Post by Gamov on Aug 14, 2009 17:00:33 GMT -5
A complimentary story that focuses on the past between a few characters from Star Wars: Force Wars. The story largely focuses on Lord Ulm, a man of my making, and Darth Viskus, the making of my friend (and fellow Admin), Xander. There will come a point where other people's characters from FW are included in the story, but I shall address them as they appear. For now, they are insignificant and do not yet exist in this time frame. If you wish to leave a comment telling me what you think of it, just send me a PM. No need to muck up the boards with another thread just for comments, eh?
Shadows of the Force
Chapter 1
They stand together, their arms held tightly around one another, a mixture of souls so rich in days and time where the sea touches the land, waves gently lapping at the sands, rolling to and fro, pulsing with the tides. She wants to tell him the truth, but the wind carries her words away and he does not hear her. She holds his hand, trembling, and gives him a sweet kiss on the forehead, knowing that she must carry this secret to her grave. She lays her head in his lap and asks for one final kiss, a kiss goodbye, and one final display of affection before she withers away.
And he kissed her, her lips so pale and delicate. His eyes well up with tears, here where the sea meets the land. He knows her end is near, and gives her his heart before it is too late. The wind brushes past them, whispering a final, solemn epitaph and a final goodbye before death lays his icy touch upon her head and steals her from him forever, ushering her soul off of this mortal plain to a greater beyond. He holds her tightly to himself and feels her slip away, her aura fading into the dark abyss of eternity, as the world around them grows so black and empty, and the birds no longer sing for them. His every breath becomes a chore now; they don't seem worth it without her. The seconds pass by, bleeding into minutes, each one becoming increasingly more painful and lonely now that she is gone. He cannot bring himself to let her go, clutching her tightly, hugging her close to himself as he begins to weep for her, the waves still breaking on the shores, ebbing and flowing in perfect rhythm like a beating heart. A tear escapes his eye and traces its path down his cheek, staining his skin.
He battles his emotions, trying to deny the reality before him. He won't let himself believe the truth at first; it has to be a dream, a sadistic trick of the imagination, a hallucination brought on by a toxin perhaps, or a poison. His mind is only playing him for a fool, manipulating him into believing that he was anywhere else other than where he truly was. But fate is cruel, it will afford him no solace, his nightmare is real, its effects as real as the sands upon which he rests. Here, where the land meets the sea, he has found hell, and he lets out a pained cry to the heavens, pleading for them to revoke his torment or end his suffering. But his tortured cries go unheard and the universe sees fit to impose this sentence upon him, forcing him to endure the anguish of loss for as long as he shall live.
Dejected, carrying a wound deeper than one any weapon of man could inflict upon him, he lays her in the sands and lets the waves consume her. They roll upon her lifeless body again and again, slowly inching her towards their domain as he holds her hand, savoring the last embrace they will ever have before she begins to drift away from him. Slowly, reluctantly, he lets her fingers slip from his for the last time, releasing her to the whiles of the azure sea. He watches as she drifts away, farther now into the sunset that has set the horizon ablaze with its brilliant orange glow. Gently, she moves with the waves, their subtle movements lifting her, carrying her farther from him. A momentary thought springs forth in his bereaved mind; he wants to save her and begins to doubt releasing her to the whims of the ocean. But the sea is a benevolent creature and treats her gently, softly welcoming her into its embrace as she finally slips beneath the placid surface.
Memories are all that remain now; she has gone from him in spirit and in life. He buries his head in his hands and allows his feelings to finally overcome him. Grief is his companion now, eagerly taking her place at his side for the rest of his days.
********
His mind comes back to him, returning him to the place in which he truly resides as the dream world dissipates and vanishes before him, the nightmare finally relenting its control over his thoughts. He feels a chill crawl up his spine to awaken his senses. The feeling of a damp cold returns to him again, penetrating him and chilling him to the bone as the rough texture of rock presses against his bare chest, digging into him like hundreds of nails. His eyes scan the dim surroundings as water can be heard dripping in the distance, echoing through the caverns. The feral howl of a creature rings out through the catacombs and sinks into the young mans ears, alerting him. He is being hunted.
Quickly, he rights himself, springing to his feet as he scans his surroundings, bleak and cold though they are. He doesn't see the world around him as others do; his eyes were not developed in such a way. Color is mute to him, the entire spectrum, the pallet that gives the universe its vibrancy, it is meaningless to him. His surroundings are but shades of gray, gatherings of vague shapes in the dank atmosphere that he must piece together for himself if he hopes to survive this environment. Faces do not speak to him, he discerns bodies through their imprint in the Force, seeing their auras as the light that guides him to them, or repels him away.
