Chapter Text
VICRUL:
The Apprentice
Part 1
Chapter 1
The air was still and stagnant, pungent with sweet rot and acrid dust. As the hunter stalked through the dark water, weighing his steps on the rocks and bones beneath his sturdy boots, a deep pained growl came from the tangle of mossy roots up ahead. Beneath a thick and overgrown curtain of vines and spindly branches, the monster he had chased for miles had brought him straight to its lair.
The great spines of the beast dragged across the ceiling of its home, flicking chunks of grey and black bark into the water. With its green, leathery hide, the creature blended in with its surroundings. One might walk straight past the hulking thing and never see it observing them with yellow eyes. Though, now, it only looked with one eye. The other was a shredded mess of gore and blood, which poured down its enormous snout and pooled in the murky water.
As the hunter approached another step, never once looking away, the monster gave a shrill hiss and growled as it retreated up against the backwall of its hideout. It was injured but not to the brink of death. Not yet.
The monster was a legend, its image painted in the oldest caves and every child knew never to step foot in the rotting swamp. It prowled on six legs and stood twice as tall as a man. Its snaking tail was said to be so long, one might step on it at the edge of the swamp and follow it right to the other side where the rest of the beast lay. The spines on its back were denser than its bones but it had been decades since one had been killed. Left alone, they could live for centuries. The bones were considered sacred, passed down through generations.
The hunter took another step and the creature coiled up. His only sign was the tensing in its legs before it leapt right out of the hollow, its maw wide open and jagged teeth desperate to clamp onto him. He rolled out of the way just in time as it landed and turned, sending water in every direction.
It bowed forward, growling and hissing, and swishing its tail deep below the surface. The hunter lost sight of the tail but it found his feet and swiped him off balance. Falling onto his back, the hunter saw the creature leap for him again and as it jumped, he held out his blade and let it spear itself on his weapon.
The creature screamed out in agony and hurried away, taking his weapon out of his hands. It was embedded deep in its chest. The hunter scrambled to his feet as it stalked around him, judging when it could strike. When it decided, the hunter reached out with his open hand and pulled the blade out of its chest. Just as it extended its snout, wide open and full of rows of teeth, the hunter jumped, spun, and slashed at its neck right between two spines.
He landed gracefully in the water and watched as the monster stumbled forward in confusion. The cut was very deep and as it swung around to look at him, the rest of the neck tore open and the head fell off. Its yellow eyes stayed open, observing him beneath the lapping waves, as its body continued to move and twitch before it fell over as well.
He sheathed his blade on his back and placed his hands on his hips, sighing in relief. The sensation of surviving, of defeating something so great and ancient- it left him with euphoric feeling that was cut short by the stab of pain in his arm where it had slashed him with its claws, and with the question of how he’d take it back to the village.
The hunter cared very little about the people who lived on the edge of the swamp. They were humble farmers and weavers, providing for themselves on a little Outer Rim planet he’d already forgotten the name of. They didn’t speak much Basic and he didn’t care to learn their clicking and whistling language.
Left on their own, their society had not progressed very far without external aid but no one saw any profit in doing so. Most of the planet was inhabitable, just swamps and deep forests where monsters lurked in the rotten waters. It made Kashyyk look like a holiday resort.
His ship was just as mysterious to them as he was. They’d never met someone like him. Granted, most never would. He was a rarity of half-human appearance. His pale fair skin was confusing to them but the hunter had no way of explaining that most of the galaxy did not need natural camouflage. He didn’t need to have green and brown skin to blend in with the swamps. They weren’t a common occurrence where he lived.
Once he had dragged the monster towards a wider clearing, he reached for a small device in his pocket that relayed to his ship. In the distance, the engines of the Revenant powered on and the droid piloting it came to his location. He saw the pointed nose of the cockpit peek through the trees. Its four black wings, two on each side, folded into one broad wing. It was a great hassle to tie ropes to the ship and the monster but he wasn’t going to drag it onboard and deal with the stench.
