Star Wars: Slave Of Darkness

"So…what's your name?" I asked as soon as the Wookiee and I were out of earshot of Iren.

The titan next to me said nothing, but turned a curious eye towards me.

"I'd rather not just call you "Wookiee" or "Hey you," I shrugged. I wasn't even going to mention the word beast, since that seemed to piss it off, "I'm Aldrex."

What do I know of Wookiees? Very strong, very tough. Force Sensitive Wookiees are extremely rare and the ones that do exist tend to be on the "holy shit" side of the scale of power.

But they are also usually honorable to a fault, even the crazy ones like Hanharr. Once their loyalty is earned, it's damn near ironclad and they will go beyond reason to keep to it.

I want it on my side.

As the furball opened its mouth to reply, I raised a hand to interrupt, "I don't know the language of the people of the trees."

The Wookiee's eyebrows shot up at my use of the literal meaning of the name of its species. Suddenly a bit more animated, it crouched down and used a finger to draw in the sand, spelling out "Gaarurra" in Basic.

"Nod once for male, twice for female. I reckon it's difficult to tell for non-Wookiees unless they know what to look for," I replied. Gaarurra nodded once.

The fact that Gaarurra wasn't fitted with a vox box means that the academy didn't see the expense worth it…or it was an act intended to isolate him. Most apprentices wouldn't bother trying to establish communication, as all they would see was another, albeit very powerful, rival. Why bother talking to someone you were just going to end up murdering?

I would like to think I'm not nearly so short-sighted.

In this period, Wookiees were rarely seen off of Kashyyyk, though they were a known quantity and almost always as slaves. As a result, knowledge of their language would not have been widespread. Who knows how long Garurra went without talking to anyone because no one would make the effort.

I cast an eye back to the landing pad, watching the other acolytes exit and head to their tasks. The yellow-eyed human noticed and sneered at me. I gestured for Gaarurra to keep walking.

"I have a proposal," I started quietly, trying to make sure my voice doesn't carry. I grimaced as I shade my eyes. Damn desert sun, "Simply put, we work together on our tasks."

The Wookiee plodded along in silence, though I could tell he was listening.

"Our skills complement each other. You seem more comfortable with that sword in your hand, indicating that you've had martial training. Meanwhile, I'd be lucky not to slice off a foot," I continued. I've only been here a few minutes, but I think I completely understand Anakin's hatred of sand, "On the other hand, I don't think you've had much chance to use your Force abilities, while I've been experimenting with mine for the past year."

Of course, I lied on the first part. I have had training, but with my hands and a quarterstaff rather than a sword. I could easily pummel someone into unconsciousness with my fists. Just not a Wookiee or a k'lor'slug.

But there was no need to tell Gaarurra that.

"Iren is probably expecting us to kill each other to thin out the herd, so to speak. We work together, we keep something stupid from killing either of us. In that case, he'll just kill the weakest one of the remaining acolytes and we get to live just that much longer," I finished.

Gaarurra looked me in the eye for a long moment before letting out a soft woof.

I interpreted that to mean he agreed. +50 Pragmatic

...

The landing pad was constructed at one end of the Valley of the Dark Lords, with the towering citadel that was the academy visible in the distance. On a side note, it's a lot bigger than any game has indicated. There aren't just four big tombs here. No, there are hundreds, maybe thousands of structures, stretching for miles.

With the directions provided by Iren, our trek took about five hours. Or at least it felt like it. Hard to tell time when you don't have a clock.

In that time, the skin on my face, arms, and chest were already starting to form blisters. The rags I had been provided with as a slave did little to protect against the sun beating down on me.

Only consolation I have is that Korriban's heat is a dry heat, so I'm not sweating much because it evaporates as soon as it leaves my pores rather than soak my clothing. I hate feeling sweaty.

I don't know how Gaarurra felt because we haven't stopped walking long enough to have a "conversation." I can't imagine that all that hair is comfortable in the heat. Though I do recall that Kashyyyk has swamps, so he might be used to muggy hot climates and find this pleasant. Still, I don't know where he was before Korriban, but I'm not bringing it up in case it was something unpleasant.

Ajunta Pal's tomb was less of an actual mausoleum and more of a crumbing fortress, which actually fits how his ghost described how he died. The tomb didn't look like it was originally built as such, but renovated after his death. It was the only structure built in the center of the Valley, with the rest of the tombs built into the walls. It overshadowed the rest with its immense size. Even the tomb of Marka Ragnos, whose massive statue could be seen even from here.

This was a monument to the First. And no Sith Lord after him dared presume themselves greater by building their tombs upon his domain.

Considering how long he stuck around as a violent ghost, it may very well have been a reasonable precaution.