The beast calls out again from the depths of the caves, hunger in its cry. It seeks blood and has stalked its prey for miles through the fetid swamps and humid forests of its native home in search of its meal. It sniffs the air, tasting it and sampling its victim’s scent, filtering him out from the other creatures that populate the darkened recesses of the various crevices and crags in the tunnel. The animal can smell its prey nearby and prowls fiercely, using its keen eyes and sensitive nose to cautiously pick its path through the dim corridors in search of its quarry.
He knows this predator is stalking him, though he can feel but an inkling of its primal urge radiating in the Force, it is still enough to tell of the ravenous heart to which it belongs. It has traced his steps, through the mud, through the rain, in spite of his efforts to elude it. But he has no intent of allowing for himself to be made a meal for a bloodthirsty creature. If it seeks to feast upon his flesh, then it shall have to earn its right to survive. He reaches forward in time, using a training method that he had learned from his former mentor, attempting to locate the creature's standing in the Force to betray its position to him. But this world does not abide the powers over which he holds sway, denying him the use of his mysticism to aid him in the coming duel. The wolf calls out once more, closer now, closer than it was, its blood curdling howl reverberating in the tunnels and in his ears. He is all too aware of the predator's closing proximity as he moves silently to position himself for an ambush, taking care so as not to disturb his surroundings. His foe is a skilled, cunning one and he must move swiftly, yet lightly if he hopes to gain an advantage. The Force would fail him here; his wits are all that he has at his disposal. But they will do. He feels his way towards an outcropping on the inner wall, the jagged edges of rocks poking and gouging at his unprotected feet as he reaches up and grips the edge of the cliff face. It will provide him vital high ground from which to strike. Using his strength, he hoists himself from the cave floor and onto his perch, where he awaits the beast's arrival.
The animal stalks through his domain, taking a heavy whiff of air, wafting it into his nasal cavity where he savors the smell of the feast to come. Nimbly, it steps its way around obstacles, weaving between stalagmites and rugged furrows in the floor, following the trail that its victim had taken. To the wolf, his prey leaves a distinct trail, a putrid stain upon his world that is easily scoured from the menagerie of life forms that co-exist in his kingdom. He has no equal in this arena, the predator stands alone at the apex of evolution on his planet, using methods that appear not that dissimilar from those of his favorite game. Using a drop of blood from his target that he had measured hours ago, it tracks him now by the stench of the Force, its presence just as real and as pungent as any odor.
The young man observes the approach of his stalker from the relative safety of his haven, its silhouette striking out in his eyes with ease amid the conglomeration of misshapen grey forms that comprise his surroundings. He steadies his breath and calms his nerves as the creature draws nearer. The animal is within reach now, he watches as it regards the area where he once rested, sensing his imprint before crouching down, the hair standing on its back. He knows it has found his location, but it is vexed by his disappearance. It prowls closer to him now, nearing his ambush, following the trail he had laid out. He controls his emotions, fighting back a smirk. He cannot celebrate yet, not until this animal lies dead at his feet, killed by his own hands and cunning.
The wolf goes where the scent takes him, towards a wall, into a waiting trap.
His timing was perfect now it was now or never. The man leaps from his hiding place and onto the beast's back, grappling its head and jaws with his hands, trying to apply leverage in an attempt to twist its neck and fracture the bones, bringing a quick end to the battle. But the predator proves to be smarter than he had anticipated. It growls from behind clenched teeth and rolls to its side, smashing its attacker on the sharp rocks. The ragged edges slice at the man's skin, delivering several lacerations to his side. He bites back the pain with anger and a deep, passionate desire to survive as he is forced to relinquish his grip on the animal's maw, releasing it from his grasp. He rolls over on to his back as the wolf regains itself quickly and pounces at him, leaping atop him. Fangs and claws, wild with rage and foaming with hunger slash at him through the dark as the creature snarls and barks. Its jaws open wide and descend towards his throat, saliva dripping from them as it moves in for the kill.
A snap judgment comes to his mind, an impulse driven by the pure will to survive. He brings his forearm to his defense and intercepts the bite, allowing the animal to sink its teeth into his own flesh. The teeth puncture his arm with ease and slice their way through skin and muscle alike, gouging deep marks into him. Though the pain is intense and he momentarily asks himself why he did it, he fights back against the sting of the wounds and the power of his assailant with adrenaline. He grits his own teeth as the wolf growls at him through a mouthful of meat. Using his free hand, he delivers a quick strike to his attacker's throat, choking it of breath and temporarily stunning it enough where he could pry the vice like mouth form his arm.
The wolf staggers away, winded by the sudden retaliation before the man turns the tide against it.
