Zartilda's Journal (And Assorted Tales)

[Theprettiestorc]

Journal 7: Flying On Burning Wings

I'll start with the bookend first. My time with the Overseers - I went in as an Assistant Overseer, following my break from Tarimra, a position revived by Rikki Syndathik. There were doubts whether I could teach Philosophy, after all, but I began working with Acolytes in what capacity I could afford. Taking time to get to know them, document them... putting my profiling skills to good use. Naile and Korditis were also Overseers at the time, and we went into the Trials for Generation 13. That's when I had my first change of image, getting called out by Lord Saltaeon.

So I went into a large black coat and otherwise using that as my palette, began wearing a signature piece for me now, a chinguard. Changed my hair, and made an overnight call. The Acolytes were to face Gundarks and a juvenile Rancor. Instead, I upped the ante, and the myth, the legend, was born.

Huuuuuuuuuuubriiiiiiiiis.

I loved announcing that. A full-sized, adult female Rancor, who sat on an Acolyte and crushed them to death outright. Nobody had to fight her, they just had to survive, and it was telling overall. But after the Trials, and people ascending, Syndathik left. Naile and Korditis went inactive, and with changes in who was looking after the Department, I finagled my way to administration of the hub and full Overseer.

Generation 14 was where I really hit my stride. Ten ascensions! Most which have developed my now into impressive Apprentices. I made it my goal to prove that Kelsa's way had been far too heavy-handed, but in the process, I was far too easy on them, from what people said. I was focused on the teaching, not on correction, but Viren. Monhura, Purifier, he was the one who was doing that for me. Perhaps I should bless the short-sightedness of Sith sometimes because it allows me to get ahead, but sometimes, it's a curse, since nobody saw what we were doing. I'd do the teaching, he'd do the disciplining, and we solidified our bond in that way.

Eventually, though, it came to an end. During the Trials for that generation, Sith Arvanis stated I needed to do more punishment, and I basically told him to piss off. I was angry, that out of all my work, that's all they saw. That there needed to be fighting, artificial competition, the kind of things that come naturally and which aren't enforced at Apprentice. It was dumb. Looking back? It's still dumb, because the best rivalries I'm seeing in this newest generation are the ones that come about naturally, due to competition over trivial things. Sith Tarimra got on me for teaching Lightning to an Acolyte, and making his Apprentices look bad, and that really sealed the deal for me - I moved on, because I was holding on to something I wasn't fit for. Not in the House's view.

Ah, current time. Sith Tarimra... he was slain. A fight between him and Zarchas that went back and forth for months, that I was always in the middle of. I made possibly my finest work for the Sorcerer, too, a miniature amulet in the form of a Phrik ring. He cursed it later, and it was the first time I'd been used as a Siphon for any ritual. I'm seeing now the scope of my predictions, that I thought Zikarn had been leaking information to Tarimra, but it was the other way around. My guess was right that he was working with Zarchas, and such is what I warned about... and he became the key to luring Tarimra to his death.

It's interesting to me that this was a true fight between Apprentices of Narazri, really. I spent a lot of time analyzing him, and it all came to light: the public alliances, the private alliances. Loyalty, and where loyalty fails. Zarchas especially had his cunning, his ability to somehow pull a victory by letting his enemies tear themselves apart from within. I warned that Saltaeon's Sphere was a repeat of history, and indeed, it came to pass. Tarimra's gallant overconfidence, too, I saw influenced by Narazri, but it was youth yet untempered by careful planning and experience. I wouldn't have expected Naile to aid Zarchas, and what else don't I know about the enigma that was the half-mummified man?

Both gave me promises, but surprisingly, it was Zarchas who was forthcoming with them. Glory, recognition, power. Rewarding those who aid, recognizing efforts. Up until the end, Sith Tarimra had smoke and mirrors, yet to I find myself mourning him more than the other. Like a tragedy in progress, that you've tried wholly to prevent and ultimately failed. I realize one of my favorite phrases came out because of the phoenix, how a Sith goes through their power faster and dies young. "Flying on burning wings".

I heard Zikarn took his own life, and it doesn't surprise me. Naile is injured badly, and I find my interest in him has started to fade, after trying to get his attention outright and failing. Ter'asca Vesk and Charsette, two of my Warriors in a reconstituted Warrior Program, were involved as well. The former died alongside Zarchas, his master, and I was told "he died like a Warrior", and that Charsette tried to run. Two very different mindsets of my students, and I don't feel either was wrong. The battlefield is a hellish place, and many Sith die wanting for such a chance at being remembered. Some have things yet unfinished, business to tend to that they can't afford to leave behind and die before they finish.

Zarchas and Tarimra, a blight eagle and a phoenix. Two different figures which shaped my career in different ways, that I learned from. Saw their deeds, followed their path in history to learn more of them. One showed me how a Warrior isn't drawn inside a neat little box, how they can provide for others and fulfill a greater role - the other taught me curiosity, paranoia, how to draw on the endless wellspring of anger I once kept bottled up in fear of losing myself. Both of them supported my bid to Household Sith.

"All Magic Comes WIth A Price", indeed. Next entry should be on amulets and forging, I think, but I've found what to do with my hair.

**An image accompanies this entry, as if a reminder. A brazier, starting to go into flames - inside is a portion of cloth, like a flag or banner, just a square of it. A symbol of a hand with an eye in the center, the threads worked on by large fingers, every painstaking detail as she remembered it so long ago. And coiled around the portion of flag is a black braid with a pendant on the end, a symbol of a phoenix on the one side. Her own funeral pyre for the fallen.**