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6/15/2025, 12:10:18 AM
You need food, and it will allow you to see many of the survivors. Knowing enough about the Sith customs, you recognise that your peers will be your greatest enemies until you graduate, and some could retain the position long after your ascension. You must utilise everything you can to take advantage of your situation and gain power; this academy will not tolerate the weak to live. It is essential to get to know your fellow students, observing the bonds that form and the weaknesses you can identify through your interactions. Additionally, you can create your own alliances to strengthen your position and utilise them for your shared goals.
Opening the wardrobe, you pick out one of the identical black robes that rest within the wooden structure. Thankfully, the dehumanising forced nudity is now over; you can have your shame again. The robes are both loose and form-fitting. They cling to your body, allowing you unfettered dexterity, while the outer layer hides the exact detail of your silhouette. Opening a palm, you outstretch your arm, using a minor current of power to lift your clock up. It floats above the table, held in place for a few seconds. A wide smile grows on your face as you marvel at this defiance of the law of gravity you were able to will into existence.
You arrive at the mess hall, there are only a few souls in the expansive hall. The day is young, and the long trek through the perilous forest will have most still sleeping heavily. Or the culling was so brutal that only this half-dozen remain. Taking a tray and a plate, you get served your food by a slave working behind the counter. She looks well enough for a slave, and no evidence of maltreatment mars her face. The food is basic, cooked in its constituent parts, and it is acceptable enough. Only one large table is populated, with six Sith acolytes sitting at it, deep in conversation.
Putting your tray of food onto the table, you drag over a chair and join them. You greet them with, “Hello, glad to see I’m not the only one to have survived.”
Being the outcast for your entire life has left scars. Without practice, your eloquence and social skills are your greatest weaknesses. But you hope this can be your new start, that you can put the past behind you and become something entirely different. The faces around the table all stare at you, measuring the new alien being that has joined their table. Unsure what to say, you take a bite of food and pretend to focus on it rather than the rest of the party. As you chew on your first mouthful, you are pleasantly surprised. The food is better than the over-recycled slop that was the only meal for the lower-class of the space station that was once your home.
Opening the wardrobe, you pick out one of the identical black robes that rest within the wooden structure. Thankfully, the dehumanising forced nudity is now over; you can have your shame again. The robes are both loose and form-fitting. They cling to your body, allowing you unfettered dexterity, while the outer layer hides the exact detail of your silhouette. Opening a palm, you outstretch your arm, using a minor current of power to lift your clock up. It floats above the table, held in place for a few seconds. A wide smile grows on your face as you marvel at this defiance of the law of gravity you were able to will into existence.
You arrive at the mess hall, there are only a few souls in the expansive hall. The day is young, and the long trek through the perilous forest will have most still sleeping heavily. Or the culling was so brutal that only this half-dozen remain. Taking a tray and a plate, you get served your food by a slave working behind the counter. She looks well enough for a slave, and no evidence of maltreatment mars her face. The food is basic, cooked in its constituent parts, and it is acceptable enough. Only one large table is populated, with six Sith acolytes sitting at it, deep in conversation.
Putting your tray of food onto the table, you drag over a chair and join them. You greet them with, “Hello, glad to see I’m not the only one to have survived.”
Being the outcast for your entire life has left scars. Without practice, your eloquence and social skills are your greatest weaknesses. But you hope this can be your new start, that you can put the past behind you and become something entirely different. The faces around the table all stare at you, measuring the new alien being that has joined their table. Unsure what to say, you take a bite of food and pretend to focus on it rather than the rest of the party. As you chew on your first mouthful, you are pleasantly surprised. The food is better than the over-recycled slop that was the only meal for the lower-class of the space station that was once your home.
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