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Darth Vindictus watched Ridley’s titanic starship, the Dreadnaught, draw his downed Sith fighter into its cargo bay through a pulsating tractor beam. The sentient dragon promised to repair it back to its working glory, a task made more difficult by the Sith Lord’s deliberate sabotage of it upon his crash landing, believing it to be a lost cause. For that boon, and the connections that Ridley maintained in his galaxy, Darth Vindictus agreed to stay on Kraw. There existed some beast Ridley wished to possess, or dissect, or something – the Sith Lord was fuzzy on the details – and it was his job to ingratiate himself with the hunters of New Abraxas to achieve that end.
A task beneath one of his station to be sure, and apparently Ridley’s as he prepared depart the planet, but the ends justified the means. Until he knew more about this Crossroads, and until he extracted all he could from the dragon, he had to accept that the cards were not in his favour.
The Dreadnaught’s cargo bay clamped shut and slowly, heavily, it angled upwards and crawled out of the atmosphere.
Darth Vindictus spread his fingers over his mask. The Force split it in two, peeling it back into his cowl. He spat on the ground, unable to endure the bitter taste of servitude, and resealed the mask.
You won’t be sitting atop that throne forever, dragon.
The Sith Lord craned his neck upwards, staring into the boughs of the nearest tree. “Come down.”
A palm sized spider skittered down the bark, its once red eyes a molten orange. Silver veins etched through its black body. Its two front legs had curved and elongated, setting them apart from the others as sickled weapons. Darth Vindictus held out a gauntleted hand and the corrupted spider leapt onto it, crawling up his arm in a corkscrew path and settling between his shoulder blades, concealed by the cloak.
Clint Westood hadn’t noticed that the Sith Lord snatched one of the stolen eggs from their ‘competition’ and hatched it himself. He twisted its simple and brittle mind with the Force, breaking its will and forging it into a servant. For now it was only a spiderling and its use was limited. As it grew, it would become a valuable resource. However he didn’t think the populace of New Abraxas would appreciate or allow him to bring in a beast from the wilderness, so under his cloak it would hide.
He turned and strolled back into New Abraxas, ignoring the guards as they kept their keen senses trained on the wilderness. The encampment held no luxury, no decadence, only what it required to exist. Not unlike nature itself. It did, however, make things interminably boring for the Sith Lord. He already perused the assorted stalls and bazaars for their supplies and equipment, none of which Darth Vindictus needed outside of sustenance. The Force was itself an entire hunter’s arsenal.
The Menagerie amused him. The depth and breadth of evolution was vividly showcased here like nowhere else he had ever seen - truly a testament to Kraw’s unparalleled talent to innovate. It also previewed what sort of dangers he could face in the wilds. Even if he didn’t encounter any of the caged beasts directly, it gave insight into what adaptations thrived and where the weaknesses were.
Still, he could only hang around that place for so long. Thankfully, today was the day of the new hunter licence training. Once he cleared it, Darth Vindictus would have the resources he needed to begin the meat of his assignment.
Clint Westood passed by him as he walked through New Abraxas, his right arm in a sling. Instead of fear registering on his face, he scowled. Even when he knew how easily the Sith Lord could snap his bones, he would rather show indignation than deference. Was that an abundance of bravery or stupidity?
“Did you do as I asked?” Darth Vindictus said.
“Yeah, the eggs got sold,” Westood said through mumbling lips.
“I know that, I saw the coin you wired to me. Did you get me into the hunter’s licence program?”
Clint smirked. “Yeah. You better hop to it, too. Starting up right now.” He pointed behind him with his good thumb.
A line of people stood before the University of Abraxas in single file, facing another who addressed them. Darth Vindictus stared at Westood for a moment, hoping the expressionless gaze of the mask reinforced his attitude towards the mercenary, and started towards the gathering.
The group of initiates largely appeared as the Sith Lord expected hunting hopefuls to. Most were lean in muscle but well toned, suggesting both flexibility and endurance without sacrificing much strength. Most wore light, tight fitting clothing, which again made sense – ease of movement was crucial while hunting, and loose garments could easily catch on a branch or a predator’s claw.