With blood trailing down his arm and dripping from his fingertips to the cave floor, the man steels himself and charges the animal, tackling it to its side where he is able to gain the upper hand. But the creature does not roll over as easily as he had anticipated it would. It thrashes wildly at him, biting and snapping at his face with its powerful jaws, delivering a glancing blow to his cheek and opening the skin below his right eye, while its clawed feet rip and tear at his legs, tearing sections of his black pants and delivering cuts to his thighs. Again, he ignores the damage to his body and continues his assault, wrestling the beast to its back, where he squeezes its ribcage tightly between his knees, constricting its airway and slowly bleeding the fight out of it as he keeps the claws at bay with one arm and attempts to attain a weapon for himself, all the while sustaining further cuts and abrasions to his arms and legs as the wolf continues to twist about beneath him. He quickly scans his surroundings for a tool to dispatch his foe with. And there was his answer, a large, oddly shaped rock with several pointed protrusions. Retrieving the rock meant letting down his guard for a moment, but it had to be done if he sought to make it out of these caverns alive. He releases the wolf's front legs and receives a few more wounds to his neck and left shoulder as he twists himself to his right and hefts the rock from the ground.
Turning back to the beast, he raises the object high above his head as its claws scratch at his stomach. His body is nearing its threshold of tolerable pain; he knows that he cannot suppress many more injuries like this. With time slowly slipping away from him, he brings the rock down on the flailing creature's head, a meaty sound can be heard as granite meets skull and skin. But there is still life in the monster, he can see it, he can feel it still squirming under him. Again he bashes the rock against the predator's skull, fracturing it with a loud pop as it yips and whimpers. There is no sympathy in his actions, there cannot be, it is kill or be killed, the rule of the universe. A third time he uses the rock to crush the animal’s head against the hard stone floor of the cave. His task is nearly done now blood oozes from its ears and he feels its body go limp, its legs no longer swinging at him. Casting his crude weapon aside, he picks up its head in his hands and places his knee firmly in its throat as he twists the head. It resists at first, but finally, a pop. The battle for survival is over.
Slowly, he stands to his feet and the wolf flops to its side, motionless. He has earned his right to live in the universe, at least for the moment. The pain from his wounds slowly seep back into his mind and start to sting as the adrenaline recedes in him and allows for his pain receptors to finally do their job. He winces and clenches his teeth as the effects of the animal's assault finally take hold over his bruised and beaten body. His arm throbs, dulling the sensation of the other, comparatively minor, scars. Looking at the marks where the teeth had sliced their way through him, he counts himself lucky to even have an arm left after the encounter. He balls his hand into a fist, tightening the muscles in his arm and causing for blood to trickle from the holes. The pain radiates outward from the points, traveling to his fingertips and to his shoulder. He grimaces and unclenches his fist as a slight twinge of nausea boils up in his gut. He represses the sickly feeling and regards the dead wolf once more. It had put up a valiant fight, and had earned a small measure of his respect for providing him with a worthy challenge. For him, his wounds were not atrocities to be hidden, but badges to be shown proudly to his Master, each one proof that he had weathered the trials and was indeed strong enough to begin his journey. He had learned to put mercy out of his mind, to quell compassion. They are weak emotions, befitting only of prey. He needed to be a predator, he needed to be strong and willing to defend himself without compunction or remorse, for the path upon which he will soon lay his feet is rife with such trials and he needed to prove his loyalty and readiness to his Master by engaging in the ancient blood sport of the universe and proving his superiority above all others. This was the lesson of the trial, and his scars would serve as proof that he had indeed learned it harshly, as was intended.
Removing his stare from the dead creature, the man makes his way back to the cave entrance, back to the surface world, where the sun touches upon him again for the first time in days, its rays only fleeting as ominous clouds billow up beyond the horizon and announce the approach of coming storm with a deep rumble that penetrates the land and shakes the trees, scattering startled fowls and fauna as they break from their routines and scamper or fly to their homes to wait out the coming tempest. But he does not flee as the wild life does, he stands in the storms path and awaits it, watching the inexorable advance of the dark clouds rolling forward from the green hills beyond, their color now a dim grey as a torrent of rain begins to fall, deluging the land beyond and blotting out the sun's rays with each passing moment, dwindling the realm of light and replacing it with shadow.
