Enjoy.

“And that's how we came to have an Ewok Dark Jedi Master!”

The speaker was clearly intoxicated, his speech slurring and his incessant grin annoying the onlookers with its obliviousness. A varied collection of tumblers, glasses, flutes and mugs were arrayed before him, like a trophy case, for all the world to see. His comrades, equally inebriated, but infatuated with the man, grinned and chortled as the man had expected they would. Give him credit, at least he knows his audience.

“I wouldn't make fun of Arania, Thran. You have no idea what she's like now,” said a deep voice from a nearby booth. The drunk man, presumably Thran, leaned forward, his jovial nature descending into anger. He stood, leaning unsteadily, and glared at the occupant of the booth.

“Arch, is that you?” he said, staggering towards the speaker. In fact, the booth was occupied by three people, and Thran invaded their personal space with a cloud of alcohol fumes. Evant looked to Xen, who shook his head. Archangel, however, looked up at Thran, and smiled.

“I wouldn't joke about her, Thran. She can be mean,” the huge man said, a small tumbler of whiskey cradled in his oversized hands. Thran let out of a belch, before laughing himself silly, almost falling over in his excitement. His cronies, watching from afar, laughed and applauded the man's antics. Archangel's eyebrow rose slowly.

“I've seen her, Thran. She's a demon. I've seen her wade into a platoon of troops and come out the other side, bloodied and grinning. I've seen her rip into the face of a Jedi, giggling with glee. I've seen her attack an AT-ST walker by running up the leg and stabbing her lightsaber through the wind shield. Do not joke about her.”

“And what would she do about it?!” Thran slurred, a glass in his hand distributing his contents around the local area, “She's not around, and I can make up stuff about a silly teddy bear with a lightsaber as much as I want.”

“It's not too smart, Thran,” Archangel said, before taking a slow sip of his drink. Evant's grin disappeared, his eyes staring at something behind Thran.

“Especially,” Xen said, through his mask, “When she's standing behind you.”

The cold water of realization dawned on the drunk man, his face dropping from an off-kilter grin to a frown of horror. He was stuck, standing in the middle of a bar, but he couldn't, wouldn't turn around. A Dark Jedi Master was a terrifying creature to behold, but an Ewok one, who he had up until very recently been making fun of, was worse.

Something tapped the back of his knee, and he screeched, scrambling away and falling over a chair, and the man who'd been sitting in it. Evant, Archangel and Xen let an uproar of laughter blossom from them. Where Thran had been standing, Rayne was grinning, a tray of drinks in her hand for the table.

“Your toe?” Xen asked, raising his drink in a salute to the woman.

“Just a little kick,” she replied, her grin somehow becoming even more mischievous.

–

“And that's how we got Thran to wet himself in public!” Archangel said. The journeymen around him were staring at him in disbelief. One younger one raised her hand.

“Master, do we really have an Ewok Dark Jedi Master?” she said, not sure if it was a stupid question. Archangel smiled.

“Of course we do, Apprentice. She's right behind you.”

The apprentices laughed nervously.

“Nice try, Master Archangel.”

An angry clearing of a cute, cuddly throat echoed behind the assembled apprentices. As a group, they jumped, turned and bowed to the Ewok. Archangel threw a salute to the Dark Jedi Master. The ewok nodded.

“That story true, Arch?” she asked, waving the apprentices away.

“It is indeed,” the large man replied, before walking towards the command center.

“Alright, apprentices,” Arania started, “Time to learn how to hunt. Where is Adept Thran?”

M/VSD II Paladin

It was the first day of classes for the newest arrivals. Inyri’s blue eyes darted among her peers, most of them a fair bit younger than she was. Anticipation and excitement filled the air as Inyri made her way to the first class of the day, which would introduce her to the basics of the Brotherhood. After that, Inyri’s day was full of combat courses and an introduction to starfighter piloting, which suited her just fine. She hoped that she could get past the class work and get to something far more practical.

