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(Sith Inquisitor) End Game

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rayneneverwind
08.28.2013 , 01:44 PM | #1
Preface:

I fell in love with my male Sith Inquisitor Vasilii from the moment I made him, and the SI story only deepened the love for this character. If you ever see him in game, he's a scrawny, 5'8, maybe 110 pounds soaking wet, black haired, grey eyed, pale skinned human who runs around on a red throne and dressed in the Eradicator's warsuit, with the legacy grey Inquisitor's mask. So to me, the storyline around a slave who became a Sith, who became a lord, who toppled barriers of discrimination and rose to the top really resonated in me as a fantastic underdog story, and even more so since Vasilii is lightside. But throughout the story, as I continued to sympathize with Vasilii as he struggled through Thanaton's traps and barriers, felt as if there were some things in the story that were just unfair. Mainly the romance with Ashara Zavros.

My family legacy tree in-game is a fairly hilarious sight to behold, with all 16 characters interconnected in ways that are just too messy to explain. So I decided to make my own twist to Vasilii's backstory and then exactly what happened with the unsatisfied Ashara Zavros and the rest of his companions after the events of Chapter 3 and Makeb.

Warning:

If you have not played a Sith Inquisitor past Chapter 2, there are some pretty obvious spoilers to the story.

As always, copyright to the main SI storyline, the game, and everything to Bioware; the only thing I claim MINE to is the name of the protagonist, some of the characters later on, and the main story.

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rayneneverwind
08.28.2013 , 01:46 PM | #2
End Game
Chapter 1


The sound of the ship’s airlock clicking behind him allowed Vasilii to start breathing easier. Immediately he began to claw at the robes he wore, unable to peel them off fast enough. Andronikus, his ship’s captain and his friend, eyed him with a bemused smirk as the pirate leaned against the ship wall. “Gundark in your robes, Sith?”
“More like the overpowering stench of over-inflated egos,” Vasilii said, yanking off the ridiculous looking high cone attached to his mask. “Excuse me, I’m going to become human again.”
Andronikus laughed and nodded, lurching to a stand and moving towards the bridge. Vasilii grunted as he placed the cone underneath the crook of his arm, walking to his quarters. Ever since being promoted to the late Darth Thanaton’s seat on the Council, he couldn’t believe how suffocated he felt by all the rules and traditions he had to upkeep.
You must wear these particular robes pertaining to your inquisitor or warrior status so the Emperor knows on sight.
You can never be late to a meeting.
You must attend every caucus the Council creates.
You may speak your mind, but never interrupt another Council member.
The Emperor’s will is law and you will enforce it.