As he flew back to the village, he lowered the gunship enough to drop the monster just on the edge and set it down at a safer location. The villagers flocked to the beast, chanting and dancing and celebrating in all sorts of loud and irritating ways. It was up to them what they did with the remains but the hunter knew he wanted those spines.
If the villagers had never seen a flying vehicle before, they had surely never seen a lightsaber either. The hunter had hidden his sabers onboard, knowing they were too afraid to approach the ship. Each hilt was made of a black metal and the grips were wrapped in expensive leather. The silver emitter was split down the centre and engraved with exquisite patterns.
He took one into his hand and ignited the red blade, startling those nearby, and braced one foot against the dead monster. The villagers said something and their heads shook as they wondered how he could cut the spines off. They had developed tools just for that task and yet-
The saber cut through them like parting water. One by one, the dozen spines fell to the ground. All cut neatly at the base, all worth thousands of credits each. He turned off his lightsaber and placed it back at his hip, where he kept the second hilt.
That night, the meat of the monster was hacked off and grilled over several fires. It would feed the villagers for weeks and they’d certainly get sick of the taste by then. He watched the different ways they would preserve the meat and how nothing went to waste. What the villagers could not eat was fed to their animals, even the head.
The taste wasn’t as awful as he’d expected. For something that lived in a rotten swamp and had a questionable diet, the meat had a soft texture that might’ve been served in an upper-level Coruscantii restaurant. The only setback to that thought was that it was served to him on a rudimentary clay plate and he had to eat with his fingers, neither of which would’ve been accepted on the capital planet.
As the night went on and the fires died down, he half-listened to their conversations. He would have to return to the Core in the morning, back to his master and to civilisation. The lack of responsibility and stress had been cleansing and during his hunt, he’d been able to unleash the build up of anger and frustration. In the Core, he needed to behave himself and not draw attention. There were too many risks involved and the Empire would love any excuse to hassle him and his master.
Lost to his thoughts, the hunter did not notice that the villagers were bringing him a parting gift. It took two of them to hold up the skull of the monster, clean and washed and shining brilliantly in the glow of the flames. He bowed his head gratefully and gestured for them to place it on the archway at the entrance of their village, by his ship.
When he’d first arrived, they had been frightened of the black metal bird that had swooped across the sky with split wings. Now, they approached it with caution but at least they weren’t throwing spears at the hull anymore. It had scratches thanks to them.
He stared past the flames towards the swamp and forced himself to get some rest on the gunship. Here, he was as safe as he made himself. Once he left this tiny backwater system, safety no longer existed. The Empire was not what it said it was. Benevolence and galactic peace were never the plan.
---
Vicrullian’s return was not met with celebration or a crowd. In fact, most had not even realised the young Sith apprentice had vanished for two months to explore the wilder parts of space. They were all too busy trying to evade the Empire and its soldiers, and his presence was hardly remarkable in the grand scheme of their operation.
Located deep into in the city-planet of Empress Teta, the syndicate Vicrul had joined two years prior was well settled amongst the other questionable groups who took refuge from the Empire. While the leaders of the planet were aligned with the Empire, they hardly looked down from their glass towers to see what was brewing beneath. It would’ve been suicide to spread across Coruscant, at least for himself and his master, but Teta had been perfect.
Reaching the Deep Core planet took plenty of navigating skills and Vicrul’s stolen ship and always-updated credentials gave him unlimited access down to the surface. He kept a stash of credits onboard in case they felt the need to inspect, but he landed without complication.
Behind him, the heavy doors of the hangar rolled shut and locked. No one wanted visitors, especially in their Cinnagar Headquarters where most of the shipments sent from. The planet was a rich source of spice and their easiest income, exported onboard carbonite transporters to their distributors.
Vicrul knew not to make himself at home in the capital but he had been given a decently sized room all to himself. Not wishing to greet his master with the stench of swamp water-logged clothes, he took a quick detour. His robes had dried the night before by the fires but nothing short of several heavy rinses would remove the heady scent of rot and earthy stagnant water. Once he was in a far better state than when he’d arrived, Vicrul sought out his master.
