First Steps (Karn/Open)

[Pres]

Hakk Brum stood still as the ship took off into the air. His new life would begin on this planet known as Korriban. It was an unforgiving desert with foul creatures that lurked in every corner. From his teachings with the jedi, he knew that this planet was where the sith were trained. Something was pulling him to this planet and he needed to know why. Hakk took a deep breath and began to make his way forward. A path that would eventually lead him to the Sith Temple. 

A slight breeze began to pick up around him. The dirt around him started to lift up off from the ground. Hakk placed his hood over his head as the dancing dirt swayed around him. The wind was beginning to pick up and Hakk was having a difficult time seeing in front of him. Hakk  continued to move his feet as he was receiving resistance from the wind. As he walked, Hakk could only think about the past 24 hours. His best friend, lover, shot in front of him. After witnessing Kai's death, he felt a dark rage that over came him. The hate and anger filled his body with strength as he strike down every person around him who was involved in killing of Kai. This morning, the out cry came from the locals who identify the event as a slaughter, since the bodies were just left at the scene. Hakk felt he couldn't stay with the jedi any longer. They would strip him of his title and be branded a killer. Hakk had no other option but to run. The event continued to replay in his head, which only caused him to feel the emotions of sorrow and anger. 

As he continued to walk forward, he could feel the darkness that surrounded this place with each step. The past Sith lords who died on this planet could still be felt, even after generations later. It was as if Hakk could feel them walking passed him. An energy of hatred and darkness lingering in the air. Hakk gripped his single hilt lightsaber as he ventured forward searching for an answer of understanding himself but also why he has been called to this dreadful place. 

[Rugs]

For the first time since returning from Nar Shaddaa, Karn felt something resembling good about himself. Some guilt from the Battle of Nar Shaddaa still lingered, despite his master’s admonitions to leave it behind him, but he felt as close to whole as he had since before departing Dromund Kaas to battle the Archeri.

For all the humiliating defeats that followed his return to the Sith Academy, for all the loss and pain and grief he endured, now the Arakanian found himself in an even better position than he’d been in before.

Apprentice to Darth Viren, he thought, walking through the rocky, sand-strewn desert on his way back to the Temple. He wondered, not for the first time, if he would have gained Viren’s attention if he hadn’t sulked off in a fury after his loss to Janse in the sparring grounds--if he had Janse, of all people, to thank for his apprenticeship.

Karn scowled and spit on the ground at the though to that. He’d just as soon thank the Archeri that ran Lady Colubus through before thanking Janse for any-damn-thing.

Eyes forward, he told himself as the wind blew his pale hair. No point in wondering about that.

He’d held his first training session with his new master a day or two ago, and in a few more, they’d be off to Dantooine. While Viren was busy with preparations for overseeing the agri-worlds reclamation, Karn kept to his own training regimen, with his master’s modifications.

He was returning from a trip out of the Temple, with plans to visit the Archives. A sandstorm was coming, and he wanted no part of it.

As if summoned by thought, the wind picked up again, pulling at his knee-length white and grey coat. Karn pulled the coat around him, raising his hood against the wind and driving sand and picked up his pace.

“Should’ve gotten a damn speeder,” he told himself. But he hadn’t ventured far, and the walk was a nice chance to clear his head.

As he pressed on he noticed — first through the Force and then by sight — a figure out amidst the sand. The same echo fo the Force that identified any other Force user resonated within the person, and Karn saw a reddish-orange hand holding a lightsaber.

Karn watched the other warily — they were coming toward him, away from the Temple. He decided to let them know he’d spotted them. “Hey, dunno where you’re goin’, but it only gets worse out away from the Temple. If you wanna get lost in that, suit yourself.”

[Pres]

The sandstorm was beginning to pick up and it was beginning to get harder to see what was in front of him. Through the force he could sense someone near him. As he approached carefully, he heard the person near him from afar. Hakk had pinpointed the direction to the left of him. Hakk turned to face the voice that called out to him. He must have lost his direction as he walked through the sandstorm. I doubt anyone could see where they were going in the current weather conditions, Hakk thought to himself. Gripping his lightsaber, he looked up at the man as he used his free hand cover his eyes from the onslaught of sand.

"That's where I'm trying to go. I must have gotten myself turned around in this forsaken sandstorm." Hakk spoke in response. He tried to not to look to desperate since he was confident he was able to find the temple...eventually.

Hakk couldn't help but stay cautious as his heart was still pounding. His life was changing and he didn't know what will happen a few hours from now. For all he knows a jedi team might have followed him here to bring him back to the council. He was wary of the new encounter but the man was young and was prob a few years older than him if he could guess.

The younger man was indeed a force sensitive and was most likely with the sith. He could sense his energy from a far."I seek refuge with the Sith. I'm searching...for a new purpose...." It was still hard for Hakk to even imagine looking for a new purpose. His heart ached with sorrow but it also was filled with rage seeking destruction for revenge.

[Rugs]

“Refuge?” Karn barked a laugh from under his hood as he pressed on. The stranger wasn’t even a Sith. Just a lost soul wandering in the desert. “Good luck. The Sith Order is no place for refuge.”

He spared a glance for the stranger as he passed by. He couldn’t make out much beneath the hood, and wasn’t about to stare into the wind with sand blowing at his face. “The Sith Order is a place for honing yourself, for perfection.” He stopped looking over his shoulder, but stayed wary; the stranger didn’t seem a threat, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t put a lightsaber in Karn’s back.

“What makes you think you can make it there if you don’t even know a purpose?”

He walked on a few steps, then stopped. If the stranger wanted to go to the Sith Temple, there was nothing stopping him from following Karn. Karn knew nothing about him, other than that he wanted to get in. A stranger, wandering through the desert, seeking entry.

Karn’s ivory eyes narrowed.

“Who are you, anyway?” He could feel emotions warring within the other as he reached out through the Force. Sorrow, anger. Loss. His throat tightened; he knew the feelings well.

His voice hardened, though, as he pressed further. “What makes you think you belong here?”

[Pres]

Hakk listened to the words from the other man. Words of doubt and confusion exploded into his mind. It seemed like the younger male was trying to intimidate Hakk with his words, but came off more cocky than intimidating. Hakk couldn't help but take the sting of the words. His own emotions were beginning to take over him. Hakk's emotions were rising and his mind was spiraling out of control. The Jedi's teachings were still trying to control him with his own words. How could he embarrass himself like that. The Sith were known for being strong and powerful warriors. A person with confidence and perfection. Words and thoughts were quickly running through his head. He could hear his old master taunting him with words of fear and doubt. If he couldn't make it with the Jedi...how would he make it with the Sith.

