*Where are they taking me?*
*What is to become of me?*
*Is this to be how my story ends?*

Kryy uneasily stepped off the shuttle that had so generously housed him and several other Force wielders of varying races. One in particular had caught Kryy's eye. A Sith Pureblood who had sat next to him on the short traverse across the unknown planet. it left Kryy with a sense of unease to add to the feeling in which he felt already. To what a Sith Pureblood and he should have in common was enough to set Kryy's mind wondering unto many different scenarios...

Two large monuments stood guard on either side of a large archway that did little to invite one inside. The group was ushered along by several men in dark grey armor, all displaying Empire insignia. Just what had Kryy gotten himself into...? As they entered the large building - which Kryy could only presume was an Academy of some sort - a shadowy hooded figure stood above watching from a viewpoint that juttered out of the wall. He stood there, his face enveloped in darkness and watched as we were marched into a lecture hall of some decsription. An assorment of chairs organised in curved rows. Each row being a little longer and a little higher up.The group was then greeted and welcomed to what was known as the "Shadow Academy". A source of knowledge like few in the galaxy. A place of learning and of power. They were the newest recruits and they upheld the responsibility of learning all they could and doing the Empire proud. The sudden role placed upon Kryy startled him and he began to freak. What if he couldnt do this? Could he really be a tool to the Dark Side? Could he abolish the teachings of the Jedi and start anew as an apprentice of the Dark Lord himself?

Not everyone was forced into silence. One disciple, another Human like Kryy stood up in a rage and demanded why he should be brought here and made to perform on the whim of others. His sentence was broken only by himself. He began to gurgle and gasp, grasping at his neck in terror. The class looked on in horror as with a loud *crack*, the body of the boy fell silent and limp before finally collapsing to the ground. The Grand Master had entered the room... The class fell silent, all eyes on the hooded figure. The figure proceeded to remove his hood revealing a man of distinct feature. The clean facial hair and scars indicated a man of age but gave no insight into just what number. His cloak his much of his attire but the light glistened of numerous hilts. All of which may belong to the man himself or serve as relics of his adventures. The figure introduced himself as, Muz Ashen, Grandmaster (GM) of the Dark Jedi Brotherhood. The man to his left who had addressed us first was the Headmaster of the Shadow Academy (SA). We would answer to the Headmaster for all of our training within the halls and our grades would be bestowed accordingly after grading from the Headmaster had taken place.

All of this was alot to take in in one instance. The arrival on an unknown planet in which Kryy was yet to find out the name of, to the albeit sudden welcoming into the DJB. The looks across the room were enough to cause a crease of concern upon the Grandmaster's face. Did he believe that the group had what it took? The thought did little in the way of helping Kryy sleep that night...

Kryy Vitaan

The young man that called himself Nicholas awoke with a start, bumping his head on something that was cold and metallic. It had felt like a earthquake, and he dimly remembered a event from his childhood. No, he said to himself. That person is dead, those times are over. I do not need that. He thought these things to himself slowly, words from himself coming to himself as if through a fog, and then he began to open his eyes, only to see nothing. He then at that moment remembered where he was. He was on a transport shuttle to the Shadow Academy on Lyspair. Lyspair, a planet he had never heard of, but then again none of this he even knew of weeks early. Recruited by the Dark Jedi Brotherhood, or as he thought to himself, forcibly enrolled. Though, he thought to himself, this is not that horrible. That thing I always felt, that strength I always desired...That balance I sought, I can feel myself beginning to head in that direction. Yet, at the same time, something bothered the young man. It felt to him in the pit of his stomach that their was some sort of, darkness. What bothered a part of him more though, was that he desired the darkness.
As he was thinking that, he began to lay back down. Then the lights on the bulkhead came on, revealing the cramped room he was in. Five bunk beads of metal carved into a metallic wall, with people in filthy clothes laying in them. Room enough for only one person to get out at a time and leave the room. Trapped like insects, Nicholas thought to himself. Then, his stomach lurched, and everyone jolted. This must mean we either got hit by something and are about to die, or are landing. Yet a feeling in his stomach yet again told him the latter. A feeling of darkness power began to permeate the air, and then he realized this, and perhaps the others did as well. They had arrived to the Shadow Academy.

“Attention. We have landed. You will also discard your clothes, and will be given new robes to wear. You are expected to follow in a single line, one at a time and assemble outside of the ship. Those that ignore any of this will be killed.”

The voice boomed throughout the ship, nearly rupturing the young mans ears. Then after this, he laid his head back down. He twisted his head to the left, and saw one person leave, and then another. The following events were that of like a machine. They undressed, found time for some cleaning, dressed, and left the ship, and aligned outside. A robed figure awaited them, and appraised them. He then beckoned them to follow, and then at this moment, Nicholas saw the Academy that lay before him. A massive pyramid structure, with towers surrounding it and a bleak sky, cloudy sky. Ahead of him he saw two doors, and something told Nicholas that if he walked away, he would not have to face whatever that lay inside. That it would be better to no go, that it would be better for him to just wait outside. He felt foggy, as if compelled to go. No, I must go on. I must move on, no matter the cost, no matter the price. Anger flared up in him, anger at this...Childish fear. The feeling vanished, and he then realized something. The group of eight had become a group of five. The three others were laying on the ground, and then from the Academy walls, a stone or two moved. A blaster appeared, and the three were shot dead. Did they deserve that?, Nicholas thought to himself. No, I cannot concern myself with them now. No matter how afraid I am, if I let one seed of it blossom, I'll die just like them. I have to be strong right now.

