[FIC] Star Wars: Knights of the Old Republic III: Sith Empire

[Bee Hoon]

The Ravager was actually a Republic ship... Mandalore said that it bore the mark of Mandalorian guns. There's still some word choice errors such as blood does not "sprawl" on a person's face. I still don't really get the blank eyes thing... Do his eyeballs vanish? Or are they merely devoid of expression? The "held no loom over his face" is pretty awkward, and yet another word choice thingie. But I like where this story is going.

Pain. Hunger. Manipulation.

 

He used it to fuel him.

 

Peace. Serenity. Compassion.

 

He used it to steady him.

 

He truly was a master of the Force.

 

But only a servant of himself.

 

I really liked that!

[Diego Varen]

Good chapter once again, but I noticed something. From Post 21, the Post's title is Chapter Three: The Front Lines, yet on the Post, it is Chapter Four: The Front Lines. It is the same with your latest chapter where the Post's title is Chapter Four: The Citadel but the Post itself has Chapter Five: The Citadel. You may want to correct that. Looking foward to more.

[Lord Spitfire]

Thanks for the tips. I'll try to edit as soon as I can while working on the next chapter.

[Lord Spitfire]

This is the next chapter. It will be awhile until CH.7, as I will edit the past chapters before moving on.

 

Chapter Six: Meeting

 

“This is the apartment where you will be meeting in, Sir” said a TSF soldier. She had blonde hair that was tied up in a ponytail laid back on her back, blue eyes, light skin, and she stood about eight or nine inches over five feet. Overall, she looked in her early twenties. She had an attractive body, and she had this cheerful look about her. However, she now bore slight signs of weariness. She was suspicious. No, not suspicious, curious. Or was she both? All she knew was that some importance had to be in the meeting.

 

“Thank you,” said Jayarede flatly without even looking at her, as his eyes were fixed at the door.

 

The door slid open, but closed as soon as it did as the three of them rushed in. That was her chance. The soldier quickly took a small pen-shaped white object and placed at the door, listening intently.

 

In the room, the three of them entered. In front of them stood two Jedi. “Visas,” said Jayarede with a nod. He then turned to the other Jedi. “And, Master Bindo.” He was wearing Jedi Master Robes with his cloak, and a hood revealing only his beard and dark skin.

 

“Yes, yes, we’ve been expecting you. What took you so long?” said a gruff, yet strangely wise, voice behind the man’s hood.

 

“Jolee?” asked Bastila towards the man, “I thought you were in the polar caps in the hidden academy. That’s where you said you were going only a few months ago.”

 

The man took off his cloak and laid it on the bed, while all five of them sat in chairs, with only HK standing up, just behind Jayarede. “Well, I just arrived on Citadel Station a few days ago,” replied Jolee. “I got a message from Visas, here. She’s the one who contacted the Exile and brought all of you here.”

 

“How are things going on there?” asked Jayarede.

 

“Pretty well. Atris is making progress in training Padawans and restoring the order. She now has about twenty Jedi in training.”

 

“That’s good to hear,” said Jayarede with no emotion. “But that’s not what I came here for. You said you had information on Revan and the True Sith.”

 

Outside the door, the soldier’s heart skipped a beat. ‘THE Revan?’ she thought to herself. ‘Why would these people be talking about Revan. He left the galaxy over five years ago and wasn’t seen ever since. The public reports were that he had been murdered.’ The soldier brought her ears closer to the door, trying to catch every word.

 

Back in the room, there was a silence, and Bastila shifted a little.

 

“Yes, that is why we have called you here,” said Visas. “We know of Revan’s plans. Mandalore has contacted us. He and his fleet will have arrived on the Mandalore system in about two weeks. Unfortunately, after they gather their troops, the True Sith fleet will be arrive two or three months after Revan arrives with a fleet of the old Rakatan Capitol ships from the Star Forge. The bad news is that we have figured that the True Sith have information. They told the Mandalorians of an opportunity for galactic domination, and they took it, thus weakening the Republic. Their plan was to then take it over, before Revan turned on it, was captured, became a different identity, killed Malak, then reclaimed his identity and became Revan again. They know about you, too. But now they will launch a full scale war. The Republic must be ready.”

 

Jayarede frowned. “Ah, yes,” he breathed to himself, as if in deep thought, trying to fit all of the pieces together. He then looked up, finally having found the answer. “That’s it! Revan plans to gather us all at the Mandalore System. From there, when we, the Mandalorians, and he and his army are grouped together, we can construct a master plan in this war.”

 

“Exactly,” said Jolee.

 

For the first time, Bastila spoke. “So, he will have the leaders of the Jedi, with me and Jayarede, the leader of the Mandalorians, and his fleet together, but what of the Republic? Do they lie in the shadows in this movement?” she asked.

 

“I’m glad you brought that up,” said Jolee. “Admiral Onasi has been informed of this, and he plans to meet us here in Telos, at the Ebon Hawk in a few days. He will come with us, while General Dodonna will be taking the place of Admiral in his absence.”

 

“So that is where we will all meet,” finished Jayarede. “The Mandalore System.” It was an answer, not a question.

 

“And we will follow,” said Visas. “Jolee and I will accompany you.” We will come with you now.”

 

Jayarede simply nodded. “Very well,” he said. “Bastila, HK, you get back to the Ebon Hawk, and fill Drendellean in on everything. Yes, EVERYTHING. Even the part about Revan and the master plan. He has a role in this war bigger than just getting us to the Mandalore System. Besides, we shouldn’t have more than three people exploring at the same time. So, Visas, Jolee, come with me while we buy repairs, while Bastila and HK go to the ship.”

 

That was all the soldier had heard before she quickly took out the object and ran out of the set of apartments, and into the main hallway, where a few Telosians were walking buy. She found herself panting as she realized that she had rushed out.

 

But she was shocked. Here they were, four Jedi and an assassin droid talking about how Revan – THE Revan, the man who had mysteriously disappeared – was going to come back with an entire army of these new Sith on his tail! And they were talking about everyone meeting there and devising a plan for the Republic, Jedi and Mandalorians to team up and fight them. She half didn’t believe it, but she knew that these Jedi were right. Somehow, deep inside, she knew it. She didn’t know what to do. She needed time to think. Should she report them to the Telosian government? No, they would think it is a scandal – or she was crazy. But Lieutenant Grenn, he would believe her. He and the Exile were the ones who saved Telos, after all, and he would know him. ‘I have no idea what to do! Could he believe me? Or is this too much to be common knowledge?’ Thoughts were racing through her mind, which was now an explosion of emotions and thoughts.

