Destructive Abandon ((Rugs, Kidradd))

[NitroGatsby]

The Sith have little consideration for others, and it was beginning to wear thin for Rennek. A newly converted Sith apprentice, there was much he had to learn. Shortly after regaining his strength here on the God-forsaken dirt clod of a planet, Rennek’s new “Master”, Lady Sicaria disappeared. He assumed she had been sent on mission, and it irked him to the core that she hadn’t at least let him know what the plans were. So now he was here in this totally foreign place, more or less broken in spirit, only kept here because he was convinced thoroughly that these Sith had a more powerful alignment with the Force than any Jedi he had ever met. And he wanted that power. He needed that power.

The night sky was dark outside the window of Rennek’s rather desolate chambers. He sat on his excuse of a bed, staring out into the dark, his shoulder against the wall. He rhythmically tapped his fingers on the wall, his eye growing ever more full of rage. His cloak hung on the wall next to the door, with his lightsaber on a small table near the entrance. He didn’t like this whole just sitting thing, and the anger was swelling in him the longer he sat here thinking about it. Somewhere out in the darkness, some Sith Hounds began calling back and forth to each other. Their call was eerie, haunting lesser men into stupors, but to Rennek is was annoying, nonsensical noise. Finally, he had had enough. He snapped to his feet, violently extending his hand toward the door. The dark metallic saber hilt flew to his hand, and he slid it into the slot on the back of his belt. Crossing to the door, he grabbed his cloak, a flowing black garb, and wrapped it around himself.

The halls were more or less empty as Rennek set about exploring the temple. The occasional member of the Order passed by, but gave Rennek little acknowledgement. One hall led to the next, and that one to another as Rennek wandered through room after room and training hall after training hall. Finally, he reached a room that he felt he could finally stop his wandering. The room was more a hall than anything else, with multiple doors and levels. Off to one side were a series of training droids, inactive for the moment being. Rennek walked to the middle of the room his hood pulled up, more from habit than anything else. He had taken to wearing his hood up because he had grown tired the younger Sith asking what was under it.

Once in the middle of the room, Rennek closed his eyes, and began to focus all his energy inward. He saw in his head visions of Atokan, and pain welled deep in his soul Remorse for what he had done, crushed under the ebbing and rolling waves of anger at his former master’s betrayal. His new master’s neglect piled more anger on that anger and before Ren knew it, he was literally shaking from rage. He could feel the blood rushed into his face. In a moment, his eyes flashed open, wide with Rage and the saber flew from inside his hood, igniting almost simultaneously as it reached his hand. His left hand reached toward the droids in the corner, and they sprang to life, flaying toward him. One was wielding a dual ended training baton, the rest were blaster orbs, maybe half-a-dozen of them. They encircled the young Sith, and began sending their bolts flying at Rennek as he stood with his ignited saber at his side.

The bolts flew in, and were rebounded as fast, as Rennek began to move almost instinctively, deflecting the bolts all about the room. The violet saber was a blur, as Rennek swept about in a small circle, turning his front to face each blast orb as necessary. The fastest he had moved since his fight with Atokan, Rennek felt alive in this moment. Finally, he had decided that he had enough of them, and deflected bolts to each one, his saber flowing like pure light about him. The bolts shut down the orbs without harming them. The blade trainer would not be so lucky. Once the final bolt left his saber, Ren launched himself through the air, swinging the blade about himself in an acrobatic fashion, meeting the ignited ends of the baton as he landed. He proved to be too much for this simple training droid as he split the baton with an upward strike following a rather flourished spin. He then set in on the bot, swinging wildly, uncontrolled. He began screaming as he did. Not the frightened scream of a small child, or the pained screamed of a wounded warrior, but the guttural, barbaric yawping of a crazed savage. He stood hacking the now thoroughly dismembered droid for some time, venting all he had within himself. He would surely be punished for the thorough destruction he had enacted here, but in this moment, there was little he could truly care less about.

[kidradd]

It had been a couple of weeks since he'd traded a death sentence on Bastion for the death sentence that was being a Sith. That was how he'd come to look at it as he began learning their ways. All things died but the Sith had a way of bringing that to pass sooner rather than later, and if the time spent on Korriban was any indication of what to expect in the future it was going to take every fiber of his being to survive.

