanks to the invisible impetus of the Force, which screamed at him in his head as he flew through the air NEED TO. The boy span in the air as he drew his own weapon, the red blade sounding like nails on rock to Larkin's mind as it was lit. STOP IT

MAKE IT STOP

All this happened in the span of an intake of breath, and the lightsaber struck out at the instructor at head height, using the momentum of the spin to increase the strength behind the attack.

[Rugs]

Things happened very quickly. Torrence was more focused on Aurelius that Larkin, as the Sith Lord explained how he wanted the training to begin. It made sense, in the Kiffar’s mind, that Aurelius would want to get a feel for the student’s skills. But as Aurelius pointed his saber at the boy, Larkin…

Freaked the hell out.

Aurelius’ words were barely out of his mouth before Larkin launched himself like a rocket at their instructor. Torrance’s eyebrows couldn’t even raise in time before red and green saber clashed with a flash and hiss, filling the air with the distinct scent of burning ozone. “Wha..” Torrance said in spite of himself, as he calm mask cracked in wonder at the boy’s unexpected ferocity.

This is who I’m going to be fighting?

It wasn’t the quickness, or the vigor with which Larkin threw himself at Aurelius that shocked, though. It was something else; something that felt tattered and frayed and wrong about him through the Force.

Torrence couldn’t quite put his finger on what that was though.

---

“You are an eager one aren’t you?” Nieraan taunted as he knocked the apprentice’s blade away. His defense was a one-handed stroke, rising to meet the blade from below and divert its momentum just up and over his head enough to avoid hitting him as the boy came crashing down.

Nieraan’s other hand rose then, the Force surging through him as he reached out to wrap the boy in his power. Odds were, Larkin would find himself held neatly as the air seemed to thicken around him, stopping his descent a few inches above the ground.

Unless the kid found a way to break free, Nieraan meant to hold him still there for moment.

“I like the eagerness, kid,” he said, twirling his viridian blade loosely in his hand. “In fact, I don’t want to dull that.”

He pointed his saber at a shocked Torrance and smirked. “That’s your opponent,” he said, stepping away with a smile as he loosed the bonds holding Larkin in place. “Get him.”

[Blue]

The blades sang, two high-pitched cries of contact. The moment stretched, Larkin's wide eyes fixing onto the teacher in front of him. The pressure of his weight pushing against the lord's defense. The young Sith's grip on his lightsaber's hilt tightened; his momentum was faltering now. He had almost lost it all. But the teacher moved his sword arm with the strike against him, redirecting the attack's power upwards, over him. Larkin shunted himself a little more with the Force, using that new momentum from his opponent to fly over his head. He flipped, twisting his body around in mid air to face the lord and strike again.

But then he stopped.

Trapped.

Immobile. Open. Held in place. Dead. Dead soon. Can't move, can't fight, can't run. Easy pickings. Larkin struggled, pushing against the invisible force that held him with all the strength of fear his cracked mind could summon. He could feel it, like a giant hand, ready to squeeze him to death at any moment. He began to thrash get out GET OUT FIGHT KILL CLIMB as much as he could. His limbs shuddered violently, unable to flail but burning with restrained movement. Every part of the young man was vibrating, rattling at the bars of his hovering cage. The visored head moved to face the sound of a voice. The teacher spoke. Taunting, mocking. Is this it? Have I failed? Do I die?

A viridian blade pointed.

“That’s your opponent.”

Suddenly, as if his situation had been completely forgotten, the endless motion of Larkin's desperate struggle against the force holding him ceased. The featureless mask snapped towards the direction the teacher was pointing. The other student. The helmeted head tilted slightly to the side, like an predatory animal scenting something new. Sharp eyes observed the new target closely, taking in every visible aspect, making estimations and calculations. Similar age, perhaps a little older. Training not too far ahead. Similar level of power? Well muscled, not excessively so. Strength within same boundaries? Same rank. Same status. Not a lord. Not a master. Student. Boy. Same. SAME SAME SAME SAME SAME-

“Get him.”

Binds loosened. Larkin blasted free of the weakened shackles as they faded at the lord's will. The young Sith landed on all fours, his red blade sparking off the floor for a split second. But as soon as the lithe body touched the ground, it shot forward towards the new target, covering the ground between them with the same speed as before when he had been instructed to attack their teacher. Red light flashed forward, a quick jab aimed at the student's eyes. Blind or wound. Larkin halted his progress inches away from the other boy, lurching to the side and aiming a second strike at the arm opposite where his foe's lightsaber was clipped.

Not a lord. Not a master. Not the teacher, lower on the Chain. Chances higher.

KILL IT AND MAKE IT STOP