Holo-Journal Entries, Ravnor.

[Joslae]

**A brief pause follows the activation of the projectors, emitting a lowbrow dose of static and humming in chorus to the machine's multiple attempts to power on. Finally it succeeds and in that instant the profile of a human male materializes, stood with his hands at his back and eyes staring forward into the space occupied by the phantom recorder from which the projection was seen. A full head of black hair falls around his head carving his eyes into focus below the cut-off of his fringe, his jawline all but consumed by a beard that is drawn into a point below his chin and reaching to the corners of his mouth like tendrils. His right eye emblazoned with a blood red tattoo marking him out among his species, and the left side of his face burned by forces unknown, the skin replaced by crinkled and dried scar tissue.**

"This is Gladiator Six, though my slave arena designation remains embedded in my mind, I have chosen to adopt a name of my own, I am Ravnor."

**With the brief introduction finished the projection flickers and then begins a separate playback, the human male once again materializing onscreen.**

"My time aboard Th'Asidra, capital ship, training facility and staging area for many of House Horuset's Sith aspirants and Lords, has thus far been one of discovery. I have made myself known to several Sith apprentices who will no doubt forget my name immediately so I wonder why they bother in their antiquated prosperity to ask. And I have ensured there are no delusions of friendship between the other Acolytes and I, some are truly impressive specimens having no doubt trained for much longer than I, while others only serve to infuriate me in their callous disregard of reality. I shall not name them for fear their incompetence is a disease of the mind. For the Acolytes our role is predetermined, we are nothing until we are deemed capable, to act as anything more than that is only met with threats of violence and is often followed by subsequent acts of violence that vary from Lord to Lord and Apprentice to Apprentice."

**The projected male gives a shrug, discarding the latter fact as neither here nor there.**

"My place as a very recent arrival has me at a truly frustrating disadvantage, while none would dare question my skill in a melee the other Acolytes seem able to wield the force to a much more substantial level. It would frustrate me less if the lessons were more frequent and I could close the gap, but as it stands I am forced to endure seven cycles at a time between lessons. Meanwhile the Acolytes that cause me such pain of mind cannot be put in their place because I don't know what I need to know yet. I do not see how strength can be demonstrated if it is not cultivated, the Overseers and Lords should have more interest in their future warriors. My old master knew that better than this rabble of Pureblood scum. But as it stands my shackles remain, I am no slave in the traditional sense anymore, but I remain bound to the decisions and complacency of others. Their hierarchy of strength is a paradox, those with strength are unwilling to raise strong warriors for they believe it is beneath them and those willing to be put to the test are forced to bow their head and try not to make requests of their superiors. It is a cycle that Lord Yutal's writings have enlightened me to see."

**The male walks off center then reappears with a data-pad, activating the device and his fingers dancing a practiced waltz over it's surface.**

"In my words and my writings I will decree what it is to be a follower of the Old Ways in the force and what it means to be of the Sith. Not merely a placeholder member of the Order which atrophies away under the watchful eye of certain factions."

**Deferring the datapad to his back the Acolyte looks back straight forward into the seemingly open space accommodated by the recorder's lens, his quotation finished.**

"I should explain, when I am not centering myself within Th'Asidra's sanctum where the force and indeed the dark side flows without interrupt, I am reading and revising the words written by Lord Yutal in their entirety. The laws of the Sith truly intrigue me despite my lack of exposure during my indentured servitude to House Rethlan and House Vethro, they express in their purest form the singularly uncomplicated philosophies of the Sith. And with such clear cut guidelines, success is measured only by ability and tenacity. Yet my mind lingers on the day-to-day of House Horuset, I wonder if these writings are only relevant to those who can commit to them beyond their trials, perhaps the Apprentices have forgotten, or alternatively the Lords have encouraged them to move on, but in these settings it seems that cruelty and malice without reason are more commonplace than the pursuit of power. Surely the pursuit of power should be that you train and instruct the next generation to test you? Is that not what the Sith Code teaches? Strength provides Power, but if you're only testing yourself against yourself to fall into the state of atrophy that Lord Yutal despises?"

**The man takes a pause from his innermost thoughts. His eyes remain still but alive with thought, the pause takes only a short while to pass.**

"As it stands, my blade work is about as good as I can make it, but my challenging of Acolytes usually ends with me being flung across the arena by the force, or singed with short handed flicks of lightning. They wield the force beyond my own capabilities and that in turn makes my blade next to useless. So I am resolved to await the lessons given by those capable, relishing in the pain of the Acolytes who fail, and ultimately climb out of these shackles, though not physical, are no less restricting than the real things. Though I must question...are my bonds in place at the behest of House Horuset, or are they chains I give myself?"