That wasn't good enough for Mathurin, though anything hardly ever was. He wanted to thrive. If there was a way of keeping score amongst the Sith then he wanted his score to be the highest. If it was a game to be played with the Jedi, too, then even better. Now that he was beginning to see the scope and potential for the Force and his position as an initiate in the Sith Order he was no longer dreaming of being powerful within his family, his community, or even a single planet like Bastion. Like many of his contemporaries in the academy Mathurin now dreamed of being the most powerful being in the history of the galaxy!

That was why he maintained proper posture as he made his way back to his dorm. He was ragged and dirty and exhausted from another day of punishing studying and exercises, including an excursion into the "safer" part of the Valley. The howling Tuk'ata at his back reminded him of a fate he'd only barely avoided in the past few hours... a fate more than one of his fellow students did not have the fortitude to avoid themselves.

The lithe teenager kept his gaze fixed forward as he stalked through the halls. After passing one of the patrolling guards the next individual that Mathurin saw was a fellow human (or near-human, at least) his own size and build, roughly, with long hair and a mask of sort. The two were heading in opposite directions and would pass each other soon so Mathurin took in what details he could through his peripheral vision. Though his time on Korriban had not been long the skill of picking up important details in sight without ever truly focusing on the object in question was quickly developing. It was the kind of nuanced habit that he didn't have to bother with on Bastion as he was considered elite there.

Here, the wrong look at the wrong time was enough to sign a death warrant. The two passed each other without incident. Though it was risky Mathurin chanced a glance over at the passing Sith to see if he'd drawn any unwanted attention. Whoever it was barely acknowledged Mathurin's presence, if at all. The teen supposed that to whoever this passing Sith was Mathurin himself was little more than an obstacle to navigated or crushed. 

It was that powerful indifference that the youth sought for himself. He told himself that the everyone else in the galaxy was merely opposition to be used until they were no longer useful and then destroyed but believing it - truly believing it and living it without having to think about it - was something else, entirely...


The battered youth grimaced as the door to his dorm lifted open to reveal his things had once again been vandalized. His bed was a destroyed mess of tattered sheets and lining and, as if icing on the cake, centered on his pillow was a pile of waste. 


"Bantha fodder..."

He'd had enough of the hazing, and though he wasn't quite sure of which of his dorm-mates had done it, he did figure the brutal murder of any one of them would be enough to stop it. While glancing at the three other students laying in their untarnished beds along the room's perimeter Mathurin considered which he should start with; He could feel that they were only feigning sleep, anyway, and considered they had probably set such an ambush with the hopes that they could take him out in self-defense. This was the Sith academy, after all.

Smirking, Mathurin took a step forward into the room despite knowing no outcome favored him. He would have engaged anyway if not for the sounds that trickled in from down the hall. That was one benefit of the tight stone corridors: if one was not trying to be silent it was all too easy for the echoes to be heard.

Upon hearing the sounds of combat Mathurin pivoted on the balls of his feet and slinked off the way he'd come. With his back turned he had no way of seeing the six eyes that had opened in his room and watched him walk off. For every trait one considered they would need to conquer the galaxy the most overlooked one, perhaps, was the one that could not be honed or developed: luck. How much of it Mathurin had was yet to be determined, but as he made his way towards the training halls of the academy he may have been pushing his to the limit.

[Rugs]

The night called.

Or insomnia. Whatever the reason, Nieraan hadn’t yet found himself ready to sleep, and so he drifted through the Temple halls, lost in his thought. Scyllos, the Tuk’ata pup who was a gift from Novus, padded along silently behind him. The pup was growing larger with each passing day. In the few months they’d been together, he’d grown from an innocent-looking pet to something that started to resemble the horrifying beasts of legend.

Soon we’ll have to start training you, Nieraan mulled with a wayward over-the-shoulder glance to the Sith hound. More than you already are. Scyllos already understood heeded Nieraan well enough, and understood basic commands. He was trained enough to ignore the yapping hounds that sometimes roamed the Valley, as they did tonight…

“But that’s for later,” Nieraan muttered, shuffling around a corner and through a door with hinges in desperate need of greasing.

