Topic: Battlemaster: A tale of the Silent Council
NB: This is a fan fiction I originally posted on the official TOR forums. You can find that post here. I will try to update the story here at least two or three times a week but if you are hungry to find out more I recommend following the link above. For more information regarding the background of the Silent Council check out our website, or our series of Sith Archives.
Six thousand years before the battle of Yavin the galaxy was a very different place. Filled with the naive confidence of their growing influence, the Republic sits as a beacon in the darkness for the races of the universe to flock to. But in the black reaches beyond the Republic’s touch a new beacon is beginning to burn. The Sith Empire, forged from the blood and animosity of centuries of bloodshed is preparing to rear its head and unleash the most devastating assault the galaxy has ever known: The Great Hyperspace War draws ever nearer.
Yet this is not a tale of good versus evil or the glory of war. This tale takes place in the shadows within shadows, in the realm of conspiracy, secrecy and betrayal.
This is the tale of the Silent Council.
BATTLEMASTER
By Lightbleeder/DarthHastur
ONE
1441 BTC
5094 BBY
‘You’ve been very lively for a dead man,’ said the shadowed figure standing in the doorway of the shuttle-bay.
‘This displeases you?’ asked the baritone voice of Darth Hastur as he busied himself in the bowels of his short range fighter-transport The Reticent End. Hastur was a monster of a man, a descendant of the red-skinned inhabitants of the planet Korriban he was what the galaxy would come to know as a pureblood Sith. Eons before the Sith people had fallen to a band of Jedi exiles, but rather than accepting their fate they began to worship their new masters and were rewarded with power and position. Now centuries later the Sith Empire was ruled by them once more, poised and ready to utilise the dark knowledge their former masters had shared with them.
‘Only a little,’ smiled the figure.
The figure in question was Darth Panopticus, a twi’lek Sith Lord of some renown. A talented orator and a gifted seer, Panopticus was many things to many people, but to Darth Hastur he was perhaps the most unlikely of all; a brother. Though different blood flowed through their veins and thousands of light years divided their homeworlds, Hastur had seen in the twi’lek a familiar spirit from the moment they had met. Both of them had overcome great hardships and used those dark days of youth to empower themselves, and so it was in these shared tragedies and triumphs that Hastur found the source of his friendship.
‘You fear that I waste this opportunity,’ said Hastur though he did not turn to face his friend, instead tinkering with a myriad of cases haphazardly laid out in front of him in a parody of order. He opened one up, the sharp click of a dozen locks echoing throughout the shuttle-bay. With a delicate movement that seemed out of place with his monstrous hands he scooped an object from inside the case and held it up to the light. ‘I have been busy,’ he continued, ‘but I have also been careful. You don’t need to worry about me.’
‘I don’t,’ said Panopticus coming to a halt beside him, ‘If I was able to find out what you were up to then others surely will. I am sure there are many that will not take kindly to the knowledge that you are in fact still alive.’
‘Let the head-in-a-jar have his paranoid fantasies,’ scoffed Hastur but his companion did not share in his good humour.
‘Lord Simus is still an influential member of the Council,’ said Panopticus, ‘his fantasies have audiences.’
At that the red-skinned giant turned away from the object in his hand and smirked at Panopticus as the image of the ancient Sith Lord, kept alive as little more than a head in a tank that doubled as a life support system, surrounded by nubile slave girls entered his mind. The idiocy of such an immature thought forced him to explode with raucous laughter. The laughter was infectious and even the meticulously controlled Panopticus could do little to avoid it.
As quickly as it had come the laughter died, though the smiles of its memory remained on the faces of the two. Neither held great love for Lord Simus, or indeed any member of the Council. It was in fact their disillusionment with the practices of the Council that had lead them to this point, and would lead them yet further in the years to come.
‘You are concerned that I endanger our mission,’ said Hastur, his deep voice quickly sobered, ‘and for that reason I am sorry. I wish only for our success in the dark times that are to come, but I do not like to be kept here, it reminds me too strongly of bitter memories I had hoped to forget.’
Panopticus nodded in understanding, sitting himself down on a crudely built workbench. ‘I don’t wish to restrict your freedom, brother,’ he said, his soft tones and choice of words pleasing to Hastur’s ears, ‘but you will have to overcome your fear if you are to...’
The twi’lek did not get a chance to finish his sentence. Hastur rose to full height, his terrifying muscular bulk almost filling the small space. A lesser man would have fled, more than likely screaming for help or begging for mercy, but Panopticus did neither, nor did he flinch, instead looking at the juggernaut, for no truer word described Darth Hastur’s form, with cold dispassionate eyes.
‘I fear nothing,’ growled Hastur, ‘Do not sit and call me brother only to insult my honour. I am Sith as you are too. Fear is a weakness for which I have no patience. Do not dare to use your honeyed words on me, Panopticus!’
Though the standoff lasted only a minute, that minute seemed to stretch into hours as the two formidable beings searched each other’s faces for a reason, any reason at all, to break their bonds of friendship and ruin all that they had worked so hard to build. Then came the shame, the unutterable self-loathing at what he had even dared to consider doing. Hastur sighed deeply and sat back down amongst his boxes.
‘It is not in the nature of the Sith to apologise,’ said Panopticus warmly, ‘But for my part I spoke without consideration and I should not have done so. Of course forcing you to stay here causes you discomfort, I understand that and should have realised sooner. If you would like I can arrange something to make it easier for you.’
‘No,’ said Hastur solemnly, ‘No the fault is not solely with you. We are Sith, but we are more than Sith also. For the sake of doing what must be done I will endure this.’
Panopticus looked at his companion with a hint of admiration. The giant was the most brutal warrior he had ever encountered, and yet it was not his physical prowess that was his greatest strength but the force of his will. If pointed in the right direction Hastur had the potential to bring worlds to their knees, but if he could learn to harness his willpower the limits to what he could accomplish were too few to contemplate naming.
‘So,’ said Hastur a measure of his good humour returning, ‘I gather you came here for more than just to tell me off.’
The twi’lek nodded, and pulled a flashing datapad from beneath his cloaks. The glowing display light of the device filled the ship with a ghostly blue light as Panopticus held it out. Hastur took the datapad diligently and squinted at the tiny words. His expression changed from one of interest to one of surprise and at times one of deep amusement as he scrolled through the information that had been set before him.
‘You’ve been busy,’ he said with a note of approval, ‘If we can convince even half of these people to join our cause...’
‘One third,’ said Panopticus with a smile that seemed very out of place on his normally controlled features. ‘With just one third of the people on that list by our side we will be unstoppable.’
Hastur let the object in his hand tumble back into its case and quickly clicked the locks back in place. He turned back to his companion and stood before him offering the datapad back with one hand, while his other traced its way across his chin. Panopticus rose from his uncomfortable seat with a bit less obvious reluctance than he had hoped to portray, but in either case his audience was too deep in contemplation to notice.
‘This is really happening isn’t it?’ said Hastur, his thoughtful look replaced with one of hungry anticipation.
Darth Panopticus simply nodded, replacing the datapad within his cloak and gracefully descending from The Reticent End’s embarkation plank. Hastur paused for a moment as though allowing the gravity of the situation to sink in before following, his giant strides easily catching up with his companion’s gait.
‘There is one final thing,’ said Panopticus as they paused to let the automated doors open before them. ‘I have established myself as the voice of our organisation, but your role needs establishing also. I know we have spoken about this before but it needs to be made official. Have you come to a decision yet?’
Hastur smiled and nodded. ‘As a matter of fact I have.’
(TO BE CONTINUED...)