Weary from his fight, he rests, placing himself in the soft grass just outside the entrance to the caverns. He sits with his legs crossed, his palms flat on his knees, and waits, waiting for the storm, waiting for his Master. Rain begins to pelt the foliage around him, pattering away at the leaves, softly at first it falls upon his shoulders, back and face, the cool water helping to momentarily quench the bite of his cuts and abrasions before the rhythm begins to quicken. The rain falls as a driving downpour now, soaking the him and the ground on which he rests as thunder cracks across the sky and wind hastens its pace, whipping the tops of trees back and forth like frail reeds. The core of the storm draws closer to him as a whirling, screaming creature with a violent heart. It affords him no apathy, lashing him with the same fury that it uses to punish its surroundings.
He closes his eyes and accepts the turbulent embrace of nature, finding it to be a pleasing mirror to his heart. Now he allows for that sensation to take its hold on him, the feeling that he stifled in the cave. A smirk of satisfaction dances on his lips. He has defeated this world, surviving its most vicious creatures, its violent storms and scornful mannerism ultimately failing to break him. His Master will no doubt be proud of him. Master, the word reminds him of when he was first brought to this world by him. With little more than the clothes on his back, his Master abandoned him to the mercy of the planet and asserted his ultimatum. “Return to me a warrior, or not at all.” That was his task, to survive and learn to live as a creature of the universe, kill first or die a failure. A stark lesson to teach to any living being. But he had managed to thrive in the inhospitable world his Master had chosen for him, and he anticipated their next meeting with great enthusiasm.
The storm raged on, ravaging all under its omnipotent influence. And as he allowed for the winds to howl around him and the rain to drive against his body, a thunderclap rose up and shuddered him, reverberating in his chest as a sudden voice called to him, the voice creeping into his ears and shocking him out of his trance like state as a dreadful shadow fell over him. Startled, his eyes snapped open and he looked up, a lightning bolt splitting the sky and illuminating the world before him. He instantly righted himself and scrambled to a knee, bowing his head in submission as the gargantuan being towered over him, leering down upon him from the dark shadows of his great horned helm, his red eyes piercing through him and peering into his very soul, as if he were searching him for traces of weakness.
Controlling a tremor in his voice, he spoke. “My Lord, I have completed your test of faith. I am ready to begin my journey.”
His Master remained silent as the rain broke against his armored figure and the wind swirled around him, his cape fluttering in its turbulent throes. He can sense the fear in his Apprentice; his pulse is racing, his heart beating out an abnormal rhythm as he fights to control his emotions in his presence. They are feeble attempts; he can see through his veil as easily as he can feel the primal urging’s of the planet on which he stands. The boy still has much to learn, but he can tell that the boy has learned his place in the world. The smell of death accompanies him; a fragrance that is telling of the hardships the Apprentice has endured. Another streak of pallid blue lightning fingers its way across the sky. He waits for the thunder, and speaks in tune with it, allowing for his voice to subvert the cacophony of nature to prove his mastery over all life.
“You carry the plague of death with you.” His voice is deep and booming, commanding the attention of his Apprentice. “Your trial here is complete, you have earned your right to survive for the moment and have learned your place in the universe.”
The boy stares up at his Master, a towering, imposing figure that radiates corruption. There is no light in his aura, he is the thing in which light dies and is converted and twisted into demonic powers that strike fear into the hearts of men and corrupt the souls of the living. He wages a battle against his nerves now. To show any shred of weakness to his Master could prove fatal.
“Now comes the test of your loyalty.” He continues, his words ripping through the air and stabbing into the boy, each one asserting his dominance over him and striking fear into the young man. Thunder snaps in the sky once more as the storm begins to wander off, its ferocity spent trying to ravage the two of them, but ultimately failing in its endeavor. “A threat approaches the galaxy, a threat that cannot be allowed to exist.”
Bowing his head once more, the boy submits his query. “What is thy bidding, my Master?"
His Master remains stoic, no outward signs of emotion creep to his body or through the Force. He exudes himself as a solid being of character with a cold, merciless heart and a swift, calculating mind. “Corellia.” He commands, his deep baritone voice reverberating through the air. “You will venture there and put an end to this threat while it is still but a child in the womb. For the sake of our survival, this creature must not be born into the world.”
The man almost couldn't comprehend the words he was hearing. Slaughter a child? How could he ask him to accomplish such a task? He keeps his head held low, trying to mask his trepidations. But it is a foolhardy attempt at best. His Master is adept at seeing into the murky depths of the mind and rooting out the truth, no matter how buried or occluded it may seem
“Your thoughts betray you.” He snarls, disappointment in his words.
The young man quickly defends himself, staring his Master in the eyes; he boldly denies the traitorous thoughts that he knows populate his mind at the moment. “My loyalty is strong, my Master. I shall not fail you.” He assures him, bowing his head again.
His Master huffs at the empty remark. Without actions to back such claims, they are but hollow platitudes with no meaning or substance. “We shall see.” He grumbles in response before turning and walking away, summoning his Apprentice as he goes. “Come. There are preparations to be made.”