Suddenly, a spark of life and passion filled Hakk's body. The anger and grief filled his heart with rage. His best friend killed in front of him was the reason he came here. The Jedi were holding him back from his true potential. He wasn't here for refuge. Hakk had a goal and purpose....it was to find a new master and become a powerful Sith warrior. He would show fear to those who looked at him weird.

As a few moments passed, Hakk almost forgot there was someone speaking to him. He snapped out of his own head and looked up with determination,"That's right. The Sith are known for honing their skills. Training for perfection. Seeking power. Showing their dominance." Hakk responded quickly. He paused for a moment and then continued to speak, "I believe....no I have the ability to become powerful. The Jedi, held me back for years with their values and meaningless teachings. They don't value peace...they only want to control us and make us their weapons with limits. I'm here now...with a purpose to be train and become a powerful warrior in the ways of the Sith."

As Hakk spoke his short monologue with fire in his voice, he began to step forward toward the younger man. Hakk slowly tilted his head as he narrowed his eyes at the young man. He felt his muscles tighten as he reached closer to the man in front of him."The name is Hakk Brum....you can call me Hakk. I was a Jedi but kind of murdered a group of people last night and well I knew my only option was to leave the order." Hakk introduced himself to the young man still being cautious in his stance. The locals had turned the news of the killings and twisted it as if it was a massacre. In the community, they were locals but really they were just filthy criminals who deserved to die."What about yourself? Who are you?"Hakk questioned the young man with curiosity.

[Rugs]

“Ah, a runaway Jedi.” A cruel smile twisted Karn’s mouth, despite the sand-filled wind swirling about them. “Now it all makes sense.” Karn, unlike many of his contemporaries among the Order, had never gone to the Jedi. Despite being born on a Republic world, despite the Jedi finding him when he was young enough, his parents had refused to give him up.

The Jedi, they thought, were soft, stagnant. Unwilling to take the necessary steps to pursue perfection.

“Killed a bunch of people and now you’re here,” he said. “Looking for somewhere to belong.” He looked at Hakk briefly; the swirling sandstorm prevented him from seeing much. So far, he’d yet to clearly see the Sith hopeful’s face. “But I wonder, what makes a Jedi snap and kill? And a group at that? Is that what plagues your soul so?”

The wind gusted, tugging at the edges of Karn’s coat and hood. He growled at the interaction, then motioned for the former Jedi, for Hakk, to follow him.

He led the Zabrak on in silence, with the wind howling around them. Before long, the Sith Temple came into view, rising up suddenly out of the vision-obscuring sand. Karn led Hakk into a secondary entrance and paused as they stepped inside.

A broad sandstone hall stretched on before them, empty save the Acolyte and hopeful. Thick pillars rose along either side of the hallway, crested with the red-and-black banner of the Sith Empire.

“I am Karn Albrecht,” Karn said, pulling down his hood and shaking loose grains of sand out of his pale hair. “Apprentice to Darth Viren.” He turned to face Hakk fully now, to get a look at this newcomer without the sand’s distraction. “That makes me your better, so I’ll give you some free advice: if you want to survive here, you will have to prove your worth, again and again. We are not the Jedi. Nothing is given among the Sith. Everything must be earned.”

[Pres]

Hakk did his best to not let the words from the fellow Sith hurt him. But he couldn't help replay the events from last night in his own head. Watching closely, Hakk followed the man who eventually lead him toward the Sith Temple. The sandstorm was beginning to pick up around them. Walking through the sandstorm, felt like he was walking blind. He couldn't see anything around him except the young man ahead of him.

With each step, Hakk was feeling his emotions raging on. He really needed to get a hold of his own emotions. The figure ahead of him stopped which caused Hakk to snap back into reality. Hakk stood in silence and embraced the creation of the pillars that made the Sith Temple feel alive. Reaching out in the force, he could feel the dark energy radiating off the pillars....the ground.....and the air. "Is this what power feels like?" Hakk thought to himself as he continued to feel the energy around him through the force.

The young man in front of him pulled his hood down and introduced himself. Karn. "I'm Hakk Brum!" If Hakk, himself, was at the Jedi temple, he would have made an effort to reach out for a handshake as he introduced himself, but Hakk decided to keep his distant. He didn't want to bring down his guard to anyone. Stepping forward into the hallway, Hakk smiled. He was finally here with the Sith. The easy part was now over...the next part is real the real test begins....finding a new master.

As Hakk listened to Karn, it was hard not to agree with him. The Sith ways were very aggressive. In order to receive power, you must prove yourself in order to gain the power. With a slight grin on his face, Hakk took off his robe and tossed it to the ground. He gripped his single hilt lightsaber with his right hand. A beam of bright purple light shot out from the lightsaber, "Well then...looks like I must prove myself....But I'm sure my strength shall prove it for me." With gripping the lightsaber, Hakk's emotions began to focus into one place. Holding the lightsaber had gave Hakk's emotion a time to calm down. The soothing sound of the lightsaber calmed Hakk. Something about wielding a lightsaber had always given Hakk strength. "Shall we?" Hakk spoke with a sick grin on his face as he pointed his lightsaber at Karn. Without having time to waste, Hakk charged right in with an aggressive downward slash with his lightsaber. Karn would at least give him more of a fight than the last group of people who fought him. Hakk had to be fast and precise. Strong with his strikes. He would do his best to continue striking at Karn to find an opening. Swinging swiftly and contentiously left and right with his blade.

[Rugs]

Karn watched as the hopeful, the acolyte-to-be, tossed his robe aside. Yes, he was a Zabrak, with orageish skin and arresting green eyes. Handsome, Karn admitted to himself, but that was immaterial now, with tension gathering in the air.

A fight was coming. He could feel it, the moment Hakk threw the robe off.

“Be careful,” Karn warned as Hakk ignited his violet lightsaber. His voice took on a goading edge as a cocksure smile spread across his face. “I’d hate for you to get hurt before you’re even a real member.” Despite his words, he shrugged out of his coat, took up his long-hilted lightsaber and ignited it. A crimson blade burst forth, throwing blood-red light across the Arkanian’s face.

Karn ached for a fight. For week after tortuous week since the Battle of Nar Shaddaa, he’d suffered failure, one humiliation after the other. Now this runway thought to give him a challenge. He had every intention of putting the ex-Jedi in his place.

“Your strength will prove nothing, Jedi,” Karn said, twisting Hakk’s abandoned title into an insult, a mockery of what he’d been before. “But I’ll happily give you a lesson in the Sith’s ways.”