 

She walked back into the row of apartments to see the woman and the assassin droid pass her and head for their ship, as she had heard. In front of her stood an old man with a shaven head and dark skin, a woman with a cloth over her head (she guessed that she was a Miraluka), and the Exile standing in the door. “Do you wish me to take you back to the shuttle, Sir?” she asked nervously.

 

Instead of answering, the door behind her slid shut and she could hear it lock as the Exile waved his hand. “You’ve been eavesdropping on us,” he said coldly.

 

Her heart began racing. ‘How did he know that?’ She took a step back and tried to open the door back to the indoor streets of Telos, but it was locked.

 

Jayarede gave a cold smile. “After you went out, your thoughts were exploding all around your mind like a bomb, and once we followed the signs, the three of us could easily read everything you were thinking about.”

 

She didn’t know what to do. Would this Jedi kill her? But a Jedi wouldn’t do that. Her thoughts all but left her. Without thinking, she drew her twin vibroblades and lunged at Jayarede, not taking any chances. Besides, she was an extremely skilled swordsman.

 

However, Jayarede simply pulled out his double-bladed lightsaber, but ignited only one side as he cut the vibroblades in half seconds into the combat. Before she could react, he used the force hold her up and pin her to the wall.

 

“How much did you hear?” asked Jayarede. The soldier remained silent.

 

“How much did you hear?!” said Jayarede, now in a much louder and more threatening voice.

 

“I . . . well . . .” the soldier said desperately. “Everything!” she finally managed the courage to say.

 

Jayarede studied her, then frowned, as if in deep thought.

 

“I say we modify her memory and let the kid go,” said Jolee calmly behind him. Jayarede kept on thinking.

 

“That could risk killing her,” he said. “But is it worth the risk? No one can know, let alone a simple soldier! Tell me,” he said, looking at the soldier, “what is your name?”

 

The soldier looked around. She had no choice. She had to tell them. “Deale, that’s my name,” she whispered.

 

Before Jayarede could do anything, he felt his concentration of the Force waver for a second, causing him to let go of Deale.

 

‘What happened?’ he thought to himself. ‘It was like my entire command of the Force was just hit by lightning!’ Before he had time to center himself and use the Force again, Deale disappeared in thin air.

 

Jayarede scoffed. A foolish attempt. He used all of his senses to find Deale walking slowly towards the door in order to unlock. But before she did, she found herself sprawled on the floor, with a deep gash along her left arm and right leg, rasping in pain.

 

“Wait! I didn’t do that!” whispered Jayarede. He looked around.

 

“OH, ****!” he swore as he drew the lightsaber from his robes along with Jolee and Visas. But for the first time, he disconnected the two part of his Double-bladed lightsaber, creating twin silver blades as he got into a different lightsaber form.

 

Suddenly, seven figures appeared out of nowhere in the room. Six of them wore the same robes that Jayarede did. ‘Sith Assassins!’

 

“Ah, yes, we have waited for you to gather,” said the seventh figure. Instead of wearing the same robes, he wore slightly different ones, with a long cape, and black cloth hanging from his belt; A Sith Lord.

 

“Who are you?” hissed Jayarede, his lightsaber raised, with Visas and Jolee circling the group.

 

“Who am I?” asked the Sith Lord. “I am Lord Raul, Dark Lord of what remains of the Sith!”

 

“You mean the Dark Jedi,” said Jayarede. “The True-“

 

“I am very well aware of the True Sith!” hissed Darth Raul. “And . . . yes, the Dark Jedi.”

 

“The Dark Jedi are in tatters!” scoffed Jayarede. “Barely a hundred of them remains, no doubt.”

 

“Oh, and that is a little more than what remains of the Jedi.”

 

“Why are you here?” said Jayarede.

 

From the corner, Deale was watching in shock. She just figured out about THE Revan and his master plan, turned out the heroic Exile knew him, and now a Sith Lord just appears on Citadel Station!

 

The Sith Lord smiled. “Me and my men snuck in. We were stowaways. And as you know, these row of apartments are completely empty, but we were staying in one right next to your friends’ actually.”

 

“And what would you gain from killing me?” challenged Jayarede. “I call myself a Jedi, yet I am not one; I am a Gray Jedi, neither Sith nor Jedi. If you know about the True Sith, then you know that we are the Galaxy’s last hope.”

 

“You don’t understand,” said the Sith Lord. “You see, a long time ago, Naga Sadow, a True Sith, Made an alliance with us and the Sith. We are forever bound by blood. The blood that pumps through our veins is the same as the True Sith. Whether Dark Jedi, or Sith, we will always be the same; an alliance. The only Sith Lord not in line with the True Sith was Darth Revan, and he was not a real Dark Jedi. The Dark Jedi have made an alliance with the True Sith, and for the first time since Exar, we will unite against the Jedi, against the Galaxy!”

 

Jayarede couldn’t believe it. This was how the True Sith knew, how they manipulated everything. Through real Sith like Lord Raul and Exar Kun, not like Traya, Sion, Nihilus, Revan, Malak.

 

 

Deale watched all of this from the corner, unsure whether she was right to call the TSF for backup. As if on cue, the door blasted open and a squadron of twenty TSF officers rushed into the complex, taking their places around the room. In a second, Darth Raul and his Sith Assassins disappeared, leaving the room with only the soldiers and the Jedi.

 

“What the- A Sith Lord!” exclaimed Grenn.

 

Jayarede growled in frustration. One more enemy was allied against them. “It is nothing, Lieutenant, just a rogue Sith that wanted to kill the last of the Jedi.”

 

“But that means he’s still on Citadel Station!”

 

“No, he used the force to transport back to somewhere else, preferably his base of operations, or a place of the Dark Side.” Jayarede then looked at Deale. “Your soldier will fill you in on everything, Grenn, and this is for you only to know. You and Admiral Onasi.”

 

Without a word, the three of them strode out of the door, leaving a dumbfounded Grenn, Deale, and twenty TSF soldiers.

[Diego Varen]

Good chapter as always and not writing anymore chapters to edit the ones you've already written is a good idea. Take your time and I'm looking foward to more.