The young man hauls himself out of the muck and the mire and follows behind his Master, finally having been granted passage off of this festering pit. But at what cost would his freedom come? Only time could tell.
Shadows of the Force
Chapter 1
They stand together, their arms held tightly around one another, a mixture of souls so rich in days and time where the sea touches the land, waves gently lapping at the sands, rolling to and fro, pulsing with the tides. She wants to tell him the truth, but the wind carries her words away and he does not hear her. She holds his hand, trembling, and gives him a sweet kiss on the forehead, knowing that she must carry this secret to her grave. She lays her head in his lap and asks for one final kiss, a kiss goodbye, and one final display of affection before she withers away.
And he kissed her, her lips so pale and delicate. His eyes well up with tears, here where the sea meets the land. He knows her end is near, and gives her his heart before it is too late. The wind brushes past them, whispering a final, solemn epitaph and a final goodbye before death lays his icy touch upon her head and steals her from him forever, ushering her soul off of this mortal plain to a greater beyond. He holds her tightly to himself and feels her slip away, her aura fading into the dark abyss of eternity, as the world around them grows so black and empty, and the birds no longer sing for them. His every breath becomes a chore now; they don't seem worth it without her. The seconds pass by, bleeding into minutes, each one becoming increasingly more painful and lonely now that she is gone. He cannot bring himself to let her go, clutching her tightly, hugging her close to himself as he begins to weep for her, the waves still breaking on the shores, ebbing and flowing in perfect rhythm like a beating heart. A tear escapes his eye and traces its path down his cheek, staining his skin.
He battles his emotions, trying to deny the reality before him. He won't let himself believe the truth at first; it has to be a dream, a sadistic trick of the imagination, a hallucination brought on by a toxin perhaps, or a poison. His mind is only playing him for a fool, manipulating him into believing that he was anywhere else other than where he truly was. But fate is cruel, it will afford him no solace, his nightmare is real, its effects as real as the sands upon which he rests. Here, where the land meets the sea, he has found hell, and he lets out a pained cry to the heavens, pleading for them to revoke his torment or end his suffering. But his tortured cries go unheard and the universe sees fit to impose this sentence upon him, forcing him to endure the anguish of loss for as long as he shall live.
Dejected, carrying a wound deeper than one any weapon of man could inflict upon him, he lays her in the sands and lets the waves consume her. They roll upon her lifeless body again and again, slowly inching her towards their domain as he holds her hand, savoring the last embrace they will ever have before she begins to drift away from him. Slowly, reluctantly, he lets her fingers slip from his for the last time, releasing her to the whiles of the azure sea. He watches as she drifts away, farther now into the sunset that has set the horizon ablaze with its brilliant orange glow. Gently, she moves with the waves, their subtle movements lifting her, carrying her farther from him. A momentary thought springs forth in his bereaved mind; he wants to save her and begins to doubt releasing her to the whims of the ocean. But the sea is a benevolent creature and treats her gently, softly welcoming her into its embrace as she finally slips beneath the placid surface.
Memories are all that remain now; she has gone from him in spirit and in life. He buries his head in his hands and allows his feelings to finally overcome him. Grief is his companion now, eagerly taking her place at his side for the rest of his days.
********
His mind comes back to him, returning him to the place in which he truly resides as the dream world dissipates and vanishes before him, the nightmare finally relenting its control over his thoughts. He feels a chill crawl up his spine to awaken his senses. The feeling of a damp cold returns to him again, penetrating him and chilling him to the bone as the rough texture of rock presses against his bare chest, digging into him like hundreds of nails. His eyes scan the dim surroundings as water can be heard dripping in the distance, echoing through the caverns. The feral howl of a creature rings out through the catacombs and sinks into the young mans ears, alerting him. He is being hunted.
Quickly, he rights himself, springing to his feet as he scans his surroundings, bleak and cold though they are. He doesn't see the world around him as others do; his eyes were not developed in such a way. Color is mute to him, the entire spectrum, the pallet that gives the universe its vibrancy, it is meaningless to him. His surroundings are but shades of gray, gatherings of vague shapes in the dank atmosphere that he must piece together for himself if he hopes to survive this environment. Faces do not speak to him, he discerns bodies through their imprint in the Force, seeing their auras as the light that guides him to them, or repels him away.
The beast calls out again from the depths of the caves, hunger in its cry. It seeks blood and has stalked its prey for miles through the fetid swamps and humid forests of its native home in search of its meal. It sniffs the air, tasting it and sampling its victim’s scent, filtering him out from the other creatures that populate the darkened recesses of the various crevices and crags in the tunnel. The animal can smell its prey nearby and prowls fiercely, using its keen eyes and sensitive nose to cautiously pick its path through the dim corridors in search of its quarry.
