[IC] Rekhen's Holo Diary

[Sith Stûza]

01

He was tired.The scars underneath his eyes ever present. Hunched over and staring into an empty direction. The rain being picked up from the lack of chatter, he did not move from his seated position for an unpleasantly long time. Simple black attire that fit him nicely. The only clothing he will ever need again.

"I hate Sithspawn."

His reaction was visible, flinches and twists in the uncomfortableness of his own thoughts. Shaking his head as a hand extended towards the device to cut the recording, yet with a wave of the hand it was decided otherwise. His leg constantly tapping the ground, his hand gripping the forearm. Looking anywhere but forward.

"One, two, three...
My name is Apprent- Oh blast it"

He leaned back into the couch. Scratching the corners of his nose. Defeated. Hand to the air as the verbal assault to the ceiling started.

"This is stupid, nothing will come from this. Nobody will see this.
...
One, two, three.
I hate them, --those that run free--. What purpose does giving such things the ability of free will produce to this world? What do they know except the violence and pain that they agonize themselves with.
There is no sentience to them, I saw it in their eyes. They are puppets, wants of their masters. Nothing sentient in them or their breed. They do what is ordered of them out of instinct and not out of choice. Every single one of them I will put to the blade if they think themselves 'free'... Only we are free.

He leaned forward, finally gazing at the device.


Well, at least I feel better about it.
This concludes my repo-... Oh blast it."

After one last sigh, the recording finishes.

[Sith Stûza]

02

He was covered in blood.

Adorned in a surgeons garb, his front completely coated over with the liquid of something unpleasant. A massive winged creature of ill, imperfect design on a surgical table two meters long. The corpse wobbled with every motion coming from the mans forearm. His head popped out from behind the wingman. Surprised.

"Huh, voice commands work."

The impromptu surgeon returned to his cleavers work. A small, half-shaped leg thrown to a container.

"Stop."

Something squishy was heard being pulled out, tossed into another container. Blood dripping on the table. His head once more peaking.

"Stop. Break. Cease. Stop. -Stop-. Halt."

The electronic proved his superior. He stuck a knife to the body, groaning in annoyance to the contraptions arcane qualities.

"Pause Recording? Pause Reco-."

The video paused, resuming to a cut of the apprentice as the front piece. He was in his simple black attire. The surgical coat on the floor, small streams of smoke rose from it. One of his sleeves bandaged alongside three fingers.

The corpse was on its back, showing the entirety of its open ribcage. Left wing and right leg removed.

"One, two, three.

I got the heart, took... Hours to do. During the removal the knife punctured its acid pouch. Near dislocated my shoulder getting my arm out on time."

He presented the digits. Unlikely he was to hold anything with his right hand for a while. Wincing with every movement. The scruffy looking man was still, his eyes to the floor, lips pursed. He wasn't happy.

"Won't have time to debone the Sithspawn. I'll need to rest... To heal. -Blast it-."

The man walked away from view. Followed by a buzz of a vibrosword.

"End Recording."

A blur of the apprentice was caught mid swing. The recording finishes.

[Sith Stûza]

03

He looked like he was dying...

It was an expression the apprentice wore, his hands cradled a small, feathered creature. A vulture of sorts. Could not have been bigger than his arm, the head rested to his bicep. Its two small sets of eyes must've been closed for a long time. The area around him was rocky, wind constantly waved his foreign apparel, made of many layers that covered a suit that reached to his neck.

He laid on a bed of sand. He looked more foreign than ever. A complex braid of dreadlocks on his head that spun into a ball. The early stages of a beard on his face. Spoke with a hoarse tone.

"One, two, three.

For the record, it died ten- no, thirteen minutes ago. Last checkpoint proved too much for the thing. Now I see what is to be done with it."

His eyes twitched, aware but not present to their surroundings. Adjusting his comfort as he placed the bird outside of view, drawing now a simple metallic hilt with two blades on the tip. Presenting it to the device like one would an incredible find. Then he reflected on it.

"All great blades must have a name, that was something an acolyte told me almost a year ago. I wonder if she ever made it off Korriban."

"The vibrosword, It served me in my acolyte days. Virsune. Pride.

It wasn't my idea, Apprentice Syndathik named it. 'Pride, let it be a reminder that pride is double-edged.'

Fitting, I didn't want to let it go. I thought myself brave for attempting to reach as far as I could with it. I let pride get in the way of my judgement. I forgot that it was only a tool, a means to an end."

He faced the stars, alone with his thoughts. A rare amused smile. It grew with every word.

"Tool, let it be a reminder that in the end it's just a tool.

End Recording."

On that happy note, the recording finishes.

[Sith Stûza]

04

He was scared.

A thought weighed heavy on him, slouched with hands clasped together. He straightened himself, the sound of his spine cracking in correction hinting at the length of his prayer. The tired eyes looking directly towards the device, as if it held the answers he wanted.

"One, two, three.

The path to freedom starts from passion. If you lack passion, you lack strength. Stagnation.

The difference between Strength and Power, -that- should be taught."

His hand brushed the beard, covering his mouth as his focus drifted to the corners of the room around him. His mind doing what it was made to do.

"Well, I could teach it, An Assistant-Overseer is bound to have some authority. Or an Assistant-Purifier for that matter.

Heh

The uh... Hmm.The Immortus experiment has been progressing well enough, study on anatomy and.... Muscle, stuff."

His fingers found their way to the scars around his eyes, a drawn out sigh as the hands slid and locked at the nape. Eventually resting to his sides.

"I'm bothered. Scared. Things have been said and they cannot be ignored.

