Zalea Raji - Phren

The togruta’s consular lands in the horuset system. She taps on a few panels, doing a quick scan. It was a bastion of the empire. A large fleet of ships, a massive garrison, and fighters spread throughout the system. Thankfully, her ship pinged as unaligned, and she was a good enough pilot to avoid too much notice. She settled into the pilots seat, and started to make her way towards the ruddy-orange nightmare that was Korriban

As she entered the orbit of the planet, she pulled out a map, marked with a specific location. She skiffed through the atmosphere, staying low, to avoid detection. Outside of the sites of Empire interest, the planet was a hollow, wasted shell, with more dead men walking around that living ones. She was not noticed, besides by the few wildlife that looked up at just the right time.

She found the right spot, and circled it for a moment. She landed on a flat bit of sand, surrounded by cliffs. She totally locked down her ship, as she headed for the ramp down. That horrible, crushing corruption of Korriban was felt even in space, but now, on the surface, to somebody as sensitive as Zalea, it was like the planet was on fire. Waves of dark, from the massive, corrupted force nexus, attempting to push the worst possible version of Zalea to the surface with every breath. The Togruta gritted her teeth, and started to work the forge on herself, hammering out all of that corruption seeping into her. She dropped down onto the sand, her bare feet digging into the grit. She closes her ship, locking the door with a beep from her wristcomp.

There it was, in the distance. A small doorway, cut into the sheer cliff. Zalea had been searching for something like this for a while, and she had eventually found a good source, that she could cross reference with information she had gathered from her time with the Jedi, and her own exploration of the planet. An untouched little tomb, of some small time, long forgotten sith. She threw up her tutaminis to protect against the crushing heat, and made her way across the desert.

The entrance to the crypt was open, with nothing at all blocking it. A bad sign. The togruta produces her saberstaff, and idly turns up the power settings to max. She enters the tomb, and starts to climb down a long, long, long stairwell, leading down, into the cliffside.

There was a landing, in front of her. And bones. The floor was thick with corpses. Some mummified, some fresh, dead within the last few months. Dead animals as well. And not one had any markings from scavengers. They died, and fell, and were left alone. The Togruta pauses, staring, flicking her lightsaber on. The green staff, blades massively overcharged, hissed the life, illuminating the dark stairwell in glowing green light.

The Togruta paused for a moment. Her senses reached out. Nothing was alive in the crypts. Just dead men. The dark presence was seeping into her body. Zalea was fending it off, but this much advanced use of such a technique would wear on any force user. She narrowed her eyes. Considering what she thought she would find down here, she was pretty sure what had killed these creatures. She threw up a layer mixture of defenses. A mind barrier, a check on her thought process, in case anything slipped by, and the activation of skilled battlemind. Her morale sored, emotions filled her, as her body was pushed to its utter limits, and, suddenly, the strain from using all of these techniques faded from mind, replaced with steely, driven determination.

She stepped down onto the landing, and her suspicions were proven true. Something very suddenly became aware of her, and a psychic assault followed almost instantly. It was massive, and all-consuming.Attempting to seize control of her body, and force Zalea to put her lightsaber through her own chest. The Togruta was a powerful telepath in her own right, and managed to resist, although the psychic hammering was immensely taxing. The togruta continued down, deeper in the tunnels.

More corpses littered the ground. Knee-deep at some points. People with strong enough wills to shrug off the attacks for a time, but not enough skill to keep themselves from falling. As she left the stairwell, and set out onto the landing.

A large room, with a single door. The last few corpses could be seen clawing at the door. They died standing, no wounds on them. The Togruta moved across the room. She ignored various untouched pots, and chests. None of them held what she was looking for.

The psychic presence was getting angry. And, as it got angry, it got more powerful, hammering her mental walls. They held, for now.

The stone door was sealed shut. A few slashes of her lightsaber fixed that issue. She pushed the door-parts aside with the force, and entered through the hole.

Another room, almost exactly like the first. This time, the only corpses that where there sat, lining the walls, prostrated towards the center of the room. In the center of the room sat her prize, and the creature guarding it.