He sensed him up above, likely in his quarters. Vicrul had not spent as much time as he wished with Master Opress. Most of it was spent learning about the syndicate’s operations and how it all interconnected with their other businesses, alongside the higher ranks of command who were far wiser than Vicrul. It was... a challenge to sit down and listen to their numerical rambles about profit margins. He liked to be pointed in the direction of a target and told to stab things.
His latest trip had been a way to distance Vicrul from growing dangers in the Core. He knew it was the furthest thing from a benevolent holiday to reward his hard work. Whatever was unfolding a few parsecs away on Coruscant, was apparently something his master believed he could not handle. Vicrul kept his anger at bay. It would serve him no use to give his master reason to get rid of his apprentice.
He reached his master’s quarters and knocked politely on the locked doors. The little red light on the panel flickered to green, and Vicrul walked inside. The room was pitch-black except for a sliver of sunlight streaming through one bent blind. He knew the layout well enough to navigate it in the dark and his eyes easily fell upon his meditating master. The light beam landed across one bare red shoulder, interrupted briefly by his shadow, and continued to trail off towards the bed in the corner.
Spartan. That was the only way to describe his master’s personal quarters. None of the opulent nonsense of his office made their way here. For a man with exuberant wealth, he owned very little and seemed content with the simplicity of a wide bed, a desk, and a comfortable chair.
Vicrul heard his master’s soft inhale that came from regaining full control over his physical form and watched quietly as he brought himself into a state of calmness. He must’ve been sat there for hours on end to achieve it. Vicrul sat down cross-legged in front of him, slightly uncomfortable on the wooden floor. A pillow wouldn’t have gone amiss but his master didn’t care to have one.
“I figured it was time to come home,” Vicrul explained, his quiet voice almost deafening in the still silence. “I brought you back a gift.”
Reaching into his jacket’s inner pocket, he pulled out one of the spines. During the flight, he had cut and sharpened it into a knife.
“I slayed it like you taught me. From what I understood of the locals, the beast was a fierce legend. I hunted and killed it, and took these as a prize. I wouldn’t have been able to kill it without your teachings, master.”
Vicrul bowed his head and presented the polished knife. Most of the spine had been turned into a blade, leaving a slightly curved handle of intact bone. He had left the nicks and scratches on the grip, allowing it to keep its original state. The beast had terrorised many generations. There were others roaming the planet but he would not return to exterminate the reptilian species.
“Such a thoughtful gift,” his master stated, opening his eyes with a soft exhale to gaze at the hand-crafted weapon. He took the handle carefully and flicked a thumb over the sharp edge of the blade. He looked up with golden eyes that reflected light even in the darkness. “I shall treasure it. Thank you, my apprentice.”
Maul set down the knife to his side gently, admiring it for a moment longer before he turned his attention to his apprentice.
“I take it your time was well spent?”
“Yes, master. I surrounded myself with conflict like you asked and I sought out chaos. It seems to be just as common in the Outer Rim as it is here, though it’s different. There was death everywhere I went but some was so insignificant.” Vicrul placed his hands in his lap, his own dark eyes reflecting light just as his master. “But no matter how far I went, I could still sense the disbalance in the Core. I feel him growing stronger with each day. Are we ever going to strike, master?”
“You must have patience, my apprentice.” Maul carefully uncrossed his metal legs and stood. “I sense it too but we must be careful, now more than ever. I’ve heard unsettling reports. He’s not finished with our kind and I’m certain that as long as he continues to gain power, we will be at a severe disadvantage.”
“You’ve taught me a lot, master. I can do it.” Vicrul glanced up as Maul raised the blinds and allowed the setting sun to stream light into the bland room. “With you at my side and with Crimson Dawn, we can take them on-”
“No.” Maul turned away towards the cityscape. It reminded him all too much of Coruscant and its memories were... painful. “No, we are not strong enough. The Emperor has created the perfect system, the perfect shield, and we cannot dismantle it all with brute strength. It is a lesson I learned myself when I was your age, and I understand your eagerness and anger better than anyone.”