By the Force, this was beneath him.
“Ah, I see the latest recruit had made it. I’m Instructor Gara.”
Darth Vindictus sized up the instructor. A tall, toned woman with a short red ponytail, she held her hands behind her back, her dull blue eyes almost squinting, as if she thought she was his superior. The Sith Lord took his place at the end of the line silently.
“That outfit might make it a little hard to hunt,” the instructor said, smirking. “Looks hot. That cape will just get in the way.”
Darth Vindictus folded his arms over his chest. “Get on with it, already.”
The instructor shrugged. “OK, don’t say I didn’t warn you. Just don’t blame me if your ‘stylish’ outfit ends up getting you killed.”
A few of the other initiates chuckled. The urge to maim them beat against his head, forcing him to grit his teeth to remain in control.
They’ll get their comeuppance later. Focus.
“Yes but seriously, the phrase ‘it’s a jungle out there’ doesn’t begin to describe the situation outside these wooden walls,” Gara said, gesturing to the palisades around New Abraxas. “Any disadvantage, any hindrance, even just plain bad luck can spell your deaths in the Kraw wilds. That’s why it’s imperative that if you want to work with us, if you want to live long enough to see a reward to your skills, you must be prepared in every way.”
“If you aren’t...” Gara glanced at Darth Vindictus, “you’ll join the rest of the failed hunters as mulch for the soil.”
Darth Vindictus clenched his hands. Gara picked up on it. “Uncontrolled anger is a great way to get yourself killed. A lot of greenhorns go down because of fear, but don’t fool yourself. Anger is just as good at blinding you to what your next logical move should be.”
“You speak as if the coin has only one side,” Darth Vindictus said.
“Oh? Is that right?” the instructor said with overblown surprise. “Please, tell me more.”
“Anger is like fire,” the Sith Lord explained. “Falling to its whims is dangerous, if you lose control of it. But if one is properly dominant, it is of no more concern than if it were a flame at the end of a match. To ignore the power and drive that anger grants you is limiting yourself to more avenues of strength.”
Gara smirked, raising her brow. “Not many people can play with that fire without getting burned.”
“If that’s so, they shouldn’t be training to hunt in the most perilous wilderness in the galaxy,” Darth Vindictus replied.
“All right, enough of that,” Gara said. “We’re all here, we’re all introduced – it’s time to begin the challenges.”
A task beneath one of his station to be sure, and apparently Ridley’s as he prepared depart the planet, but the ends justified the means. Until he knew more about this Crossroads, and until he extracted all he could from the dragon, he had to accept that the cards were not in his favour.
The Dreadnaught’s cargo bay clamped shut and slowly, heavily, it angled upwards and crawled out of the atmosphere.
Darth Vindictus spread his fingers over his mask. The Force split it in two, peeling it back into his cowl. He spat on the ground, unable to endure the bitter taste of servitude, and resealed the mask.
You won’t be sitting atop that throne forever, dragon.
The Sith Lord craned his neck upwards, staring into the boughs of the nearest tree. “Come down.”
A palm sized spider skittered down the bark, its once red eyes a molten orange. Silver veins etched through its black body. Its two front legs had curved and elongated, setting them apart from the others as sickled weapons. Darth Vindictus held out a gauntleted hand and the corrupted spider leapt onto it, crawling up his arm in a corkscrew path and settling between his shoulder blades, concealed by the cloak.
Clint Westood hadn’t noticed that the Sith Lord snatched one of the stolen eggs from their ‘competition’ and hatched it himself. He twisted its simple and brittle mind with the Force, breaking its will and forging it into a servant. For now it was only a spiderling and its use was limited. As it grew, it would become a valuable resource. However he didn’t think the populace of New Abraxas would appreciate or allow him to bring in a beast from the wilderness, so under his cloak it would hide.
He turned and strolled back into New Abraxas, ignoring the guards as they kept their keen senses trained on the wilderness. The encampment held no luxury, no decadence, only what it required to exist. Not unlike nature itself. It did, however, make things interminably boring for the Sith Lord. He already perused the assorted stalls and bazaars for their supplies and equipment, none of which Darth Vindictus needed outside of sustenance. The Force was itself an entire hunter’s arsenal.