Next he knew they were in motion. Hakk surged forward with an overhanded strike. Karn, danced smoothly out of the way, leaving nothing but open air for the Zabrak’s blade. The assault continued, with horizontal strikes that Karn blocked, one after the other.

He let the blows come, their lightsabers hissing and throwing sparks with each exchange. Karn gave a bit of ground, until he forced a lightsaber lock, with the blades angled between the two combatants. In terms of pure physical strength, they seemed to be relatively even, though Karn had not yet called onto the Force to aid him. He could not tell if Hakk had, and didn’t care either way.

“Is that the best you’ve got, Jedi?” he taunted over the hissing blades. “If that was all I had, I’d run away, too.”

He disengaged, twisting away with his lightsaber as he retreated a few steps. He set his feet, then went on the offensive, surging forward with his own, natural agility. Though he knew not what form Hakk employed, Karn drew upon his favored style: Juyo. It was a rare enough form among seasoned duelists; it was even more so among those his age.

He launched at Hakk with all the aggression that Juyo demanded, striking first with a vicious slash at his waist, that looped around into a biting overhand at his shoulder. He’d strike on and on, if allowed to keep the assault going, altering his timing in subtly — as was Juyo’s way — to try to keep Hakk off-balance.

[Pres]

Karn had begun to deflect the strikes with ease. Hakk wasn't expecting to land a hit and knew any season warrior could deflect simple horizontal strikes. As Karn made quick work of the horizontal strikes, Hakk was quickly growing irritated by his comments. Majority of the time, Hakk could use the comments as fuel to force him to do better. But something about the way Karn was saying the word Jedi that caused internal frustration within himself. Hakk's emotions were clear and centered when he first ignited his violet lightsaber but now was beginning to rip apart as Karn made his cocky remarks.

Hakk was beginning to let Karn's comments sink into his head. The lack of confidence began to started to leaking into his own mind. His strength was beginning to slip as he let his emotions begin to control him. Karn taunted Hakk as he took a few steps away to engaged. That taunt was the last straw. Hakk gritted his teeth as he wanted to scream but choose to control himself. He gripped his lightsaber even tighter and took a quick second to breath. He couldn't take any more time to rest or react because it was only seconds later Karn came with an aggressive fury of blows.

The moment of life or death was approaching if Hakk wasn't careful. Quickly reacting he tilted his lightsaber to deflect the blow at his waist. The next volley of attacks were quick and aggressive. The attacks would soon hit Hakk off balance. Hakk could judge by the way the attacks were happening that the form Karn was using was Juyo. Hakk switch lightsaber forms, from form Nimm to form Shien and Djem So. His previous master taught him to use form 5 which allowed to use his own opponents moves for counter attacks.

Hakk liked using form 5 as it caused him to use his opponents attack to his advantage. All Hakk had to do was find an opening that would create a counter attack. The onslaught of attacks did not slow down. Karn's strength was even match if not better than Hakk. Karn continued each strike with a follow up strike. As Hakk deflected each strike with ease but he also struggle just the same. There were several close calls, if Hakk was a split second slower, he would have no hands to use a lightsaber. As the hissing of the sabers began to thrill the hallway with sound, all Hakk could hear in his head was how he was a failure as a jedi.

Something snapped within him and he began to feel the rage inside him. The hatred inside of him boiled up and exploded. Hakk could feel the force all around him and it was calling him. The energy in the ground, the planet, and the temple itself. It was calling to him. His hatred began to fuel him as if was giving him more strength. He felt lighter and quicker with his movements. Stronger with each blow he would deflect.

Hakk found an opening to produce a lightsaber lock and began to push with all his might toward Karn. "I'm just getting started. You might want to work on finding a way to talk less. Being cocky might be your downfall." Hakk spoke with a fire of passion and confidence toward Karn's words. Accepting the anger and hatred within him, he embrace the darkside. His rage was fueling him. As the lightsabers were in a lock, Hakk made an effort to try to knock Karn's lightsaber out of his hands. With the distraction he raised his left hand and sent a force push toward Karn. With all his strength he sprinted toward Karn, he ran by a wall to use it as an object to push off of. Hakk leaped onto the wall and used it's momentum to force his way at Karn. Hakk leaped with force through the air ready to strike down Karn. Hakk had enough being on the defensive and needed to show his true strength.

[Rugs]

Djem So. The fifth form, built on strength in offense and devastating counterattacks on defense. Karn knew the form’s basics, though Juyo was far and away his preference. Still, he pressed on, relentless in his assault on Hakk. He didn’t seek to kill the runaway Jedi, only embarrass him. A few shiim marks — touches with a lightsaber blade — should suffice to demonstrate the difference between them.

Hakk, it seemed, had no intention of going down easily. He kept Karn’s onslaught at bay, though the Arkanian wondered how long he could keep it up. Emotional tumult raged within the Zabrak, and Karn knew all too well what could happen if emotions were left to run uncontrolled.

Emotions were a powerful fuel, but did Hakk know how to harness them? Would his mental state let him? Karn was determined to press him further, to the breaking point and beyond. Let the Jedi know that whatever games he’d played at ‘til now were nothing in comparison to what lay ahead.

Which every passing exchange, every desperately-blocked stroke, he could feel himself pushing closer to breaking through Hakk’s defenses. Just a little further...

A lightsaber lock. Again they pressed against each other, blades squealing and sparking between them. Again, neither could gain ground against the other. Despite the effort of keeping Hakk’s violet saber at bay, Karn smirked at the Zabrak over the blades. Once he called on the Force, it was over. He’d nearly pushed the Zabrak over the edge with his own strength and skill alone. “I haven’t said anything that’s not true, Jedi,” he said. “Don’t get mad at me for your failures.”

Something changed. He felt a surge of the Force in Hakk, grunted as his own lightsaber edged slowly toward him. Then Hakk twisted his blade, trying to pry Karn’s from his hands. Karn resisted this and was about to taunt Hakk once more when a blast of the Force slammed into him.

He flew back. Relying on practiced instinct more than active thought, he twisted in the air so that he landed with his lightsaber clear of his body and rolled up into a crouch. He growled as he came up, drawing on the Force as he ignored the dull ache in his shoulder from hitting the hard stone floor.

Hakk was darting forward, leaping into the air to strike at him. “Enough.” Karn’s voice was low and dark, heavy with the weight of the Dark Side as he thrust a hand out. Through the Force, he sought to arrest Hakk’s motion, to catch him at the height of his leap and strangle him with an iron hold. “You should know your place, Jedi.”

