Qotsisajak

Posted on Sat Dec 8th, 2018 @ 1:07pm by Bomoor Thort & Thane
Edited on on Sat Jan 26th, 2019 @ 8:30pm

3,256 words; about a 16 minute read

Chapter: Chapter V: Unbound
Location: XoXaan's Temple Antechamber, Korriban
Timeline: 0120 Hours (Local Time), Day Two (After "Terentatek of the New Age")

OLD

Three large chunks of ochre-stained stone, crushed into place by other smaller rocks and rubble, now entirely blocked the cracked remnants of that doorway, insofar that to even move any part of it with the Force might cause further calamity within the cavern network.

"I see no blood nor body," the Human said, a degree of pronounced dispassion in his tone, staring at where the terentatek's corpse should have lain, whole or otherwise.

“It lives,” Bomoor stated firmly, “But I believe we managed to weaken it. Perhaps it will think twice about pursuing us further. I imagine you too now recognise the creature from the archive illustrations: the terentatek?”

"And our holocrons," Thane confirmed grimly, still not taking his eyes away from the now non-existent entrance.

“Let us hope Coda," Bomoor added, his mind along the same track as his friend's, "is far enough away that she is safe.”

Thane simply nodded, cold blue eyes narrowed. Either that, he mused, or we truly test the mettle of the survivor of Lorrd.

NEW

OOC: Music for the Antechamber - The Entrance to XoXaan's Temple

Bomoor turned back towards the elaborate wall and doorway that they had huddled against during the rockfall.

He reached out an ebony hand and touched the grooves on the door, which was made of some kind of non-corrosive metal and had stood the test of time buried here among the other ruins. There was no latch or door handle that could be seen - only that ancient Sith text set into the metalwork. After his success with the lantern, he felt the material for another shatterpoint, but found nothing he could detect.

“I imagine there is some trick to this door,” the Ithorian commented, “Hopefully it does not require some sort of blood ritual as I failed to bring any livestock. Any idea what it says?”

Thane stepped tentatively forward, having regarded the great stone work from a distance just previously, and removed a glove from his hand to place his bare flesh against the work. Not seeking to conceal any hint of his darkening nature, the former Jedi opened his spirit to the dark side power ebbing through the doorway and Korriban itself.

Whilst cold to the touch, a crackle of sharp heat was running along his flesh as it pressed entirely against the ancient Sith work, and a warmth unique to the Force began to spread along his limb, catching his breath in his chest. Tracing his fingers along the etched script, he tried to mouth the words silently, calling upon both his burgeoning knowledge and Sith talents.

“It is not the ancient Sith dialect,” he half-breathed to Bomoor, now removing his second glove and bringing his other hand to rest against and caress the mural. The whispering that had been so apparent in the Valley of the Dark Lords, which had seemed silent during their showdown with the terentatek, now seemed to return to his mind and the hall, hissed words of malice fluttering about them among the ancient ruins.

“It is newer,” Thane elaborated, still perusing the script with his fingers and palms, eyes periodically closing due to both thought and an intoxicating flood of power from his arcane efforts. “This would not be the work of XoXaan, the original Sith or immediate followers. This is One Sith… a pale imitation of the earlier works in language alone, but undeniably potent.”

Behind Thane, his friend watched wordlessly in the now silent cave, with only a few distant clatters of loose rocks punctuating the emptiness. Bomoor had seen many glimpses now of the Dark side and even of the Sith. While he was still wary of the latter, the Dark Side itself no longer was a fearful concept to the kindly Ithorian.

“Darth Krayt…” Bomoor spoke silently, piecing together the knowledge he himself had gathered from communing with the Sith Holocron in his possession.

A few words were now becoming clearer to Thane, even if their meaning was a struggle to actually decipher for the neophyte. “The words here; ‘wo’ and ‘tsis’, are the words for ‘one’ and ‘Sith’, and these two; aleph and zayin… they are the first and last letters of the Sith alphabet.” Although he did not remove his hands from the mural, Thane inclined his head towards Bomoor, thinking amidst the growing dark murmurs within his mind. “Beginning and end, perhaps?” He postulated to his friend.

