The smell of copper burned within Kul’s nostrils. Its pungent stench stung all the more as he realized what the source was. It hadn't taken long, the splattered walls and still bodies were testimony enough. His eyes blazed with fury as the rest of him fought to understand that his whole world had just ended. No amount of training or illusions of peace could prepare him for the emotions that boiled within.

His family lay before him, their bodies lacerated by the humming blade in the Jedi’s hands. Kul remembered having seen the man talking with his father. An attempt to recruit him to what was left of their order. Of course his father had refused, explaining that his place was with his family, and his ability to wield his power (the “Force” the Jedi had called it) was merely an extra tool with which to provide for them. Had the Jedi not liked that answer? From what Kul had heard in stories, the Jedi were supposed to be protectors of the peace, not murderers.

Kul then noticed that the Jedi was wounded as well. As the man turned with his left hand holding his side, Kul saw the look in his eyes. It was a look he had seen many a time in the eyes of his prey while hunting: the look of defeat. Knowing one’s time was up. The Jedi quickly changed expressions, a crazed glint in his eyes as they stared past the young Zabrak.

“I will not allow the Sith to take him! With my death, I ensure your defeat!”

Kul had no idea what the man was talking about, but he knew what his feelings told him. *Vengeance.*

Having returned just recently from his *Selenoren,* Kul still had his trusted *zhaboka* in hand, blade freshly washed and sharpened after his battle royale with the other clan’s sons. The ones who had been foolish enough to keep challenging him, in any case. The trap had come as a surprise, another attempt by the Drols’ enemies to put them down. Instead, more than a few clans would be in mourning. All thanks to the training Kul’s father had provided him. The image of his father’s face grinning with pride brought him back to the present. His vision narrowed and everything became tinted in red as if a veil had been pulled over him.

The Zabrak gripped the polearm deftly, and roared. His body moved of its own accord, and he suddenly felt lighter and stronger than before. His legs propelled him forward and his arms thrust the weapon stiffly ahead. The Jedi had no fight left, and was sent smashing into the wall when the blade struck home. The force of the blow left the long handle of the weapon impaled into the wall, the Jedi hanging lifeless.

Kul stepped back as the rush of power began to overflow his emotions. His senses were alert and prickling. They warned him of another presence to his rear. He turned sharply on his heels and saw that he was not alone. A man, his face and body augmented with technology, stood in the corner, draped from head to toe in black armor with a cloak dusting the dirt floor. Two humanoid eyes took in the carnage appreciatively as his metallic jaw clicked to one side. Kul realized it was his form of a grin. As the being spoke his original voice was masked by a synthesizer and seemed to echo throughout the building.

“Defeat? You failed to calculate one detail, Jedi. The Force can be found in others, but a master lies dead. Your order grows smaller, while mine grows.”

The eyes locked onto Kul and their pupils seemed to swivel and shrink like the scope on a rifle. The Zabrak, still under the influence of his rage, yanked his *zhaboka* from the wall and spun it with blade pointed at the android. He completely ignored the Jedi’s corpse as it fell with a thud and sneered. He knew he should be terrified, yet his lust for blood had risen exponentially within the last few moments. His only thought was the desire to see these invaders pay for his family’s murder.

The android saw the look of hunger in the Zabrak’s eyes and his remaining cheek muscles tensed as his mechanoid body tried to laugh. The being swept aside his cloak with one arm, revealing a metal cylinder at his side. Delicately coaxing it into his hand, he spun it once for show before it burst into light. A long beam of crimson faced Kul’s blade of weak durasteel.

“I sense your anger, boy. Perhaps we can make something of you in your father’s place.”

*We?* Kul frowned and could not resist the curiosity that statement brought. He fought the urge to pounce.

“Who is that? More Jedi? I will kill you all!”

The Zabrak’s threat was not lost on the android, but at the same time not considered a potential possibility. The young warrior’s ignorance of outside matters amused him greatly.

“Jedi? No. I am Sith, a group who recognizes the Dark Side of the Force as our guide. It’s power releases us from the shackles of the weak and makes us free. As you can now feel. That strength flowing through you know is you innate power coming forth. The Dark Side calls to you. My clan can help you grow and achieve great things, boy. Now. Come with me.”

