Wrote this little tidbit when Stronghold came out and I couldn't log in for a while. I put some finishing touches on it and thought I would share. Hope you all like it!
Balmorra was a detestable world. The food was bad, there was too much gambling, and even worse: The war between the Old Sith Empire and the Galactic Republic was in full swing. Narithar swiped through the latest military feeds on his data pad with disgust. His amber eyes searched every inch of the screen hoping to see something the pubs hadn't. Surely, there was something the pubs were missing.
He wondered if the pubs had someone on their side doing the same thing. An amusing idea to entertain. As he continued to swipe through the reports, a realization set over him. There was never going to be an incisive victory in the war, at least not right away. And even if there was, it would only be a matter of time before a retaliation occurred. Narithar breathed a heavy, long sigh.
The sith may have caught the republic and the jedi off guard with their daring attack on Coruscant, but the Republic Army was growing. Too many eager souls willing to fight for a cause much bigger than they could ever imagine. Narithar ran his hand through his red hair, pulling his bangs back away from his face. Reading one final report, he tossed the data pad across the room, watching it slowly sail to the metal grated floor. He considered catching it with the force, but he really didn't care, smiling when the device shattered upon impact.
Now what to do? thought Narithar, leaning back in the cushioned, rolling chair he was seated in. He was a sith lord sent to Balmorra to oversee the war efforts of the empire by Darth Zash. Narithar, a former slave, found difficulty in commanding imperial soldiers due to his lowly civilian rank, prior to becoming a sith. More times than he cared to think, torture was used as a means to make his underlings obey.
A vulnerability came over him in those moments, as though he was wisped away and thrown into his former master's body. Narithar had scars all over his body from his former master's beatings. His face was permanently marred from the slave's branding. Anxiety, fear, and most of all anger filled him thinking of his former master and his former life. To be on the opposite side of the spectrum, while different, certainly did not make him feel powerful.
Before Narithar had never entertained the idea of leaving the empire behind. Now it didn't seem so far fetched. He was powerful now. He commanded men. The ones that wouldn't obey would simply be cut down. For the first time in longer than he cared to think, he felt happiness.
While fleeing the empire sounded good in his head, running into the open arms of the republic sounded too easy. Would they really accept him? He was a dark lord after all. He had killed hundreds of pubs and not thought twice. There was that one incident.. No! thought Narithar. It didn't matter. He had killed others of their order. What was one?
The Outter Rim then. But where? Hoth was too cold and Belsavis was too savage. In his mind, Narithar argued that Tatooine was too sandy, but that was laughable. There were just as many republic forces as there were imperial and given his rank, Narithar didn't consider the imperial soldiers a threat. Sith were an entirely different story.
Once word of his betrayal had reached Lord Zash and the other dark lords on the Dark Council, sith assassins and bounty hunters would be sent to fetch or even kill Narithar. He had been ordered to assassinate more of his own order than of the jedi order or even the republic army combined. Another reason why finally leaving the empire was a good thing.
As Narithar was finalizing his plans, one of the captains from the battalion he was assigned came into the guard tower that he was given command over. He looked battered and bruised. His face and arm were freshly injured due to a nearby explosion. Blood seeped through the bandages. A look of disdain filled the man's face as he gave Narithar a once over.
"Republic forces have taken Sector C, my lord. What are you going to do about it?" asked the captain.
"You will stand at attention when addressing your lord, captain!" barked Narithar. The captain straightened, a look of pure contempt on his face.
"You sith come here toting your titles of authority and power, using torture to get what you want. The truth of the matter is no slave could ever hope to command a battalion of the empire's finest." said the captain, his voice beginning to raise. "When are we ever going to see your acclaimed abilities in action?"
Narithar rose from his seat with the poise of a sith lord and walked over to stand behind the captain. The captain had straightened again upon Narithar's rise, still unable to hide his anger and contempt. Now Narithar stood back to back with the captain facing the exit.
"It's nothing personal captain." said Narithar. "Well, actually it is!"
The captain heard the crack of the saber's ignition, but it was too late. He had felt the hilt of the saber press into his back long before he felt the fire in his belly. Air rushed from his lungs as he staggered then fell to the metal floor. "Traitor!" said the captain, life leaving him quickly.
"Traitor is such an absolute word. It's not like I plan to join the republic." said Narithar leaning over to him. "I simply plan on being my own master."
The last few words were wasted because the captain was already dead. Leaning down and pulling a grenade from the captain's corpse, Narithar armed it for two minutes throwing it in the center of the guard tower. Stepping out of the guard tower, Narithar looked up to the clear sky and the sun's rays. Leaping over the guard rail, to the ground below, he rolled to slow his momentum.
Jumping onto his speeder, he pulled out and sped off, heading towards the Balmorran spaceport. Narithar heard the tower explode and felt the shock wave of the blast. He smiled realizing that he was now free. The galaxy stood before him and he wasn't turning back.