It was dizzying. He’d long realized he had a problem with rules. On the one hand, he was told that Sith answered to no one – aside from the Emperor – and followed no rules, yet on the other, he had been drenched in the ever ambiguous politics of Sith culture and tradition since being discovered as a Force sensitive.
He entered his quarters, waiting for the hissing sound of the doors sliding shut behind him before tossing the cone onto his bed. The silver and round expressionless mask was next, torn off his face and dumped unceremoniously next to the headdress. Finally he could breathe again. He moved to the bed, turned to face the wall, and fell backwards, collapsing onto the soft linens TooVee had laid out for him. Maybe now he could rest as they flew back to Dromund Kaas. A couple of hours away from bickering, power-hungry Sith with nothing better to do than yap at each other’s tails.
Some days, he missed having his life constantly threatened and having to do something about it.
His comlink beeped, forcing him to rise and pay attention to his surroundings. “What is it, Andronikus?”
You’ve got a holocall, Sith. Sounds like your two favorite people.”
He frowned. “Aside from my crew, I don’t have favorite people.”
I know. And aren’t you getting all sentimental on us?”
“Shut it. I’m coming, put them on hold.” He turned off the com and grunted once, lurching to a stand. His mask was once more replaced on his head, followed by the ridiculous headdress. It wasn’t appropriate for a Dark Council member to be seen in different robes. “I swear,” he grumbled to himself as he walked out of his room. “This headdress gives me a bloody headache and it was designed for that very purpose.”
He approached the holocom and pressed a few buttons, taking the two waiting members off hold. Two Sith appeared before him. The huge Darth on the left was dressed in warrior’s robes of red and silver cybernetics; armor fit for battle against the Jedi and other heavy hitting enemies. He remained often on the frontline and his armor needed to withstand heavy fire. The other was not as tall or strong and was dressed much differently. His robes allowed freer movement and were often seen on inquisitors. From the way he was dressed, it seemed as if he was a healer.
He bowed low before them, an open palm rising to his chest. “Darth Schenker, Darth Darroc. What an unexpected surprise.”
The two Darths returned the greeting. “Darth Imperius,” Darth Schenker said, smiling widely. “Good to see you as well. Still feels strange calling you a Darth.”
He grinned behind his mask. “Certainly unexpected, wasn’t it?”
Darth Darroc, the Sith on the right, folded his arms behind his back. “Always a pleasure, Darth. Do tell me, how does Darth Angral fare?”
“Steadily declining. You should be on the Dark Council in no less than a month by now.”
The smile that appeared on the other inquisitor’s face was toothy, bright against the darkness of his hood. “Most excellent. It’s about time that old corpse just laid down and died already.”
Vasilii shrugged before speaking again. “So, is there a reason for this call? Did I forget someone’s birthday again? I seem to do that an awful lot.”
Darth Schenker laughed. “I don’t know how you manage to keep a sense of humor, old friend, but it never fails to delight.”
Darth Darroc, however, frowned. “Even so, this is no time for jokes. We have a serious situation that needs immediate attention.”
“Well do get on with it, then, if it’s that drastic.” Vasilii crossed his arms over his chest, shifting his weight to his right foot.
“I’m sure you’re aware of Darth Malgus,” Darth Darroc said, showing no hesitation once allowed to speak. “We have just received word that he fancies himself an emperor and plans on using aliens and other hideous things to destroy Dromund Kaas and the Emperor.”
“It’s a sad twist,” said Darth Schenker. “But I had a feeling something like this was going to happen eventually.” He shrugged once. “When I first met him, I had the strangest disturbances in the Force, but I ignored it, thinking it was just the sheer amount of power he had.”
“You’re not the only one, Schenker,” Vasilii said. “I remember having the exact same unease around him.” He turned to look at Darth Darroc. “So what exactly are you asking of me?”