He wasn’t really going anywhere, or not with active forethought, anyway. He’d meditated for a little while in one of the Temple’s many training yards, then practiced a few forms on his own. He’d found a perch atop the Temple to think, and now he just wandered.

A few Sith passed him here and there, but Korriban’s Temple was mostly silent at this hour. The few Sith who did scuffle by diverted their eyes or were too busy to offer any annoyance. Nieraan just walked on, ignoring them all.

A surge of power called to him after a while. It was an ordinary thing, made unordinary by the late hour; like a man yelling in a library, to Nieraan senses. The Firrerreo paused, drawn from his pondering on when to return to Dromund Kaas, hands still stuffed in his pockets. One, two, three heartbeats passed as he considered investigating the source, but it was an easy choice.

Nosiness often won out. Especially at this late hour. Esepcially knowing his place near the top of the food chain.

As it turned out, the disturbance wasn’t far away. The Force led him to a training hall, where another Sith was deflecting bolts a handful of training droids. Disappointment flourished, but the man went bonkers on the lone training droid wielding a dual-ended baton before Nieraan could turn away.

Before he knew it, the droid lay on the ground, ruined, with the Sith screaming over it. Nieraan noticed an odd mechanical tinge to the voice.

Oi, someone’s gotta pay for those, he thought, mildly annoyed. Not that was his problem; droids didn’t fall under his particular oversight among the training instructor ranks.

“Y’know, I don’t think that droid did anything to deserve that partner,” he said, striding in the room as he made a hand motion for Scyllos to stay back. He wasn’t particularly interested in fighting, but he didn’t know what this Sith was thinking, either.

“Now it’s ruined. Could’ve had a family, y’know.” He stopped by a piece of scrap and picked it up. It was the droid’s head, attached to the part of the torso. A few wires hung out of the bottom. Nieraan tsked. The fellow had certainly been thorough. “You monster,” he said tossing the useless equipment down to the ground.

“Why are you tearing up our droids,” he began asking though his voice trailed off slightly as he felt another presence drifting near, “with company approaching?”

[NitroGatsby]

The swoosh of the door opening behind him, pulled the hair on the back of Rennek’s neck to attention. His mind however, wandered off. He turned as the newcomer spoke to him, rather condescendingly. The saber blade made minor key sliding note as he turned the blade off, and released his grip, floating it safely to the belt inside his cloak. As he began speaking, his looked upon Nieraan’s face, his eyes still gleaming in a maddened sort of way.

“I didn’t mean to,” he began, his voice becoming suddenly childlike as he felt need to defend himself. “My master has abandoned me here, and I was angry. If that stupid bi—“

Rennek’s voice trailed off into a mumble half way through the curse. His mind had become very aware of the second presence. It’s energy was, bitter? Rennek’s eyes shot off in the direction of the boy as he crept closer. They narrowed as he reached into his cloak. The boy’s mind was fogged, something Rennek had not encountered since his time at the Jedi Temple. His intentions, could not be guessed.

You’re not as quiet as you think, boy. Rennek spoke at the boys from within his mind. Then, from behind his mask. “If you meant to surprise either of us, you have sorely failed. And I dare say, between Lord Aurelius and myself, it would not have ended well for you… Show yourself.”

The dead-pan Rennek spoke with lasted until the last bit, which he spat like an order. As he did, he glanced back at Nieraan, expecting the Sith Lord to be at least surprised that Rennek knew his name. Truth is, he hadn’t yet turned his telepathy on his superior yet. He had learned his name from speaking with other trainees, if nothing else than through reputation alone.

“My lord, what is it that brings you down here at this hour anyway?” Rennek spoke, his eyes still fixed in the direction he sensed the boy approaching from. “Do the Sith not have to sleep? Or is that a Firrerreon trait?”

The newly converted Rennek turned his mind upon Nieraan at this point. He crept carefully into the Sith Lord’s mind, trying his best not to set him off, making no attempt to control him. Instead he, looked about, trying to guess his intentions. Rennek had long suspected that he may be the target of some elaborate assassination plot by the Sith, especially as he was still in many ways, not fully converted to their ideology. At the very least, if this was his assassin, he felt honored that they would send someone who was skilled enough to be in charge of training the acolytes. At least they recognized he was not a weakling.