A simple stone coffin. And, above it, a wispy specter of darkness, with glowing red eyes. It stared at the togruta, projecting more hate that should have been possible for a single being, at the graverobber. Zalea flashed the entity a smile

The Togruta moved across the room, towards the coffin. The ghost continued to fail to break her mental walls down. As she arrived at the coffin, it reached out towards her. Zalea’s lightsaber flashed out… and passed right through the creature. Its talons went right through the Togruta. There was a hiss of pure rage. Then, the attack stopped.

Voices started to echo inside Zalea’s head. Promises of power. Of teaching her all the ghost knew. It realized that she was a strong telepath, and saw a chance to carry on its legacy. Zalea pauses, staring at the ghost, her own eyes narrowing. The creature still radiating endless wrath, but also something else now. Desire, want. A chance to influence the world again. Something long denied the ghost.

Zalea suddenly lashes out. A Telepathic blow strikes the ghost. It lets out a noiseless shriek, as is moved back. The togruta follows, throwing out attack, after attack. Slowly, the entity is beaten down, until it’s nothing but a small pile of darkness in the corner of the room. Too weak to move, to think. To experience anything besides the fear, and pure hopelessness Zalea has forced through its very essence. The Togruta pushes the lid of the coffin. A long dead corpse, mostly dust. And, a single sith holocron. She takes her prize, and leaves the ghost to its fate.

As her ship takes to the sky, she fires off a salvo of rockets at the entrance to the tomb, burning it under tonnes of shattered stone. Zalea scowls at the holocron, as she reaches the hyperspace route out of the system. She plots a course back for Viscara, and opens up the holocron, exploring what information she had just recovered.

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Zalea glared at the holocron. This wasn’t going to be pleasant. But her desire for the knowledge inside the holocron was overriding her common sense. She reached forward, and activated the holocron.

It split open, and a hologram of an old male Zabrak appeared, kneeling, seeming in meditation. He opened his eyes, and stared at the Togruta. Zalea gave him a scowl.

“What do we have here? A tomb robber… no, a Jedi. What do you want Jedi? Looking to destroy this holocron?”

Zalea didn’t respond

“No. No, you want knowledge. You want training. Fallen little Jedi are you then? Coming to the Sith. Perhaps turning into a sith.”

“No. Not turning into a sith. I want the information in this holocron.”

“Not turning into a sith? Then why are you looking for Sith holocrons?”

“Because you have information that I want.”

“And what information is that?”

“Telepathy. I believe you have knowledge about certain dark side telepathic techniques.”

“I do, yes. But, why should I share it with you?”

“Because I’ll use it.”

“And that would convince me to tell you why?”

“Because the idea of tempting a Jedi to fall to the dark side gets you off immensely.”

The hologram chuckles

“No. It doesn’t. Fall, dont fall. I dont care. I dont believe you have anything to offer me.”

“Ask then.”

Its chuckle turns into a full laugh.

“Use it for fun. Delete the memories of a loved one because you enjoy it. Break somebody’s mind with a probe because you enjoy the power. Force somebody to suffer through their most painful memories because you enjoy the suffering.”

“And why do you think I would enjoy any of that?” Zalea asks, giving the hologram a blank gaze

“I know the type. I know what they look like. You like having power over others.”

“No. Not really.”

The Zabrak stares at the Toruta for a moment.

“No… You like hurting people. Power is just a route to get there. Dont you? That rush. That joy when you see the blood flow, when you see the look on their face. Tell me, have you ever stared into somebody’s eyes as their light leaves them?”

Now it’s Zalea’s turn to stare for a moment.*

“Yes.”

“And how did you feel, hm? Sadness? Anger?”

“Cold pleasure. It felt nice.”

“Who was it?”

“Does it matter?”

“Of course it does.”

“My mother.”

“Oh my,” the hologram says, “Well, that’s rather dramatic. And you enjoyed it?”

“I did.”

“Why?”

“She was trying to force me to stop doing something.”

“Trying to chain you down? And you fought back.”

“Yes.”

“Are you proud of that moment?”

“No.”

“You’re going to be… You’re going to be. Let us begin.”

Zalea sat in her training area, on the Adjudicator, eyes closed, attempting to meditate. She was in the void between systems, floating. The gentle hums of her engines was a small comfort, but her head was racing.

