Private Sith in the Wind

[Gerwald Lechner]

TAG: Aiwaz Khath

On the windswept dunes of Korriban, the ancient birthplace of the Sith,Gerwald Lechner stood atop a jagged cliff overlooking the Valley of the Dark Lords. His dark robes billowed in the arid wind as his piercing gaze followed a group of Sith Acolytes undergoing rigorous trials in the shadow of crumbling tombs. These acolytes were a mix of ambition and desperation, each determined to prove themselves worthy of the power the Sith Order promised. Some displayed raw aggression, attacking their opponents with unbridled fury, while others employed cunning and guile, seeking to outthink their rivals.

He watched as one acolyte faltered during a duel, a misstep that left the aspiring Sith vulnerable. Another seized the opportunity, striking with lethal precision. Gerwald nodded slightly, acknowledging the ruthlessness required to ascend within the Sith hierarchy. Yet, his interest was drawn to a different acolyte—a quiet, unassuming figure who had not yet drawn their weapon but remained a step ahead of their opponents through clever maneuvering and an uncanny attunement to the dark side.

Gerwald saw potential in this one. He seemed to possess the ability to channel rage into focus and chaos into strategy. Turning to his attendant, he issued a simple command.

“Bring that one to me.”

For Gerwald Lechner, strength was not merely in power, but in the ability to wield the dark side with precision and purpose. He sought to shape those who could meet his exacting standards.

The Dread Wolf had been young once, and much more foolish than he was now. He had learned to see reason from those who had been his better. Now it was his responsibility to pass what he had learned on to the next generation. That did not mean he was carefree about who would take just anyone. His efforts had been given to sponsor certain acolytes on Jutrand. The Dread Wolf believed the next generation of leaders would come from it. They were a select crop taken from the best wherever the Sith Order had influence. Three of his own had been accepted. It was the first time in the history of the institution three members of one family passed the entrance exam. The Lechner name was one which had grown in infamy among the Order as a result. His prowess in battle was not the only thing which defined his reputation any longer.

He waited for the acolyte to approach. His eyes remained fixed on the student. His assessment of the young one had only just begun.

 

[Aiwaz Khath]

Aiwaz had been deep in focus during the sparring session with his peers of Kor'ethyr Academy. He channelled the power of the Dark Side through his body as though it were his very blood, and it guided him effortlessly in response to his opponent's desperate onslaught of attacks in a way that used their own momentum against them. It was a technique passed to him by those of his clan, who had always been on Korriban since time began, and it had served him well thus far at the Academy. The Pureblood's innate connection to the Dark Side and the spirits of his ancestors who guided him seemed to power his very being at all times, and as he grew older he was beginning to lean more into this understanding.

His opponent ate dirt, face flat on the dusty ground as he yelled in pain.
"My nose! You broke my nose, bastard!"
"You will live," he told him without much care.
"Acolyte," came the voice of a uniformed servant who held herself with disciplined sternness. "Lord Commander Lechner requests your presence immediately." Aiwaz followed her gaze upward towards the cliff along the northern edge of the Valley. The looming shadow of an unmistakable presence pierced him even from such a distance. Lord Gerwald Lechner, the Emperor's Wrath himself, was watching his every move with unflinching stillness. A heavy silence fell on the class.

Aiwaz maintained his own composure as the weight of the moment fell on him. His gave a stoic nod to the servant and followed her up through the stone path that lead into the short mountainside, opening up to the cliff face beyond. There, the dark figure of the Lord Commander stood with undeniable presence. But Aiwaz was not afraid. Rather, he could feel the weight of the Dark Side about him, and it was in many ways intoxicating.

"Name," prompted the servant blankly on behalf of her master.
"Aiwaz of Clan Khath, my Lord," he responded, directly to the Lord Commander. He knew what to do. One knee dropped as his head tilted downward in respect. Of all the Lords of the Order, there was no denying Lord Lechner was one of most high esteem. Even for an alien pretender, Aiwaz could not deny that which seemed to emanate from him. But above all, he was thoroughly confused as to why exactly he was here in this very moment before Gerwald Lechner of all people; Bogan indeed moved in mysterious ways.

 

[Gerwald Lechner]

TAG: Aiwaz Khath

His eyes studied the pure blood. There were fewer and fewer in the galaxy it seemed, and the species fascinated him. These were among the first to touch the Dark Side, at least if the lore was to be believed. To find one among the students of Korriban was a boon in itself. If Gerwald could use the student for his own purposes then to be an even greater bounty.

The Dread Wolf smirked as the young Sith bent his knee. He was not used to others bowing or kneeling in his presence, and he was uncertain whether he liked it. Gerwald had never possessed such an ego that he demanded others to fall in his presence. Perhaps it was because it was a deference he gave a limited few. His days in the Confederacy taught him to value an inherit equality among all peoples. Sith did not believe the same. They divided wheat from the chaff and separated the weak from the strong. While Gerwald was adapting, he certainly did not expect to receive such a formal display.

"On your feet. Do not bend your knee to me again, or to anyone. Sith do not bow."