However, after only a moment of peering about, Rennek felt satisfied that Nieraan meant him no harm. At least not now anyway. Rennek raised his eyebrows in a passive way toward Nieraan, whom he was sure had felt him peaking about. His eyes focused back on the door to the hallway he felt the presence in. His hand was firmly gripped on the freshly holstered hilt of his saber, his thumb gently caressing the ignition switch.

[kidradd]

Mathurin had crept back the way he came towards the source of the raucous. It was dangerous just to look at someone wrong; being somewhere one shouldn't have been during a possible conflict was essentially suicide if one was to get caught. Hopefully, he wouldn't.

The doors ahead of him shut with a hydraulic swoosh just after someone had walked through. The lad waited another moment before creeping any closer. He was sure this was where the noise was coming from, which made sense as it was one of the many training chambers. 

Mathurin turned to head back to his room. Anyone training at this time of day was sure to be more dedicated than he was... probably more skilled, too. He was very quickly regretting his decision to investigate at all. He tried to return the way he'd come but managed only to take two steps before he froze. The idea that he was intimidated by the mere time of day that someone was training struck a nerve in him. His cowardice infuriated him. This was the training academy of the Sith. The conquerors of the galaxy were supposed to be trained here. He was supposed to become such a great being here. There was no way he'd get there if his fear so easily controlled him.

Trying to draw upon what he'd learned so far, Mathurin trembled with quiet rage. His attempt at converting that fear to rage was clouded with doubt and insecurity, which only served to further entice him, or so he insisted to himself.

A prodding voice interrupted his internal conflict: You’re not as quiet as you think, boy.[/font]

Mathurin snapped his head from side-to-side as he searched for the source of the voice. The halls appeared to be empty which could only mean... He turned and stared at the doors looming just a few meters away. There were two voices coming from the room now. He wasn't sure if that made things better or worse, but quickly deduced that if they so wanted they could track him down quite easily. Rather than testing his luck Mathurin decided to expose himself as directed.

The doors parted to reveal the carnage of Rennek's training session. The two Sith stood across from each other while just ahead of the acolyte was a Tuk'ata hound!

The boy tensed up as he stared at the beast. Adrenaline began to pump as he entered fight-or-flight mode. He'd only just returned from a session in the desert where another acolyte was torn to shreds by a Tuk'ata, after all!

[Rugs]

Nieraan waved off the Sith man’s apologies. The respect was flattering, but the Firrerreo couldn’t muster within him the give-a-damn to raise a stink over a few broken droids. Now, if he held some position over the Sith treasury, perhaps, but he somehow doubted Renata and Iniquitous would find it in their hearts to allow a former street urchin any measure of control over the Order’s coffers.

“Yes, well perhaps you should look into breaking your master and not the droids, hm?” Nieraan’s voice carried a hint of sarcasm. His eyes, though, warned against the idea. Though he supposed, shifting his weight from his right leg to his left as his stance relaxed a bit, the warning might not be necessary.

The Sith shifted his attention for a moment to the boy, who subsequently entered the room through the doorway Nieraan had taken only a few moment prior. The kid froze as he spotted Scyollos, though the Tuk’ata only paid him a brief moment of attention. The hound, like his master, realized that the young Initiate was only a secondary threat.

Now the Sith turned his attention back to Nieraan, who snorted a half-laugh through his nose at the ‘My lord’ with which he was so graciously addressed.

“Maybe I’m just up because I want to be,” he said with a shrug. “I could ask the same of you. Nothing better to do than tear up our equipment in the ass-crack middle of the night?”

His eyebrows drew down, though, as a he felt a foreign presence ease into his mind. He with drew from the invaders’ touch, eyes narrowing at the Sith standing across from him who dared stick his grubby fingers where they didn’t belong.

Immediately his mind hardened, shooing away the snooping probes. Overall, Nieraan’s telepathic talent was lacking, specifically because he could hardly influence a bantha through the art, let alone another sentient being. But he was a tough nut to crack.

More importantly, he hated having his mind touched by others.

“I would advise, Apprentice, that you don’t go exploring where you don’t belong,” he said, playfulness gone from his voice. Sparks flickered around his hand in warning. “I didn’t come here to hurt you, but don’t think I won’t put you in the dirt.”