[Sabretooth]

Well, this one is quite good. Some spelling and grammar errors here and there, but it's a great fic otherwise. I'll try and follow it, if I can.

[Lord Spitfire]

Thanks for the comments Topsite, SaberTooth.

 

I am 'renovating' the past chapter, as I thought it was wavering and it wasn't very well layered up. I won't change the story, though I will edit and revise - as in like add a duel between the Sith Assassins and the three of them, things like that.

 

Anyways, it'll also help my grammar and spelling, and as Saber said, there are mistakes since my Keyboard gets stuck. I'm just too eager to edit before I can post it.

 

And the next chapter should start after I'm done editing.

 

-Lord Spitfire

[Bee Hoon]

I read the most recent chapter a while back, but was too lazy to review till now=p Sorry! I felt that Jolee and Visas were kind of OOC... Jolee wasn't being his usual funny self and Visas wasn't doing the slightly creepy "Master" thing.

 

Here's a slight contradiction:

 

The only Sith Lord not in line with the True Sith was Darth Revan, and he was not a real Dark Jedi.

 

Through real Sith like Lord Raul and Exar Kun, not like Traya, Sion, Nihilus, Revan, Malak.

 

Still some grammatical errors, but ah well:p

 

Deale's reactions were absolutely hilarious, lol. "THE Revan?" Heh.

 

The Dark Jedi were just a little too eager to reveal their plans, and I'm pretty surprised as to why they left, and how the Exile knew where they went.

 

Jayarede's characterisation is great though. He might not be totally dark, but in a way, he's like Revan; he'll do whatever it takes.

[Lord Spitfire]

I read the most recent chapter a while back, but was too lazy to review till now=p Sorry! I felt that Jolee and Visas were kind of OOC... Jolee wasn't being his usual funny self and Visas wasn't doing the slightly creepy "Master" thing.

 

Here's a slight contradiction:

 

 

 

 

 

Still some grammatical errors, but ah well:p

 

Deale's reactions were absolutely hilarious, lol. "THE Revan?" Heh.

 

The Dark Jedi were just a little too eager to reveal their plans, and I'm pretty surprised as to why they left, and how the Exile knew where they went.

 

Jayarede's characterisation is great though. He might not be totally dark, but in a way, he's like Revan; he'll do whatever it takes.

 

 

I'm glad you liked it, and glad that you took Jayarede's character the right. This chapter, a new character is introduced (the main antagoinist, in fact), and I'm trying to make his characterization so that he's no exactly the cardboard bad-guy.

 

About the contradiction, in the second post, I stated that Revan wasn't a true Sith/Dark Jedi. I guess you mis-interpreted it.

 

And about Joleee being OOC, I do think he has the sense not to be too humorous when there are overly erious topics. He was still gruff though. And with Visas, I'll try to create the "creepy 'master' thing" in the next chapters.

 

Anyways, here's the next one. It's been on hold for a while due to my other fic, but I'm ont going to abandon it! Enjoy!

 

Chapter Seven: Sith

 

Lord Raul stood in the hall of black marble, lit by torches lined across the wall.

 

He was at Ziost, capitol of the True Sith. He waited nervously before the huge door that led to the Throne Room, where the Sith Emperor Zenius sat on his throne, with the twelve Sith Lords on top of the twelve balconies that lined the top of the room of black and white marble. The Sith Lords were the leaders of their respective clans.

 

Raul sighed as he thought about the Sith tradition. Young boys and girls known as Civilians would be taken in for training once they turned thirteen, thus becoming Sith Apprentices. Once they finished their training, they would be promoted to Sith Knights, and then to Sith Masters. The system was almost exactly like the Jedi. Except after the Sith Masters, were the Sith Lords, leading their clans, and of course the Sith Emperor Zenius himself ruling the entire race.

 

‘It is too much of a democracy,’ thought Raul to himself. One of the twelve balconies lay empty in that room – his. He was the Lord of the Dark Jedi, which were now considered a Clan of the True Sith.

 

He opened the huge gold door with both of his hands, and found himself in a room of black and white marble, with a golden throne at the end of the circular throne room, and the twelve balconies arrayed across the top of the walls.

 

And in the Throne sat Zenius, leader of the Dregord clan and of the Sith Empire. He – as all other True Sith – were humanoids, only different by his red skin, deep blue hair, completely blank golden eyes, and definitely pointed ears. Zenius’s golden eyes almost sparkled a little, reflecting his power. His skin was perfect diamond red, and his long blue hair strode gallantly almost an inch past the beginning of his spine. His ears were even a little more long and pointed than most Sith, and he had an evil, dark aura about him in the Force, though he seemed like a quite calm and normal man in his mid-twenties. His gleaming red body-plating made him look like a Proud Knight, and the red diamond crown gave him a great sense of power.

 

“I see you have arrived, Lord Raul,” he said in an inhumanly hoarse and rough, yet peaceful and calm, voice. “Take your seat on the balcony. We were about to talk about our . . . situation.”

 

Raul walked over to below his balcony, and used the Force to jump up to take his place on the balcony, now facing Zenius.

 

“Now,” began Zenius, looking at the twelve Sith Lords, “I have called this meeting for a simple announcement which you all know. Revan has taken his armada out to his side of the galaxy. This means one thing; war is coming soon to the Republic. And to us. It is now time to gather our armies and do what we have been waiting to do for over fifty years now; launch a full-scale invasion on the Republic.”

 

The room was silent as his last sentence hung in the air. Suddenly, the Sith Lord to Raul’s right spoke. “And these were the words your father spoke would happen after the Mandalorian Wars, and he ended up being murdered by Revan at the Trayus Academy! And all he ended up doing was alerting Revan of our expansion, and making us wait another ten years! But now, when the Republic is strengthening by the second and the Jedi are rebuilding, they are going to give us a real war; a war that if we lose, might mean the destruction of our race! And Revan has done damage to us. Not physically, but has given the Republic the time it needs! We must wait, and build our forces!” announced the Sith Lord. His hair was more of a grayish blue, and wrinkles lined his red face. His golden eyes were dimming, and all in all he looked quite old.