'Everything about you screams Sith.'

'You're the first to ask these questions.'

'An example of what it means to be Sith.'

One should not be seen as an example for doing the bare minimum."

Stiff lipped, his expression betrayed the true conflict. Arms folding across his chest as he leaned forward, defeated he looked inward. Returning to his original slump.

"I'm a terrible Sith.

I could walk away, would not get far. I could stop trying to halt the corruption, loose my humanity... I won't survive the monsters if I fight them restrained. They have no such weaknesses. I won't survive if I fight unrestrained."

...

"What if it isn't me?"

[color=#2360dd]He remained still for a long while, the recording finishes. [/color=#2360dd]

[Sith Stûza]

05

He was smiling.

A rare sight, entertained by what amounted to a cup with its kettle, a small selection of tools lay around a table. For whatever reason the man was sat on the floor, cross legged with barely his top half visible. Hands clasped with lips hid behind. The smile was still visible from his cheeks.

"I made Tea."

Rare to see innocence in a Sith, oxymoronic depending on your view of them. He drank deeply from the cup, held close to his chest.

"She cared for him, she really did."

A twitch of his expression, rapid blinking, the semblance of humanity overtaken by the mask he wore well. The chest tightening with a shuffle of his body, attempting to move away from the discomfort of what his mind wanted. Spoken in a tone of disbelief.

"They are able to weaponize everything. Blasters, swords, and lightsabers anyone can use. The Sith turn their emotions into weapons. They estrange their offspring, what better way to show you love them?"

He scratched his beard, looking over to a corner of the room. Catching himself in the act.

"I'm rambling. I'm out of touch.

One, two, three.

I remember the first time I saw a Sith die. A sacrifice to assure our escape. I still feel the wringing in my ears, the shudder of the ground on impact. But it was distant, a voice through comms that brought meaning to what I saw.

That's different.

Chosen amongst a few in an attack force to bring down two Sith. Nothing prepares you for that, you don't come out the same. You don't observe the destruction of a pillar, you break it down willingly. You don't have time to think of repercussions. You're trying not to become a memory.

The realization that you stood beside Lords and Sith, it almost makes you forget that they're peop-"

The eyes darted to the camera, followed by an immediate swing of his backhand, the recording finishes

[Sith Stûza]

06

"There is a comfort in following orders, it clears the mind. I wonder if others share that sentiment.

There is always a bigger ask, always a higher demand.

Expectations are the standard, the standard becomes normality, the normality becomes the bare minimum."

...

...

"When did I get so damn preachy."

There was only audio to accompany the entry, the recording finishes.

[Sith Stûza]

Final

"Mirena"

Held by a stack of assortments, the datapad was angled to the side of the corellian, head bent forward in writing a letter. An obsidian dagger rested near him on the table, unsheathed for once. His expression was different for the simple fact it was actually visible for once behind what once was concealed from a thick beard. Newly shaven with a set of loose short hair. He tapped the letter with the blunt end of the pen.

"I write to you for a dire matte- No, too urgent.

Our brother has left us- No, too vague."

It was a day where words would have to do, for action required him elsewhere.

"Owen was killed."

He stopped his tapping and switched to writing. Correcting his posture as the height of it all was expressed in written form. He could not help but mumble his thoughts.

"Owen was killed, taken from us by a Jedi. He was reformed from what I saw, new life in his eyes as the spice addiction was finally beaten. From what the colonel told me he was liked, much as he was in our earlier years on Corellia.

I've failed them, I've arranged his funeral with the family. Despite all that has happened they understood my presence."


It was a minor epiphany that struck him that caused him to stop his writing, leaning back into his chair as he looked at the ceiling, folding his arms across his chest.

"How am I even going to get this to Coruscant?"

He tore the page up. The video paused and resumed later on, a different location. It was raining in the background. The ruffling of sheets and a very nosey sound, sniffling. He was sick.

"Mirena,

How is your time on Coruscant? Half a decade since we last saw each other. Most of our family is safe since their transfer to the Empire. Regrettably Owen was killed by the hands of a Jedi. Did you know I was a force sensitive? Neither did I two years ago, until then I was normal. I enjoyed that normal life despite its flaws.

We had freedom despite not knowing it
We had choice despite not choosing
We had a home despite not being welcomed.

I always admired your willingness to change, Mirena. Despite the uncertainty of opportunity you took it on without fear. That is what I once thought when I was younger, now I understand it was quite the opposite. For you took the path in spite of fear, to live by your own actions in freedom. Did you chose this life for yourself? Or was it thrust upon you as I suspect?

This life chose me, I write- no. I -send- this message to you for I've come to terms with my life.

I am a Sith."

Groaning heard as the corellian stood from his bed, breathing through his mouth to assure he could speak properly. He fidgeted with the obsidian dagger in his hand, not that it could be seen on the recording.

"My life will be short, Mirena. Shorter than yours or many others, do not mistake it for an unfulfilled one. For in this short life I've had an opportunity that many people will never have:

I've seen beasts malformed and evil, brought down through great will and effort
A man that burned reality through sorcery, I helped in killing him.
Spoke with scholars and teachers equally gifted and insane, they taught me the dangers of indulgence
Most of all I've experienced myself, and I have learned of hypocrisy.

Should something happen to me... Should my mind go beyond correction or my ambitions lead me towards chaos, do not go to correct me but continue the life you've chosen so that you may benefit.

All of these moments will die with me. For I am but the ink by which others will write history."

Silence, followed by coughing, the recording finishes. No further recordings seem to be found.