His studies at the behest of Darth Bane’s holocron had been varied, but largely focused on the philosophies and power of the dark side. In addition, whilst the gatekeeper had declared himself a man of few words, he confessed an admiration and belief in the importance of them, and had strongly-encouraged Thane to include them as part of his studies, sharing a large quantity of scripts and passages saved within the artificial annals of the ageing holocron’s lattices.

“Perhaps there is something… …speak… …ne Sith…” The familiar voice of Thane’s childhood friend became more distant, “…ane?”

Thane’s mind was then drawn away from Bomoor again, as the incessant call of the mural’s sinister voices grew yet louder in their siren-song to him. Looking back to the words and design before him, he struggled to focus his mind on the individual words and their meanings, mind awash with ancient letterings and scripts that he had perused in recent months, boggling his ability to actually discern any truths or meanings from what he was looking at.

Unable, or perhaps more appropriately, unwilling to resist the beckoning hushed voices, Thane brought his whole body against the mural. It was not like before, when being pressed against it in an effort to avoid calamity, but to become connected to the work of his Sith forebears – for that is what they were now, in truth. It was a reality he was gradually coming to accept more readily, for where he would have considered his actions here as tantamount to interloping, or necessary simply to achieve a goal against Axion, it now held more meaning. There was power in this place, and not in just the traditional sense. The power here was symbolic; were he to truly seek the mantle Darth Bane’s avatar craved for him, it would be his by right, and a legacy he therefore had every justification in claiming.

In just the same way that the Jedi communed within the Force to seek truth in visions and the galaxy about them, so too would Thane, aspirant Sith, do so with the legacy of this temple.

Blind to, or electing to accept, Bomoor’s presence, Thane spread his hands across the stonework once more, searching with both his fingers and the Force, opening his senses to the ancient power that coursed through the ruins and the planet, allowing his being to receive the primacy of whatever nature truly occupied the constructs and rock about them, matching it with his own constant inner fury.

The whispering now grew to a series of voices within his skull, each individually coherent but all struggling for dominance in their commune with the Caanan. In his mind, Thane could see embers burning within great brass braziers, illuminating the tattooed faces of those who had worked the stone over a thousand years ago. Words in both Sith and Basic were muttered between the shadowy figures, their identities unknown to him but their objective plain.

“Rkah-skuri,” he muttered mindlessly, speaking out-loud, echoing and in absolute sync with the red-skinned woman he beheld within his mind, who now stared into him with eyes as fiery as the brazier he had spotted before, entirely unable to resist the mimicry. “Qo-saarai… Qo-tsis!”

And just as suddenly, the vision cleared, and Thane felt a heavy weight crush into his left shoulder, spinning him on the spot to face away from the mural. “Argh!” The Human shouted, taken by rage and instinctively raising his lightsaber to strike at his attacker-

-to see Bomoor staring at him, concern creasing his friend’s leathery, well-meaning features, his hand resting gently on Thane’s shoulder.

“Bomoor-“ he began, shame tinging his words as he disengaged his weapon, heart pummelling heavily against the inside of his chest.

“I saw it too, Thane,” his friend stated, eyes fixed sternly, but not angrily, upon the Cannan, “And I felt as you were pulled into the Age of the One Sith. Do not be so ready to give yourself up to the crusade of the long dead.”

Still swept up in his flurry of confusion, Bomoor was able to lead Thane slightly away from the entrance and the pair sat down together on the cracked steps that led back down into the body of the antechamber.