 

There was a loud murmur now between the Sith Lords, before a booming, “Silence!” cut them off. All eyes rested on Zenius. “And what will happen if we wait?” he spoke, signs of anger starting to slowly breach his calmness. “They will become stronger, and even if we win, we would have already lost. The Republic is in tatters compared to our organized fleet and government! But the moment Revan takes over and strengthens the Republic, takes command of their fleet, and bolsters their forces; they will match our firepower and stability. We all saw it during the Mandalore wars; Revan can take a mess and corrupted army and turn it into an unmatchable force! And it doesn’t help that the Exile has come out of hiding. We must strike NOW. And I mean NOW, as in we will start to organize a full-scale invasion. We will follow Revan’s fleet to wherever he is going, and the war will begin, and the Republic will have no warning or provocation.”

 

There was another murmur, but much softer this time. For the first time, Raul spoke up. “I agree with the Emperor. We Dark Jedi have our own plan of attack, and it will not be effective to you Sith if it is delayed. Everything fits into place,” he proclaimed.

 

The next rising murmur was cut off before it began as a Sith with shorter blue hair and darker red skin spoke to Raul. “You have no say in this, human! Your petty Dark Jedi betrayed us long ago! I am wondering why Zenius has even let you into the council!”

 

Zenius stood up from his seat,, his silence – and his patience – finally broken. “You will address me as LORD ZENIUS, or EMPEROR ZENIUS! And, if you haven’t noticed, Dreshelgr, the Dark Jedi are the only ones that cane influence this war from inside out, and sabotage the Republic itself!” stormed Zenius. Everyone in the room started to notice that Dreshelgr’s body was floating in the air, his arms spread wide, blood spilling out of his mouth, and his eyes blank as the sound of deep crushing emanated from his chest. “Dart- Lord Raul, you will be given a mission; kill the Exile! Make sure that nowhere he walks will he be safe from you. If he dies, then the damage to the Republic will already have been done! And, I give you another task; destroy the Jedi gathered on Dantooine and Telos! Kill them all, every singly one, and consider the Dark Jedi redeemed of their betrayal if you do!”

 

Raul nodded, taking time to absorb everything at once. ‘Zenius asks the impossible!’ he thought to himself. ‘The Exile is extremely difficult to kill!’

 

“But there will be help,” continued Zenius. Raul just now realized that while he was trying to make out the information, he had loosened the defenses covering his mind. He turned to Zenius again. “The Dark Jedi that you command will assist you. But there is one thing; save the Exile for last. Kill the Jedi first, for he feeds on the Force powers of others, of within a certain place. He is a hole in the Force. And after you kill the Jedi, kill his companions. His will would be broken. And if you find that you can not succeed in your task: come back! Don’t sacrifice yourself in your stupid ‘loyalty.’ I can’t afford to lose an entire clan.”

 

Raul simply bowed. Though some were rasped and even half-whispered, there was a huge weight and effect behind Zenius’s words that gave Raul the impulse to agree with him. He had only seen such power and charisma in one other person his whole life. ‘Revan . . .’

 

Zenius gave a smile that might have had the underlying basis of something near a smirk. And for the first time, he looked his age, but for only a second or so. He was much for a man of about twenty-three.

 

‘And that was about how old Revan was when he started his crusade against the Republic,’ thought Raul to himself. Almost immediately, he could match the two of them with ease. They were almost the same (take away Zenius’s red skin, pointed ears, and blue hair).

 

Zenius cocked an eyebrow. “What are you waiting for?” he rasped with his voice bound in a whisper-like aura. “Go now. Leave Ziost, and do not come back until you either succeed . . . or fail.”

 

* * *

 

“Zairass Kehon Naheen! Fdragr’ari, mujeu tandeh raas! Kehon mehon lahain! Markartsalva, grondaga! Grendfa thera nalain. Gredra thera nalain! Mura Giara, grendred farsaa mecon, bfecfordlsalalaasanai! Muhana kai SITH’ARI!” hissed Zenius, as he stood in front of a Sith Holocron, chanting its hisses along.

 

These were almost exactly like the ones that a Jedi – her name slipped Zenius’s memory – stole and brought to her academy on Telos. His eyes grew to the purest gold that the eye could ever behold, as he felt the fires of the Force burn throughhim, etched in his blood.

 

He continued the chanting – or more like nasty hissing - in the ancient Sith Language, as was the custom.

 

His clothes were simply. He wore a tight leather black pant, no shoes, and his entire upper body was laid bare, showing his blood skin.

 

“Zenoi marrrrraaas kean. I am power,” he whispered. The final three words were spoken in a cultured and heavily accented (and which a normal person would call ‘nasty’ and ‘hissed’) Galactic Basic.

 

He ignored the figure who entered the room. After it got closer, the presence was so strong that he had to turn to it, and saw that it was a woman that was standing behind him.

 

‘Nelntane.’ He sighed. “What do you want?” he whispered, not even turning around to see a silent Nelntane.

 

She had long blue hair that was spread all the way past her shoulder gracefully. She was about two or three inches below six feet, and her red skin was brighter than most. His golden eyes were also a little brighter than most, though dulled a bit by her tired senses. She wore black robes. Sith Assassin Robes. “What happened . . . in the council chambers? Something happened, I felt a tremor in the Force, and it was directed to you.”

 

“You’re the last person I would trust with this information,” he said, still not looking at her. He took in her pain and underlying fear and fed on it, making himself even stronger.

 

“Stop doing that to me,” hissed Nelntane, though it was barely noticeable in the Sith Language that she was speaking in. “And why would I be the last person you trust with this?” Her voice was steady and somewhat cold, though it was laced with some softness, though masked in a way that if someone tried to find it, they would not be able to.

 

“Why?” mocked Zenius, almost laughing. “You know nothing of the Sith, or power. I don’t trust you with this information because I love you, Nelntane. You truly are ignorant the ways of Holocrons . . . and that is why you are not yet a Sith Lord. I don’t trust you because I do.”

 

Nelntane sighed and let his harsh words pass her by. “Perhaps you are right, my love.”

 

“I am very well damn right, not ‘perhaps,’ right,” he growled.

 

“Well, if you were not being so influenced with the holocrons, then maybe you would know WHAT is right, not your foolishness,” hissed Nelntane again.

 

“ANYONE can chant and read the holocron, but how you interpret them is based completely on wisdom. You are the ignorant one. You know nothing of war, of power. But that is one of the reasons why I respect you.”