Vicrul stood and joined his side. “I’ll do whatever it takes. I can prove myself.”
“It seems your bloodlust was not sated even after two months.”
“No, it never is. It’s like a constant craving. That sensation of a fight, even one I might not win- it's unbeatable. Nothing comes close to the rush of brushing death and dealing it out. I need to be out there.”
Maul’s lips raised into a minute smirk. He understood completely. The war waging inside, constantly demanding blood and chaos. He had learned to control it but his apprentice was young, and his powers were being cultivated into something worthy of note.
“The recent shipments have been interrupted by clones. I suppose they call themselves stormtroopers now,” Maul corrected himself, “but they’re just the same men beneath new armour. Perhaps you can accompany the next batch and deal with these troopers personally.”
“Yes, of course. It would be my pleasure,” Vicrul hurriedly said with a grin.
“I’m sure it would be. Rest first, you do not need to rush. Perhaps take some time to meditate.” Maul gave him a pointed look and Vicrul felt his judgement reach deep.
“I’ll try, master. You know I can’t just sit still and breathe.”
“Your mind is a constant whirlwind of activity, I’m well aware. All the more reason you must practice more and more.”
Vicrul bowed his head, stifling a grumble. “Yes, master. I’ll go... rest, I suppose. And breathe .”
As Vicrul dragged his feet back towards his quarters, Maul pulled the knife up into his awaiting hand and admired the bone blade once more. Though he complained and whined about his attention span, the boy could very much focus when he wanted to. His apprentice had very skilled hands and his dedication to detail was impressive.
He had not simply hacked at the spine until it resembled a knife. It had been delicately carved and smoothed out, and the knife was balanced expertly. A longer spine might have been worth turning into a sword, but Maul appreciated the gift. He was tempted to test its durability and sharpness but the worry of shattering the blade made him pause. Instead, he set it carefully inside a drawer in his desk where it would remain safe.
An apprentice had not been his goal. In fact, he’d almost sent the confused teen back out onto the streets. It had been Vicrul’s lack of control with the Force that had drawn the attention of the former-Darth, and if he saw the boy’s potential- so would Sidious.
---
While the Empire did everything to crush syndicates by raiding warehouses and setting up planet blockades, there were always methods to getting past them. And at the end of the day, those who sat on duty, bored out of their minds, were easy to pacify with a handful of credits or their personal supply. Considering the amounts Crimson Dawn moved around the Core and Inner Rim, a small payoff meant nothing to their vast profits.
The only issue was that the Empire had caught onto the bribes and the men assigned to the Teta blockade had been removed and swapped for stern and less motivated people. Their last shipment had been seized and the guards onboard the carbonite transport had all been sent somewhere far away and unpleasant. Without knowledge of Crimson Dawn’s actual location on the planet, there was little the stormtroopers could do beside searching vessels and arresting the lackeys.
Their intervention was hardly a concern, and with his master’s blessing, Vicrul could not wait to be boarded. The crew he sat with was far less enthusiastic as him and his eagerness to stab something was unnerving them. Rarely did they see the Sith apprentice in the flesh but his existence was well-known in the syndicate.
The first instance of Lord Maul’s mercy and so far, the only one to date.
While Vicrul was not a very frightening near-human, his master was and they all expected him to have similar anger-issues. Those who witnessed Maul fight learned to keep a safe distance and it was clear who were awaiting a flaming lightsaber to cut a path, and who had yet to be in the presence of a blood-thirsty Sith with a weapon that could cut anything in half. That very much included people.
As the transport reached the blockade and followed the line of slow moving traffic, Vicrul sensed they would be stopped a full minute before the pilots were called to the side by patrolling Tie Fighters. He stood and watched as the ship was escorted to a safe distance from the main traffic and a boarding party announced they’d do a standard check.