OOC: Music for the Confession of Thane

“You have grown strong, Thane, and very knowledgeable,” the Öetragan sighed, “but I think I know where you are heading as we walk this road together. We have learned much of the Sith; far more than any other Jedi has in probably the last millennium. But we have also seen how self-destructive and unstable their societies were, even with countless new ideals. These One Sith that once built an Empire from the dust here, they buckled under their own power…”

He paused a moment, knowing that both of them were now aware of the question about to be posed, “I suppose what I mean to say is: Is this truly what you intend to be? To be Sith?”

Although Thane had been expecting this for some time, the sudden and frank question still struck him. Finding himself momentarily unable to continue holding his friend's gaze, the Caanan turned away him, resting his hand against the mural once more.

In reality, a large part of him was surprised, particularly now in hindsight, that there had not been a truer challenge sooner on the part of the former Jedi Consular. Whilst Bomoor had been understanding and supportive, especially since Jericho - going so far as to rescind his own membership of the Order due to a belief he had in fact betrayed Thane in some measure - his was a different temperament to that of Thane's, and this potential realisation must have been a substantial point of consideration for Bomoor.

A lot of the support he had received from Bomoor, in spite of whatever reservations the more-virtuous former Jedi must have had, no doubt resulted from events that transpired with Loren, which Thane was keenly aware was a true a genuine betrayal of his own against the young and wise Ithorian, who had shown him nothing but clemency since his tutelage with Bane's holocron and at every display of darkness the Human had exhibited, justified or otherwise.

What had started as a study of arcane lore and forbidden knowledge, sought for fine purpose in Axion's defeat, had become so much more - had become yet another, more divine, purpose.

Philosophically, he and Bomoor were similar, devoted as they both were to a pragmatic idealism free from the doublespeak and corruptions of the modern Republic and their Reborn Jedi benefactors. Thane knew that he had convinced himself that this was his vindication for choosing the path he had set himself, and indeed young Zaracoda (and even Bomoor himself, to an extent) upon.

But he knew it was more than that. Deeply, solemnly, and brazenly. It was self-determination; it was a legacy and an opportunity to influence the state of play of the reality around them; it was the capacity to make one's self supreme in justified and delicious splendour. It was to seize the day, not only to right the wrongs of the ignominious wastrels plaguing their galaxy, but for the individual, free of the chains of the miserly and incompetent.

Thane knew he was doing it for himself as much as anything else, and he trusted that Bomoor could - and would - understand this, for it was almost impossible to convey such meaning and intensity to another being with any form of clarity, especially to one not within the same parameters as he.

Opening himself to their Force bond, Thane hoped that that and Bomoor's deep understanding of him would help in this troubling comprehension. Importantly, to Thane, the Sith were not purely the dark side or some macabre embodiment of it, despite the alluring intoxication such power held. The Sith way was a gateway to a deeper connection and understanding that resonated with Thane more deeply than any other philosophy, being a mantra that truly reflected his character.

This self-revelation had helped him to realise who he was and who he had always truly been - who he wanted to be - tearing away the facade of the young Jedi Knight to reveal the ambitious and considered man within, the man he had once even hid from himself. Such a realisation had begun to unlock Thane's true potential, sweeping aside any reservations that limited his talents and resonance within the Force.

The Jedi had often spoken of such connections, when Knights found their harmony within the Force. There were many pathways to a form of oneness of that ilk, Sotah had oft said during Thane's adolescent years. For some, that came from time spent in meditation within luscious vegetation, or from noble seclusion. For others, it was even drawn from ritualistic combat or tinkering with machines.

For Thane, it was the path of the Sith.

Although, this did not necessarily make it so for Bomoor - nor did Thane desire to ever impress such an ideology upon the man, so contrary was much of it to his nature. Instead of freedom and purpose, there would be pain and chains, utter catastrophe.

Not that any of this helped him to express himself verbally to his patiently waiting, well-meaning and measured friend.

"I was never going to be a crusader," Thane finally began, his voice crisp, although his face was still turned from Bomoor. "I was never going to be the altruistic paragon of virtue Master Sotah might be, nor the knightly symbol of nobility Master Thurius is. Nor," he continued, voice dipping to a near-mumble," the stalwart bastion of justice Loren was... Was I?"