 

“Sometimes, I don’t know half of the words coming out of your mouth, and I doubt you know ant, ‘My Lord!’”

 

“To know power, one must know themselves,” he said in Basic. “Do you know who said that?”

 

“Let me guess, one of the old Lords and their ‘wisdom.’ Ludo Kressh? Naga Sadow?”

 

“No,” whispered Zenius. “The greatest of them all. Revan.”

 

Nelntane was so shocked that she took a step back.

[Diego Varen]

I like the look of the new enemies for this Fan Fic. Interesting names too. Looking foward to more.

[Lord Spitfire]

Next Chapter is up. This isn't as hueg plot-wise as the last chapter, but it gets the flow of the story going.

 

Oh and, can someone please reply to my KotOR1 fanfic. I won't continue the next chapter until someone does.

 

I say this always and always will: Well . . . Enjoy!

 

 

Chapter Eight: Fire Siphon II

 

Jayarede, Visas, and Jolee climbed up the loading ramp to the Ebon Hawk, and found that the four of his companions were all standing in the middle room.

 

Everything seemed in check. But as Jayarede’s eyes fell on Drendellean, he noticed something that he had not noticed before. Drendellean had dark circles beneath his eyes, and they were almost black just below them. His face now became even paler than it already was, and now it was almost completely white. The presence unsettled Jayarede a bit, as at that moment he figured out what Drendellean was.

 

But he didn’t care.

 

As Jolee and Visas walked in, Drendellean lifted an eyebrow. “Are these the Jedi your friend told me about?” he asked Jayarede, who nodded in turn. Drendellean scoffed. “I was expecting a little more than an old man and a blinded woman, but I guess these will have to do.”

 

Jolee was about to spit out something nasty to lighten the mood, but thought better of it. Now was not the time.

 

Drendellean walked up until he was facing Jayarede straight. “Your friend told me about Revan’s plan; and why you were going to the Mandalore System. Well, I’ve got some news for you. Once we get there, I take my credits and leave. I have more people to kill,” he said gruffly.

 

Jayarede smiled. “That’s the plan,” he said, even though he knew Drendellean would not do that. He then handed Drendellean the coordinates. “We’re going to Onderon next, but we’ll have to wait here for about a week; we need repairs desperately. After my fateful crash, The Ebon Hawk is a piece of metal. Until then, you are not to make any notice among the community at all. Am I clear?” he ordered. He loved doing it/ It almost flowed through him, to lead. He spoke to his troops’ passions, not their sense, but once he did convert their sense, they would be his entirely. There were a few nods.

 

Drendellean shrugged and headed to the camera room to check the systems. HK went to the garage and shut down; Visas went to her normal place at the Starboard Dormitory, Jolee went to the medical bay (Jayarede guessed that was where he stayed when Revan owned the Hawk), Bastila went to Kreia’s old quarters, and T3 went to work on the Hyper drive.

 

As Jayarede stood there, doing absolutely nothing, he found out something about Drendellean; he didn’t know why, but he somehow reminded him of Atton. Sure, they were both apathetic and witty rogues, but there was just something about Drendellean – some darkness about him that reminded him of Atton. But Atton had only traces of that darkness; as if it were hidden away beneath a shadow. But in Drendellean, Jayarede could see the darkness at its full, not being hidden.

 

Drendellean’s life was the same as Atton’s, concluded Jayarede. Just two chapters behind.

 

* * *

 

‘It siphons the fire of the force. This ship is one of the Rakata’s greatest creations,’ thought Revan as he looked over the bridge of his flagship, the Fire Siphon II. It was a near exact duplicate of the Leviathan, and all the other Rakatan Ships, only it nigger, though not noticeably. The only prominent difference it held to the Leviathan is that bridge was not on top of the ship, but it was right in the middle of the space where the two huge claws covered. At was at the very back, so out the observatory window, Revan could see the huge claws arching above them and below them, yet still being able to see straight ahead. He always thought that it was too vulnerable to put the bridge on the top.

 

But it WAS a complete duplicate of the Fire Siphon, Revan’s flagship during the Jedi Civil War; it was destroyed by the Leviathan after Bastila was able to take his body out of the ship.

 

‘Bastila . . .’ he cursed himself for reminding himself of her. She was his only weakness. He needed to keep concentrated at the task at hand. ‘But it has been almost five years . . . I . . . I miss her,’ he confessed to himself.

 

‘I am pathetic, hiding behind this Mandalorian mask, behind this great black and gray robes and armor. But I know that behind that lies a weak, broken man. Mortal. Weak,’ he confessed finally. He could hide behind his own mind no longer. He was not a God of the Force. He was not the Force in human form. He was mortal.

 

He sighed again as he looked out the window. Past the claws, he could see a great blue vortex enveloping his entire fleet of 100 capitol ships, all in hyper space, the Fire Siphon II in the middle. To ensure no ship got off course, the entire fleet worked on one source, so wherever the Fire Siphon II went in Hyperspace, the Capitol Ships would automatically follow. The only way of getting to another capitol ship was by taking a freighter. But if any freighter flies out of the vortex, the space and time continuum would destroy them.

 

He opened his eyes as a man approached. “Commander, we have already crossed seventeen light-years. We should reach our destination in about fourteen days,” said the Admiral. He had very dark skin, a shaven head, and a gray mustache. He reminded Revan of Ronald Wan, the Republic diplomat on Manaan. He almost smiled at the memory.

 

“Very good, Admiral,” he said behind his mask. His voice was inhumanly deepened and metallic.

 

The Admiral – Admiral Oran – nearly jumped. Revan grinned behind his mask. “You find my voice intimidating?” he said, amused. “I’ve made new modifications on the mask. As a result of these upgrades, it amplifies the voice.”

 

Oran relaxed a little bit, but was still slightly edgy. He finally asked, “Are . . . are you alright, commander? You’ve been standing in the same spot for nine hours, now.”

 

Revan raised his eyebrow behind his mask, though he did not turn to look at Oran. “Has it been nine hours? Hmph, I’ve lost track of the time,” he said. His attempt at mild humor sounded out of place under the intimidating voice that the mask made out. “What track are we on?”

 

“The coordinates are 6.87493, 7.4398537, 10.48572038,” answered Oran. Revan calculated the numbers in his head in about thirty seconds of silence, an inhumanly short time.

