(( This was actually written by Derek. I created Temivi to be Ragious's apprentice, partly inspired by a discarded earlier version of this piece, so he re-wrote it specifically for her. ))
It was not his easiest task to endure.
Not that he wasn’t good at Sith politicking, it just wasn’t what
interested him. But here he found himself in a room with roughly a
dozen other Lords, all set to watch a group of recruits that had yet
to entice a master on their own. It was their last chance; failure
at this juncture meant certain death. One by one they came to stand
in the center of the room, and had their record of deeds while at the
academy read to the assembled Lords. Most of the Lords were done up
in their finest garments for this tradition, and carried a look of
seriousness, like this was a most important task they were
undertaking, and they were very proud to be here.
Lord Ragious on the other hand sat
looking generally bored. In his plain purple robes, he looked more
like he belonged in the center of the room pleading to become
someone’s apprentice than to be seated amongst the other lords in
their finery. He knew his own reputation, mostly because he’d
carefully crafted it for years now, since he himself entered the
academy. He was viewed as a brute, something sent when direct force
needed to be applied. The truth war that he was as cunning as any
Sith, and quite enjoyed outsmarting those that underestimated him.
He was not ready to take on an apprentice that might detract from
that image, and especially not one chosen amongst this trial.
So one at a time he watched them come
into the chamber, a Human, then another, both taken by Lords he
didn’t recognize. Then a Pureblood, which surprised them, they
generally don’t make it to this step, then he saw the slave brands
and realized why. That one wasn’t so lucky, having his head taken
when he proved unable to convince anyone to take him as an
apprentice. A Miraluka was next, and her exotic beauty almost
stirred the large Sith to speaking, not because he thought she’d
make a good apprentice for him, but because he physically desired
her. There was something submissive about her, in the way she hung
her head (in truth, they all did, usually in shame for not having
enticed someone sooner), and in the way she knelt instead of stood.
Another Lord spoke up though, one whose own master was a rival of his
Master’s, and he wasn’t about to fight a proxy battle on
Korriban. So he let it go, and watched, as more and more came
through, generally tuning it out, until the final Acolyte was
announced.
Striding to stand in the center of the
chamber with a defiant posture was a Twi’lek, her blue skin marking
her as a Rutian. She was by all definitions of the word beautiful.
So much so that Ragious actually stood from his seat to stare at her,
his grey eyes boring into her as he listened to the announcement of
her actions at the academy. The moment the overseer finished his
announcement he spoke up, “This one will be coming with me.”
The room actually became hushed at
hearing him speak, and it was a lone Sith that dared break the
silence. “I must object, Lord Ragious is not one qualified to
train our future Sith in anything but how to lick a real master’s
boots.”
Ragious turned on the speaker, his face
a picture of rage marking the exact origin of his chosen name. “And
I suppose you, Lord Corten, would be a better master then? A former
slave, aren’t you? Wouldn’t you be much better at licking boots
than a someone who was BORN a Sith?” He knew that the subject of
his early years was a sore spot for the Lord, and that he had done as
much as he could to hide that truth, but Ragious had been at the
academy with the man, he remembered him as a meek student who relied
on riding the coattails of others to pass through it. He also
remembered how angry he got when his past was brought up during a
training session, and so knew how much having it brought out for the
entire assembled council, and their new apprentices would affect him.
With a snap hiss the former slave’s Lightsaber came to life, the
crimson blade held high as he leapt from his seat toward the larger
Sith standing with the apprentice.
Ragious was no amateur duelist though,
his own saber called to his hand with the Force as its blue blade
extended, the color a result of a gem taken from his first Jedi kill,
he raised it to deflect the incoming attack as his other hand
extended toward the Twi’lek, shoving her into the seat that Ragious
had previously occupied. To his credit Lord Corten fought like a
Sith, full of fury and rage, but Ragious was a student of war, and
his art was death. The battle was short, and ended with the former
slave turned Lord’s head rolling across the floor. Deactivating
his saber, Ragious turned first to the Acolyte in his seat, offering
her a dark smile, and then to the assembled Lords, “I’ll be happy
to hear any other objections now.”
When none came he motioned for the
Twi’lek to follow him as he stalked out of the chamber.