Was it true or simply his excuse to force a point? The Wolf was not even sure he knew. What was true is the Sith which followed him did not bow. However, Gerwald had learned with time Sith liked to make general and absolute statements. If it could be presented as though it were, it was. Maybe it was a test. If the code said that one's chains could be broken, were the many absolutes simply a burden to be cast aside or freedom from murky nuance which held people in a place of indecision?

Gerwald looked down at the valley again for a moment. The student which Aiwaz had defeated still held his nose as another student ran to him with a medkit.

"I like the way you fight. What combat training did you receive before coming to this school?"

 

[Aiwaz Khath]

Aiwaz gave a small wince at the chastisement as he got to his feet. His felt awkward at his lack of understanding the subtleties of decorum the self-proclaimed Lords held. He thought he had been adhering to their strange customs when he lowered, but Lord Lechner's words cut through him like songsteel and brought him to a sobered alertness. He nodded stoically, observing the master's closer features. He was a man of domineering stature, stern and serious, considerably taller than he was himself, and held himself with the austere manner befitting a lord of his station.

"I like the way you fight. What combat training did you receive before coming to this school?"
Aiwaz's eyes followed his down to his opponent. His tantrum echoed through the valley against the stone, and he was too busy with rage to notice the two figures overhead.
"I fight with the language of my people," he told him with undeniable pride in his voice. "The true Korriban way, where Bogan is both mother and father of our body, mind and spirit. It is the dance of our countless millennia of tradition, passed down from father to son, mother to daughter."
His thoughts turned to his father and his master-at-arms who had trained him in his youth, and the brutality of their lessons. Pain and savagery was a natural facet of their ways, but so was subtlety and focus. He was always encouraged to lean into the Dark Side, until it became a natural facet of his everyday existence.




TAG: Gerwald Lechner

 

[Gerwald Lechner]

TAG: Aiwaz Khath

He had been trained by his people, his own father. The way he spoke as though it was the language of his people made it seem as though he were an Echani. It was the answer Gerwald would have expected from the Dread Queen herself. Physical combat was one thing however. The Wolf wanted to know how this boy would do in regards to the force.

“When I was raised, I was raised as a warrior. It made me who I am, but it was not until I opened myself to the force fully that I understood everything I was capable of. In a way you could say I was not myself. It transcends family, the language of your people, and brings everything around it into something much larger than any one culture or way.”

His hand motioned to the bolder which was just behind him. It was large, much larger than anything the Dread Wolf was certain he had moved.

“I want you to move it. You may not leave until you do.”

What would his reaction be?

 

[Aiwaz Khath]

The assignment was ambitious to say the least. The boulder cast an intimidating shadow across the cold stone upon which they stood. Aiwaz looked to the Lord, then to the boulder, and puffed his chest. He was Pureblood, of course he was capable of such a task. His thoughts dwelled on his grandmother, whose skills in the Force was enough to manifest and maintain great tempests and storms in the further reaches of Korriban where their tribe remained obscured from sight and mind. Pride swelled in him as he raised his hand to the huge stone.

Straining, he flexed the invisible muscle of his mind's eye, projecting all force and power towards the rock. In an anticlimactic response, the boulder seemed to quietly exhale dust without moving an inch. He tried again, this time breathing deep and slow to centre himself, and projected his bubbling ire towards the rock. It wobbled and sighed, barely making a noise of acknowledgement. Frustration began to build within him.

Yet again, his mind turned to the teachings of his clan, ancient words that had been passed down in their own tongue throughout countless generations, culminating here and now with him. Eyelids closed over crimson eyes as the acolyte ventured inward, to the place within where his being swelled and roared like fire; an enflamed centre around which his existence was founded and evolved from. It was the heart of All Things, which reflected his outward world, so his grandmother spoke of. There, like the eternally scorching heart of a newborn star, power was found raw, unrefined and burning with potential.

He reached out to touch the fire within. His skin responded with goosebumps as his body temperature went suddenly cold, and then intensely hot. He breathed deep and slow, encouraging the burgeoning fires within him to find focus and purpose. This, he would harness. His found his arm once again raising towards the boulder, his eyes still closed yet seeing with perfect clarity both himself and his target. About him swirled the fires of the Force, moving along the opening channels of his inner energy, and with a gentle command and the extension of his fingers, those fires projected from out of him.

The boulder huffed and shivered in response, as small stones underneath trembled and slid out of place. It began to lift, slowly but surely, tearing attached roots and disturbing an array of insects that fled from their upturned home. Aiwaz was somehow turning gradually redder than usual as he realised he was doing it. The boulder rose no higher than a foot before his focus melted in an instant, leaving it to crash back down onto the stone, the loud crack of stone on stone reverberating down into the valley below. The cliff face shook and shuddered, causing minor debris to fall loose from the side of the mountain.

Aiwaz breathed deep, a definite layer of sweat formed on his brow. His eyes opened and flitted towards the Lord as he stood there in abject silence. He would not celebrate his victory, it was not the way of his people. But he had done it, and he savoured that fact alone.




TAG: Gerwald Lechner