Thankfully, Revan took care of that issue centuries ago, so the only dangers should be of the mundane variety.

I sighed in relief as we passed into the shadow of the ziggurat, the burning sun finally off my skin. Before venturing inside, we stopped for what felt like the fiftieth water break. Out of six canteens of water, I'd gone through one and a quarter to get here. Iren said the trip to the Academy was two days on foot from the Valley of the Dark Lords, and it took most of an afternoon to get here. Unless I binged on water, I should have enough to get there, but just barely.

Walking into the yawning darkness, my nose scrunched up as a coppery smell mixed with dust hit me. Garurra growled something from behind me.

My eyes adjusted to the gloom as we moved further in. We weren't given any lights to use as we move in, so we'll have to find something.

As we walk, I brushed my fingers around the edges of a scorch mark on the wall. An examination of the rest of the corridor showed more such marks, along with claw marks gouged out of the stone.

"Looks like this is where the fighting started," I remarked, "No bodies though."

Gaarurra huffed his agreement. I think. It might have been something else.

Not much else to do except go deeper, Gaarurra in front. Luckily, someone had dropped glowrods as they had moved in, likely the soldiers.

Each of us picked one up before moving on. The signs of battle only grew worse the further we went. The Imperial squad had started taking losses. Half of an Imperial helmet here. An armored hand there. A lot of blood all over the place. But not enough pieces to make a whole person.

K'lor'slugs likely ate them in the past few days. Snap gulp.

As we crossed through a bigger chamber, something with a lot of teeth screeched and lunged towards my head before finding itself pancaked against a wall with enough force to crater the stone beneath it. Ichor splattered everywhere as the sack of flesh exploded. I lifted my glowrod over it to get a better look.

Oh yeah. That used to be a k'lor'slug. Hatchling by the look of it. As its remains slowly slid off the wall, something clattered to the ground.

Picking it up, I found myself with a single gray metal vambrace. Little beastie must have eaten a soldier's arm.

It was covered in bite marks and stripped of paint by stomach acid, but it was solid and still had straps. After wiping off the goo and dumping a quarter of one of my canteens on it to wash the stomach acid off, I strapped it to my left wrist. At least I had something to put between my face and k'lor'slug teeth for the next time.

Gaarurra and I listened for a moment to make sure we weren't about to be swarmed. When we didn't hear anything, we continued, but not before the Wookiee gave my find a glance and a nod of approval.

At the end of the next chamber, we came upon a grisly sight. I bit back the bile trying to come up my throat.

Nailed to the wall was a male human body at about Gaarurra's chest height, naked as the day he was born. Six metal spikes had been driven through each of his hands and up his arms, keeping him suspended. From the knees down, his legs were simply gone and looked like they had been gnawed off. Blood pooled under him from his collective wounds. The least gruesome thing done to the man was shaving his head and cutting up his face.

I quickly realized a horrifying fact as soon as the light from our glowrods shined on him.

He was still alive.

He groaned as his eyes cracked open and his cracked lips parted, "Come to torment me more, you cretins?" He squinted as he focused on me in the dim light, "Wait, no…an acolyte? Thank the stars…"

"Gaarurra, get ready to hold him up," I stated, "I'll try to get him detached. Don't pull on him until I tell you. We need to keep the wounds plugged or he'll just bleed out faster."

The Wookiee hesitantly nodded his assent and placed a hand under each of the man's armpits.

Closing my eyes, I reached out with the Force, grasping the end of each spike. Rather than trying to pull them out, I concentrated on crushing the tips of each so that we could simply pull him away from the wall without causing more harm.

The screech of metal being compressed echoed throughout the room.

I hoped that didn't carry too far.

One by one I worked until all twelve were crushed. I nodded to Gaarurra, "Alright, pull him away, then set him down."

I used the Force to hold the spikes in the man's wounds as my companion pulled him gently away from the wall. It wasn't perfect and the sharp metal wriggled a bit, eliciting a groan of pain from him. But we managed it.

I took off my tattered shirt to use as a mat before Gaarurra laid him gently on the ground, trying not to aggravate his injuries. Closer inspection of the man's stumps showed that they had been cauterized, but only around where the artery would be. He must've had some field treatment before he was strung up.

"Can you hear me?" I asked him quietly.

"Yes, my lord," He replied, keeping his voice just as low. He tried to salute, but I stopped him, "Sergeant…Sergeant Cormun, Fifth Infantry platoon Korriban regiment. I'd say "at your service," but I don't think I'll be much help in my current state."

I tore off strips from the parts of the shirt that he wasn't sitting on and some from my pants legs to try and make some makeshift bandages. Didn't need him dying before he can give us the whole story.

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