Ellac Conrat, Quaestor

Equite 2, Clan Scholae Palatinae, Sith, Imperial
116
Total Fiction Activities
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17777 words in 10 activities
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URL
https://discord.djb.club/rp-sessions/jgq.html
Notes
Sundari Station II
Competition
What Is Dead May Never Die
File submission
Death in the family.pdf
Textual submission

***WARNING: THIS SUBMISSION IS ABOUT A DARK EVENT IN THE PAST CONCERNING ELLAC’S ABUSE/PARENT’S DEATH. THIS IS NOT A FAMILY FRIENDLY STORY.***

*Contains domestic violence

URL
https://discord.djb.club/rp-sessions/eDP.html
Notes
The Blackguards of Crannix III
Competition
I Feel the Conflict Within You
Textual submission

“Get up!”

Ellac heard his father's voice shout above him as he spat the blood from his mouth onto the floor. Pushing himself to his knees, he felt the toe of a boot slam into his stomach, knocking him onto his stomach.

“I said get up!”

Ellac shot up in his bed, gasping and dripping with sweat. “Just a dream… It was just a dream,” he said, reassuring himself as he forcefully steadied his breathing. His room was quiet, with only electricity humming in the lightbulbs and the rhythmic ticking of the chronometer to add to the sound of his slowing breaths.

Pushing himself up from his bed, he walked over to the bathroom sink, splashing himself with cold water. His whole body was sore, aching all the way to his bones from the tension in his muscles, and the bag under his eye did little to hide the lack of sleep he’d been getting recently. But it wasn’t just his body. His mind was foggy too, muddled even. Off-balance due to the nightmares that showed no sign of stopping.

From the other room, the sound of his apartment door sliding open snapped him out of his wandering thoughts. His hands raised slightly in anticipation as he rounded the corner, meeting the familiar gaze of his master, standing just inside the door.

“Oh, it’s you,” Ellac said, letting his guard drop.

Sykes glanced around the room, sizing it up with his usual glare. “Cute place.”

“You could’ve told me you were coming,” Ellac scoffed.

Sykes took a few steps into the room, turning his glare on him. “I could also cut your tongue out and feed it to you if you’re not gonna keep it in check.”

The fatigue was doing very little to temper his growing intolerance of the conversation, but as much as he wanted to snap back, he could feel the irritation sapping away at his energy. “Whatever. You’re here now, so it doesn’t really matter. Besides, you didn’t come for a social visit,” he said, squinting doubtfully at his master. “Why are you here?”

Sykes reached down, imputing a command into one of his vambraces that opened a hidden compartment. In one swift motion, he raised his arm, releasing a toxin-filled dart that lodged itself right into the side of his apprentice’s neck.

“What the-” Ellac’s hand reflexively went to his neck where the dart had injected him. “What the hell are you doing?” His whole body began to numb as he stumbled backwards into the table by his bed, collapsing onto the floor. His mind began to fog, his vision blurring and his breaths became shallow as his consciousness slipped further and further away into what seemed like the beginning of another one of his nightmares. “No… No, frak, No!,” he tried to shout, but his mouth refused to move.

Sykes crouched down in front of his paralyzed pupil, slightly cocking his head as he looked into Ellac’s panicked eyes. Drinking in the fear that radiated in the Force around him, a small, malicious smirk spread across Sykes’ face. “Time for another lesson.”

•••

Ellac’s eye cracked open as the paralysis from the toxin began to subside. His cheek throbbed from laying facedown on the cold stone floor, and the earlier tension in his body had formed a knot in his shoulder. Ironically, he actually felt a little more rested after being unconscious for who knew how long. On the ground in front of him his laid his lightsaber, the only tool it seems Sykes was willing to leave him.

Clipping the weapon to his belt, his hand went up to the still-tender spot on his back where the dart had found its mark as he rolled onto his back, looking up at the ceiling above him. The room he found himself in was a dim space, barely bright enough to make out his surroundings as he pushed himself up off the ground. “Where am I?”

“Ellac…” A muffled voice echoed through the room, bouncing from wall to wall. It sounded like someone he recognized, but with the distortion, he couldn’t quite place who.

The hair stood tall on the back of his neck as Ellac quickly leaned forward onto his knees, his head on a swivel after what happened with Sykes. “Who’s there?”

Silence hung in the air as his own voice seemed to echo back at him.

“Stop hiding and show yourself!”

“Ellac,” The voice called out again, closer than it was before.

Ellac looked around again, but couldn’t see anyone else in the room, but it began to dawn on him that he knew this place… The furniture, the walls, the house itself was the very same as the one Ellac had spent his early childhood in. The same one that his parents died in. His heart began to race as he realized where he was standing. “Come on then!” he shouted out into the air, rising to his feet. “Come on!”