She was well trained. She knew not to let, and could stop, her emotions from controlling her, and influencing her. But here, now, cut off from the rest of the galaxy, their screaming at the back of her became to loud. Her meditation was little more than sitting cross legend and stewing in her own emotions.

I once asked a sith what meditation was like for them. They told me it was like this.

The Togruta stands, and gives a sigh. She moves over to her kitchen, and pops the fridge and freezer open

Stocked to the brim with food, and nothing looked good. I’m hungry. I’m always hungry. But nothing looks good.

Althea could feel the turmoil across the connection. She was worried, and attempting to offer comfort. A warm hug, and shoulder to cry on. It was helping. But not enough. Zalea slams the fridge closed, and moves back to her practice space.

She attempted to lift one of the many large rocks around the area. Nothing happened. Then, a flood of negative emotions. Hate, wounded pride, ego. The rock lifted up, and exploded. Zalea recoiled from the emotions, slamming up the thickest mental barrier she would. Pure, true and utter hopelessness.

Emotion, yet peace

There was no peace in her emotions. Not now. Not ever. She had loved. And that mattered more to her than most of the rest of her world combined. But outside of love? Negative emotions. Was her love even love? Was it desire. A want. She did not know anymore. Her emotions provided her no respite. But she refused to simply destroy them. She would not become that way again.

Ignorance, yet knowledge

She had knowledge. She knew things she would never teach to another person. And they were what she was best at. Her mind, and skillset drew her towards violence, towards violation, towards the negative. She had set out to be a wise master of the force, but every step she had taken was towards being a master of killing sith. She had withdrawn from her desire from diplomacy. From her pursuit of philosophy. Knowledge, and the desire for it, had ruined her.

Passion, yet serenity

She had passion. But clearly no serenity. She had no peace within her own head, with her own emotions. She never had. All she ever had was self control, and repression. She would never be like Jerr. She was stuck, a circle of negative emotions, and crushing them, over and over.

Chaos, yet harmony.

She had no chaos, and no harmony. Her mind was calculating. It always had been. A long series of plots and plans, aiming towards a specific goal. And there was always internal conflict. Always doubt of the self, always self hate, always anger at those she thought wronged her. Thats what her brain wanted to do right now, and what she was denying.

Death, yet the force.

Yes. Death, yet the force. Let them die, and return to the force. They deserve it anyway, and its the best result.

Zalea stares at the exploded bits of rock, and goes back to sit down.

Is this what falling to the dark side felt like? After all this time, all this effort people had put into her, all the caring, and love, and attention. Her teachers, her lover, her friends. All building her up, helping her grow. And now this. What had it all been for, if the result was this. Would Sandra’s heart break yet again for having to kill a student? Althea another partner?

Zalea eyes open. There were tears streaming down her face.

Sandra will not live to see me fall to darkness. Althea will not have to kill another woman she loves, to protect another. Then what was her fate? She was too weak to resist this. She had been fighting a losing battle against this part of herself since Sandra took her as a student. She always had an authority figure standing behind her, one comforting hand on her shoulder, and the other preparing to take her head off if she stepped out of line. That was gone. And she was to weak to continue what had been forced on her.

Her training was not devoid of meaning. The effort put into her not a waste. She would walk down her path, on her own terms. Not controlled by any force but her own will. Not turning into a monster, no matter who she became.

Zalea settled down to meditate, her thoughts slowly clearing.

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Zalea was sitting at the bar at the Dancing Racor, One of the seedier bars in one of the nicer locations on Nar Shadda, if such a thing existed. She sipped her drink. He was well over 20 in, but the force sensitive’s toxin purging was keeping her head clear. She just enjoyed the sickly sweet, chemical tasting fruitiness.

Goons of the local hutts lounged around, playing Pazaak, talking, doing spice, and drinking. It was peaceful enough. They were here to have fun, not risk getting stabbed over their ego’s, and nobody wanted to attack the minions of the owner of this side of town.

She had often looked up, and said ‘I wanna live there,’ at this part of the planet. There was still a sort of brutal charm to it. The same part of her that liked the struggle of living on Shili. The danger, the hunting.

That being said, any fighting for survival you did here was far less worth the effort. Grimey struggling in back alleys over knives and blasters lacked the charm of hunting big monsters. And a successful hunt on Shili got you dinner. Here it just got you trouble.The Toguta looks around, sipping her drink.