He knows this predator is stalking him, though he can feel but an inkling of its primal urge radiating in the Force, it is still enough to tell of the ravenous heart to which it belongs. It has traced his steps, through the mud, through the rain, in spite of his efforts to elude it. But he has no intent of allowing for himself to be made a meal for a bloodthirsty creature. If it seeks to feast upon his flesh, then it shall have to earn its right to survive. He reaches forward in time, using a training method that he had learned from his former mentor, attempting to locate the creature's standing in the Force to betray its position to him. But this world does not abide the powers over which he holds sway, denying him the use of his mysticism to aid him in the coming duel. The wolf calls out once more, closer now, closer than it was, its blood curdling howl reverberating in the tunnels and in his ears. He is all too aware of the predator's closing proximity as he moves silently to position himself for an ambush, taking care so as not to disturb his surroundings. His foe is a skilled, cunning one and he must move swiftly, yet lightly if he hopes to gain an advantage. The Force would fail him here; his wits are all that he has at his disposal. But they will do. He feels his way towards an outcropping on the inner wall, the jagged edges of rocks poking and gouging at his unprotected feet as he reaches up and grips the edge of the cliff face. It will provide him vital high ground from which to strike. Using his strength, he hoists himself from the cave floor and onto his perch, where he awaits the beast's arrival.
The animal stalks through his domain, taking a heavy whiff of air, wafting it into his nasal cavity where he savors the smell of the feast to come. Nimbly, it steps its way around obstacles, weaving between stalagmites and rugged furrows in the floor, following the trail that its victim had taken. To the wolf, his prey leaves a distinct trail, a putrid stain upon his world that is easily scoured from the menagerie of life forms that co-exist in his kingdom. He has no equal in this arena, the predator stands alone at the apex of evolution on his planet, using methods that appear not that dissimilar from those of his favorite game. Using a drop of blood from his target that he had measured hours ago, it tracks him now by the stench of the Force, its presence just as real and as pungent as any odor.
The young man observes the approach of his stalker from the relative safety of his haven, its silhouette striking out in his eyes with ease amid the conglomeration of misshapen grey forms that comprise his surroundings. He steadies his breath and calms his nerves as the creature draws nearer. The animal is within reach now, he watches as it regards the area where he once rested, sensing his imprint before crouching down, the hair standing on its back. He knows it has found his location, but it is vexed by his disappearance. It prowls closer to him now, nearing his ambush, following the trail he had laid out. He controls his emotions, fighting back a smirk. He cannot celebrate yet, not until this animal lies dead at his feet, killed by his own hands and cunning.
The wolf goes where the scent takes him, towards a wall, into a waiting trap.
His timing was perfect now it was now or never. The man leaps from his hiding place and onto the beast's back, grappling its head and jaws with his hands, trying to apply leverage in an attempt to twist its neck and fracture the bones, bringing a quick end to the battle. But the predator proves to be smarter than he had anticipated. It growls from behind clenched teeth and rolls to its side, smashing its attacker on the sharp rocks. The ragged edges slice at the man's skin, delivering several lacerations to his side. He bites back the pain with anger and a deep, passionate desire to survive as he is forced to relinquish his grip on the animal's maw, releasing it from his grasp. He rolls over on to his back as the wolf regains itself quickly and pounces at him, leaping atop him. Fangs and claws, wild with rage and foaming with hunger slash at him through the dark as the creature snarls and barks. Its jaws open wide and descend towards his throat, saliva dripping from them as it moves in for the kill.
A snap judgment comes to his mind, an impulse driven by the pure will to survive. He brings his forearm to his defense and intercepts the bite, allowing the animal to sink its teeth into his own flesh. The teeth puncture his arm with ease and slice their way through skin and muscle alike, gouging deep marks into him. Though the pain is intense and he momentarily asks himself why he did it, he fights back against the sting of the wounds and the power of his assailant with adrenaline. He grits his own teeth as the wolf growls at him through a mouthful of meat. Using his free hand, he delivers a quick strike to his attacker's throat, choking it of breath and temporarily stunning it enough where he could pry the vice like mouth form his arm.
The wolf staggers away, winded by the sudden retaliation before the man turns the tide against it.
