Brant

The Crucible of Korriban

This short is about the level of PG-13 for descriptions of violence and gore. It describes Brant’s Sith training, and if you know anything about the Sith, well, now you understand why it has a content warning!
The identity of the Presence and the man in the ice-world is a bit unclear. Though this works since it’s also unclear from Brant’s point of view, I wanted to clarify it for the record: the Presence is not the Force (though the Sith Masters surely would want Brant to think that), but instead the Emperor’s soul. The man, though I originally considered making him Kellaro, Brant’s twin brother (hence “the Other”), is in fact Keel’ath, locked in battle with the Emperor as described by the Chapters storyline in SWTOR. In this version, Brant and Keel’ath meeting is what helps Keel’ath throw off the Emperor’s influence, but also what gives Brant the willpower to survive his Sith training mostly (somewhat) uncorrupted.

Also, the scent of carbonite is totally my own invention. If anyone knows how it really should smell in canon, let me know.
Author’s Note

“Hatred… is… power. Power is… freedom… to do as you so desire.”

It was coercive, how they forced him to focus on that voice. The room was kept completely dark, and Brant could smell the musk of other frightened apprentices crammed into the space with him, even though he could not see them. The voice was like a balm to that terrified huddle, the one clear sensation in the room even though it, too, was imbued with the same power as the darkness: the crawling sense of some ancient evil. The only thing Brant could see was the face that vomited it, that voice, and it was a handsome face, even under the ritualistic scarring and red paint like the blood of a tortured slave. You could look into that face and believe it could free you, that only it had the key, and that it would give it to you, if only you acquiesced to its commands. It filled Brant with fear, loathing, but also longing, to look upon it. Continue reading “The Crucible of Korriban”

The Prisoner

Turns out waking a Sith from carbon-freezing can be hazardous to one’s health…
Vette is based on the character of the same name from Star Wars: the Old Republic. In my headcanon, it was Keel’ath who went on to become the Outlander and then Commander of the Eternal Alliance, with Kellaro and Darth Merce/Brant serving under him. So though I kept some details from the SWTOR storylines like the carbonite freezing and Vette’s presence, don’t confuse this with how Chapters played out in-game. (No spoilers made or intended.)
Author’s Note

He felt tingling on the tips of his fingers first. Then all of him was tingling, then hurting, as every nerve stabbed at him as if they had gone a long time without blood. He croaked a scream, trying to move his numb and swollen legs. Something shifted around his feet and his stomach flipped, and then he was falling.

He hit the floor a few seconds later, hard, though he only felt it as a distant impact, separated from his sense of self. Instantly his Force senses snapped out, even as his body remained dull and sluggish. Fragmented memories chased themselves in his mind, speaking of ambushes and a losing battle on his starship. His emotions sang out with a fury through the clouded dark.

I will not submit!

His Force sense seized upon a lifeform at his side, and he instantly moved to attack it. So his arms wouldn’t respond but to stab at him — no matter! He reached out with the Force instead, catching the creature’s throat and throttling it, gleeful as his attacker’s life drained away.

That was for humiliating me.

He was about to reach for another, when the stun bolt from a blaster hit him, rippling across his limbs oddly, as he still couldn’t clearly register any sensation but nerve-pain. He instead felt his movements deaden more, and his mind with them, and for the longest time he could only seethe in impotent hatred.

I will not submit!

“I have a surprise for you, Vette.”

“Oh? Go on.” Continue reading “The Prisoner”

A Jedi’s Failing

This was difficult to edit into an entertaining short, as some of the important context is missing. Lathril is a Jedi Knight character who follows that class’s story arc before coming to the Eternal Alliance, and Darth Merce is, well, a Darth, and son of Kyolath. This might’ve been a poor choice of posting order, but I had this polished up while Lathril and Darth Merce’s earlier adventures are still in exposition form only.

Also of note: though in the (ultra) fan fiction version, Keelath is from Azeroth (World of Warcraft), I decided not to take so many liberties with other settings and used Talmenor instead here. His past life remains basically the same.
Author’s Note

Lathril kept his hands folded in his sleeves and his head bowed as the lift brought them away from the Enclave. When the lift docked and the door slid open, Kyolath didn’t immediately exit. He stood staring silently out across the Odessen compound.

Lathril felt he had better say something. “I’m… sorry for the disruption, sir. It won’t happen again.”

Kyolath glared at him, or so Lathril guessed; it was impossible to tell behind that Mandalorian helm. “You knew there would be Sith here and that you would be expected to work with them. Why did you come if you only intended to start fights?”

“With all due respect, sir, he started the fight with me–”

“And you had to answer in kind, like a child?”

The remark left Lathril speechless, and Kyolath stormed from the lift, or so it seemed to Lathril with his heavy, clomping boots. The Commander was hard to read, always steeped in a calm that felt unnatural… almost droid-like. Yet Lathril knew the old bounty hunter was capable of great violence, so he tread carefully, quietly following after Kyolath.

“True strength is knowing your limits,” growled Kyolath. “Knowing your limits is knowing your weaknesses, with true humility. I don’t expect Darth Merce to have learned this lesson yet, but you are a Jedi. It is practically part of your code. What is your excuse?”

Lathril blinked hard. He wanted to protest, argue that Darth Merce was the one who had overstepped, but he also thought Kyolath was right.

No, felt he was right, through the pit in his stomach: the burning ember of shame Merce had reawakened there.

Pages: 1234

Tale Out of Time

As you can maybe tell by the characters, this story grew out of a Star Wars: the Old Republic fan fiction. In the game, I light-heartedly play a (much) older version of Keelath, where his undeath has caused him to outlive everyone else, and Azeroth (or Talmenor) has entered the Space Age. (Not shown in this story is how he managed to get a kid; as I said, it’s a light-hearted adaption because Keelath just works so well as a Mandalorian!)
I like this story enough I will probably turn it into a Talmenor tale at some point, but I’m a bit torn on whether to leave it as science fiction (so a future Talmenor) or to try and adjust it to be fantasy again. The Sith Empire translates well to the Krygon Empire, and most forms of technology can be retooled to be advanced magic or Little Folk inventions, but the “flavor” of the thing doesn’t always carry over.
So, for now, for those of you who have found this backwater of the site, enjoy this take on the Outlander, Mako, and Akaavi. Continue reading “Tale Out of Time”

Pages: 12