“We’re putting together a strike team with General Hesker to infiltrate the betrayer’s compound and destroy him.” Darroc straightened on the holo, reaching off to the side for an object Vasilii couldn’t see.
Schenker sighed, shaking his head. “Imperius, would you like to join us? Darth Can’t-Get-A-Hint’s useful only for so much, and considering he went the soft route in the healing arts, we need some people who can teach this false emperor we mean business.”
Darroc snorted as he took full position on the holo again, placing an elaborate mask of gold and black on his face. “Without me, you probably wouldn’t be coming back with your life, let alone all your limbs.”
“Without you, we might be able to sneak in around places without barreling into destroyer droids every ten seconds.”
“That was one time!”
“One time too many!”
“Who keeps your sorry person alive, Schenker,” Darroc said, crossing his arms over his chest. “when we run through the war zones, destroying the pubs and traitorous defectors alike?”
“Barely, I might add.” Schenker spat. “I remember more times I was closer to death before you finally paid attention and got around to giving us some care. Healing is a pathetic waste of time.”
“A waste of time that keeps people alive.”
Vasilii groaned softly, thankful for the mask that kept the sound hidden. “Darths, Darths,” he said, placing his hands in front of him with his palms facing the bickering Siths. “You’re both very good at what you do. Can we move on?” He could almost swear the holoterminal flickered as both Darths turned their attention back onto him.
“Yes,” they said in unison.
“Glad we could find something to agree on,” he said under his breath. He crossed his hands behind his back again and began to pace slightly in front of the terminal. “As much as I’d like to have a bit of fun, I unfortunately have some Council matters to attend to, so I won’t be able to join.”
“Really, Imperius?” Darth Schenker shook his head. “Can’t take a break for a couple of days to campaign with us again?”
Darth Darroc snorted once. “Leave him alone. Obviously he’s far too important for us now.”
Vasilii frowned, pausing in his steps. “Watch your tone. Your jealousy does not allow you to insult a member of the Dark Council.” He forced his voice to lower, watching the blue holographic Darroc suddenly begin to fidget.
“My apologies, my lord.” Darroc bowed low at the waist, his left hand pressing against his chest.
“See to it that it doesn’t happen again. You’re not on the Dark Council yet.”
“Yes, my lord.”
A silence started to fester between the three. After a couple of moments, Vasilii grunted and crossed his hands over his chest. “While I can’t go with you, I know of some others that might be able to fill your strike team.”
Schenker straightened, a look of relief barely noticeable on his face. “Most excellent, my lord.”
“There’s a former Intelligence agent who still refers to himself as Cipher Nine. Male Chiss. Very skilled with a blaster rifle.”
“I shall send a summons to him immediately.”
“Also, a pair of Mandalorians hunters, one Chiss, one Zabrak. Icepik and Flamelik.”
Darroc started. “Apologies, what were their names again?”
“Don’t look at me,” Vasilii said. “You can contact the Enclave and offer them payment in return for joining.”
“As you wish, my lord.”
“If that doesn’t fill your team, then contact me immediately.”
Schenker and Darroc both bowed. “Thank you for your time, Darth Imperius,” Darroc said.
“May your enemies fall before you.” Schenker lowered his head once before the hologram dissipated.
Darroc shuffled on the hologram for a couple of moments.
Vasilii exhaled loudly. “You’re excused.”
“Thank you, my lord.” Darroc bowed once again before he too disappeared.
Finally, the terminal was once again silent. Vasilii groaned, leaning against it and closing his eyes while his head fell backwards.
“Don’t mean to interrupt, Sith.” Andronikus’s voice cut through the silence.
He didn’t move. “Yes you did.”
Andronikus laughed. “Always do. Anyway, what’s this business the Council’s got you chasing after again? You never said anything about it.”
He allowed another silence to fill the ship, standing straight after a couple of moments and walking towards his quarters. With his back to his captain, he placed his hand on the door’s panel and began to shut the door. Finally, he said, “I lied. Shoot me.”
The sound of Andronikus’s hearty guffaw bounced off the hissing door as it closed shut.