With blood trailing down his arm and dripping from his fingertips to the cave floor, the man steels himself and charges the animal, tackling it to its side where he is able to gain the upper hand. But the creature does not roll over as easily as he had anticipated it would. It thrashes wildly at him, biting and snapping at his face with its powerful jaws, delivering a glancing blow to his cheek and opening the skin below his right eye, while its clawed feet rip and tear at his legs, tearing sections of his black pants and delivering cuts to his thighs. Again, he ignores the damage to his body and continues his assault, wrestling the beast to its back, where he squeezes its ribcage tightly between his knees, constricting its airway and slowly bleeding the fight out of it as he keeps the claws at bay with one arm and attempts to attain a weapon for himself, all the while sustaining further cuts and abrasions to his arms and legs as the wolf continues to twist about beneath him. He quickly scans his surroundings for a tool to dispatch his foe with. And there was his answer, a large, oddly shaped rock with several pointed protrusions. Retrieving the rock meant letting down his guard for a moment, but it had to be done if he sought to make it out of these caverns alive. He releases the wolf's front legs and receives a few more wounds to his neck and left shoulder as he twists himself to his right and hefts the rock from the ground.
Turning back to the beast, he raises the object high above his head as its claws scratch at his stomach. His body is nearing its threshold of tolerable pain; he knows that he cannot suppress many more injuries like this. With time slowly slipping away from him, he brings the rock down on the flailing creature's head, a meaty sound can be heard as granite meets skull and skin. But there is still life in the monster, he can see it, he can feel it still squirming under him. Again he bashes the rock against the predator's skull, fracturing it with a loud pop as it yips and whimpers. There is no sympathy in his actions, there cannot be, it is kill or be killed, the rule of the universe. A third time he uses the rock to crush the animal’s head against the hard stone floor of the cave. His task is nearly done now blood oozes from its ears and he feels its body go limp, its legs no longer swinging at him. Casting his crude weapon aside, he picks up its head in his hands and places his knee firmly in its throat as he twists the head. It resists at first, but finally, a pop. The battle for survival is over.
Slowly, he stands to his feet and the wolf flops to its side, motionless. He has earned his right to live in the universe, at least for the moment. The pain from his wounds slowly seep back into his mind and start to sting as the adrenaline recedes in him and allows for his pain receptors to finally do their job. He winces and clenches his teeth as the effects of the animal's assault finally take hold over his bruised and beaten body. His arm throbs, dulling the sensation of the other, comparatively minor, scars. Looking at the marks where the teeth had sliced their way through him, he counts himself lucky to even have an arm left after the encounter. He balls his hand into a fist, tightening the muscles in his arm and causing for blood to trickle from the holes. The pain radiates outward from the points, traveling to his fingertips and to his shoulder. He grimaces and unclenches his fist as a slight twinge of nausea boils up in his gut. He represses the sickly feeling and regards the dead wolf once more. It had put up a valiant fight, and had earned a small measure of his respect for providing him with a worthy challenge. For him, his wounds were not atrocities to be hidden, but badges to be shown proudly to his Master, each one proof that he had weathered the trials and was indeed strong enough to begin his journey. He had learned to put mercy out of his mind, to quell compassion. They are weak emotions, befitting only of prey. He needed to be a predator, he needed to be strong and willing to defend himself without compunction or remorse, for the path upon which he will soon lay his feet is rife with such trials and he needed to prove his loyalty and readiness to his Master by engaging in the ancient blood sport of the universe and proving his superiority above all others. This was the lesson of the trial, and his scars would serve as proof that he had indeed learned it harshly, as was intended.
Removing his stare from the dead creature, the man makes his way back to the cave entrance, back to the surface world, where the sun touches upon him again for the first time in days, its rays only fleeting as ominous clouds billow up beyond the horizon and announce the approach of coming storm with a deep rumble that penetrates the land and shakes the trees, scattering startled fowls and fauna as they break from their routines and scamper or fly to their homes to wait out the coming tempest. But he does not flee as the wild life does, he stands in the storms path and awaits it, watching the inexorable advance of the dark clouds rolling forward from the green hills beyond, their color now a dim grey as a torrent of rain begins to fall, deluging the land beyond and blotting out the sun's rays with each passing moment, dwindling the realm of light and replacing it with shadow.
Weary from his fight, he rests, placing himself in the soft grass just outside the entrance to the caverns. He sits with his legs crossed, his palms flat on his knees, and waits, waiting for the storm, waiting for his Master. Rain begins to pelt the foliage around him, pattering away at the leaves, softly at first it falls upon his shoulders, back and face, the cool water helping to momentarily quench the bite of his cuts and abrasions before the rhythm begins to quicken. The rain falls as a driving downpour now, soaking the him and the ground on which he rests as thunder cracks across the sky and wind hastens its pace, whipping the tops of trees back and forth like frail reeds. The core of the storm draws closer to him as a whirling, screaming creature with a violent heart. It affords him no apathy, lashing him with the same fury that it uses to punish its surroundings.