 

Revan turned around and walked past Oran. As he was walking, he said, “I am going to my room. No one is to disturb me,” he ordered.

 

Oran simply nodded as Revan walked out.

 

* * *

 

His room was like any three-man bunk, except it was only for him. There was a large window on the side that showed the two claws shooting out, except the top one was better seen than in the bridge. In fact, his bunk was a few stories above the Bridge. There was a queen sized bed in the corner, a plasma screen into the wall for communications, and a desk with a pad on the end of it. A hologram pad.

 

Revan collapsed to his knees once he had completely taken off his armor, revealing his windbreaker, black gloves, and track pants. That had been the look of the Scoundrel, Kale Chaal. But Revan could not think about that right now. Even though it was quite cold on the ship, sweat was pouring down his face uncontrollably. His ears started to crackle until he finally fell onto the cold, hard, metal in his room.

 

* * *

 

Revan groaned as he lifted up his head. The sweat continued to pour down his face, but it was cold, no, cool. He raised his head, hen half of his body off of the ground until he stood on his knees in his bunk. It was cold, as was it always in space travel. Revan shivered a little bit as the cold bit at the lines of sweat trickling down his face.

 

He moaned as he got to his feet. He staggered like a weak, drunk man and had to use the wall for support.

 

He breathed heavily as he wiped the sweat off his face, finally sitting down on the bed. He was used to these sudden collapses. They had been happening almost weekly over the past month. ‘But why is it? Perhaps we are crossing uncharted territory that are filled with black holes of the force? They siphon my power, my will. I can always regenerate them, but . . . something is happening to me!’ concluded Revan to himself.

 

He felt the tendrils of power slowly slipping away. He could easily grasp back at them, so he wasn’t really losing anything. But it was as if the whole sector of a Force Hole. If he tried, he could dominate them, make them avatars of the Force instead of Holes. But the greatness of the Force that swirled around him could do nothing to stop from the siphoning power that could grip his will and weaken him temporarily.

 

He was afraid. Afraid that at any time, his power could be sucked, and that it would take time to refuel his body with the binding, no, bound, power. He felt powerful and good as the power regenerated the empty hole that had struck him.

 

He sighed and stood up, pacing around his room. He finally sat at his desk and brought in his galactic coordinate plane. As he turned it on, he could see that they were coming close to the Mandalore System. He laid back in the chair, staring at the roof. Whatever was going to come next, it would be long. It would be epic, this next great war with the Republic and the Sith, probably the greatest war ever, and ever will be.

 

But deep down, he knew it would cost him his life. He didn’t care. He didn’t care if the Republic would spit his name, he didn’t care if he would have to give something more valuable than even his own life; his heart. He didn’t care if a planet died. He didn’t care if all those he loved died. But as long as the Republic – no, not the Republic. What the Republic STOOD FOR survived, and it still ran strong; he would be satisfied.

 

* * *

 

Jayarede walked into the Camera room, where Drendellean sat in his chair, scribbling down notes on a piece of paper with pen – there was no need to use a datapad.

 

“Any luck yet?” asked Jayarede as he sat down next to Drendellean, looking at the computer scene.

 

“Well . . . I have figured out that the system is layered with a variety of matrixes, all looping back on one another. If we are able to hack through one, it goes back on itself and the layers of matrixes form again,” said Drendellean in his raspy voice. “Lot like you Jedi would know anything about computers.”

 

Jayarede scoffed, ignoring Drendellean’s comment. He examined the system for a second, trying to subtly work out the holes in the matrix. “But,” he said softly, his eyes fixed to the computer screen in front of them, “If we hack through the matrixes in a certain pattern, won’t the code contract on itself, making the data cracked?”

 

Drendellean looked at him, impressed. “I guess Jedi aren’t all that dumb,” he muttered under his breath. He then turned to the console. “Hmm . . . well, you’re right, but in order to work through the matrixes, it seems that there needs to be some vibration in the air, some bend of certain waves that can run through the matrixes,” he concluded finally.

 

“So basically, it’s voice-locked.”

 

“Exactly,” finished Drendellean. There was a silence. “But . . . who?” asked Drendellean.

 

“Revan, of course,” said Jayarede. “He WAS the previous owner of this ship.”

 

Drendellean let out a huge puff of breath as he leaned back in his chair. “How are we going to get a sample of Revan’s voice?”

 

Jayarede rolled his eyes. ‘I’m tired of this!’ he roared in his mind. ‘Just what’s the damn code?!’ “I don’t know; let’s go ask him for some of his voice, shouldn’t we?” Jayarede gave a frustrated, sarcastic answer.

 

There were almost thirty seconds of silence before Jayarede’s face snapped up. “I got it!” he muttered silently under his breath.

 

He went to the door, but instead of going through it, he went to the console just right next to it. He pressed a button, then spoke into a speaker, “HK-47 please report to the camera function room. Thank you,” his slightly gruff voice echoed throughout the room. He smiled slightly. ‘I’ve always wanted to do that,’ he thought to himself.

 

As he walked back to the seat next to Drendellean, HK went through the open door, which closed behind him. He then walked until he was standing right behind Jayarede and Drendellean, who were both now seated in front of the console. “Interrogative Declaration: Master, why have you interrupted my work on your swoop bike to call me here?”

 

“HK, I need you to give me a sample of Revan, your previous master’s, voice,” stated Jayarede flatly. Both he and the bounty hunter turned to HK, whose ‘eyes’ dulled a bit.

 

“Avoiding Distraction: Master, why would you like to know something like that?”

 

Jayarede simply said, “Just tell me. If you don’t, I’ll re-install that pacifist package.”

 

HK took a step back in horror. “Hasty Statement: No, please, Master! Not the pacifist package! Alright, I will tell you my reasons for what I am doing. Irritated Explanation: Master, Revan’s voice is something that has been erased in my memory. It has blended in with many different things. I think that I have it now, but I have orders – not programming orders, just orders with the thing you meatbags call trust – Not to give the information to ANYBODY.”

 

Jayarede pulled out a drawer, and closed it as he turned to HK, holding a computer datapad. The pacifist package. HK almost jumped back in fear. “Hasty Statement: The answer to the voice coded lock is; ahhhhhhhhhhhhhh,” he randomly gave a sound of Revan’s steady voice. The computer screen flashed.

[True_Avery]

Great fic so far, keep going!

[Diego Varen]

Great fic so far, keep going!