The stormtroopers climbed onboard and the crew lined up as ordered. Vicrul joined them, observing the white soldiers as they asked routine questions.
“There’s nothing here, you’re wasting your time,” one crew member spat out.
In a split-second decision, Vicrul changed the plan. The Core was no longer their destination. What better way to remove these Imperial parasites from Teta than to kill them all? With a flick of his fingers, he loosened one of the floor grates just as a trooper walked over it. They weren’t supposed to move at all.
“Hey, help me with this,” the trooper called out to the nearest soldier, and together they lifted the grate and found one of their smuggled stash of spice. “Nothing here, huh? Alright, don’t move. We’re impounding this ship. You’re all under arrest. Hands where I can see them.”
Two soldiers moved to the cockpit to take the transport right to the blockade station. The crew was panicking. This wasn’t supposed to happen, but Vicrul smirked to himself as the ship landed and was surrounded by troopers. A dozen awaited them, plus the six onboard with him.
As the crew filed out towards the ramp, Vicrul kept his hands up but pulled one lightsaber free. Turning back towards the troopers, he ignited the blade and lopped the nearest soldier’s head off and cut the next one’s arms. The initial shock wore off quickly enough that one soldier managed to shoot a single bolt before Vicrul deflected it into another, and sliced the shooter apart. The last two barely raised their weapons in time, only to lose valuable limbs in the process.
The sound of the blaster had attracted a couple troopers up the ramp and Vicrul shoved them back forcefully. For a moment, the hangar was silent with confusion and then it was lit up by blaster-fire. Pulling his second saber out, Vicrul sent their bolts flying back towards them.
He lost himself to the sheer excitement and glee of tearing down weak opponents. It was entertaining but Vicrul wasn’t looking for a challenge. None of these men could hold up against him for longer than a few seconds, perhaps a minute if he fought with his fists rather than his sabers.
He danced among the blaster fire, deflecting as he sliced his way through the soldiers until he was the last one standing. The blockade station did not have many stormtroopers and he’d ripped them all apart. Save for one.
A trooper covered in black armour; and in their hand was a long Magna-staff that sparked with purple electricity. The soldier spun the staff and slammed the end down onto the ground. Vicrul grinned.
He closed the gap between them and slashed with both sabers raised to the left side, hoping to turn the trooper into little pieces. The staff slammed into the blades, halting their path, and Vicrul was momentarily stunned that something was capable of stopping a lightsaber. Using the distraction, the trooper shoved at the blades and slammed the sparking end of their staff against his chest.
Vicrul felt every muscle spasm, clench and unclench, and his body was unsure whether it was burning alive or freezing. It lasted only a moment but it was agony, and a boot kicked him down to the ground. The brief reprieve was enough for Vicrul to come back to his senses and he shoved the black trooper backwards with the Force.
The impact made them drop their staff and Vicrul sheathed his saber hilts at his hips before pulling the staff into his hands. He stalked up towards the trooper, kicked them in the head and pinned them down with the Force. His thumb flicked the activation button right before slamming the staff down on the trooper. Revenge felt good but as the screams pierced the air and did not stop, he wondered if the voltage could even kill.
He pulled away and watched as the trooper whimpered and flattened themselves to the ground. One plastoid hand reached up for mercy. Vicrul threw the staff to the side and took one of his sabers, pointed it down at the helmet, and ignited the blade. It killed them instantly. No screams, no pain. Just death. Mercy.
Vicrul walked away and stared at the chaos he had created. The floor was scorched with orange lines where his sabers had dragged across the surface. Bodies were everywhere; some bleeding, some covered in blaster burns. His crew had cowered inside their ship but a few frightened faces peered out.
He climbed back onboard and smacked the ramp controls.
“We can go now,” Vicrul said, returning to his spot on the transport.
There was a reluctance to move but he gave them one glance, and the men hurried to their stations. The ship was soon flying out of the hangar and into free space, onwards to the Core.