He closes his eyes and accepts the turbulent embrace of nature, finding it to be a pleasing mirror to his heart. Now he allows for that sensation to take its hold on him, the feeling that he stifled in the cave. A smirk of satisfaction dances on his lips. He has defeated this world, surviving its most vicious creatures, its violent storms and scornful mannerism ultimately failing to break him. His Master will no doubt be proud of him. Master, the word reminds him of when he was first brought to this world by him. With little more than the clothes on his back, his Master abandoned him to the mercy of the planet and asserted his ultimatum. “Return to me a warrior, or not at all.” That was his task, to survive and learn to live as a creature of the universe, kill first or die a failure. A stark lesson to teach to any living being. But he had managed to thrive in the inhospitable world his Master had chosen for him, and he anticipated their next meeting with great enthusiasm.
The storm raged on, ravaging all under its omnipotent influence. And as he allowed for the winds to howl around him and the rain to drive against his body, a thunderclap rose up and shuddered him, reverberating in his chest as a sudden voice called to him, the voice creeping into his ears and shocking him out of his trance like state as a dreadful shadow fell over him. Startled, his eyes snapped open and he looked up, a lightning bolt splitting the sky and illuminating the world before him. He instantly righted himself and scrambled to a knee, bowing his head in submission as the gargantuan being towered over him, leering down upon him from the dark shadows of his great horned helm, his red eyes piercing through him and peering into his very soul, as if he were searching him for traces of weakness.
Controlling a tremor in his voice, he spoke. “My Lord, I have completed your test of faith. I am ready to begin my journey.”
His Master remained silent as the rain broke against his armored figure and the wind swirled around him, his cape fluttering in its turbulent throes. He can sense the fear in his Apprentice; his pulse is racing, his heart beating out an abnormal rhythm as he fights to control his emotions in his presence. They are feeble attempts; he can see through his veil as easily as he can feel the primal urging’s of the planet on which he stands. The boy still has much to learn, but he can tell that the boy has learned his place in the world. The smell of death accompanies him; a fragrance that is telling of the hardships the Apprentice has endured. Another streak of pallid blue lightning fingers its way across the sky. He waits for the thunder, and speaks in tune with it, allowing for his voice to subvert the cacophony of nature to prove his mastery over all life.
“You carry the plague of death with you.” His voice is deep and booming, commanding the attention of his Apprentice. “Your trial here is complete, you have earned your right to survive for the moment and have learned your place in the universe.”
The boy stares up at his Master, a towering, imposing figure that radiates corruption. There is no light in his aura, he is the thing in which light dies and is converted and twisted into demonic powers that strike fear into the hearts of men and corrupt the souls of the living. He wages a battle against his nerves now. To show any shred of weakness to his Master could prove fatal.
“Now comes the test of your loyalty.” He continues, his words ripping through the air and stabbing into the boy, each one asserting his dominance over him and striking fear into the young man. Thunder snaps in the sky once more as the storm begins to wander off, its ferocity spent trying to ravage the two of them, but ultimately failing in its endeavor. “A threat approaches the galaxy, a threat that cannot be allowed to exist.”
Bowing his head once more, the boy submits his query. “What is thy bidding, my Master?"
His Master remains stoic, no outward signs of emotion creep to his body or through the Force. He exudes himself as a solid being of character with a cold, merciless heart and a swift, calculating mind. “Corellia.” He commands, his deep baritone voice reverberating through the air. “You will venture there and put an end to this threat while it is still but a child in the womb. For the sake of our survival, this creature must not be born into the world.”
The man almost couldn't comprehend the words he was hearing. Slaughter a child? How could he ask him to accomplish such a task? He keeps his head held low, trying to mask his trepidations. But it is a foolhardy attempt at best. His Master is adept at seeing into the murky depths of the mind and rooting out the truth, no matter how buried or occluded it may seem
“Your thoughts betray you.” He snarls, disappointment in his words.
The young man quickly defends himself, staring his Master in the eyes; he boldly denies the traitorous thoughts that he knows populate his mind at the moment. “My loyalty is strong, my Master. I shall not fail you.” He assures him, bowing his head again.
His Master huffs at the empty remark. Without actions to back such claims, they are but hollow platitudes with no meaning or substance. “We shall see.” He grumbles in response before turning and walking away, summoning his Apprentice as he goes. “Come. There are preparations to be made.”
The young man hauls himself out of the muck and the mire and follows behind his Master, finally having been granted passage off of this festering pit. But at what cost would his freedom come? Only time could tell.