CHAPTER SEVEN
-3956 BBY-
Oris awoke with his head feeling like it weighed several tons. He forced himself to sit up only to hit his head on something metal. After curing to himself, he tried to recall what had just happened.
They had been in combat with a Republic fleet. Despite being outnumbered, they had inflicted several casualties on the fleet, but ultimately, the Dying Sun had been disabled and left to plummet towards the planet below. Darth Glovoc had then ordered the crew to jettison from the ship via escape pods and crash-land on the planet.
Emerging from the escape pod, Oris found himself in an exotic swamp. A fog hung low over his head, fluorescent plants sprouted from the ground, and the strong humidity caused him to sweat.
After scanning the scenery, he found Darth Glovoc himself standing and speaking with several Sith acolytes and officers that had survived the crash. Oris moved over to them but instantly froze when Glovoc's heartless gaze fell on him.
"Captain," the Sith Lord said coldly. "We thought you had perished in the crash."
Oris cleared his throat. "Yes, well, I was the last to reach the escape pods. But no matter; I am here and ready to serve you, my lord."
"That will not be necessary, captain. Your services are no longer required."
Oris' heart skipped a beat. "My... my lord?"
"It's nothing personal," Glovoc said, his tone failing to reassure him. "But I require... capable protection from whatever dangers dwell on this world. As such, I no longer have any need of you or the other officers."
Oris fought the urge to drop to his knees, knowing that such a pleading stance would only come across as pathetic. "My lord, please... after all my years of service-"
"I do appreciate your service on board the Dying Sun, captain. But seeing as the Dying Sun is no more...."
A scarlet blade appeared in the Sith Lord's hand. It was the last thing Oris saw before darkness consumed him forever.
-Present-
"Good morning."
They were the first words he had heard in centuries, perhaps a millennia. Staggering out of the oubliette which he had resided in for so long, Darth Glovoc took in his surroundings. He was still in the Steamfields of Nyriaan, where he was supposed to be, but his disciples were nowhere to be seen.
Instead, there was a young human male- possibly in his late twenties- whom he did not recognize, as well as an old Veknoid with a toothy grin. Sensing that the former was strong in the dark side of the Force, Glovoc allowed himself to relax, but only slightly.
"Who... are you?" he croaked, having not used his voice in ages. "Are you... Sith?"
"Indeed I am," the man replied. "My name is Varon Krul."
Glovoc scrutinized him before saying, "How... long has it been?"
"Since the fall of Darth Malak and the Sith Empire? Nearly four thousand years."
Glovoc merely nodded; he had expected it would have been well over a hundred years. He then said, "Are we... in control? Of the galaxy?"
Varon frowned. "I'm afraid you slept through that. But I'll fill you in on the rest later; we must take you to safety."
'Safety?" Glovoc scoffed. "I am a Sith Lord. I do not need safety."
Varon grinned tightly. "With all due respect, my lord, you are old enough to reside in a nursing home. Besides, we must leave."
"I do not take orders from anyone but the Dark Lord," Glovoc snarled, his hand reaching for his lightsaber. "I decide where I go; no one else!"
Varon opened his mouth, probably to protest, but Glovoc moved his gaze away from him, his eyes landing on a man laying on the ground. He was clearly in his forties, with light skin, brown hair, and gray eyes.
No, Glovoc thought. It cannot be.
Anger pulled his veins as he unhooked his lightsaber and ignited its scarlet blade. He began to move towards the man but was intercepted by Varon.
"That man is hardly a threat to us," the younger man said. "He is simply a Jedi whom I easily defeated."
Glovoc scowled. "To you, perhaps. But I know him as someone else, and I will not deny myself the chance to kill him."
Varon smirked and- wisely, in Glovoc's opinion- stepped aside. "Why, of course. You deserve it after almost four thousand years-worth of sleep."
* * *
Jaden saw the Sith Lord charging towards him, moving at a high, Force-propelled speed. Rolling quickly to the side, he activated his lightsaber and raised it to block Darth Glovoc's attack.
From behind their interlocking blades, Jaden looked into the ancient Sith's eyes and saw the pure fury blazing within them. He had no idea what he had done to incur the Sith's wrath, nor did he care; he had to stop him.
Breaking off only briefly, Darth Glovoc lunged again, swinging his blade to decapitate Jaden. The Jedi parried the attack, pushing the scarlet blade back, only for Glovoc to bring it back down.
The duel went on, with neither combatant showing any signs of wearing down, though Jaden was beginning to slowly tire from Glovoc's assault. The Sith Lord seemed to realize this, for he pressed on; clashing his saber against Jaden's in an attempt to force it out of his hand. So strong was the Sith's assault that Jade's grip shifted slightly and the scarlet blade sliced through his wrist, severing his hand.
Jaden cried out in pain, clutching his severed wrist as he fell to his knees. Darth Glovoc was grinning wickedly as he glared down at him.
"You've had this coming for a long time," the ancient Sith hissed. "And after four thousand years, this will be worth it."
As Glovoc raised his saber, Jaden closed his eyes, bracing himself for-
Whok!
Jaden's eyes flew open to see Master Nomante's airspeeder in place of Glovoc, having just rammed into the Sith and sending him flying into the side of a geyser. Sitting in the shotgun seat, Serra reached out with her hand, grabbing Jaden's good one, and pulled him into the speeder. Nomante then hit the accelerator and they sped off.
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