[Pres]

Hakk had leaped with full force in the air ready to strike Karn down with all his strength. The dark side was fueling him with power. His force rage was beginning to take hold. Karn continued to make remarks and jabbed at Hakk by calling him jedi. As he leaped in the air, he screamed with a loud grunt but immediately felt something grab hold of him by the throat. It felt like he was punched in the gut full force. His breath was slowly fading and he couldn't breath. It felt like a hand was crushing his throat, squeezing his life form from him.

Hakk noticed Karn with his hand raised in the air. The moment Hakk let his guard down, Karn seized the opportunity. If only Hakk had a way to break out from the hold of this force choke. His lightsaber dropped to the ground as he raised his own hands at his throat. Hakk was begging for air but nothing was happening. This was how he died. His anger began to fade slowly from his body. The essence of his life dripping away. As he stood there in the air dangling, he remember a conversation with his father. "Never give up. Always fight till you cant fight no more."

That moment he heard his father's words in his head, birthed life into Hakk's body. He dropped his right hand and began to reach for his lightsaber. Tapping into the force, the lightsaber bolted to his hand. Hakk ignited the lightsaber and pushed with his last remaining strength. The Violate colored lightsaber soared through the air violently aiming for Karn's concentration. Hakk's remaining sight began to fade slowly. Soon Hakk's vision would go black.

[hugo]

As far as meaningful friendships went, Korriban was not fertile ground.  The Temple itself, ominous and imperious, suggested more of submission and struggle than it did empathy and discourse.  Still, it had been his home for some years and, among the Sith of the several Cults, he'd made acquaintances.  They were mostly his fellow Mystic Knights, but several characters from his previous life on Coruscant had found their way to the dark cathedral. 

As a padawan, he'd had a group of a half dozen friends, intellectual sorts who'd shared his status as something of a social outcast in their younger years.  Several of them had likewise answered the Dark Side when it made it's longing call and joined the Sith.  One such fellow turncoat was Yemara, a stout, violet-skinned Twi'lek with whom the Hapan had shared a long-standing interest in ancient Force history.  Naturally, she'd joined him as a Cultist of Mysteries when she'd come over, and ever since she and Visarion had met for lunch and debate from time to time.

Fresh off one such meeting, Visarion strolled down the great sandstone halls of the lower temple with an uncharacteristic buoyancy.  It was afternoon, when he customarily took a brief walk to the subterranean archives to retrieve any materials he might have needed for the following day's work.  An altogether unnecessary exercise, the Hapan Knight took the considerable journey by foot to stretch out his leg, which, apparently, despite Tsubasa's healing, had been healing poorly in the months following Af'El and still bothered him from time to time.  He found the brisk walk alleviated some of the soreness.  It also provided opportunity to ruminate, to think, to be alone with his thoughts.  The grand, pillared halls and narrower, arterial corridors of the lower levels and below were typically empty, most of the temple's inbound foot traffic being at the primary entrance.

Visarion had grown accustomed to this daily pilgrimage, his solitude only rarely interrupted by the odd Prophet-researcher headed to the archives or a stray custodian droid, dusting the imperious crimson banners that adorned the halls of the Sith.  It was only rarely that he heard conversation or observed anything beyond the barest acknowledgments between the passage's sparse passer-bys.

It was in this context of silence and solemnity that Visarion was disturbed by a clashing of the Force in the vicinity.  Pausing halfway down the hall, he listened intently, with his ears and with his presence.  Distantly, likely in the next hall, he perceived the unmistakable buzzing of lightsabers meeting in contest.  How curious.  

The slender, black-clad Hapan was mildly perturbed at the disturbance, yet he felt it was his duty to at least make sure acolytes weren't meeting down here to kill each other again.  That even was too far for the ruthless Sith, at least within the Temple proper.  Even the most discriminating gardener allowed his buds to flower before deciding which to trim out, so that the whole could be stronger.  With the pleasant refuge of his afternoon ritual shredded by the increasing din of the clashing blades, Visarion turned around, following both the sound and the rattling within the proximate Force.  

It was not long before he made the corner towards the temple's secondary entrance.  There, about halfway down the stately sandstone hall were two figures., too far to identify but each wielding a lit lightsaber.  Taking a step back,  Visarion moved quietly behind the line of pillars on the opposite side of the duelists, shrouded in their shadows.  He stepped softly, taking care to avoid their distracted awareness.  

By the time he'd drawn close enough to see and hear their circular taunts, Visarion noticed one as Karn, the Arkanian acolyte he'd instructed in Force Drain some months earlier.  Impetuous and quick to anger, the Arkanian had been an impressive student of one of the darkest arts.  Such practices came most naturally with those with the most developed and unrestrained sense of self, a sort of mystic charisma.  Those like Karn, and though the acolyte and he were miles apart by all physical and temperamental indications, those like Visarion.  Perhaps that was what Darth Viren had seen in the boy.

The other was an Iridonian, who by this time had scaled along the row of pillars in an attempt to deliver a mortal strike on his opponent, only to be caught in the fatal grip of a well-timed Force choke.  Undeterred, the horned young man, who Visarion had not seen before, launched his purple blade at Karn, a last, desperate chance at victory.  

He would not get the chance to find out if his last-minute gamble would pay off, however, as Visarion then chose to act.  Still within the pillars' shadow, he jerked the flying blade out of the air, just before it reached it's target.  It cluttered noisily on the sandstone floor, halfway between the dueling acolytes.

Stepping out of the shadows, he announced himself.  "I believe that's quiet enough, boys."  In as much time as he'd spoken the words, Visarion's slender, white hands were outstretched and under-turned, and from them leaped arc after arc of pale blue lightning.  He molded and directed the torrent of dark energy, holding back his frustration so as not to seriously harm his targets.  Instead, he focused the energy and multiplied it, sending thousands of tiny arcs across the corridor with a sick cackling and the smell of burning ozone.  He hoped to catch the off-guard combatants and use the forward energy of the assault to slam them backward and into the pillars nearest them.

Looking the young men over, he clicked his tongue.  "Karn, Karn, Karn, I expected better of Darth Viren's prodigal apprentice."  He sized up the other, younger boy.  He must have been a newcomer.  He had neither the bearing nor regalia of a Sith.  "And what have we here?  Have you set upon another poor outcast, come to find refuge in our temple to slaughter?  I have to advise you, boy, if what I just saw was the extent of your abilities," he paused a moment, glancing back at the Arkanian with an amused look and back at the Zabrak,"you would be better to return to Coruscant and beg for your Council to take you back, for, and remember this boy, weakness will find not shelter here.  I direct you to ask yourself why have you come, if only to be strangled cold before you've passed our threshold?  Why are you worthy of our Dark Mantle, to join Our Body?"