Unknown to Vicrul, the hangar was full of cameras and those who watched the footage were more than confused to see someone with his abilities. The knowledge of his existence was quickly passed up the ranks.
---
The shipment was delivered just on the edge of Coruscant’s atmosphere; a quick transfer to a ship with real credentials that could fly down to the capital world. That wasn’t part of Vicrul’s mission. His master had very few rules but going to the surface was strictly forbidden.
Vicrul knew very little about the Sith or their eternal enemy, the Jedi. He’d been fifteen when the purge had happened but such knowledge had never reached his homeworld. It was a blip in history. One that was unknown to almost all, but it wasn’t just the Jedi who were hunted down. Maul had warned him never to reach out into the Force close to the Core, and his reasoning had been brief and shallow. Vicrul wanted to know more but if it worried Master Opress, he was willing to be cautious even if he’d longed to see the city-planet since he was a child.
Teta was a few hours away. The transporter was slow and built for long trips, and rather old. It slipped past borders far easier than their competitor’s slicker ships which drew the eye and invited the attention of stormtroopers.
Although the tension and fear of the crew was amusing to the nineteen-year-old, Vicrul grew bored of their wary glances and hushed complaints. He wandered the ship for a time, trying to find something remotely interesting to mess around with, but there was very little. In the end, he found himself a quiet spot in the cargo hold and sat down to meditate.
It was the worst part of his training. Just sitting there, basking in the Force, trying to let his mind go blank. He’d much rather face Rathtars with nothing more than a spear. Pressing his back up against an empty crate, he crossed his legs beneath him and willed himself to close his eyes. He had issues with that part too. He did not trust anyone or anything around him, and meditation was his second-most vulnerable state. The first being asleep.
With a couple flutters of his eyelids, Vicrul gritted his teeth and accepted that he would need to get through this stage of training before he could keep progressing. If his master could do it, so could he. He placed his hands on his knees and focused on breathing. With each slow pull and exhale, his heartrate dropped and he slowly found a rhythm to reach a state of calmness.
It was a struggle not to think. As his brain scrambled for something to fill the void, his body provided the memory of his fight in the station. He heard the screams and the blaster fire as if he was right back there, but he saw more than he could remember seeing. And he felt their confusion turn to fear and helplessness, and Vicrul basked in the whirlwind of terror and chaos. He lorded his power above them, took life as he pleased. No more would anyone step on his neck and threaten his life, never again would he feel like they did.
Maul had granted him an unintentional gift. Strength and control were one thing but Vicrul knew now that he would never again submit to anyone. He refused. Maul had given him the chance to exact revenge and to protect himself.
Along with such thoughts naturally came the intrusive memories. He couldn’t stop them rising to the surface and with his mind leashed to the Force, it spread like a virus across the ship. Suddenly, the crew felt their hearts grip with fright and they couldn’t not explain why. Those memories were long gone. They would never return, they were dead just like those who’d cause Vicrul such awful grief.
When a hand suddenly touched his face, Vicrul instinctively pulled up his saber and ignited the blade. His eyes were wide open but it took him far too long for him to recognise Maul’s face. He instantly turned the saber off, so full of fear that he didn’t hear a word until Maul slapped him hard. The shock and pain stunned Vicrul’s mind to a grinding halt.
“I suppose I should be grateful you caught my leg,” Maul grumbled, looking down at the melted, orange-rimmed hole in his thigh. How he wished that would stop happening. Vicrul followed his frustrated gaze and sighed in relief. “What happened?”
Vicrul blinked and shrugged, his mind was foggy. “I got startled. I’m so sorry, master. I’ll fix it, I promise.”
Maul dismissed it with a wave. “Not that. The ship landed ages ago. Why have you been sat here?”
“I didn’t realise. I was meditating, like you told me.” Vicrul closed his eyes briefly. He felt safe around his master. “I guess I got dragged back to my past.”
Maul frowned and pulled back to stand. The metal rod that connected his knee to his hip joints was completely melted through but the outer shell remained sound. He could walk, albeit awkwardly, back to his quarters.