Still, for the moment, Inyri knew the drill. Just like at Corellian Security Forces Academy, the best approach was to keep her head down until she had to demonstrate her abilities, follow orders, and not attract unwanted attention. At least in her mind it was, there was no telling yet what the Shadow Academy’s instructors were going to do, and there had been whispers of some kind of purge not long after her arrival. It kept Inyri on edge, but for now, she’d observe and then react.

Inyri stepped into the classroom with the rest of her class, and found a seat towards the front, on the aisle side. She swung her satchel onto the desk and sat down, rummaging for her datapad and stylus when she realized there was someone standing over her. Inyri stopped and looked up, it was a Kaleesh male leering at her. Judging from his attire, he was also a student.

“Can I help you?” Inyri asked.

“You’re in my seat, Human,” The Kaleesh sneered.

“They’re not assigned. Find another,” Inyri replied and went back to her pack. She wasn’t about to indulge the student’s posturing. The Kaleesh leaned in, slamming a hand down on the desk.

“I said that you were in my seat, Human. So YOU find another,” The Kaleesh said with a harsh edge on his tone. Inyri let out an annoyed sigh.

“Or what?” Inyri asked.

“Do not test me, because you will not like the consequences, Human. Find another seat, this one is mine,” The Kaleesh continued to speak in a threatening tone. Inyri finally turned to face the Kaleesh again, her eyes narrowing.

“No.” Inyri’s gaze locked on the Kaleesh’s yellow eyes, as she spoke with conviction.

The Kaleesh responded by moving the hand he slammed on the desk to grabbing Inyri by the throat, clamping down to try and choke her. Inyri gasped for air, but as she did, her training kicked in. Her left hand went for his wrist, while her right leg wrapped around his left ankle and her right hand reached for his head. In one swift motion, she pulled his leg out from under him and slammed his head into the desk, using her grip on his wrist to break his grip on her neck and then twisted it to apply some pressure on him in return.

“Enough!” A voice barked from the head of the room. Inyri’s gaze turned to the speaker, the instructor for the course. As ordered, she let go of the Kaleesh’s wrist. Her attacker stood up, and drew back to punch her when his fist stopped dead in the air. She could then hear him gasping for air, clutching at his throat.

“I said enough! Defy me again, and you will be severely punished! Now find a seat so we can begin,” The instructor said. He wore ornate red and black robes that seemed quite voluminous, though Inyri wasn’t sure if it was for show or not, since many here favored robes it seemed. In fact, Inyri had forgone that attire for more straightforward clothing, a white shirt and black jacket, green pants and brown boots, since she saw no use in wearing robes.

The Kaleesh collapsed to the deck and then stood up slowly, slinking towards the back of the room.

“Initiate Ginovef, why did you see fit to use violence in my classroom?” The instructor asked. Inyri inwardly groaned but stood up, standing at attention like she had learned at CorSec Academy.

“Sir. I saw fit to use force to respond to force used against me, but I did not start the fight,” Inyri replied stiffly.

“Why did you not just strike Initiate Jorg when he first threatened you?”

“Sir. The situation had not escalated to requiring force until he escalated it. And I did not wish to indulge some first day posturing, sir,” Inyri replied.

“But you would have seen it through to its conclusion had I not intervened?” The instructor asked with an arched eyebrow.

“Sir. Yes, I would have applied all necessary force to resolve the situation. As soon as Initiate Jorg backed off, so would I, but otherwise, yes, I would have seen fit to use all available force to resolve the situation, sir.”

“And that, class, is the distinction to make between the Jedi, the Sith, and the Grey. You may feel that Initiate Ginovef should have tried harder to defuse the situation or just outright tried to kill Initiate Jorg for crossing her, she chose an option between both. All three sides must exist for there to be the Force, it is a balance, and all three have their places in the Brotherhood. It is not the path you walk that makes you intrinsically superior, but rather what you do with that path,” The instructor nodded, “Be seated, Initiate.”

Inyri nodded and took her seat, realizing that flying under the sensors was out of the question. She had just painted a target on her back, and now she would have to prove that she was not going to fall prey to anyone or anything here. Excellence was now going to be her only way to survive around here.