He spoke to both of them with the same tone, bearing a tinge of amusement and annoyance, but not overly serious.  He sought not to meaningfully castigate the fighters, only to remind them where they were.  The reclaimed cradle of the Sith was a monument to victory, to strength, to liberation; it was not to be the settling ground of schoolyard dispute.  They were not discouraging from challenging one another, the strong would always have to root out the weak, but the Temple demanded some measure of decorum and sensibility, if only to leave his afternoon strolls uninterrupted.  
 

[Rugs]

Success. Karn’s four-fingered hand clawed in front of him as he felt his Force grip take hold around Hakk’s neck, as he watched the orange Zabrak halt-midair, leaping strike aborted. A dark smile split his lips as he focused, adding strength to the invisible constriction around the Sith hopeful’s neck.

Hakk’s lightsaber clattered uselessly to the ground as he clawed at his throat. A vain struggle, trying to find air. As long as Karn held him there, suspended over the sandstone floor, there was nothing he could do.

Your life is in my hands, now he thought, tightening his grip just so. Swelling giddiness rushed through his head. This was not a new feeling for the Arkanian, but it had been some time since he’d felt it so fully.

To beat a foe in open combat was one thing and satisfying in is own way, yes, but to hold someone helpless, so that they knew he could do as he wished...

His eyes might have rolled back in pleasure, in other circumstances.

For now, he focused on knocking out Hakk. Tempting as it was, he had no desire to kill him — that’d likely land him in some hot water with Darth Viren. No, establishing the hierarchy between Hakk and himself was well and good enough for Karn.

“Now you learn-” he started. A tremor in the Force cut his words off.

Hakk’s lightsaber came flying at him. Karn didn’t even have time to snarl. He swept to motion, relying on his natural athleticism to get out of the saber’s path. The upshot was that he was forced to relinquish his hold on Hakk. The Zabrak would begin to fall. But that was fine; Karn could reestablish his grip on him — and none the gentler, for the stubborn boy’s latest annoyance.

Karn’s plan, born in an instant, never came to fruition. The lightsaber veered from its path, seemingly of its own accord. A second tremor in the Force, stronger than its predecessor, was all that warned him of the lightning.

Next Karn knew, his shoulder — the very same he’d awkwardly landed on earlier — collided painfully with one of the pillars. Karn howled against the sudden electric agony wracking his body. The assault was, blessedly, brief but that was of no consequence.

He spun on his heel, angry blue-white sparks dancing across his fingertips as he laid eyes on the new arrival and-

-stopped, suddenly reconsidering his plan for retribution.

"Karn, Karn, Karn, I expected better of Darth Viren's prodigal apprentice."

“Visarion.” Karn growled the name. The Knight of Mysteries had arrived, seemingly out of nowhere to Karn’s distracted focus. The energy crackling between his fingertips grew fitful as he struggled to reign in his desire against attacking Visarion.

Karn was a standout among his peers, in terms of ability in the Dark Side. His potential for the dark arts, he knew, was vast. Some months ago, Visarion had tutored Karn in the ways of Force Drain — a lesson he’d put to use when Nostos sicked a pack of starving Tuk’ata on him and some of his fellows in the Valley of the Dark Lords a few weeks later.

He knew first-hand from that lesson that Visarion’s strength in the Dark Side was no different, and the Knight was both more powerful and experienced than he.

And so Karn struggled with a choice. His temper, his aggression, demanded payback for the pain the Knight visited upon him. But would that retribution be worth whatever answer Visarion might unleash in kind?

With a visible struggle, Karn forced his face to calmness. The threatening sparks died from his fingertips. “This Jedi runaway attacked me,” he said flatly, with a sharp look at Hakk. “I was merely putting him in his place.” Karn’s tone said he very much believed he’d have met that goal, if not for Visarion’s untimely intrusion. “I thought Sith Knights had better things to do than electrocuting acolytes in the middle of the day,” he added with a too-sweet tone.

With a tug of the Force, he called Hakk’s lightsaber to his hand. He ignited it, throwing purple light across his pale face as he gave a Hakk a ‘look-what-I’ve-got’ smirk.

Given the chance, he might have said more, but with the Zabrak’s lightsaber in hand, he watched and waited to see how he’d respond to Visarion’s lightning — and his question.

[Pres]

For a split second, Hakk felt the tension around his neck began to feel looser. This happened the moment he sent his lightsaber at Karn. The distraction seemed to work, Hakk thought to himself. He wanted to shoot Karn an evil grin but he was distracted by a roaring thunder that echoed the hallway. A powerful force of electricity raced in the air, eager to seek out its victim. The sound of rage filled the room wanting more. The blast of the electricity hit Hakk and Karn at the same time. For a split second, Hakk saw the beauty in the lightning that formed in front of him. The way the blue arcs of crackling electricity forming into more lightning pieces was an art in itself.

The moment passed as Hakk’s body began to jolt with electricity. The dark energy ravaged at Hakk that forced himself to get slammed into a pillar that was near him. Hakk felt every part of his body tingle with sharp pain. The burst of pain was still there but slowly fading away. Hakk could smell his own flesh burning from the force of the electricity. The impact from the pillar seemed to help distract his body from the remaining echoes of electricity still zooming in his body.

Hakk slowly regained his composure, after what felt like hours on the ground. As he listened with his ears, he notice a new voice. His head was ringing with pain but Hakk fought through it as he wanted to know what was happening. The new figure asked Hakk a question. It was addressed in a way that made Hakk doubt his own self for a moment. Clearly, this entire show was an embarrassment. How could he let his anger get the better of him. Hakk grew disappointed in himself but showed a brave face.

Why did Hakk come to this planet? Questions and thoughts rushed through his head. Hakk couldn’t come up with a straight answer for himself. Relieving the moments of the passed 24 hours, Hakk began to feel the hatred boiling up from inside him. He felt the sorrow and guilt of his actions. Then it clicked. Power. He felt the connection to this place. The force flashed a power at him, that can only be found here. Whether that was from training on his own or from finding a new master. The force wanted Hakk to unleash his power to its full potential.