Something in the back of Kul’s mind struggled, like water attempting to burst from a dam. It wanted out and he felt the power he had noticed before. It felt...good. His eyes gazed over the Sith’s body. But at what cost? The android smelled of corruption worse than when his father’s crops had soured two harvests ago. His peripheral reminded him of the bodies around him, and made him wonder just where he’d go if he stayed. He was reminded of his father’s words, spoken in a time when there was nothing but the world available to Kul as he approached his *Selenoren.*

*’Power is a nice thing to have, but it doesn’t bring you peace. Remember that, little Kul.’*

His decision made, the Zabrak grasped his polearm tightly and began to circle his opponent. The Sith stared calmly, well aware of his advantage in pure strength. As Kul’tak found his opening he dived towards the Sith, driving the polearm towards where he thought the android’s heart might be. The Sith merely stepped to one side and flicked his saber upward. As Kul’s momentum drove him forward, he tried to stop and turn using a defensive technique of K’thri, but was caught as he watched the front half of his *zhaboka* fly the opposite direction. His weapon had been severed cleanly, and with no resistance.

The last image of his home was of the Sith driving a fist down upon him.

A haze remained as Kul came into a weak state of consciousness. Everything was dark and foggy, but he felt the presence of multiple people around him. One stepped forward and sudden pain lit up his insides. A strange voice screamed at him, but it was partly muffled by what he could only guess were drugs in his system.

*I’m going to die,* he lamented. The pain began to wake his body to his surroundings, and he could make out the voice now.

“You serve Karness Muur now! Your life belongs to Plagueis! Say it! Whom do you serve!?”

His body was racked as another wave of pain passed through him. He saw a flash of bluish light and it reminded him of the stormy nights he’d spent in the woods with his father and younger brother foraging for supplies.

He heard screaming as the next wave hit. *Is...is that...me? I...make it stop.*

“Whom do you serve, slave!?” The voice was just background noise now as Kul’s view began to clear slightly. The pain was driving his hearts to work twice as hard, speeding his adrenal process and cleansing his blood of toxins. They could not stop the tendrils of energy that coursed through him, however. But this meant nothing as his eyes fell upon the android, a shadow in the corner with a metallic smirk. An image flashed through Kul’s mind as the lightning began to take its toll on him. Bodies lying in a bloody heap, and an emotion triggered at the sight. A flash of green and a word: *Jedi.* All Jedi must pay.

*Whom do I serve? This Plagueis? Fine. If they let me serve my vengeance, I’ll bend a knee.*

The android turned and left the room, speaking to a red-haired girl who stood waiting by the door. At his remark she gave the Zabrak an appraising glance, but only nodded in response.

*I’ll kill him, too. Wipe that smirk away. But to do that, I need to live. That power I felt...it must be the answer. I will have more.*

Another stream flowed through him and sparked across the table he was strapped to. The jagged tattooes across his body bulged as his body convulsed anew.

“Whom...do...you serve!?”

Kul managed to move his lips, causing the torturer to lean forward, their face shrouded in cloth. Kul felt the muscles in his body twist and flush with renewed strength as he drew from the power he’d sensed lingering in the back of his mind. It responded as his anger took hold, passing through his being and satiating his need for quick energy. His voice leaked out as a weak whisper.

“Pla...gueis.”

The torturer’s eyes squinted, a smile on their hidden lips. They turned to report their success in reforming the newest slave, but it was at that moment Kul struck. His empowered arms tore the straps from the table, and slammed together. The torturer’s neck snapped cleanly, and Kul ripped his feet free. The red-haired woman merely took this all in, accepting Kul’s freedom with a nod towards the floor. Unsure of these Sith’s traditions, but aware of their clan status, he hazarded a guess and knelt groggily on the floor. The woman strode forward, smaller than himself, yet possessing a presence his instincts immediately became wary of. She allowed a slight smile to cross her face as she laid a small hand on his horned head. His breaths were long and gasping, but he knew that his time was not ending. It was just beginning.

“Rise, my apprentice.”