The figure led them into a bleak black room of the shape of a circle. Engraved into the walls were robed figures holding up the ceiling, as if they were...Puppets, being crushed. Then Nicholas noticed the man, women, or something leaning on the wall in the far corner, as well as many of the other students, who were mostly silent, if not for the few occasional whispers. The events that followed afterwards were of little importance. As I reflect upon these events, one student spoke out and was made a example of for his stupidity. A few others were led away, not being strong enough, yet not as weak as those who fell outside. The remaining were addressed, given datapads, assigned quarters, and given a general tour. Of course, I can remember one thing I felt during those past events, one thought. “These people are the embodiment of cold hearted practicality. They must have no souls, no compassion, no caring for other people, no sense of morality!” Yet, funnily enough, at that thought Nicholas saw one of the robed figures turn to him and lift his hand....Nicholas , as I called myself then, and yet, sometimes still do...I, no he, no it was I...Turned and looked into the cowl, and I muttered these words, not understanding why. I will break myself. I thought I heard a chuckle, and then I heard these words. Words that chilled me then, and yet I realized how very true they were. “You shall burn, time and time again. Stripped of your wings and cast down. You will begin anew, and fail. You...are nothing.” Yet, as I thought now, the lesson was not a insult...It was a lesson of the fundamental nature of the Dark Side and self, the nihilism the universe may be, and moreso, a chain to shatter, something to become. I however have gone on to long.

He, Nicholas, was guided through the temple. Early in his life had not been attracted to people. They were simply, different. He concerned himself with books and of that sort, and then he saw the archives. Archives he would gain access to if he could pass his first week. Books, and as he was guided on his tour, he dimly heard the word “exams”. He thought to himself that he would set a record for test taking, as he had done before he had dropped out of School on his home world...Yet, it was no longer home. He had no home, I have no home. He was later returned to his quarters, after a long, grueling tour that was as he realized it then, a test of physical endurance, one that he had nearly failed. The light was fading, and it would be night soon. Yet, as he had passed the archives, he had saw a small few pages of paper on the ground. A small book, something to study. Something the other students did not, and I reflect on this now, was I chosen? The same robed figure turned to me, looked at me, and left. I looked at the small book, perhaps more or less a pamphlet, and took it. They were simple words, a code. I reflect on this now, all those that follow, or say they embrace the dark side believe they were chosen. Yet, names...Sith had always renamed themselves, to become stronger, better, to forge a new identity. What would I call myself? I was given Nicholas, but now, I will take a name with my own fist. Nicholas thought back to his enjoyment of the various forms of Art, particularly gaming. Art...Artors. Artorias...Artorias, yes, that will be my new name.

Yet that night, my last words...Burned into my soul now, and perhaps another obstacle to overcome......Peace is a lie, there is only passion.

SW Lucyeth
#13700

https://docs.google.com/document/d/1PZuB5M-Pl9q6hY78sbHGepk0ZSzRqY3_x5hTi9OFQEg/edit?usp=sharing

The War Is Over…
KP Kordath Bleu d’Tana

The Tipsy Rancor was winding down for the night as the patrons began stumbling to their homes or barracks for the evening. In a few scant hours daylight would be breaking through the dusty windows at the front of the cantina, and many would regret this night’s festivities. But for now a few stalwart, dedicated alcoholics remained within their temple of bad decisions. Service droids were already picking through the debris of empty glasses and nut bowls while a trio of Arconans sat with their drinks.

A bottle sat in the center of the small, round table. Upon the label in Aubresh it proclaimed itself to be ‘the finest spirits this side of the Core’, though it didn’t state which side of the Core that was. The amber liquid within was past the halfway point, and it was obvious from looking at the three who sat around it, where it’d gone. Bits of shells from nuts and the occasional burn mark from a missed ashing attempt littered the table top, accompanied by three sets of glasses.

Nearest to the bar sat a Human, his somber expression marred slightly by the glazed look in his eyes. The lone Obelisk of the trio lifted his shot glass to the two Krath sitting with him, who lifted theirs in silent acknowledgement, before they all drank. To his left, the Ryn poured a fresh round, while the Miraluka woman sipped a beer to wash down the taste of whiskey. For the barkeep working that night it had been an unsettling evening, watching these three. He was happy that many of the Arconan’s that had gone to Korriban had come back alive, they were good customers.

And these three were some of his best, and usually raunchiest and uncouth. But they appreciated his work and tipped well; they also rarely caused any actual trouble. The number of fights he’d watched the Miraluka and Ryn break up by ordering drinks for the would be brawlers had also saved him a lot on damages over the last two years. It was worrying, watching the two of them, and their Obelisk companion, drink in silence all night. He watched as they did another mute toast, knocking back the whiskey and filling up the glasses once more.

Laying next to the Miraluka’s beer was a datapad, screen turned on still but for the most part untouched. Earlier the three had passed it around, marking names off of the list on display. This too had been done in silence, and strangely in sobriety. Only after the datapad had been put down had the Ryn approached the bar and quietly place an order for the table. A bottle of whiskey, three beers and glasses, and the gentle suggestion that the Lady at the table would prefer these things keep coming.

The barkeep hadn’t argued, he knew better and he could tell how battered the group was emotionally. Besides, the Miraluka was starting a new job tomorrow, and he wanted to stay in her good graces when she took the Throne. He didn’t bother them as they filed out, hours past closing time. The Miraluka paused at the door, hugging the Ryn and the Human before they headed off to the quarters Galeres had on world, and she turned towards the Citadel.

When he cleaned their table he found the datapad still there, and found the list of names that they’d been crossing off. He grimaced, placing it behind the bar. They probably would be back for that, someday.

--Fin