As the new figure approached, he noticed Karn holding his lightsaber. He felt like Karn was trying to taunt him. Hakk didn’t care anymore, if he was going to die now then at least he would be free from this world. Taking a breath, he squeezed his palms together in a fist and forced himself to stand. Hakk ignored Karn and made eye contact with the Sith in front of him. “The Jedi are weak. If I wanted to stay with the Jedi, I would have stayed on Corusant…I have something inside of me that needs to be unleashed. I want my enemies to see me and be afraid. The force called me here. A dark force that teased potential of what I can be.” Hakk spoke with passion in his words. He couldn’t believe what he was saying but at the same time the words felt right. He would never be able to say those things if he was with the Jedi. If anything the Jedi would try to hold him back. Hakk continued to look at this Sith, “I’m done running and want to prove myself. I will do whatever it takes. If I die here, so be it. But I’m not running away from something that finally feels right.” Hakk finished speaking in hopes to persuade the Sith in front of him. He only needed a chance, a chance that Hakk would jump full force with everything he got. Even if it meant death.

[hugo]

Visarion stood before the apprentices, nearest the row of columns from behind which he'd pounced on the errant acolytes.  Karn, the Arkanian who'd impressed him so at the cavern, seethed, and Visarion could sense the rage, barely contained, bubbling beneath his alabaster countenance.  Strike at me, Karn, and strike me like a man, for I shall strike the very next blow and I'll kill you if I can, he mused, paraphrasing an epic of the Ancient Sith.  

But the white Sith did not strike him.  He instead offered a casus belli of sorts for the scrap.  Strange yet believable. "I see." 

The Sith, to Visarion's mild regret, were renowned for their barbarity.  Such incidents were a dime a dozen under and around the ebony temple's resplendent arches.  Jealousy, anger, insecurity.  All of it pervaded their sacred home, and it was not strange for violence to break out between the acolytes and even members of the Order proper, not to mention the constant, murderous machinations of the Order's elite as the jostled for power in a hierarchy so rigid.

The other one, the Zabrak, irritated Visarion with his reasoning.  It was all well and good, and to be fair, the very same animus that swelled the Sith Order so rapidly the decade past.  Yet it was all so vanilla, so unstimulating.

"Oh?  And the darkness has emerged from its obscurity to lead you plainly to Our Body?  A Jedi Padawan of," he looked the boy up and down, "no remark?  Why do you think that is?  I admit to you, of what you have said to me, that supposition is the only one of which I can take with any fidelity.  Your mere curiosity, mere ambition, will not suffice to make you Sith.  That designation is reserved not for those who dare only to reach for the Darkness, but for those with the strength and virility to grasp it, to make it his, to make it mass."  

Whatever their conflict's cause, Visarion did not see fit to further punish the younger Dark Jedi.  Karn had, the Hapan surmised, gathered his lesson.  However tantalizing the world's distractions may have been, taunted further by passion, they could not take away so much from one's focus, his unity with the whole of the Force.  Such diversions left one blinded, vulnerable.  His anger would subside, and perhaps, with time, understanding would blossom in its stead.

As for the newcomer, the Zabrak, Visarion was less sure.  Certainly, from the Knight's observations of the skirmish and based on the fact that he'd held his own thusfar against a pupil as meritorious as the Arkanian opposite him, Visarion supposed this Hakk carried with him some talent, some mastery of the higher mysteries.

"To be Sith is not to be right by virtue of might, to conquer and usurp as your passions lead.  We are, rather, mighty by virtue of being right.  Strength is our law, and slaughter our end.  You have will, but to be Sith, you must match every ounce of that will with strength."  Visarion crossed his arms, leaning his unimpressive weight backward on his heels.  He turned to Karn.  "Tell me, Karn, does this one have what is required?  That which Our Body saw so brightly in myself and yours?"

[Rugs]

No further punishment came from Visarion’s fingertips, despite Karn’s obvious irritation at the Knight butting into the fight. That was no surprise; Visarion was reasonable, as far as their kind went, though the pretty Sith was not one to be trifled with. And it was likely for the best; had the Knight pressed the matter further, Karn’s self-control would likely fail.

He suspected he could cause Visarion some headache in a fight, but doubted he could best the Knight, should things devolve to an all-out brawl.

Instead, Visarion rightly turned his attention to the orange Zabrak, who’d similarly found a way to bottle up his penchant for violence in the face of the Knight’s display of power and Karn’s taunting.

For his part, Karn remained silent as Hakk spoke, and Visarion answered. His gaze drifted to Hakk’s violet lightsaber, still humming quietly in his pale palm. The weapon was well enough built, though he’d always favor his own lightsaber others’.

That he observed Hakk’s craftsmanship did not mean he ignored the Zabrak’s answer, of some call from the Dark that led him from Coruscant to Korriban — from the seat of one Order’s power to the heart of its arch-rival’s. He raised his gaze slightly, to watch Visarion as the Knight — wordy as ever — weighed Hakk’s answer.

And then Visarion turned his question to Karn, asking him to judge the newcomer’s worth.

A smile, cold and merciless, took shape on Karn’s face as he turned to Hakk once more. It would be so easy to claim he was unworthy, to say Hakk should be turned away at the gates and left to the Galaxy, to find his own way or die.

He will expect more. He looked to Visarion. In his lesson, Visarion had demanded that Karn think, that he look beyond the easy answers and solutions and search for deeper strength, deeper meaning and purpose.

Besides, he did not know how much of the scuffle Visarion had been privy to.

Karn sliced lazily at the air with Hakk’s violet blade in a few one-handed practice strokes of Juyo. He could not suppress all of the annoyance in his voice at the fight’s abrupt halt as he spoke again. “I could have killed him if you hadn’t butted in.” That, he felt was truth, as surely as he knew Visarion could do the same to him. Though, that he could do a thing did not mean he would, or even planned to.

“He’s not without promise, though he’s weak, as he is. He claims to have slaughtered a group of people before fleeing here.” He huffed a chuckle, head tilting slightly as he looked again to Visarion. “Imagine that. A Jedi child turned butcher. Whatever his story,” he went on, returning his focus to Hakk, “whatever his reasons for coming here, I cannot deny that his strength could bloom, with guidance.

“But now he is rough. Unmolded.” Karn lifted Hakk’s blade. “He’s not even bled his lightsaber’s crystal, though whether he lacks the knowledge or the desire, I cannot say.”

His own lightsaber’s crystal, as he’d found it, had been cyan. The blade it emitted was a brilliant light blue that verged on white. It was beautiful. Breaking it, forcing his will on it until the crystal and its resulting blade turned a dark, bloody red, had been exhilerating.

Some Sith chose not to change their blade colors. Karn would never understand why. It was an expression of strength of will, of dominance, in its purest form.

Karn killed the purple blade and tossed the silent lightsaber hilt toward Hakk, letting it clang and roll along the stone floor to the Zabrak’s feet. “He is worthy of a chance,” he said, begrudgingly. “If he proves himself undeserving, the trials that await him will cull him from our number.”