**The entry ends abruptly, the holo image of the male losing light and all manner of present being in a blink.**

[Joslae]

Entry 2: Comprehension

**The playback machine splutters and rattles as it muscles out a second entry in the chronology of the database's creator. The individual projectors illuminating one by one until the ocular dome is vibrant with blue and yellow lights. Those expecting the arguably handsome features of the man in the previous entry are instead met with a face, and eyes, heavily corrupted and disheveled by the dark side of the force. Reprising his proper posture his hands resting at the base of his spine.**

"This is Acolyte Ravnor creating the second entry in what I feel is becoming my weekly therapy session."

**The projection flickers, the man disappearing and then reforming his features still contemptible to those with a taste for beauty.**

"The past few cycles have been heavily entwined with events both empowering and infuriating, as one might see from my visage I am not the same as I was in the last entry. This metamorphosis was not my choice I can assure you, but was a by-product of an onslaught that I received at the hands of a Pureblood; Soyut Vipion-

**The man spits as soon as the last syllable passes his purple veined lips.**

-I cannot explain how it happened. But I can explain how I felt during the process. My mind was not conscious but I was aware, the physical damage done to me combined with whatever poison Vipion introduced to my bloodstream had me in a place between slumber and life. I remember dreaming vividly, clouds of red, the screams and wails of a thousand-thousand souls, great beasts of ancient lore and the faces of a league of unknowns, perhaps former Sith, or maybe a manifestation of something much darker. I could see their brains pulsing through their eye sockets and their mouths, when the teeth parted, were filled to the brim with the porous hardened slime of insect nests; the denizens of which crawled out in swarm.
I saw such terror that when I awoke and as I recall it now I only have one word for it: "Magnificent". My complimenting of the machinations of a demented mind would inspire most to doubt my cognitive functions. Hence why I have not shared these images with anyone, and most have not given my features a second glance. Thankfully the Apprentices and Sith of House Horuset have stuck to their policy of ignoring the Acolytes in their down time."

**The man adjusts in place, as if writing the opening to a chapter in a literature series.**

"The time since my ordeal has passed by quickly, no longer do I feel as if my time is being wasted, every lesson is a gift,
every arriving acolyte is a potential to grow my power and I am in no rush to ascend to be one of the dogs of the various Lords. Though in my time alone I have developed a keen admiration for Lord Tokiai, I have never met them in person, or even from a distance, but it is because of their writings that I am able to comprehend so much despite my disadvantageous beginnings as a mere slave with education. The Apprentices just have us Acolytes beat each other to near-death, which I see as recreational, and the Lords have yet to give lectures on Sith Philosophy. To this end many of the other Acolytes are confused when I offer to aid them in training with my own advice and partnership. Trying to explain to them that Sith must always be tested and my motives are entirely self-serving is like throwing air at a cortosis seam hoping to mine it, none of them appear to understand which is saddening and deeply vexing."

**His features twisting into a disappointed sneer, he gestures outward with his right hand beginning a new point.**

"Onto specifics, my most significant interactions with my peers have been with two human women, Eliannah and Valkara,
the former is driven by some delusion that I consider her a challenge in either mind or body and has made multiple attempts to cement her place as a superior, while the latter is of much greater significance. Valkara is unique among those here in that her connection to the force is not only strong, but tempered, but she is no Pureblood as I said. And yet her ability is great, without question. Once I sought rivalries in the Pureblooded, Valkarr, Nhirus and Avestia being examples, believing they'd be the true tests of skill but my most recent achievement of defeating a Pureblood in single combat was less fulfilling than I should have liked. With comprehension of the force coupled with Lord Tokiai's teachings I have come to the conclusion that the purebloods might fuel my hatred, but their defeat does not sustain my power. Indeed my malice will never be satisfied, not in this lifetime. But the visions I had, combined with my victories has lead me to understand that my tunnel-visioned ideas were the childish ambitions of a lesser being, a slave. As the hue of my eyes turn red, my skin loses it's colour and the dark forces corrupt me I begin to see more than I ever used to. The slave I once was is gone, Soyut Vipion's onslaught, Lord Tokiai's wisdom and indeed House Horuset as a whole has seen to that-

**Ravnor's chest expands and his signature smirk cuts across his face with a contagious confidence.**

- I am complete, I am an Acolyte of the Sith House Horuset, I am Ravnor, a slave no-longer and my path will be one I carve into the very fabric of reality."

**The hologram flickers, losing life and the illumination of the projectors darkens to a damp grey.**