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12.19.2011 , 11:33 AM | #1
Day 1 - Korriban

Under the advisement of my late Master Tyrion, I've decided to start this stupid journal. I suppose I should have done it a long time ago, but I've been far too busy actually doing things of importance to pay much attention. Now that I've finally arrived on Korriban, I find that I have time to write after meditation.

I should probably start from the beginning. I don't particularly enjoy thinking about my childhood, but I understand that it is important to remember where I came from. I was raised primarily on Tython, but that was not how I was meant to be raised. My mother and father, both proud servants of the Empire, were Sith. My older brother, Askon, was well into his training when our family was placed on an Imperial vessel bound for Korriban. I was not very old myself, and Khali was less than a year old.

Being too young to understand the importance of our mission, I was absolutely shocked when my parents told me that we had been boarded by Jedi. Askon explained to me that we were carrying precious cargo, which in the end happened to be Jedi. They were being sent to Korriban for interrogation, and my parents were amongst those guarding them. They were bringing us, from our native home of Iridonia, to make a new home there amongst the Sith. Although we had been Sith for generations, my parents considered it a great honor to live there amongst them. They wanted us to receive the best education, and to exceed them in power.

At any rate, we were boarded. My mother, father, and brother fought bravely. Askon was hardly fifteen years old, but his hatred for the Jedi was strong enough to kill at least one. He and my mother were killed by a Twi'lek, a race that I'd never associated with anything other than slaves, and continue to look upon with distain.

My father fared better. At his feet were the bodies of three Jedi, all of them human. To this day, I believe that he must have known them. They seemed to speak a lot during the encounter.

I was not far from the conflict. I had been told earlier, by my mother, to guard my little sister. With her in my arms, I was found by the Jedi. I was too young to have grown even my largest horns, and certainly too young for my first marks. I suppose with my long hair and youngface, they must have thought I was malleable. The Jedi are truly ignorant about the way a Sith's mind works. Even at that early a stage, I was committed. The death of my parents and brother provided me with more than enough hatred fhatred for the Jedi to begin my journey toward being a true Sith.

But of course, my family was dead. And here were the Jedi, with concerned faces. They took pity on my baby sister and I, especially the one they called Rhissa. She was a Zabrak, like us, which I suppose was a small blessing.

Rhissa took us in. She, like many Jedi, made her home on Tython. Having asked the Jedi council for permission to raise two Sith foundlings, they trusted her with our education. Of course, I had no intention of becoming a Jedi. I knew my destiny, but I could not reveal the truth without the risk of being separated from my sister. I had faith that her true nature would be revealed, in time. I could not trust her with the truth, even as we grew together. With their teachings, I learned how to mask my emotions. The Jedi were masters of illusion. It was the Jedi who taught me how to lie.

It would be many years before they doubted me, and even then, I was misleading. Rhissa was a traditional Iridonian, and in my parents' place, she would perform the rites of passage. Knowing that I was gifted with strength in combat, she challenged me by giving me a different kind of test. Rhissa entrusted me with five small lizard eggs, and asked that I raise them to maturity. She did not specify the means to do this, so with this strange task, I learned to both trust and ignore my compassion.

As soon as the lizards hatched, they began attacking each other. Having read about this particular breed, I understood that it was in their nature to fight, and that typically, several hatchlings were devoured by their stronger siblings. In fact, it was generally required that a few of them die so that the others would have enough food necessary for survival.

I noticed that one of the babies looked ill-formed. It's spine was crooked, and it seemed to have a hard time moving. When it's siblings descended on their unfortunate brother, I watched. I did not interfere. Soon, they ate him, and I was able to feed the rest pureed rat meat. I had 4 healthy lizards, at the sacrifice of one. I took no pleasure in seeing the smallest one die, but neither was I shaken. However, I knew better than to say such things to Rhissa. I knew what she was looking for, so, after feeding the remaining lizards, I proceeded to give the remains of their sibling a proper burial.

Rhissa was impressed. After a few weeks, I managed to raise the lizards to a mature enough stage that they could survive in the wild. One was dead, but it was necessary for the survival of its brethren. Rhissa could see that I understood the need for sacrifice, and how to care for someone other than myself. I earned my tattoos.

Often, tattoos are chosen by one's parents. Mine, I chose myself. Rhissa did not seem surprised when I told her that the symbols I desired stood for strength, endurance, and protection. Of course, poor Rhissa had no idea why I truly chose these symbols, or how they would shape my destiny.