She had warned Vosca about doing exactly what she came here planning to do. It was a bad idea. But was it? She wasn’t a navy soldier, a jedi, And this was just as much her home as Viscara. Was it a bad idea, or was it ‘wrong.’ Morally. What was morality really worth, when people got hurt over it? Amorality had a cost. But often, so did morality. Being able to swap between the two was often the best solution. Sometimes mercy could save a life. Sometimes cruelty could save two.

One of the hutt goons stood, and walked into the refresher. Zalea’s montreal picked it up. Her last chance. To reconsider, or decide it was a good idea.

She was a serial killer the Togruta had worked with, many, many years ago. When Zalea last knew her, she was a bounty hunter. The old Togruta worked as a scout. Found out later that most of the people she was scouting had nothing to do with business, and died for pleasure.

What was this really? Trying to soothe a guilty conscience. No. She didn’t feel guilty about anything she did in this place, when she was younger. Punishment for the crimes? If people were being punished for decades old crimes, the Togruta should probably be turning herself into the republic authorities. Doing the right thing?

The right thing isn’t following somebody into a refresher, and killing them. This isn’t revenge either. There was no justice, no righteous fury.

She is going to die because I want to. Any other answer is a copout.

Zalea pauses. And sighs. She orders another drink, and starts to drink. She would feel nothing over killing sith. Over killing imperial troopers. She wouldn’t feel anything about killing her either.

But still. People here were twisted by the environment. By poverty, brutality, cruelty. This place made monsters. She killed for fun. Exact same result as killing over spice, or drinks,or robbery,or dumb, blind luck.

The Bothan left the refresher, and walked right next to Zalea.

“Z, is that you?”

The Togruta glances over. Her head, montral and lekku where totally covered in light scarring, but not enough to change her appearance too much.

“Yeah, it is.”

Zalea started to scan her mind. More emotions than she was expecting. She was actually happy to see the Togruta. Interesting.

“How are you doing! I’ve not seen you in. Oh, it must be-”

“21 years, roughly.”

“Been counting the days?”

“You left an impression.”

This got a slight flinch from the Bothan

“Yes. I imagine I did. You didn’t know me while I was in the best state of mind.”

“I seem to remember you promising to kill me the last time we spoke. I gotta worry about you pulling out the blaster on your hip?”

“No. No, I’m a different person than I was back then. You’re safe from me.”

She was telling the truth.

“Good.”

The Bothan glanced around.

“What are you doing here? You still working with the exchange?”

“No. Exchange left me to rot in the Taris undercity.”

“So why are you here?”

“Looking for you, actually.”

“You are?”

“Hmhm. Almost followed you into the refresher and snapped your neck.”

The Bothan flinches again, her gazing suddenly swapping from talking to a friend into analyzing a threat. I was short, but pure muscle, with one and a half robotic limbs. I looked like the type of person who snaps necks. She glanced back at the other hutt goons.

“Why didn’t you?”

“I’m having second thoughts. Still trying to make up my mind.”

She looks back to me, and then to the bartender. She ordered a drink for herself, and another one of whatever neo green nightmare I was drinking for me.

“Well. I’m glad that you didn’t. And I would much prefer if you made up your mind to just have a drink and talk with me the rest of the night.”

I glanced over my shoulder at the others.

“Works for me.”

“Alright. Good. Great.” She nodded, looking around awkwardly.

“You breaking thumbs for the hutts?.”

“Yup. Best job I’ve ever had. Pay is good. More stable than bounty hunting. And people dont fight back very often. What about you?”

“Well. I was a Jedi Knight. I left so I could be with the love of my life. I’m currently trying to track down a magic item, while fighting sorcerers, taking breaks when there are Sith around that need killing.”

“If you were going to lie, you could have told a better joke.”

“I’m pretty deep in the cups. Not on my A game.”

“Ah. That’s fair. You’ve been drinking pretty heavily.”

“Been watching me?”

“A bit, yeah. Trying to figure out if I should come over.”

“What made you do it?”

“Got over my anxiety. Wanted to at least apologize.”

“Why?”

“Why would I want to apologize? I threatened to kill you.”