Seven years, Karn had called the Sith Temple — or its counterpart on Dromund Kaas, at various points — home. For seven years, he’d watched hopeful after hopeful come to the Sith as the Order’s numbers swelled. Though Order formally frowned on infighting and members senselessly killing each other, Sith training was not for the weak. Some naturally fell as their trials grew to great for them to bear.

Others perished in war, the great winnower of the weak and unworthy.

Karn watched Hakk silently, thinking. Time would tell if the Zabrak would join the lost and dead in their silent chorus, or if he would rise to the occasion.

[Pres]

Hakk’s heart raced rapidly as he listened to the fellow Sith in front of him. His own mind was bouncing back and fourth wanting to react and defend himself but Hakk needed to prove something. Hakk felt like he was being scolded by his father. The tone was ripping into his skin over and over again but Hakk refused to react. Slowly breathing as he listened to Visarion’s words. If it was any time to listen it was now. Hakk knew he had the strength in him but lacked the evidence to prove it.

Hakk took the beating as he etched the words into his head. You must grasp the strength and make it your own. You control the strength. He broke no concentration as he just stared at Visarion trying to find a way to soak up the wisdom of the fellow Sith. Visarion was right, he was indeed just a jedi padawan of no remark. That statement burned inside of him. The anger of everything began to boil from within. His dark rage was thirsty and scratching it’s way out. The rage was thrashing and ready to explode but with one quick thought Hakk found a way to put it at ease for just this moment. He thought about the time he first met his best friend when he was taken captive. The experience itself wasn’t fun as he was being used by the jedi as bait but non the less, it was where Hakk met Kai.

Before Hakk could find a response, Visarion went on another monologue about what Sith were capable of. Strength was how they ruled, it was their law and it was slaughter in the end. In order to prove to Karn and Visarion, he would need to learn his strength and command it with ease. This was not an easy task but something Hakk would work on if he was given the chance. Karn was asked by Visarion if Hakk had what it takes to be a Sith. Hakk’s rage almost spilled out from under him. His hands clenched his own palms to stop himself from reacting. For some reason, Hakk just didn’t like Karn and felt he would take the easy way out and let him die now.

Hakk could feel his heart beat skipping a beat with every passing second. The anticipation was killing him as he waited for a response from Karn. Karn sliced the air with Hakk’s violet blade in one hand. It was a mocking tactic but Hakk was over it and ignored it. It was hard to listen to Karn as he made every word that came out of his mouth sound cocky and confident. Karn could have been right about killing him but Hakk knew he would have left something injured with that lightsaber throw if Visarion didn’t join in.

This was a turn of events, Karn decided to spare him for some strange reason. Hakk internally grinned as it was his second chance at living. He knew this was the chance he needed to survive. Hakk wasn’t going to let himself fail. He will find his own strength and command it with force. Hakk waited for Karn to finish speaking and when he was done his own lightsaber came rolling toward him. Hakk moved his right hand and levitated his lightsaber with quick force. Hakk wasn’t quite sure how to say thank you to Karn but gave him a slight nod with look of fire in his eyes. His glare meant he would come back for a rematch in the future if it were allowed. Hakk’s glance went back to Visarion, ”You won’t regret this. I will prove to you both of you.” With that the Zabrak would wait patiently for an answer. What would Visarion have him do to prove himself? ”What will you have me do?”

[hugo]

Imagine that. A Jedi child turned butcher.

Karn's words, with uncomfortable immediacy, brought the Knight back to a time long past.  However improbable the Arkanian believed the tale to be, Visarion knew better, if only because he himself had been exactly that-- a Jedi child turned butcher.  He remembered with sanguine clarity the pained, last cries of the Iridonians as they succumbed to his unbridled rage.  It had been a seminal moment for him, and before the formalities had been passed upon him, it was, in his estimation, when he became truly Sith.  When passion and will were finally wed and any lingering bonds to his old self were broken.


"Hmm." Visarion stroked his non-existent goatee while Karn rendered his judgement, all the while sizing up the younger Zabrak before him. "Unmolded indeed."


Apprising the horned youth further, he perceived clearly that Karn's assessments were more or less correct.  The passion within him was unrestrained, unobscured.  It bubbled and seethed freely as his temper swelled further with each of the ivory acolyte's taunts.  Yes, there was substance to the boy, potential even.  The ferocity of the Iridonian's temper almost reminded Visarion of Karn, an observation he reserved for his own amusement.

Yet it was perilous.  Frantic.  The boy could not have been older than twenty or so, perhaps younger.  From his previous, clandestine observation of the fight between the two, it was clear to Visarion that the Zabrak was no novice, yet his discipline was lacking, his presence focused only precariously.  

Visarion had to muzzle his irritation at the suggestion that he should devise some trial or examination for the hopeful, so that he could be adjudged worthy to become an acolyte.  He supposed it was only a natural assumption; the boy was accustomed to the ritualistic and formalized babying of the Jedi.  That was always a source of irritation in his previous life on Coruscant, a triumph of style over substance.

"Sith do not have a test, or a trial.  The only requirement is that one of our number recognizes your worth.  As of now, I have no reason to question Acolyte Albrecht's judgement of your potential; I acknowledge you have some degree of ability yet remain unconvinced as to what your value is now."  He paused.  Visarion would not hold his hand.

Still, the Hapan felt he should give the boy something.  Hakk intrigued him.  He had some affinity for his briefly adopted homeworld and its people, but more pertinently, Visarion sensed a familiar restlessness within the boy.  It had not been fear or necessity that drove him to their dark redoubt, but desire.  That was something at least.  

"It would serve your cause to make some conspicuous profession of your newfound faith in our cause."  His eyes shifted briefly to the lightsaber recently returned to the hopeful's grasp.  He remembered clearly the transformation of his own blade, once cyan, to Sith crimson.  The act itself had been arduous--it was a struggle in every sense to so totally constrict a thing in one's presence to break it entirely.  He did not suppose it made any real, discernible difference in the lightsaber itself, but the act was one of symbollic value to their kind.  To so totally exert dominance was their ultimate goal in all things, and what better way to begin that journey than to destroy that which was given, that which was so personal to many Force-users, and make it in every way subordinate.

Yet that was merely a suggestion.  He would have to more holistically appraise Hakk to gauge his real worth with any measure of accuracy.  "Find me tomorrow, " his cold blue eyes, almost playful, found Karn, "if someone does not kill you first."

Even before he'd finished speaking, Visarion began walking down the great pillared hall.  He would return to his chambers and reflect, his quick mind already devising just how he would test the wayward hopeful.  