Kul’tak shifted nervously in the shuttle’s rigid seat, the training saber at his side a new weight to get used to. Having passed the trials that would begin his foray into the ranks of Clan Plagueis, the young Zabrak was eager to prove himself in the upcoming tests. Of course, his time on Iridonia had not allowed him much in the way of a technical education--he found it difficult to perform quick mathematics and critical thinking--and so he hoped to perhaps improve those deficiencies in the Shadow Academy. But where to start? From he’d been told, all were allowed to take what classes they wanted at whatever time it pleased them. In that case, it might be beneficial to begin at a point he could build off of. A combat related degree, perhaps? His budding strength in martial arms may prove useful in a learning facility after all.

The Zabrak realized the older man across from him was staring. His blue eyes marked the Zabrak’s acolyte robe and he nodded pointedly.

“You’re from Plagueis? We’ve been getting a few new journeymen lately from what I hear. I take it you’re beginning your time aboard the *Paladin*?”

Kul nodded. Ever since his “indoctrination” into the dark clan, where he’d been broken down, it was hard for him to carry a decent conversation. He’d lost a part of himself then, but couldn’t remember what exactly.

“Excellent! Always a pleasure to see a new mind wanting to learn a thing or two. Have you decided what you’d like to pursue first? Most new journeymen like to get into the histories a bit, to learn about where our systems and beliefs originated.”

The Acolyte stared out of the small porthole to his left, the hulking VSDII and headquarters for the Academy coming into view.

“I’m not sure, to be honest,” Kul finally replied. “I considered looking into the history of the Sith, but feel my strengths lie with my combat ability.”

The man’s eyebrow rose, slightly stretching the scar running down his left cheek. He scratched at his stubbled chin.

“Hmm. A fighter, eh? Then you may find the introductory notes on the Antei Combat Center to be of interest. Once you’ve completed the qualification exam, you could challenge opponents from your own clan or from the other ones to duels to prove yourself in the eyes of the Brotherhood. A nasty business, in my opinion, but to each their own.”

The Zabrak’s hood nearly slipped off as he jerked his attention to the man across from him. His curiosity was written under the intense gaze of his orange eyes.

“You mean There's a place I can fight freely like that?”

The man chuckled at the youngling’s eagerness for violence.

“You certainly chose the right clan, then.”

He paused as the Zabrak’s face darkened.

“Ah. You were with the group of slaves that came in this past month, I take it? Apologies, but you'll need more than a desire to kill to survive in Plagueis, boy.”

His gaze lighted upon the large destroyer as it dwarfed their smaller transport. The other passengers began to prepare their personal items for departure. The man brushed off his cloak, which Kul noted was highly professional appearing. Expensive cloth with chain adorning the chest and collar.

The vessels locked together with a loud hiss and Kul’s excitement continued to rise with the noise as passengers began to hustle their way to the exit ramp. He could actually study the martial arts at his will! It made sense, Iridonia had similar facilities for those who did extremely well during their *Selenoren.* Alas, Kul had been denied that opportunity due to being brought to the Brotherhood.

The Zabrak nearly leapt off the transport as he tried to find a marker that could direct him to the Novice Halls. As his head swiveled, he caught sight of the man again standing beside him. He offered a hand to the Zabrak, who shook it once firmly.

“I look forward to seeing your knowledge grow, Acolyte. By the way, I never got your name?”

“Oh, sorry. Kul. I'm Kul’tak Drol.”

“A pleasure, Drol. My name is Dacien Victae. But you can just call me Headmaster.”

As the realization hit the Zabrak his eyes widened, causing the man to laugh as he marched away. He threw up a hand in farewell and disappeared behind a blastdoor marked “To the Headmaster’s Office.”

As Kul continued on his own way, amused and annoyed at the same time (*How did I not realize?*), another thought crossed his mind.

*How did he know I was from Plagueis?*

The Zabrak sighed and realized he had much more to learn than he had originally thought.