The Emberstrike Legacy

Here is another throwback piece of fan fiction for fun. Enjoy!

Alright, so, I’ve been having a lot of fun writing swtor fan fic about my Sith Warrior. So I decided that I would take a stab at writing something coherent, a little more fleshed out. I figure, it’s a good way to dabble my way back into working on projects, and if I decide to abandon it for an actual project, there’s no harm.

Karone Emberstrike was the heir to a great Sith legacy. The force had been flowing through her veins for several centuries now, making her family’s legacy one of the oldest surviving. Both of her parents were Sith, having met at the academy when they were young. She was pale skinned, tall, and undeniably human. The deep red skin and golden eyes of the “true Sith” had long since died out in her bloodline. For that reason, while the Emberstrike legacy was ancient, they were not as revered as those who still bore the genetic markers of their heritage.

She had grown up traveling the galaxy with her parents and oftentimes, their companions. The hum of a ship, deep conversation, and peels of laughter were the sounds that lulled her to sleep as a child. She was schooled by her parents in practical matters as well as academia, and she grew to be a strong, resourceful young woman. But there was one topic that she heard her parents speak of only after everyone else was fast asleep. Their soft voices became strained as they conveyed their passion in hushed tones.

“She is our legacy,” her mother hissed. “Her place at the academy has been assured since birth. With her talents, she is bound to become the apprentice to a great Lord.”

“Elana, no. The academy is not what it was when we were there. They are gearing up for more conflict with the Republic. They are recruiting anyone with even a speck of force potential. You know that there is far less prestige to be had – they are far more concerned with churning out bloodthirsty killers.”

“Would you deny my heir her chance for greatness?”

“She can be great without a lightsaber.”

Karone heard her mother scoff.

“You don’t think that she can handle herself, do you?”

“She is our daughter – of course she could.”

“Then why do you stop her?”

“I do not like what the Sith are becoming. They have embraced the darkness too fully. There is much to learn from the light.”

“Bite your tongue!”

“Quiet, Elana.”

Her mother’s voice dropped. Karone had to take a few steps further down the hall in order to hear. Even then, she strained to hear over her heartbeat.

“…In thousands of years! If others knew…”

“Suppressing these ideas is why the sides are so far apart now. There was once a time when the Sith and the Jedi were not so different.”

Karone couldn’t help but smile. Her father, the scholar.

“Your daughter will…”

Karone felt a hand clap down on her shoulder. She silently wheeled around. Kahuk, her father’s long time Mandalorian friend, held a finger to his lips. He released her shoulder and pointed back down the corridor, towards her quarters. Karone shook her head. Kahuk tilted his chin down – he towered over even her. The dim light caught the silver flecks of his hair. He shook his head slowly, then pointed.

She knew that this was not an argument she could win. It was the only way to avoid being exposed, so she walked back to her quarters, pondering her fate as sleep washed over her.

It was not normal to see such division between her parents. They had always presented a united front. She now wondered what pains they had taken to make this appearance possible.

Fortunately, she did not have to wonder about her future for long. They docked at an Imperial port on Tattooine a day later, and rather than the excavation trip that had been planned, they found themselves faced with a Sith Lord. The look on her father’s face was pure outrage. He knew, as Karone guessed, that her mother had decided to take matters into her own hands. She wondered whether her father would make a scene, but it was all handled calmly.

Lord Varek feigned surprise at seeing her mother, and she at him. He then glanced over at Karone. She had met Sith friends of her parents before, but never one with red eyes. It was intriguing and yet, she looked away. She had thought herself braver than this.

Varek asked about Karone – was she doing well in her studies? Then, the question that changed everything. Had her Force potential been evaluated? Her mother responded that no, it hadn’t. Her tone was so smooth, she made it sound as trivial as if she had forgotten to pick up eggs. She must be evaluated! Why, Lord Varek just happened to have the time. How fortunate, her mother responded. Karone was then whisked away to confirm what every Force sensitive person could tell from half a planet away – she was very strong in the Force.

Karone Visits The Cargo Hold

This is a little thing that I wrote for my daily 750 words several years ago, and is quite raw. “I’ve been writing a little bit lately about my Old Republic characters. It also just so happened that I recently realized that I could sell my old materials that I’d been hoarding and make a lot of credits. So this is also based on that.”

“You know, my lord, the cargo hold is getting awful full.”

Karone nodded in Pierce’s general direction, hoping that he would take the hint and move along.

“With all that gear, an our new passenger, maybe we ought to think about moving some of it. Moving it out of the ship, even.”

She sighed, set the datapad down on her desk and swung the chair around to face him. Pierce was standing in the doorway of her quarters, the width of his body taking up the entire frame. His arms were crossed, his head cocked. This was the problem with Pierce’s “slight inclination towards subordination” as Quinn would say – the man was going to say what he needed, whether she was inclined to hear it.

“Yes, I understand. I will take that under advisement.”

The pat phrase she used when someone needed to be acknowledged, but she did not have the desire to broach the topic further.

“She has a lot of raw materials.” Quinn’s voice echoed from somewhere down the corridor.

Karone jumped to her feet and shoved Pierce out of the way.

“What in the world are you doing?” she muttered as she stomped her way towards the cargo hold.

The first thing she saw was that all of her carefully packed crates had been torn open, and goods were strewn everywhere.

She wheeled around and jammed a finger at Pierce’s armor.

“The cargo hold would look a lot less full if you hadn’t torn it apart!”

He held up his hands defensively, and a low rumble of laughter shook his chest.

“Wasn’t my fault, my lord. Don’t shoot the messenger.”

A blue head popped out from behind one stack of crates, and Vette held up a bolt of Lashaa silk.

“It was all me. I remember when this cargo hold was completely empty.” She shook the bolt of silk free and the yards tumbled to the floor.