[Rugs]

“You won’t regret this.”

“Won’t we?” Karn’s smile was haughty, superior. Evidently, he could only go so far without turning back to barbs. As far as the Arkanian acolyte was concerned, he’d done Hakk a favor — and more than he deserved — by offering an honest assessment to Visarion. He owed Hakk nothing further — no help, and certainly no needless coddling.

The Sith were as hard and unforgiving as Korriban’s endless desert. The sooner the Zabrak learned this, the better. Even then, Karn’s eyes narrowed slightly as Hakk asked for a test or trial, for some way to prove himself, knowing a thing doesn’t assume survival.

Karn shifted his gaze to Visarion. The Knight was the one who held power to determine whether Hakk was worthy, to set his test. Besides, Karn felt it best to let Visarion determine how to proceed — left to his own devices, Karn might order Hakk off into one of the Valley’s tombs to find some artifact that didn’t exist or confront some ancient beast he had no hope of felling.

He rubbed his shoulder. It ached dully, from collisions with the ground from Hakk’s push and the pillar from Visarion’s sudden, electric arrival. A biting pain still lingered from Visarion’s lighting. Briefly, Karn considered retaliating again, but no. There was no point now, and if he failed, he’d not do so in front of the newcomer.

Visarion issued his instruction and elicited a teasing grin from Karn. “I would never,” he said, tone giving away the lie.

Karn remained as Visarion ventured back off to wherever-the-hell in the Temple. As the Knight of Mysteries vanished from view, Karn looked to Hakk. The teasing smile was gone now, replaced by a weighing, thoughtful look.

“You got lucky,” he said, motioning with his head in the direction Visarion had taken his leave. If Visarion had just arrived a few moments later... “You won’t next time.” Sparks danced around his clawed fingertips; a display of strength and warning of what awaited, should they come to blows again.

Now he smiled again at the handsome Zabrak, so fake-sweet that it was obviously malicious. Karn turned to leave, heading off to his quarters. “See you tomorrow, Jedi.”

[Pres]

In the next few moments, Hakk's life was spared and he was offered a second chance. For Karn, it was merely luck but to Hakk it was a shot at life. A new story and a new path that he will not regret to mess up. Hakk showed no emotion and just stared at Visarion as he scolded Hakk about what it truly means to be Sith. Hakk didn't take his eyes off of him and made sure to listen to every word. Hakk grasped his lightsaber tighter as Visarion mentioned joining the cause to the sith. It was directed toward his lightsaber, something Hakk would have to overcome soon. Find me tomorrow Visarion spoke as he drifted away through the endless halls of the temple. If his heart would stop, it would had been the moment leading to those very words. Tomorrow would bring a new set of challenges but at least it meant he was alive.



As Visarion faded away, Hakk's gaze went to Karn. His face grew irritated as he listed to Karn's cocky voice. Before Hakk could get a word in, Karn walked away deeper into the Sith Temple. Hakk gave Karn a look of pure rage and disgust. Hakk wanted to punch the white haired Arakanian in the face. As Karn was out of site, Hakk released his anger at the nearest object which was a wall. The punch crushed the wall, as rubble of broken pieces fell to the ground. In that moment, the pain in Hakk's body was released. Everything came at once. His entire body felt the immense pain from the battle with Karn. Several cuts from Karn's lightsaber itched through out his body. Hakk could even feel the electricity from Visarions hand pulsing throughout his body like a heart beat. His back was sore from the brutal pushed from Visarions force lightning. To Top off it all, he just smashed his right hand into the wall.



Hakk fell to his knees as the amount of pain forced his body to hit the floor. With each movement, his body ached with pain. Hakk slowed his breath which helped him regain his body's control. Lifting himself up off the ground, he began to explore the temple to find a room to rest in for a few hours. With each step came strings of pain. Overtime, Hakk would accept the pain and begin to walk through it without reacting to his body. Hakk found a small room that looked like it hadn't been in use for some time. It was clear no one was using this empty room so Hakk decided to use it to rest.



As Hakk found himself sleeping, his sleep wasn't peaceful. He felt his body toss and turn from dreams that ate at him internally. He relived the memory of slaughtering a dozen of locals that were most likely tied to some gang affiliation. Hakk mind was reliving this memory over and over again as he slept. The death of his best friend who he wanted to spend the rest of his life with murdered in front of him. This memory was edged into his brain on repeat. Hakk woke himself up with a loud scream filled with rage. He tried to fall back asleep but his body wouldn't let him. The Zabrak found himself staring at the cieling of the room. Visarion's words kept repeating inside his head. It was the actions that were important. Hakk forced himself out of the bed as he twirled his lightsaber in his right hand.



Hakk motioned to the ground and crossed his legs and he placed his lightsaber on the ground. Hakk closed his eyes to begin meditating with the force. Memories flowed into his head from when he was younger as he was tasked to create and build his lightsaber. His younger self was cocky and felt like he could do it all in one day but Hakk quickly learned that day it would take more than that. The connection to the Kyber crystal felt like it took centuries to make. Hakk's body in that moment felt like it was going to end with exhaustion. Then he felt it, the pulsing wave that braced him energy to follow.



Hakk began to focus to let the memory fade away. His life and memories with the Jedi were long gone. He could feel the images fading from his mind as if wood would fade into ash from fire. Each memory felt like a sharp jab slicing away from his body. Hakk dived into his anger that he held the moment his best friend was taken from him. His blood began to boil within and the pure rage echoed through his body. His lightsaber began dismantle itself floating in the air. In the middle of the many pieces of the lightsaber was a purple kyber crystal. Hakk focused on the connect he had with this crystal and poured his anger into this focus point. His pain and anger flushed into the crystal like a wave of water colliding into the ground. The force of anger breathed new energy into the crystal. The purple color soon faded as a new color began to form. The color of red began to bleed into the kyber crystal. With one quick motion the lightsaber formed together and dashed with full force to Hakk. He caught it in his right arm and ignited the blade. The red aurora brighten the room with light. Hakk gripped the lightsaber harder and gave a quick left and right swoosh in the air. Hakk felt like a new person as if he was reborn with a new goal and motivation. Power. To show those around them that the sith hold the true power in this world.



The day had started and Hakk was ready with full force. His body was sore from yesterdays encounter with Karn but the few hours helped his body slightly recover. Hakk wore a lose grey shirt with black leggings and boots. He walked down the halls with confidence that lifted him up. Today was going to be challenging and it's going to test every ounce of his body. Hakk was ready. Eventually Hakk would find himself outside the quarters of Visarion to await his orders.