 

Agreed. Perhaps the reason nobody has replied to the KOTOR I Fan Fic is that even with differences, it seems to different, but I'll try to critique either here or Fan Fiction Net. Also, I wonder if I should do my own Fan Fic version of the games? Anyway good Chapter as always.

[Lord Spitfire]

Thank you for the commetns, and I am happy you enjoyed this chapter that took me SO long to revise.

 

And Tops, I really think you should start your own fic about one of the KotOR games. I myself was going to do a KotOR2 to go with this Fic, but it was after I started my KotOR1 Fic(which I might close, BTW). You should really do something like that.

[Lord Spitfire]

Ello' mons.

 

Well, chapter nine is up. This chapter is very short, it's probably the shortest one in this fanfic, and the shortest one there will be in the fic. I tried not to russh it and make it flow smoothly . . . did i succeed?

 

Well . . . Enjoy!

 

Chapter Nine: They Will Always Betray Each Other

 

Deale moaned as she leaned back in her bed, letting her blonde hair flow freely. After the ‘incident,’ the soldiers that had witnessed it – including her – were not to speak of anything on punishment of the death sentence. It had been two days since then, but the traumatic day had not left her mind.

 

‘A Sith Lord. Revan gathering an army,’ she thought to herself. She had managed to take all the information in somewhat in the two days. But there was still a shock, this voice in the back of her mind that told that she was walking into something big; and was no longer the innocent bystander.

 

She sighed as she took off her uniform and just threw them on the floor; today was a tough training session. She had to spar against elites in the Telos military force; the scary thing was that she won most of her battles, though only with heavy bruises.

 

She just let her sleeveless undershirt hang on her. Her arms were muscled, especially packed at her shoulders, which held quite a bad bruise, contorted somewhat by the muscled skin. She did not mind her hair hanging loose below her eyes. She just wanted to sleep as long as she wanted; she was off-duty tomorrow, anyways.

 

Just as her eyes were about to slide closed, she heard a wavy noise, and then footsteps on the ground. Fear immediately gripped her. She instinctually grabbed the blaster on her bedside, rolled off of the bed, and got into a shooting stance, one of her knees on the floor, pointing at the intruder.

 

Her heart quickened.

 

There, right in front of her, stood a man garbed in black robes, with flows of cloth hanging past his belt, and a cloak. His hands were gloved in black, and his large boots held the same color. “Hello,” he said in an inhumanly raspy voice, though strangely calm and laid back.

 

Deale gasped. The man who stood in front of her was none other than Darth Raul.

 

Except, he wasn’t wearing a hood, and his face and hair was visible. His grayish black hair was worn in a Gothic Style, a few bangs hanging loosely on his left eye, the right side of his hair the same length and just as jelled, yet they stayed sideways up until almost his ear. The air was combed back and landed about an inch before the tip of his hood. His face was pale, almost paper-white. His irises were a piercing, powerful golden, reflecting a gleam of fire, of intensity, as streaks of blood red outlined his eye and strode down to their edges. Black eyeliner stroked across the bottom of his eye, and his eyelids were a chilling shade of purple. He wore slight stubble across his face, and bore a terrible smile as cold as ice, enough to freeze your spine to the very core. He didn't really look much older than her.

 

Without thinking, Deale fired upon Raul a power blast to his neck. But he simply sidestepped it with ease, snaking out his hand in the form of a cup, thus combusting Deale’s blaster, forcing her to drop it. She stared vehemently at Raul. “What do you want?” she hissed as she backed against the wall.

 

Raul’s smile widened slightly. “You’re strong in the Force,” he said ominously.

 

Deale blinked. “What do you want from me?” she asked with steel in her voice.

 

Raul gave a rough laugh. “You have resolve. You have iron. You have strength. You have skills, and most importantly, you have power,” he rasped softly.

 

Deale was breathing heavily as he stood now barely a meter from her. He breathed softly. As Deale felt the soft tentacles of his breath waft to her, her mind suddenly felt light, and she found her strength seeping. ‘Whas happenin’ to me?’ she thought to herself sluggishly. She finally fell limp to the ground, though she remained a hundred percent conscious. She just felt like she drank five thousand bottles of Tarisian Ale.

 

Raul crouched down next to her body. “It’s a wonderful thing, to have a spy,” he whispered in her ear, knowing full well that she was able to comprehend them perfectly. “But as a spy, the first thing you learn is betrayal. Betrayal for those you spy to, and spy for. And before you know it, you become a triple agent,” he continued in her ear.

 

“But,” he continued, “having a spy watching a spy when they both work for the same cause is the greatest strength. They will always betray each other. One of you will always with me.”

 

He brought out his curved crimson lightsaber and ran his hand through the intricate and sleek metal.

 

“What . . . what are you talking about?” hissed Deale, fighting the effervescence that Raul had laid on her.

 

Raul frowned as he brought his hand to her face, brushing hair out of her eyes and starting to softly caress her cheek. She grunted in pain, almost as if he was channeling torture into her. “You are stronger than I thought,” he mused with another light yet terrible smile.

 

“What do you want with me?” she rasped, refusing to be taken by her poison, or be influenced by the pain he was channeling to her.

 

He smiled again. “What do I want with you?” he whispered. “I want to use your resolve, your strength. I have seen it only two days ago. To have subconsciously blocked out my efforts to knock you out; I have rarely seen such power. And so, you will be a fine edition to my collection, once I break you.”

 

Deale shot her eyes up at Raul. “I . . . will . . . never . . . bow down to . . . to a Sith!” she rasped as she gave a last, troubled breath as her head fell limply onto Raul’s hands. He smiled as he picked up her relatively light body and carried her past the door. His plan was unfolding nicely.

 

* * *

 

Jayarede sighed as he sipped his ale, watching the twi-lek dancers in the Citadel Station Cantina. The music flowed through his ears, somewhat relaxing his tensed nerves. He was still waiting for there to be repairs on the Ebon Hawk before he could go.

 

He almost closed his eyes to rest when he heard footsteps behind him. “Hey, Kid. You might want to see this,” said a gruff voice behind him.

 

“What is it now, Jolee?” he moaned.

 

“Remember that Sith Lord, Raul?” asked Jolee. Jayarede suddenly jumped off of his chair, locking eyes with Jolee.

 

“What?”