“I don’t even remember when we got this, do you?”

Karone shook her head.

“What are you doing in there? We have more important things to do than tear apart this junk.”

“Actually, my lord,” Quinn started to say. Karone jumped. She hadn’t seen him behind the mountain of artifact fragments. He glanced up in recognition of her surprise, and his lips twitched subtly. He then cleared his throat and looked back to the datapad in his hands. “Have you seen what some of this is going for on the GTN?”

“When on earth would I have had time to do that?” she asked, reaching out for the datapad. Quinn stepped around the artifact fragments and over a smaller pile of cloth, barely dodging a bolt of silk that landed at his feet.

She looked at the list Quinn had typed up, along with the corresponding credit estimates.

“For this?” she shook her head, bewildered.

“Yes, my lord. If I might offer a suggestion, we are going to pass by the fleet anyway. It might be a worthwhile investment of your time to unload these and see what you can get for them.”

She nodded and handed the datapad back to her captain. Darth Baras wasn’t exactly tight with the credits that her paid her for her work, but it would probably be wise to diversify her income a little. It wasn’t exactly rare for a Sith master to decide that his apprentice had out grown their use – or worse yet, gotten too powerful – and dispose of them. She could use a little insurance against that time, when, not if, it arrived.

“That is a good plan, Quinn.” She kicked a fragment as it rolled to the doorway. “I trust that you will see that all of these are re-sorted and ready to go by the time we dock?”

“I will do my best, my lord.”

“THIS ONE!” Vette shrieked from the back of the hold. A bolt of bronze colored silk waved over top of the piles of fabrics and minerals as Vette came crashing through. Quinn winced.

“My lord!” she exclaimed with a grin, “May I keep this one?”

“I don’t see any harm in that.”

Vette pulled the bolt of fabric close to her chest and squeezed.

“Thank you! Thank you! Have I told you yet that you are the nicest Sith Lord a girl could have?”

Karone laughed softly, then turned and nudged Pierce out of her way.

“Take what you want, within reason. But unless someone is bleeding, leave me to my work!”

Bastila and the Council

Today’s short is a throwback piece of fanfic from the early 2010’s. It features Bastila and what I perceive her future following the Star Forge may have been. 🙂

There were days when Bastila wished that she had remained with Darth Malak. These thoughts were brief, as short as the moment between pressing the button on the lightsaber and the blade igniting. Bastila was always certain to meditate on the Jedi code three times after such a thought – but nevertheless, in the deepest, darkest corner of her soul, she knew it was true.

Her future with the Jedi had been forever altered by her bond with Revan, and then again by her fall to the dark side. She had been on track to become the youngest master and was one impressive stunt away from assuring her future on the council one day. Capturing Darth Revan should have put her at the front of the class. While the council never explicitly said anything, they acted differently towards her, following the discovery of her bond. They seemed to trust her just a little less. Master Vrook was just a little more condescending, and she could feel Master Vandar’s tension.

What was most telling about her diminished position within the order was the fact that they never specifically addressed her fall to the dark side. She thought that perhaps following the destruction of the Star Forge, they had been too preoccupied to meet with her. The masters had even had a long talk with Juhani after her fall. But today was the first anniversary of the Star Forge, and the masters had not spoken with her about it.

The council would not quietly set her aside, the way they did with Revan. They had let Revan retain her status and she was still expected to report in to the council, but there was no way that they would send her out again, and she certainly wouldn’t be brought back to teach anyone, despite how talented she was. If there was a way for a Jedi to be ‘retired’, that would probably fit. At least she seemed to have a measure of happiness. She and Onasi were together, and she had heard rumblings that they were going to be wed sometime soon.

No, Bastila was still sent out on missions for the council, though they were more along the lines of delivery runs, and she was never alone. She knew that they would always keep her around, just in case there was a use for her battle meditation. But that’s all she was to them these days – a walking battle meditation. A back up plan, in case of emergency.

She made her way out of the temple on Courscant and out onto the streets. Night had fallen, and the fireworks would be starting soon. Most of the galaxy was celebrating Revan and his triumph over the Star Forge. Yes, his. The council had chosen to present Revan as a male to the public. They said that it was a decision to protect the real Revan, to keep her sane and out of the galactic spotlight. Since, as a Sith, she had chosen to keep her face concealed, it wasn’t too far of a stretch. There were those who knew the truth of course, but they came off more like conspiracy theorists than anything.

Having been privy to many of Revan’s thoughts and dreams, she agreed with the council that it was best to keep her out of the way. She had enough to cope with, without also being an ambassador to the galaxy, or having vengeful killers on her tail.

The downside, of course, was that history would not portray what happened accurately. As someone who had combed through as many historical holovids as she could find as a child, this was disheartening. There were a good number of stories about their time on the Ebon Hawk that were best told with Revan as a female. How she had taken on Mission as a little sister, and helped her find a sustainable living that didn’t involve crime. Or there was the whole bit with Onasi. Their reclusive, broody pilot had become rather pleasant as Revan helped him past his need for revenge and to find his lost son. And of course they’d found love along the way too, or whatever.

As it was, Revan and Bastila’s bond and redeeming each other from the dark side had been spun into a romantic story, full of defying the council and stolen kisses on the Ebon Hawk. Obviously that wasn’t the case. They mutually respected each other, but she wouldn’t even necessarily classify what they had as friendship. Certainly, if Revan had been a male, their bond would be far more of a burden than a catalyst for a relationship. But, let the press play as it would. It kept them away from Revan and Carth, and that was probably for the best.

The sky began to light up with flashes of colored lights. The streets began to roar with cheers and applause. A series of flashes and bangs left the image of Revan’s mask in the sky. Bastila frowned. Of all the images from their journey, that would not be one that she would have chosen to memorialize.