“Son.” The voice said, any distance or muffling it had now completely gone, and its echo had been silenced, speaking clearly to Ellac as if someone were standing right behind him.

Ellac froze where he stood at the voice in his ear. A lump formed in his throat as he recalled where he had heard the voice before. “No… You’re dead… You’re dead, I killed you,” he said, his chest heaving as he spoke.

“You are too weak to kill me. You have always been weak.” His father’s voice was almost hissing now as it spoke into Ellac’s ear. “Isn’t that right, boy?”

Ellac’s hand instinctively summoned his lightsaber, igniting it as he swung as hard as he could behind him. The blade cut through the air, but made no contact.

A sharp pain shot through his back as a blast of electricity arced from his father’s fingers from behind him, the energy surging through his nervous system. Ellac yelped, dropping his lightsaber as he fell to his knees, his singed robes beginning to smolder.

“Get up, Ellac!,” his father’s voice spat above him.

The toe of his father’s boot slammed right into Ellac’s stomach, knocking him onto his side.

“I killed you! I crushed your neck with my own hands!” Ellac shouted up at the figure before him. This was the first time he had fully seen his father since he appeared. His eyes were dark and cloudy, and there were bruises covering his neck where someone’s hands had wrapped around it. He hunched slightly forward as if he weren’t fully alive, but not dead either.

“Not in your mind, boy! I survived in your fear! You kept me alive!,” his father cackled.

As Ellac pushed himself to his knees, another boot caught him on the side of his head, sending him sprawling onto his stomach. His vision flashed white as the room spun, the shock of the impact causing his head to throb.

Stepping over Ellac, his father crouched down, grabbing his son’s neck with his hands, squeezing his neck as he leaned into his face. “You disappoint me, Ellac. After everything you’ve been through, you’re still weak.” He jammed his thumb into Ellac’s empty eye socket, causing the boy to cry out in pain. “Nothing but a coward, frightened of a dead man,” his father hissed as he watched Ellac gasp for air, struggling to stay conscious. “Come on, boy! Fight back, just like you did when I killed your mother.”

Ellac’s eye went wide at his father’s words. Concentrating his mind on the Force around him and his father. Ellac thrust both of his arms up towards his father, sending him flying into the air, landing with a heavy thud off to the side. Pushing himself to his feet, Ellac noticed every ache in his body. The sting in his back, the ache in his stomach, the pulsating throb in his head, all screamed out as he stood tall above his father on the ground. The Force around him grew dark as it passed through him, his own Dark Side energy corrupting it as he drew in more and more. The fear that had plagued his mind melted down like heated metal being poured into a mold to forge it into a deadly weapon. From his fear a deep anger grew, and from that anger grew his hatred, and from that hatred… His rage.

His vision faded as the world around him fell away. The last thing his eye could see was his father, rising to his feet. Extending his hand, Ellac recalled his lightsaber to his hand, its blade igniting with a bright red flash.

“Yes… Give into your anger, boy! Let it be like the breath in your lungs, and the blood in your viens!”

Ellac lunged at his father, no longer in control of his own movements. The Dark Side of the Force coursed through him, combining with his instincts to guide his blade towards his mark, strike after strike.

Dodging and weaving away from every blow, his father had managed to avoid getting hit, but relentlessly being driven into one of the corners of the room, he was losing ground quickly.

As Ellac’s blade spun furiously toward his cornered prey, he raised his weapon to deal the final blow, his lightsaber collided violently into another red blade that had sprung up from the hilt in his opponent’s hand.

The image of his father had melted away, Ellac hesitated for a brief moment as Sykes stood in his place.

“Show me the power of the Dark Side! Show me your rage!” Sykes shouted at his apprentice.

Ellac’s bloodlust pushed him forward, not fully aware of what was transpiring. The two Sith wielded their blades against each other, the Marauder against the Juggernaut, an unstoppable force against an immovable object.

Ellac pushed to his very limit, throwing everything he had at his master until finally exhausting himself. His breaths became ragged as he collapsed to his knees, mustering the last of his strength to look up at his master who stood above him.

Sykes looked down upon his battered apprentice, the malicious smirk finding its place upon his face once more. “Well done, my apprentice. Now you are Sith.”

Competition
Bounty Board: Target 1
Textual submission

“Where’s the Rodian?”

“Look, I’d tell you what you want to know, but you’re gonna have to be more specific! There are tons of Rodians in Ebon Ridge!”

A blue light flickered to life in the darkness, shining off Ellac’s face as he glared down at the Devaronian he had by the throat. The light portrayed the rotating bust of a bounty contract that had been opened on a chosen target, a Rodian with green scales and a tell-tale scar that ran across his face from his left ear to the right side of his throat.

“Dweebo Sartoona,” Ellac said. “I know you know him.”