“You also feeding bodies to a wampa.”

“Yeah. I can’t exactly apologize to them. Got to focus on the small things I can actually fix.”

“Hm. Fair enough.”

She fell into an awkward silence.

“Well. It was good speaking to you. Going to go play some pazaak.”

“Good luck,” I said, sipping on my drink.

She headed back to her friends. They played a few more rounds of pazaak. Some light arguing.

The price of violent immorality from somebody whose goal is the protection or aid of others will, at the very least, be taken out of the future, and present of the victim of said immorality. The old Togrutas life was defined by redemption. Both from the dark side, and for more mundane horrors. The way she had recovered control of her life, and self. Her friendship with Skyva. Her struggles, and eventually friendship with Aiven, and Kathea and others. Many good people in her life would have died bad people, had somebody with her current mindset been given the chance.

Zalea looks over her shoulder at the others in the bar.

That train of thought is an endless hole that leads to death. Even the most pacifist Jedi Knight would not hesitate to kill a foe, if they endangered others. The train of thought ‘what might they become, who might they grow into, what great feats might they accomplish’ would lead to the Togruta being paralyzed. Her philosophy for sith, and others like them, was the philosophy of Juyo. That could not coexist with a pressing desire to see everybody be redeemed.

What about Skyva? She had been a monster. Zalea knew some of the things she had done. The stance her mind was trying to tell her to take utterly conflicted with her relationship with the ex-sith lord.

One of the gangsters gets up, and heads for the door. It doesn’t open. He tugs on it a few times, then looks at the bartender. The bartender mutters under his breath, as he moves out from behind the counter, heading for the door.

The Bothan suddenly coughs, and clutches her throat. She stands up, and stumbles, falling to her knees. A couple of the other gangsters move to her, trying to figure out what was wrong.

The room suddenly erupted into chaos. Accusations. Somebody has clearly sabotaged the door, and poisoned the bothan, and you cheated at Pazaak, you’re clearly sleeping with my wife. Blasters were drawn, and people started shooting. The fighting was violent, and quick. Zalea sips her drink.

Within 20 seconds, there were only two people left. The bothan who had finally managed to suck in oxygen, and a single hutt gangster, looking confused. Zalea turns, and holds out a hand.

The gangster freezes. His eyes freeze, flicking around. Suddenly, he reaches for a blaster on the ground, and starts to move it under his jaw. He breathed quickly, his eyes moving in a panic, his hands shaking as he fought against the mental domination. He was drunk, and hutt gangsters are not known for iron-strong wills. Zalea remained impassive as he forced the man to end his own life.

She stands, and moves over to the bothan. She pulled herself up, looking around in utter confusion. The Togruta reaches down, and snaps her neck. She drops to the ground dead.

The Togruta moves back to the bar, and sits down to finish her drink. She heads to the door. It opens, and she heads out into the dark Nar Shadda streets.

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The Vanguard entered into Tatooines atmosphere, and scattered along the surface of the desert, looking for a specific set of cliffs. Eventually, she spots what she is looking for.

A pile of boulders, seemingly freshly broken off from the cliff, sit in a little hollow. Zalea lands her ships, and walks down the ramp, hovering a large pile of wood behind her.

The pile of wood is placed near the boulders, as Zalea moves over to them. Slowly, one by one, they are moved. Revealing a cave entrance. She entered. A shallow grave lays at the very back, behind a tent, bedroll, and three mirrors. She waves a hand, and the sand, along with the corpse inside lifts.She carried them back outside, and set Maligar on the ground. She moves to the logs, and hand-makes a pyre. She then moves back to the corpse of the dead Darth. The dead kid? Both. Neither.

Maligar is placed on the pyre. A faint spark lights up the immensely dry wood, and flame slowly starts to spread. Zalea moves back, and leans against the cliff, watching.

Zalea’s mind, constantly consumed by the dark side, is given some moments of peace, here in this dark, cold desert, watching the body of a monster be given a funeral he didn’t deserve.

The Togruta had told Ash something, during their last conversation. Thess was a story to tell padawans. To inspire them, and make sure they know that the dark can always overcome the light, no matter how dark it becomes. Zalea was a cautionary tale to those same Padawans, to tell them of the dangers of pursuing the dark to defeat the dark. How it would only lead to you destroying yourself.

