Maul: Legacy of Shadows

Chapter 13: The Pull of Darkness

***Year 3,959 BBY***

Bao-Dur did all he could to close his eyes, as his body slowly turned to face the shaman whose command of the Force paralyzed him.  Her eyes were filled with annoyance and disappointment as she stood fully exposed to her captive.  Eventually she waved a hand with a sigh, releasing her hold on her unwilling participant.  Bao-Dur felt the magics she employed dissipate, but he hesitated to walk out of her dwelling, curious to gain some answers as to her reasonings.

"You can leave," she said, sitting back down on her bed covered in the furs of slain creatures.

Bao-Dur took a moment to scan the room before deciding he would try to gain some answers before leaving.  He sat down next to the shaman, who made her disappointment known as her arms crossed covering her breasts as she slightly turned away from the former Jedi.  Bao-Dur noticed her skin was pristine and beautiful, but quickly pushed the thought out of his head forcefully.

"I said you can leave," the shaman repeated, her voice sounding slightly depressed and defeated.

Bao-Dur was unsure of how to respond.  He admitted that the shaman held a regal beauty about her, but as a Jedi they looked down upon personal relationships.  He sat in silence, trying to keep his mind occupied with mechanical specs and formulas.  His mind still racing, he hardly noticed the shaman was moving ever so slightly closer to him.

Finally resigning to the reality that this wayward male was actively attempting to ignore her, the shaman stood up and walked towards her primitive fireplace and sat on a fur rug laying on the floor.  She made it a point keeping the former Jedi at the edge of her gaze.  Bao-Dur noticed, and his concentration broke, swallowing hard from nervousness.

"I know what you're trying to do," Bao-Dur finally said while trying to force an air of confidence in his voice.

"Do you?  You seem pretty flustered for one who used to be a Jedi, and one who has seen many battles," the shaman replied looking back at the Jedi sitting upon her bed, her raven black hair draping across her alabaster skin.

Bao-Dur knew she didn't buy into his false bravado.  He also knew if she wanted to, she could force him into a precarious situation with her magics.

"Perhaps we should start with names?" Bao-Dur said, hoping to ease the tension that was forming at a rapid pace.

"I'm surprised you haven't asked sooner, you've been here for a couple weeks now," she replied, somewhat surprised at the revelation.

"Well it's not like I had much freedom, between the odd magics you cast and the armed guards keeping watch on me," Bao-Dur snapped back.

The shaman giggled slightly, "it's Miraj.  Mother is more of a title in our culture, so don't read into that too far."

"Bao-Dur, but I'm sure you already knew that from your memory spell you had cast upon me when I first arrived," he replied, making sure to remind his captor that he had not forgotten what had transpired before.

Miraj stood up and walked back over to sit next to the former Jedi, but this time he didn't turn to look away, instead meeting her gaze as she sat on his left. She looked over his prosthetic arm, which had been made of a metallic skeletal structure with a transparent musculature that held the delicate wirings inside.

"Does it still hurt?" Miraj asked, running a few fingers along the forearm.

"No, I personally designed this myself. I wasn't satisfied with the original so I let a Sith perform a quick surgery during a heated battle.  I must say under the circumstances he did a phenomenal job," he replied, slightly chuckling to himself.

Miraj's face beamed with a smile, glad that her captive wasn't overtly hostile to her, and that maybe she could get him to open up to her more.  Bao-Dur glanced at her, still smiling as his eyes locked onto hers which reminded him of his master.  His face hardened as his soul ached at the realization that he most likely would never see her again.  Miraj noticed his sudden change of demeanor and was taken aback.

"Was it something I did?" she quickly asked, trying to salvage their budding connection.

"No. No, you just reminded me of someone," Bao-Dur replied, trying to hide his inner suffering.

"I see, your master must've been very important to you. I saw your memories, and I know how must you cared for her, I can only imagine the pain you feel without them by your side anymore," Miraj explained, trying her best to sound empathetic, though deep down a flicker of jealousy began to burn within her.

Bao-Dur sat quietly, thinking of what his master's journey was consisting of.  He trusted her judgement, but without their connections to the Force, he couldn't help but worry for her safety even now.  Miraj knew she had to snap the man out of his self-imposed mental exile or she might miss her chance.  Softly sliding one of her hands across his back, she predicted the moment his head would turn, caressing it with her free hand across his cheek.  For a brief instant, their eyes locked, and she slowly moved in for a light kiss, her exposed breasts pressing against the cold prosthetic arm.

Bao-Dur couldn't fight anymore, his internal struggles had left him powerless to the charms of the beautiful shaman that ever so slowly closed the distance between their lips.  As they came into contact, Bao-Dur felt every cell in his body move on its own, as he brought his arms around her while closing his eyes.  Miraj pushed her weight into him, causing them both to fall back onto the bed, her lips still firmly attached to his.  Both of her hands began to remove his simple engineering shirt, lightly stained with oil marks and grease.

As her hands moved across his body, the scars of countless battles and trials were evident, a great honor in their race's society. Her raven hair covered the former Jedi's face, as she waved a hand, extinguishing the fireplace, and bringing the two into an embrace within the privacy of the shadows.

***Year 4 BBY***

The Eighth Brother knew his lord had given him a perfect opportunity to prove himself, but he couldn't shake the feeling that this particular task would be especially difficult.  He was given permission to ask for assistance if need be, but he dare not risk losing the prestige of finishing this task alone.  His master only described his target as a dangerous shadow, hiding on a forgotten world called Malachor.  Perhaps it was a wayward Jedi, one who escaped Order 66 and fled to a world no one would ever look.

Readying his personal TIE Fighter, he punched in the coordinates to the planet and was surprised at how far it sat outside of the Empire's influence.  Regardless, his skill with the Force was unequaled by any of the other Inquisitors.  Before the eradication of the Jedi he was once a student of Master Windu's personal lightsaber training courses.  The late Master wouldn't allow his students to train in Form VII, which always drove a wedge between himself and the other students, who were willing to forgo such advancement.

However, he had heard a rumor of a Sith manuscript being auctioned in an underground market, and using "subtle" influence, was able to procure it from the buyer at a greatly reduced cost.  Within its endless depths of knowledge was exactly what he was seeking, guided instruction in the rarest of lightsaber forms, Juyo, Form VII.  Master Windu had developed a personal style from the ancient one, but the purity of the original Form VII captivated the young Jedi.  Freeing himself from the Order in secret, he trained with the instructions for years, coming out of his hiding at a time when the Jedi had just been eradicated from the galaxy.

The Emperor felt his power, and knew he had already embraced the Dark Side, and he was offered a chance to train with the Brothers and Sisters in the Inquisitors.  Now was his chance to fully utilize his training and prove himself worthy of becoming the new Grand Inquisitor, with power only being eclipsed by Vader and the Emperor himself.  Still, even as his excitement rose with each passing moment, something in the Force warned him of a great danger. The Eighth Brother refused to be swayed, confident only Vader could best him with a lightsaber.

Firing up the engines, he sped off towards his destination, and his inevitable victory. He would have his prize, no matter the cost.