Legionnaire
Location: Sith Academy, Jutland
Equipment: Standard Issue Sith Trooper Armor, Vibroblade, Standard Issue Blaster Rifle, Datapad.
Tag: Darth Cringe
Reicher stood with his arms crossed, the faint crimson glow of his visor reflecting the smoldering embers of the duel's aftermath. Crin's words were sincere, his gratitude laced with both humility and desperation. The self-proclaimed Cringelord had taken his first true step toward survival, toward carving out a place for himself in the unforgiving crucible of the Sith Academy. Yet, Reicher knew that the path forward was his to walk alone.
"You've taken a step in the right direction, Crin," Reicher said, his voice modulated but steady, carrying the weight of earned authority. "You've proven yourself capable of more than theatrics. You didn't just survive this duel—you dominated it. You turned chaos into control. And that, Crin, is what the Sith respect above all else: power and the will to wield it without hesitation."
Reicher lowered his arms, the faint hum of his armor audible as he took a step closer to the young acolyte. "Your peers may still scorn you, but that won't last. They've seen what you're capable of now. They've seen that you're willing to kill, to win. The Sith may avoid you today, but tomorrow, they'll come seeking alliances or bowing to your strength. Because in this Order, survival isn't enough. It's domination that earns respect."
The faint hint of desperation in Crin's invitation didn't escape Reicher. He understood the isolation the young acolyte had endured, the loneliness of being an outsider in a place where strength was the only currency that mattered. Yet, Reicher also knew that his presence at the mess hall would only be a fleeting balm. Crin needed to stand on his own.
"You don't need me to sit with you in the mess hall, Crin," Reicher continued, his tone softening slightly, though it remained firm. "What you've done here today will speak louder than my presence ever could. Those who shunned you will see this victory, and they will have no choice but to acknowledge it. You've made them see you not as a fool, but as a force to be reckoned with."
He glanced toward the distant shuttle pad, the transport that would soon take him to his next assignment waiting in the background. Time was short, but he paused to rest a gloved hand on Crin's shoulder, the gesture more deliberate than sentimental.
"I won't be here to guide you anymore, but you don't need me to. You've proven that you have what it takes. Now, you just need to keep proving it—every day, every duel, every decision. Let this victory define you, not the bluster, not the theatrics. This is the Crin you need to be."
Reicher stepped back, his visor tilting slightly as if to meet Crin's gaze. "Hold your head high, walk into that mess hall, and eat. Not because you need them to sit with you, but because you've earned your place here. The Sith don't respect kindness, Crin. They respect power. And today, you showed them you have it."
With that, Reicher turned toward the shuttle, his footsteps deliberate as he began to walk away. Over his shoulder, his voice carried one final note of encouragement.
"Good luck, Crin. Remember this: the galaxy doesn't care who you were. It cares only about who you become. Make them see you, and they'll never forget your name."
"Strike first, strike hard, no mercy."
Without another word, Reicher boarded the waiting transport, the ramp closing behind him as the engines roared to life.
Equipment: Standard Issue Sith Trooper Armor, Vibroblade, Standard Issue Blaster Rifle, Datapad.
Tag: Darth Cringe
Reicher stood with his arms crossed, the faint crimson glow of his visor reflecting the smoldering embers of the duel's aftermath. Crin's words were sincere, his gratitude laced with both humility and desperation. The self-proclaimed Cringelord had taken his first true step toward survival, toward carving out a place for himself in the unforgiving crucible of the Sith Academy. Yet, Reicher knew that the path forward was his to walk alone.
"You've taken a step in the right direction, Crin," Reicher said, his voice modulated but steady, carrying the weight of earned authority. "You've proven yourself capable of more than theatrics. You didn't just survive this duel—you dominated it. You turned chaos into control. And that, Crin, is what the Sith respect above all else: power and the will to wield it without hesitation."
Reicher lowered his arms, the faint hum of his armor audible as he took a step closer to the young acolyte. "Your peers may still scorn you, but that won't last. They've seen what you're capable of now. They've seen that you're willing to kill, to win. The Sith may avoid you today, but tomorrow, they'll come seeking alliances or bowing to your strength. Because in this Order, survival isn't enough. It's domination that earns respect."
The faint hint of desperation in Crin's invitation didn't escape Reicher. He understood the isolation the young acolyte had endured, the loneliness of being an outsider in a place where strength was the only currency that mattered. Yet, Reicher also knew that his presence at the mess hall would only be a fleeting balm. Crin needed to stand on his own.
"You don't need me to sit with you in the mess hall, Crin," Reicher continued, his tone softening slightly, though it remained firm. "What you've done here today will speak louder than my presence ever could. Those who shunned you will see this victory, and they will have no choice but to acknowledge it. You've made them see you not as a fool, but as a force to be reckoned with."
He glanced toward the distant shuttle pad, the transport that would soon take him to his next assignment waiting in the background. Time was short, but he paused to rest a gloved hand on Crin's shoulder, the gesture more deliberate than sentimental.
"I won't be here to guide you anymore, but you don't need me to. You've proven that you have what it takes. Now, you just need to keep proving it—every day, every duel, every decision. Let this victory define you, not the bluster, not the theatrics. This is the Crin you need to be."
Reicher stepped back, his visor tilting slightly as if to meet Crin's gaze. "Hold your head high, walk into that mess hall, and eat. Not because you need them to sit with you, but because you've earned your place here. The Sith don't respect kindness, Crin. They respect power. And today, you showed them you have it."
With that, Reicher turned toward the shuttle, his footsteps deliberate as he began to walk away. Over his shoulder, his voice carried one final note of encouragement.
"Good luck, Crin. Remember this: the galaxy doesn't care who you were. It cares only about who you become. Make them see you, and they'll never forget your name."
"Strike first, strike hard, no mercy."
Without another word, Reicher boarded the waiting transport, the ramp closing behind him as the engines roared to life.