And, so, she was destroyed. Her use of the dark in fighting Maligar lead directly to her using the dark to fight tenebrous. And now look at her position? Her life had been destroyed… Well, maybe not destroyed. A lot of her life had been destroyed. And here she sat, being sad over the death of a monster.

Maligar had been the center of her life for so, so long. Fighting him, how she was going to beat him, the next move she was going to take. A never-ending stream of battles, both mental and physical. And now, it was over. He was dead, his apprentices dead or redeemed, His network destroyed. She had taken down every single brick in his mighty castle, and smote his corpse onto its ruins.

And now? She was empty. She was sad. She had told Maligar that she was his legacy. And it was true. The more she argued against it in her mind, the more she knew it was true. Sandra. Althea. Maigar. Those were her mentors. She was not his legacy. She would not continue his work. But Maligar was one of her teachers. So much of her own knowledge and power was from Maligar. What he had given her, and what she had taken.

The fire licked against Maligars corpse, finally starting to burn the body.

And here she was, burying a master… She hated that. Hated that he was, and hated burying him. Fighting him had given her so much power. So much might. And now, she was helpless. She couldn’t help but feel like her story was over. There would be no more defeating the empire. Fighting the dark side. Fighting the light side? Perhaps now was the time to find somewhere silent to live, and grow old, and die in. What good was continuing on, really?

She had friends and family who depended on her. Who needed her, and who she needed. A faint smile graced her lips. Then, burning rage hit her. Tenebrous. Tried to bind her, enslave her, take her will and mind. She had broken Maligar like a toy doll. Tenebrous would break upon her will too.

The anger slowly left her. The flames of the pyre grew higher, engulfing the wood, and the body.

A final good bye to a dead master. The closing of a chapter in her life. The killing of a monster. The saving of thousands from a fate worse than death. She could move on. With what she had learned, what she had been taught. The mistakes she had made, and her many triumphs. Or maybe the many mistakes she had made, and her triumphs.

Maligar was dead. Defeated. His plans foiled, his empire in ruins, his body turning to ash in front of her. She had been cursed and spit on for her part in that. People grew to hate her, mistrust her, despise her. Fighting him had pushed herself to lose most of her life. She was not a hero. She did not deserve any thanks, any parties, any shook hands and heartfelt smiles. Just a monster who destroyed another monster.

Eventually, the flames grew low, and the burning stopped. All that was left was a pile of charcoal, ash and bones. She held a hand out. The remains of the fire were lifted. Then crushed, and crushed, and crushed, until it was all just dust. Zalea waited for a gust of wind, and the dust was let go, spinning off into the wind, joining with the desert. One with the force.

She went back into the cave, and recovered something. Maligars lightsaber. She needed a weapon to defeat Tenebrous. But she was not willing to make one herself. Lend me some more of your power. Until I am ready to take some for myself again.

The lightsaber was stuck into a holder on her wrist, and she went back to her ship. Halfway up the ramp, she turned, and looked back at the desert. Silent, empty, gone.

Become a monster, kill a monster, lose yourself, help thousands recover themselves. A chapter in her life was closing. It was time to move on. Take the next step.

The ramp was closed. She went to the cockpit of her ship. Before she left, the cliff was barraged with missiles, totally removing any proof that Krulm had gone mad inside the cave.

Heroes:

Zalea entered Hope’s grounds early in the morning. She got weird looks and people getting out of her way. Like she always had. But nobody stopped her from heading to the memorial. They understood.

She sat down, and pulled out two Rodi sandwiches. She placed one next to her, and started to eat the second, as she sat down on the bench. Unlike normal, she was silent, not speaking with the dead. Just eating her sandwich.

Once she was done, she stared out over the water. Thinking.

She leaned down, and picked up three stones. She carefully carved a name on each.

Simir Tan’ralla.
Dace Rendal.
Ca Jor.

She stared at them a moment. She wanted to place them next to the monument. But she imagined they would be removed.

She picked up the stones, and gently tossed them into the center of the lake. She smiled softly, thinking of better times, befores standing up, leaving the second sandwich behind for Rodi, if she wanted it.

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