“Dweebo? That’s who you want? Why didn’t you just say so!,” The Devaronian chuckled nervously. “Sure, I know ‘em! He used to do some jobs for me back in the day! Did some real nice work too, I mean real nice, a professional even! B-but I don’t know whe-“

Ellac tightened his grip around his victim’s throat. “That’s not good enough.”

The Devaronian gasped as he tried to squirm free from the Sith’s grasp. “Okay, okay, I know where he is!”

“Talk.” Ellac said, loosening his grip just enough to allow air to pass through.

Relieved to breathe but now even more nervous, his whole body began trembling. “Well, I mean, I don’t know where he is right now, but-“

Ellac began to squeeze his throat again, but the Devaronian yelped in protest.

“WAIT!, I don’t know where he is right now but I know where he’s going to be!”

Ellac pulled the frightened man up as he leaned close to his face. “You are officially out of breath to waste. Tell me what I want to know, and *ONLY* what I want to know, or I’ll close your windpipe permanently.”

“Okay…,” the man panted. “Okay… The last deal I had with him, he said he hit the jackpot. He told me about a deal he scored with one of the bigwigs of those fancy casinos. Apparently Dweebo was gonna make a trade with this guy for a lot of credits, but that’s all I know, I swear!”

“Where is this deal?”

“He said it was gonna be on the outskirts, a place they call the Scrap Pits! But you’ll need an invitation to get in. They don’t let just anyone in, ya know!”

“So where can I get an invitation?”

”I don’t know, I never got one! It’s all very hush-hush. It’s not like they do the most legal stuff in there! Those deathmatches are brutal!” The Devaronian cried.

Ellac dropped the man, rising to his feet. “That’s exactly what I needed to know. Thank you.”

The Devaronian let out a feeble laugh as he crawled onto his knees. “Hey, no problem! Anytime! And thanks for not killing me, ya know? It’s bad for business...”

“Of course,” Ellac said, drawing his blaster from his holster before firing a bolt through the man’s head. “Don’t mention it.”

•••

The sun had barely set under the horizon as Ellac approached the fence to peer inside the salvage yard. Broken pieces of ship debris and speeder parts collected in mounds scattered throughout the lot.
“The *Scrap Pit*?,” Ellac muttered to himself as he slipped through a hole in the wire-mesh fence. “That’s a bit on the nose, even for me.” Being careful not to accidentally kick any buckets or cause something to shift in the piles, Ellac pressed deeper into the salvage. *‘Still, something in the air doesn’t seem right for a place like this.’* To him, it almost seemed as if the piles of wreckage were breathing, quietly humming deep underneath the surface. *‘It’s too… alive.’*

“That’s the only way we like it.”

Ellac spun on his heel, his lightsaber instinctively drawn, but not yet ignited. The source of the voice, standing above him on one of the scrap heaps was a human like himself, holding his head up to stare down his nose at Ellac.

“How’d you get in here?” His accent was thick, almost like that of an imperial, but the way he said certain words like “Way” and “Like” sounded very similar.

“I got an invitation from a friend of Sartoona.” Ellac said. “I came to see him.”

The man above Ellac burst out laughing, as if he couldn’t contain it if he tried. “You want to talk to Sartoona? You mean, with the bounty on his head and all? *Suuure*, please, by all means, he’d be more than happy to see you!” he said, still laughing to himself. “I mean, really? C’mon, you don’t actually think you can just walk in here and sit down with one of our esteemed guests like you’re old mates from the academy, do you?”

“We all have our delusions.” Ellac said, still staring up at him.

“No kidding, mate.” He said with a smirk. “Tell you what, I like you. So here’s what I’m gonna do. I’m not gonna kill you here, and I’m not an unreasonable man, so how would you feel about being the Scrap Pit’s next contender? You and another fighter step into the ring, fight to the death, and if you win, we’ll let you see Sartoona. Sound like a plan?”

Ellac had to stop himself from smiling at the thought of being in another ring fight. “Alright, I’m in. When do we start?”

“Why not now?” The man said, gesturing to a significantly larger pile of scrap in the middle of the yard. “In that salvage heap is the warehouse, and inside there, the ring, and your opponent is already waiting for you. Just remember not to die, and you’ll get what you came for. Now off you pop!”

Ellac looked over to the warehouse for a moment before making his way over to the large mound. A piece of metal slid out of the way, a doorway opening up to the Scrap Pit inside. The ring was about an eight foot deep recess into the ground, with a four foot fence standing on all sides. An office box sat above the standard seats to provide a better view of the fights. In side the ring, a wookie slave had been thrown into center, clearly more of a prisoner than a willing participant.

“Right this way.” One of the thugs inside gestured to a gate in the fence.

Ellac stepped into the ring, the heat from the bright spotlights bearing down on his shoulders.