Darn!
was hoping for someone else to get the ball rolling on fiction!
Never mind, I'm going first then. Knocked this up during my lunch hour today. Let me say I had no real idea what I was gonna write, and once I started, it all kinda just wrote itself. So..enjoy.
"Will my loss outweigh the gain?"
"...RID YOURSELF OF IT!"
This clarion call struck the boy with the thunderous force of a lightening bolt. A chill command, spurring him on. To take up arms. To forsake any nuance of happiness in favour of the bloodlust which now welled up within his soul.
"...I perceive only that which is a threat. I exist only to vanquish that which I perceive..."
His master's words echoed around the boy's head. A shrill, discordant rapture, like the choral lament of a thousand tortured worlds.
"RID YOURSELF!"
Under withering fire and merciless melee, the boy advanced alone towards the huge fortress.
His was not the gait of a child, but the powerful stride of a creature possessed with a single intent.
Red was his blade, and red the anger flashing in his eyes, as these fools threw themselves into combat with this monster.
The snipers on the battlements were accurate. But the blaster bolts had far to travel and were easy to deflect.
Vrroww, A shining blue saber spear found an opening, and thrust it's way through the boy's guard, only to be evaded with the swift guile of a knight's apprentice. The opening was a trap, and with one arcing upward cut, both spear and owner fell in place.
More skirmishers approached reluctantly. A group of twelve armoured men, firing randomly from trembling hands and brandishing blades with little control.
"...Oh the fear...", the boy sensed it, fed off it, grasped it body and soul and allied himself with it's dread aura. Indulging in this savagery, he unleashed a terrible force power upon them all. It's wake turning the very air dark and acrid, filling the ether with his own charged malice.
"...Glorious!...". How in this frenzy he would gladly turn his blade upon himself, to further slake this thirst for wanton carnage.
The path up to the bastion would be defended with guards and droids. Turrets and traps. He knew this.
A minor inconvenience. They would all be dealt with, for his purpose was clear. The master's teachings had prepared him and had moulded this day towards a single, terrible end.
Any semblance of sanity or reason now gone. Supplanted with such enmity. A bitter rage which yearned only for vengeance, against those who had shunned him, had rid themselves of him. And who feared and resented him for his powers.
High above the battle, on a ragged clifftop, Kylo Ren surveyed the unfolding drama below. Subtly, almost imperceptibly, willing his young charge forward, with grim whispers and foreboding words.
"Soon you will confront your mother. Your father. Your brother. And all they hold dear will be taken. Just as you, my apprentice, were abandoned to be taken. You will rid yourself of their influence. Rid yourself of their memory. RID YOURSELF OF FEELING! And in place, come join the Knights of Ren."
The boy fought hard. And beneath, calling from within the turmoil and the ecstasy, came a familiar hollow feeling. That throughout his short, savage years, the losses would outweigh the gain...
Thanks for reading.