The Menagerie amused him. The depth and breadth of evolution was vividly showcased here like nowhere else he had ever seen - truly a testament to Kraw’s unparalleled talent to innovate. It also previewed what sort of dangers he could face in the wilds. Even if he didn’t encounter any of the caged beasts directly, it gave insight into what adaptations thrived and where the weaknesses were.
Still, he could only hang around that place for so long. Thankfully, today was the day of the new hunter licence training. Once he cleared it, Darth Vindictus would have the resources he needed to begin the meat of his assignment.
Clint Westood passed by him as he walked through New Abraxas, his right arm in a sling. Instead of fear registering on his face, he scowled. Even when he knew how easily the Sith Lord could snap his bones, he would rather show indignation than deference. Was that an abundance of bravery or stupidity?
“Did you do as I asked?” Darth Vindictus said.
“Yeah, the eggs got sold,” Westood said through mumbling lips.
“I know that, I saw the coin you wired to me. Did you get me into the hunter’s licence program?”
Clint smirked. “Yeah. You better hop to it, too. Starting up right now.” He pointed behind him with his good thumb.
A line of people stood before the University of Abraxas in single file, facing another who addressed them. Darth Vindictus stared at Westood for a moment, hoping the expressionless gaze of the mask reinforced his attitude towards the mercenary, and started towards the gathering.
The group of initiates largely appeared as the Sith Lord expected hunting hopefuls to. Most were lean in muscle but well toned, suggesting both flexibility and endurance without sacrificing much strength. Most wore light, tight fitting clothing, which again made sense – ease of movement was crucial while hunting, and loose garments could easily catch on a branch or a predator’s claw.
By the Force, this was beneath him.
“Ah, I see the latest recruit had made it. I’m Instructor Gara.”
Darth Vindictus sized up the instructor. A tall, toned woman with a short red ponytail, she held her hands behind her back, her dull blue eyes almost squinting, as if she thought she was his superior. The Sith Lord took his place at the end of the line silently.
“That outfit might make it a little hard to hunt,” the instructor said, smirking. “Looks hot. That cape will just get in the way.”
Darth Vindictus folded his arms over his chest. “Get on with it, already.”
The instructor shrugged. “OK, don’t say I didn’t warn you. Just don’t blame me if your ‘stylish’ outfit ends up getting you killed.”
A few of the other initiates chuckled. The urge to maim them beat against his head, forcing him to grit his teeth to remain in control.
They’ll get their comeuppance later. Focus.
“Yes but seriously, the phrase ‘it’s a jungle out there’ doesn’t begin to describe the situation outside these wooden walls,” Gara said, gesturing to the palisades around New Abraxas. “Any disadvantage, any hindrance, even just plain bad luck can spell your deaths in the Kraw wilds. That’s why it’s imperative that if you want to work with us, if you want to live long enough to see a reward to your skills, you must be prepared in every way.”
“If you aren’t...” Gara glanced at Darth Vindictus, “you’ll join the rest of the failed hunters as mulch for the soil.”
Darth Vindictus clenched his hands. Gara picked up on it. “Uncontrolled anger is a great way to get yourself killed. A lot of greenhorns go down because of fear, but don’t fool yourself. Anger is just as good at blinding you to what your next logical move should be.”
“You speak as if the coin has only one side,” Darth Vindictus said.
“Oh? Is that right?” the instructor said with overblown surprise. “Please, tell me more.”
“Anger is like fire,” the Sith Lord explained. “Falling to its whims is dangerous, if you lose control of it. But if one is properly dominant, it is of no more concern than if it were a flame at the end of a match. To ignore the power and drive that anger grants you is limiting yourself to more avenues of strength.”
Gara smirked, raising her brow. “Not many people can play with that fire without getting burned.”
“If that’s so, they shouldn’t be training to hunt in the most perilous wilderness in the galaxy,” Darth Vindictus replied.
“All right, enough of that,” Gara said. “We’re all here, we’re all introduced – it’s time to begin the challenges.”