An apprentice's first task (Open to the Sith Apprentice)

[Darth Decepis]

The stink was still in this place. Of death and many other things.

The B'Ommar temple on Tattooine had been home to countless beings across countless years, most notably by the foul gangster, Jabba the Hutt.

Now, there was nobody but two. The Order of B'Ommar, who even Jabba had permitted to exist in peace now lay slain throughout every level of the expansive structure. A brain spider lay crumpled in a puddle of cephalic fluid, its metal exoskeleton cleaved in many places by a sword of light.

It was a red flag. No quarter was given to the inhabitants, and their temple was now their tomb, which they shared with any of the various vagrants that lived here once as Jabba's lackeys.

Their death was useful, as it served silence. The ears of the dead heard no secrets, nor did their mouths speak them. The strewn and haphazard corpses in the Temple would serve as unseeing witnesses to the rebirth of the Sith.

The two cloaked figures, the last beings to live in the Temple of B'Ommar, walked among the fallen deceased, dwelling not on their misdeeds, but on those yet to come.

"Is the temple secure?" A voice as twisted as a gnarled Dagobah swamp tree hissed beneath a heavy black hood that shadowed his every feature, save a wrinkled and jaundiced chin.

[Han Fernua]

The echoes of death and battle rang in the silence. The cries of the ones who's lifes were now gone haunted the halls. The air was filled with the smell of blood. And the floors were a mess of bodies and liquid. Among the dead was a lone body that made the mistake of breathing to loudly. The sound of thunder echoed through the temple as a hole was burned into that bodies head. It breathed no longer.

"It is now."

It had taken quite a while to 'secure' the temple. Getting in was not hard. It was killing everyone without warning everyone else that was the problem. For if a stranger just came in they would single him out for anything that might happen.

So, he hid himself among the others; clothed in the garb of the temple, waiting for his time to strike. He cleared out all the small areas first, using not but a vibro blade; a small dagger that would cut and cleave and kill all. When their backs were turned a shadow would move in behind and stab in the back, dragging the blade across the spin and cutting it. The victims would fall limp, unable to move. And in the end...die. This went on for some time until but a few remained. These ones were a bit smarter for they came across blood and a few bodies and tried to get help. But hiding among those that remained was the assassin sent to kill them all. A fight broke out that ended quickly, since they had not anticipated the attack, they were defenseless. And now they were all dead. Not a one remains, not a one was left alive.

The events of the day flashed in the young man mind. The cries of the ones he had killed ringing in his ear; their blood on his hands. He might never forget this day. But it was necessary. In order to get what he wanted most, he had to do what might not be right. And what does it really matter? A few lives will not be missed for long. They will be forgotten soon if not already. It was necessary.

[Darth Decepis]

"You have done well, Lord Fikarr. Your skills are growing with each day."

Han Fernua, known to the shadow opposite him as Darth Fikarr, could detect only the slightest hint of a smile on the veiled face of his Dark Lord.

"Our enemies are no match for your power, my young apprentice. And it is the subject of our enemies that brings me to this rendezvous."

[Han Fernua]

"Thank-you, my master."

Han looked around and the bodies on the floor and the life that continued to flow from them. If these souls were not the main purpose of this attack, then he would get to that purpose soon. It just seemed a waste of his time making sure that everyone and everything was dead. Still, if it got him what he wanted, then it was worth every second of it.

"And who is this enemy that brings you here?"

[Darth Decepis]

"Emperor Palpatine is dead, and his Empire lies in disarray. I have felt his presence cast down into ruin. No one can stop us now."

The smile beneath the hood grew larger.

"The minions under his banner who remain are well armed, but lack vision. We must act quickly to make an example of them. We shall be their masters now."

Decepis paused, leveling an authoritative finger in Lord Fikarr's direction.

"To this end, you must go to the Imperial garrison on Thyferra. Seek out the Grand Moff, and his entourage. Destroy them utterly, to a man. Their deaths must be seen, and must be unforgettably brutal.

Our hand must not be seen in this affair, my apprentice. Destroy the unbelievers, and then disappear. When this task is complete, I will have many rewards for you."

[Han Fernua]

Han listen carefully. He made a note of every word, every change in pitch, every gesture or movement made. And when Decepis was done talking. He then looked it over as a whole.

"Thyferra. The Grand Moff. Getting in is not going to be easy...and I need some weaponry that is not so slopy and clumsy as a blaster or vibroblade."

Han was hinting at something. Something he wanted from the start of his training, but was never allowed to have. If he could only have this weapon he would do all that Decepis asked, more even.

[Darth Decepis]

"Gooooood...."

It came as a throaty rasp from the shadow's diaphragm, low and trembling.

"Your avarice is strong. It makes you strong. Follow your passions, Lord Fikarr. They will lead you to thisss...."

From the recesses of his dark robes, Decepis removed a lightsaber, crafted exquisitely of Phrik alloy and inlaid with incandescent mollusk shell and gold.

"The power you seek is within your grasp. Use it. Take your weapon. Strike your enemies down!"

[Han Fernua]

Fikarr stared at the object for what seemed like an eternity. He slowly reached out for the lightsaber and grasped it in his hand. He held it out and hit the activation button. Snap-hissss...vrooom. The red blade shot out and hinted the room with its glow. Its humming sound dominated the temple and the voices of the dead fled and were never heard again.

Han inspected the hilt before gripping it in both hands and swinging it around a bit. This was the means of obtaining power, complete power. Nothing could stand in his way now. With this weapon he would strike down all who came before him, all who got in the way.

"Have I a means of tranpostation?" he said, not turning his face away from the glow of his new weapon.

[Darth Decepis]

"Take commercial transport to Thyferra. You will not be noticed until it is time to strike."

Decepis waved his hand dismissively.

"Once your task is completed, commandeer an Imperial ship. I will await your return on Coruscant."

[Han Fernua]

"Understood...my master."

With that Han de-activated the blade and placed it on his belt.

"But I might get questioned on my entry to Coruscant. What with the rebellion still around. And I dont have a code at all. How am I to make contact with you when I return?" he questioned as kind of a after thought.

[Darth Decepis]

The taste of impatience flavored the Dark Lord's tongue like acrid venom.

"Do whatever you must, Lord Fikarr. Search your feelings. Once on Coruscant, I will seek you out."

[Han Fernua]

Han saw that he was not going to get any more help in the matter and left it at that.

"Very well, master. I will not be long."

With a bow, Han departed the presence of Darth Decepis and started planning out his mission.

"Not long at all..."