 

“Follow us,” said Drendellean. They walked through the door, past the pazaak den, and into the lounge. They took a seat on sofas in front of the holonet screen.

 

On the screen, a female twi-lek was sitting down on a blue desk, wearing fine garments, having a sheet of paper in front of her. On the headlines read, ‘Sith Lord Sightings on Onderon.’

 

Jayarede’s eyes widened. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”

 

“Several witnesses in the merchant quarter of Lean, an Onderonian city quite close to Izis, have confirmed the claims of a Sith Lord and about twelve of his assassins rampaging through the quarter, causing mayhem and havoc, and then mysteriously disappearing in all the confusion.

 

The screen immediately showed a city square, with bodies littered all across the ground and smoke and fire everywhere, some buildings burning down to embers. There was a man in Onderon Garments who stood in front of the camera. He looked tired and worn out. “They were coming from all corners, killing everyone in their path with their terrible purple and red lightsabers!” he exclaimed. “They were blowing up the buildings with grenades; there was no end to the destruction!” The screen flashed off.

 

Jayarede stared at the empty screen. “Raul,” he rasped softly.

 

Drendellean frowned. “What, you mean that Sith Lord you told me about that attacked you? He might not be behind this,” he observed.

 

“No, of course he is behind this!” retorted Jayarede. There was a murmur of the other patrons who saw the news. Jayarede sighed. “Onderon was our next destination, and it just so happens that Raul attacks there. He must have known that we were going there. But, how? And why would he attack one of the suburban cities?” Jayarede’s eyebrows met in deep thought.

 

Jolee scoffed. “Bah! You know these Sith! They wreck havoc and mayhem wherever they go,” he offered gruffly, though knowing that the words he spoke were not true.

 

Jayarede shook his head. He reached from his robes and grabbed the hilt of his lightsaber. The double-bladed one that he had created with one of his companion – Bao-Dur’s help was sliced in two by Raul. Instead he took out his old, traditional saber.

 

It was the normal size for a single-bladed saber. The only difference was the intricate design of a golden circle on the side of the hilt, with a pattern of triangles fit in the inside beautifully. There were golden stripes that widened down to the edge of the hilt, which was shaped slightly like an hourglass, though one would have to look twice to make it out. There was a long, narrow slot that ran through the other side of the blade, where the crystals were kept. At the bottom, there was a slightly curved golden side, smooth. This was the saber he had created at the age of twelve. It had taken him nine months, but he came out with the outstanding lightsaber in the end. Atris had given it back to him after he had defeated her on Telos.

 

He ran his hand through the smooth metal. It helped him think better. He sighed as he put it back in his robes.

 

“We have to tell Bastila, Visas, and the droids of this,” concluded Jayarede.

 

He could sense Drendellean shift uneasily from behind him, but he shrugged off the gesture.

[Lord Spitfire]

Alright, sorry for more delay, but next chapter will be up in about a week.

 

And please, I would like some replies. I am dangerously close to giving up this Fic.

[Bee Hoon]

Lol, reviews will come as and when the forumites feel like it=p

 

You truly are ignorant the ways of Holocrons . . . and that is why you are not yet a Sith Lord.

I don't know why, but I found this terribly funny. Like saying that you don't know the ways of textbooks or computers:p

 

Jolee was about to spit out something nasty to lighten the mood, but thought better of it. Now was not the time.

Saying nasty things doesn't lighten the mood, it just adds to the tension! Jolee may be sarcastic, but he's not spiteful by any accounts.

 

After my fateful crash, The Ebon Hawk is a piece of metal. Until then, you are not to make any notice among the community at all.

The Ebon Hawk IS a piece of metal anyway:p Is it wrecked? Shattered into infinitesimal pieces (which would be overkill)?

 

I wouldn't call Drendellean witty either... He seems rather sullen.

 

“If we hack through the matrixes in a certain pattern, won’t the code contract on itself, making the data cracked?”

Weird description, IMHO. The security room wouldn't be called camera function room either:)

 

“Hmm . . . well, you’re right, but in order to work through the matrixes, it seems that there needs to be some vibration in the air, some bend of certain waves that can run through the matrixes,” he concluded finally.

 

“So basically, it’s voice-locked.”

That was terribly roundabout way of putting things!

 

I never imagined that HK would give in that easily, but that's just my opinion. “Avoiding Distraction" is also a bout of a giveaway, isn't it? Something like Query would be more in line.

 

I'm out of time now, so just make sure you go over everything and polish it. The descriptions of Revan's 'episode' need work, but

 

But deep down, he knew it would cost him his life. He didn’t care. He didn’t care if the Republic would spit his name, he didn’t care if he would have to give something more valuable than even his own life; his heart. He didn’t care if a planet died. He didn’t care if all those he loved died. But as long as the Republic – no, not the Republic. What the Republic STOOD FOR survived, and it still ran strong; he would be satisfied.

I liked this!

[Lord Spitfire]

Lol, reviews will come as and when the forumites feel like it=p

 

 

I don't know why, but I found this terribly funny. Like saying that you don't know the ways of textbooks or computers:p

 

 

Saying nasty things doesn't lighten the mood, it just adds to the tension! Jolee may be sarcastic, but he's not spiteful by any accounts.

 

I wouldn't call Drendellean witty either... He seems rather sullen.

 

That was terribly roundabout way of putting things!

 

I never imagined that HK would give in that easily, but that's just my opinion. “Avoiding Distraction" is also a bout of a giveaway, isn't it? Something like Query would be more in line.

 

I'm out of time now, so just make sure you go over everything and polish it. The descriptions of Revan's 'episode' need work, but

 

 

I liked this!

 

 

1) Now that I look at it, it IS a little funny.

 

2) Nasty things as in like a gruff comment or something like that. I guess I should have elaborated a little more on that.

 

3) I never called Drendellean witty, did I?

 

4) Technical . . . perhaps. I don't know, maybe.

 

5) That might give things away . . . I put that in to give a little entertainment to the reader.

 

6) Needs work as in how? More descriptions.

 

7) Glad you liked it.

[Bee Hoon]

Sure, they were both apathetic and witty rogues, but there was just something about Drendellean – some darkness about him that reminded him of Atton.

 

Oh yeah, wanted to ask... Why doesn't Jayarede care about Drendellean's true identity?

[Lord Spitfire]

Something that will be revealed.