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rayneneverwind
08.28.2013 , 01:54 PM | #3
He jolted to a sit at the pound on his door, grabbing his lightsaber from his belt, igniting it and pointing to the intruder. The door opened to reveal Andronikus leaning against the frame, arms crossed over his chest.
“And here I thought you loved me,” the pirate said.
“Don’t startle me like that.” Vasilii let the black-cored red blade hum for a few moments before collapsing the weapon. “Sneaking up on people can get you killed here.”
“Don’t think I don’t know that. In case you haven’t noticed, I kinda work with a Sith.” Andronikus snorted once. “Not exactly prime pranking material in the first place. But since when do you fall asleep during the day?”
A silence grew between the two of them before he spoke again. “I wasn’t asleep.”
“Right, and I’m Queen of Naboo. Look, there ain’t anything wrong with taking a nap.”
“I wasn’t asleep.”
“What, is sleeping a crime in the Sith? I just said there’s nothing wrong with it.”
“I don’t sleep during the day!”
“Geez, Sith.” Andronikus eyed him down. “Have a bad dream or something?”
“I was reading, thank you.”
“Uh, no you weren’t. I checked on you twice when there wasn’t a damn sound coming from your room.”
“You what?”
The pirate shifted against the door frame. “I know, I know, you like your privacy. But when there isn’t even so much as a belch from you behind your door, I tend to start wondering, y’know? With you being on the Council, who knows who could’ve slipped you poison or Force… whoodoovoodoo’d you something? Besides, you look like death right now.”
Vasilii stared at the man in his doorway. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you actually cared about something.”
“You’re getting soft in the head.”
“As I suspected. And I don’t look like death.”
“Think you should take a look in a mirror, pal.”
He snorted as he swung his legs around, standing up beside the bed. One step forward toward the wall and he reached up, activating one of the panels. The metal covering slid backwards, revealing a large mirror. He was quiet for a couple of moments, staring at the face before him. There were dark circles underneath the eyes that rivaled their grey color, which, coupled with the black hair, made the already pale skin even whiter. He lifted a hand to his face, feeling the thinness of his cheek as his fingertips traced his hairless jawline.
“You’re exhausted. Even I can tell, and I hate starin’ at your face.”
“It hasn’t exactly been the easiest couple of years.”
“That’s the understatement of the century. How many times has someone tried to kill you?”
“Three or four?”
“That’s just in the past couple of months too,” Andronikus said. “And then this whole Council business. What the hell goes on in those meetings anyway?”
“Oh, you know,” Vasilii closed the mirror’s panel, obstructing his face from view again. “How to deal with the Republic on certain planets, which species to start a mass genocide on, what to have for lunch, the usual.”
“The usual, huh?”
“The usual.”
“When was the last time you took a vacation from all this Sithy business?”
He paused, staring down at the crumpled blankets on the bed. “I. . . I don’t think I’ve ever stopped. Not since I became an acolyte.”
The pirate sighed. “That’s your problem. It’s nothing but work, work, work, work, work with you Sith. You ever been with a lady?”
“That’s absolutely none of your concern.”
“Didn’t think so. You’re missin’ out.”
“Andronikus.”
“That doesn’t work with me. Anyway,” the pirate straightened in the door. “I remember why I was coming to talk to you. Forgot to say, we’ve landed in Kaas City and you have a welcoming committee waiting for you. Just thought you should know.”
“What?”
“Yeah, they’ve been waiting a while. Maybe you should get moving.”
“Damn it, Andronikus!” Vasilii scrambled for his mask and headdress. “Why didn’t you tell me sooner?”
“You were preening yourself in the mirror. Didn’t want to interrupt.”
He threw the pirate a glare before fastening his mask across his face, listening to Andronikus laughing as the pirate walked back toward the bridge.
Making sure not a single thread was out of place, Vasilii straightened his spine, threw his shoulders back, and walked to the airlock. It stood closed for a couple of moments, but soon a hissing noise interrupted the silence. He crossed his arms behind his back, clasping his hands together, as the airlock door slowly revealed his welcome party.
Seven figures greeted him, standing in a pyramid formation just a couple of steps from the disembark ramp. Six of the figures were dressed in red robes, large helms covering their faces with Romanesque crests on top of the crowns. Stiff blade-shaped shoulder pads connected to even stiffer collars while gloved hands griped a weapon unique to each figure. Two had lightsaber hilts at their sides, two carried saber staffs, and the last two held black blaster rifles. At their head, a single man stood with his hands behind his back. He too wore a masked helm underneath the robe’s hood, but it was silver-white and had the features of a stone visage, very similar to the mask Vasilii himself had received upon his promotion to the Council. His robes were teal, white, and black, with large double-bladed shoulder pads denoting his rank. A single lightsaber at his left belt loop hung almost forgotten and completely unnecessary.
He felt a smile pull at the corners of his mouth, thankful it remained hidden. “Darth Eskol, the Dark Inquisitor. What a pleasant surprise.” He started walking down the ramp, hands still behind his back. “I apologize for the delay. There were some matters I needed to attend to after landing.”
“Darth Imperius,” Eskol said, his hands falling to his sides as he gave a small rigid bow. The guards followed suite. “Don’t dwell on it. You’re a busy man.”
He’d never been able to fully pick out Eskol’s accent. It hinted at Imperialism, but with a stranger tilt to the words. It was foreign to his ears, the normally smooth common brogue peppered with this subtle change. When spoken from behind the mask, it made the accent even harder to distinguish.
“How can I help you, Dark Inquisitor?”
Not even the jaw of Eskol’s mask moved. “My lord, I have the results of the interrogation you ordered.”
Vasilii stopped, feeling the tips of his fingers grow numb. “I hope the results are pleasing?” he said after a moment of silence.
“I’m afraid not, my lord.”
“Ah. That’s . . . that’s disappointing.”
“If you’re not under pressing business,” Eskol moved his hands back behind him. “I request an audience to discuss the details and go over the results, my lord.”
He nodded twice. “Of course, of course. I’m not due to my chambers until later this evening.” To the guards behind Eskol, he waved one hand in a lazy dismissive motion. “You may leave.”
“Are you sure, my lord?” said a guard toward the back of the formation, fidgeting with his rifle.
Vasilii was quiet for a moment before he exhaled a very loud breath. “I’m a member of the Dark Council.” He turned his attention to the now squirming guard. “I’m also in the company of the Grand Inquisitor. Do you really believe I’m not capable of protecting myself in my own city?”
“A-apologies, my lord,” the guard said, bowing deeply. “Move out!” The guards bowed once more before turning on their heels and marching out the hanger, their booted steps beating in perfect time.

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Syart
08.31.2013 , 01:42 AM | #4
This is getting interesting *waits for the next instalment*
Control, passion, diligence: these three principles shape your world.

Lord Scourge: To repeat a mistake and expect a beneficial outcome is a sign of insanity.

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jenaskani
06.27.2014 , 11:56 PM | #5
*waiting for chapter two*

\o/