The fallen Jedi Guardian shook his head at the rhetorical question, small sprinkles of ancient dust flickering down to the stone below. "I don't feel that unconditional compassion; I don't feel that desire to protect or to preserve. At least, not anymore. Not for a long time... perhaps never, truly." Thane began to ran his hand over the carvings once more, pausing only briefly. "And what we have had, married to the conceit and stagnancy of the Reborn Jedi, reacting plainly to and mindlessly seeking imagined threats and the discordant? It isn't enough, Bomoor." Finally, he looked back to the Ithorian, blue eyes glistening in the dark. "It never was." Not for us, he silently added. "We have always been beyond them, in both power and vision."

Bomoor felt the truth of his friend’s words or, at least, the genuine nature that was conveyed not only in his speech, but also through their bond. It was a curious thing to hear them out loud, as the Ithorian had felt the essence of Thane’s response for as long as they had held this deep connection.

The Sith, to Bomoor, was a concept that had undergone great transformation within his mind over these last months: starting with feelings of distrust with the remnants of the One Sith on Tython and near-revulsion at the ghastly Sithspawn of Cabal, to developing an understanding for the early Jedi exiles that became the Lords of the Sith and coming to respect the rationale behind Krayt’s turn to the Sith from his holocron’s gatekeeper. He had even practiced the powers of the Dark Side, channelling natural fury into raw power.

But to respect the Sith and to follow in their path were very different things: it seemed like turning away from the Jedi Order and running straight into the bosom of yet another Order of Force-users went against the very reasons for him leaving in the first place. To Thane, leaving the Order could be likened to a difference of ideals but, to the Öetragan, he had rejected that which had bound him to servitude and required him to betray his closest friend. From what he knew of the Sith, as they once were, their acolytes could be asked much the same: Give your life to our cause and obey so that one day perhaps you might ask the same of others.

He had given up much to be as he was now: free and still connected to the Force; able to explore the possibilities of the universe and himself without judgement or penalty. While they had lived through some tough times, the personal growth he had experienced during this period was incredible and he was not ready to have his path dictated once again by anyone.

But then, perhaps Thane was. Bomoor knew Thane would intend to be a different kind of Sith and, if anyone could reshape such an order, his friend would be the one to do it. It was only a shame they could not reshape the Jedi Order. At least, not while Quellus sat at the heart of the council.

He stared back at this friend, sitting beside him against the backdrop of the intricately detailed antechamber wall, filled with carvings of the long-dead. In Thane’s eyes, he saw again the young child who had approached him alongside Master Sotah one day. The boy who had asked the older Ithorian padawan questions about the Force and its nature during their training together:

Am I doing this okay? How do I know what I am feeling is right?

He had always been strong and knew the way naturally but, for some reason, it did not stop him asking the questions. He now seemed to be asking for that guidance once again.

“Then make it enough,” Bomoor spoke finally, “Learn from the Sith and from the Jedi but make it more than that: make it in your own image. What we just got dragged into was a vision of someone else’s Sith Empire: a union of hatred and mistrust that failed and died as I am certain the Reborn Order shall.”

Bomoor stood up beside Thane and the pair once again rested their hands upon the metal so that they stood together, side by side, against this entrance of darkness. They felt the hushed overlapping whispering of the Sith once again, but their power together allowed them clairvoyance.

“You must declare yourself to open the doorway,” Bomoor stated, knowing Thane could feel the words too, “Who comes to seek entry into XoXaan's Temple?”

Thane's eyes lifted slowly away from Bomoor's, entranced as the young man had been with his friend's own declarations and words. Looking now to the heavy portal into the ancient domain of the antecedent Dark Lords, Thane felt his core swelling with both confidence and pride, the sublime majesty of the dark side coursing through him as that singular word found its way to the fore.

"Serus."

TBC

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