Finsternis (Jace)

[Apillis]

It had become more and more frequent that Hervor went out and about from the dark, dusty depths of the Sith Temple archives she once had typically been known to dwell. Though her leaving was generally for two purposes: creating holocrons of her extensive knowledge on the Force and the numerous subjects it entails to continue her work restocking the temple archives, or training her combat prowess and by proxy her physical capability. On this occasion, though, it was a bit of both. She was in the training area of the temple, but not to necessarily train, per se, but rather to giving a detailed explanation on the dark side and methods and modus operandi as to how to best utilize its great power in combat, especially in lightsaber combat.

From her peripheral she did see a bit of a unique sight, a young Sith initiate training not with a lightsaber but knives. She arched a brow at the sight, it was unique--but something she had a great respect for. The Sith of ancient times used swords and knives and other melee weapons. A far more brutal time before the era of the lightsaber came. In a way, the brutality of those eras was far more suiting for the likes of Hervor than the current era, despite her ability with melee weapons being dismal, in fact--the boy's ability with such weapons likely out-classes her own skill.

She paused in her forging of the holocron, setting it down atop the satchel containing several other holocrons she had made prior. It was then she simply crossed her arms under her chest and simply observed the lad. Studying his ability as he trained, she crossed her arms under her chest. Just by his movements, she could see, this boy was a killer. It was the movement and how he carried himself, it lacked the bravado and pretension of most of the other initiates. He had possessed an awareness by how he seemed to compose himself that other initiates seemed to lack or simply keep themselves ignorant or blind to--which is that he is in a den of killers, despite whatever 'rules' or 'decrees' Iniquitous may have put in motion.

Choosing to indulge a curiosity, her arms still crossed under her chest as she walked across the stone floor of the arena toward the boy. When she was no more than a few yards from him, she stopped, and it was only a trice later she inquired to the boy, "Is it that you prefer knives, or that you simply lack skill with a lightsaber?", that husky voice of hers was blunt in tone with the question. But she had a genuine interest to know the boy's answer. A unique sight deserves an inquiry.

[Jace]

The young Sith initiate took a deep breath in an attempt to center himself. A way to help him become more aware of his surroundings. It was a task that was proving marginally difficult for the adolescent. He was used to the narrow alleys of Ravelin where he could move from shadow to shadow without notice. Even though he had been on Korriban for a year, he was still finding it a bit difficult. Eventually he found the ideal state and began to focus on all that was around him. He sensed a few others in the near vicinity, the training grounds were never really vacant. Of course it was still relatively empty compared to how it usually was. It was the initiate's day off and most were either resting or hanging out together.

Kellanved was alone. He had been alone for most of his young life. It was a simple fact that Kel did not get along well with the other initiates. They looked down upon him mostly for his low birth but for other reasons as well. He currently held two of those reasons in his hands. The worn metal still gleamed in the oppressive afternoon light. His knives were not mantle pieces and it showed in the numerous nicks on the blade. Kel would have to find a way to repair his knives soon. In the past he had simply tossed aside the ones that got dull and found himself new ones, usually off a person he had just killed. Yet he found himself oddly attached to these two particular blades.

He left those matters aside for the moment as he began to go into his usual training regime. Kel would have undoubtedly be an odd sight to any observer. The initiate did not know any proper forms or styles of fighting. Lately he had been trying to incorporate what he knew of lightsaber combat into his knife work but his success had been very limited. Kellanved had learned to fight through actual combat, trial by fire some would call it. Each time he came out of a battle alive(usually just barely), he found his skills slowly progressing. He had hit a wall so to speak since arriving at the Temple.

Initially he had found himself a target of much bullying and harassment. Kel did not like it of course but it had kept his skills up to par. The scrawny initiate had somehow managed to pummel one young aristocrat to within an inch of life and almost opened the throat of another. It had been difficult to find himself a sparring partner since then. Still, he trained since there was nothing else to do and Kellanved constantly feared being thrown out from the Order. So many other initiates had found masters but he had not. He wondered if he just wasn't strong enough in the Force or if it was because of his failure in lightsaber combat. The initiate was so caught up in the combination of training and his own thoughts that he had not noticed the approach of the woman.

At the last second, on sheer instinct he jumped backward with his blades up in a defensive posture. His back slightly hunched as if he were ready to spring forward, a deadly animal who had been backed into a corner. It was only after a moment that he realized the woman had said something to him.

"Both," was all the boy said, body still locked in a defensive stance. Then remembering the etiquette they had tried to teach him when he first arrived, added, "My Lady."

He could sense it clearly now that she was near him. Kel could sense the woman's power and it overwhelmed him. There was something in the way she looked at him which he found both fascinating and terrifying. The initiate had never found himself in the presence of any of the Sith Lords or Ladies before but his instincts told him that this woman was one of them. He was told that they demanded the proper request and he had heard enough horror stories about how cruel some of them could be. She did not seem to be threatening him but betrayal went down as easy as breakfast for most people. Kel had only said three words to her and had no intention of adding any others in fear or angering this powerful person, not until he figured out what she wanted with him.

[Apillis]

Hervor's brow furrowed a little when she saw the boy jump back with his blades at the ready. He was jumpy lad, but it only confirmed what she assessed from him when she approached. He was in survival mode, acting on his instincts to stay alive. And in such a place as the Sith Temple, adhering to such instincts is only beneficial. Hervor felt that too many of the initiates were a bit too lax, especially those with masters, too keen to hide behind their masters' coat tails. She only saw it breeding weakness. Had she her own way, she would dissolve Iniquitous' institution of initiates or masters even masters from killing one another. The reasoning was simple, it forced cooperation and the idea of needing alliances in order to survive, rather than being forced into a shaky alliance by one individual's decree. Whether or not the former lead to another Sith Empire, so be it, in time it will merely rise again stronger than the last--and on and on the cycle of Sith evolution will go.

This young lad expected to fight for survival, not hide behind law or decree, hide behind a glass wall for protection from others. He was ready to fight for it. And that is what Hervor instantly liked about the boy in that very moment from his simple reaction to her presence.

Though, she gained a slightly irritated look when he called her 'My Lady', she hated the politically correct titles. It was nonsense to her. The Sith women in ages before called themselves Sith Lords, for Lord is a unisex title. But it was more than that, it was a title beyond gender or silly socio-political standing within the Order, it is mantle of power within the dark side of the Force. A symbolic pedestal of someone who has achieved greatness within the macrocosm that the Force flows throughout.

So with a dismissive wave of her hand she corrected him, "Lord, young Initiate. While I understand some of my peers go by 'Lady', I on the other hand loathe that politically correct tripe. The Order's female Sith ancestors went by Lord, and so do I, the mantle of Sith Lord is a title of strength and power... gender does not apply.", While she held an authoritative tone, it was not a reprimand, she recognized--much to her dislike that the politically correct titles were the norm of this era, while the more traditional like herself were considered unique. An irony in its way that what is traditional would be viewed as the more out of the norm going against the very concept of tradition.

But then she remarked, "Speaking of the ancient Sith, though... In ages long past they used such weapons you are now as well, even when the advent of the lightsaber arose as the more efficient weapon to use. The visceral feel of a metal blade cutting into flesh...", she gained a small smile as she continued to say, "You know of speak, though, don't you...? The rush of when blade meets the flesh of your victim... the measure of their very life dictated by your actions in that small moment... And their eyes popping open wide as they know it too... unable to do anything about it, for your will has eclipsed theirs."

[Jace]

Kellanved kept his guard up but was getting the distinct feeling that this woman meant him no harm. In the even that he was wrong, her power would be more than enough to break through any defense he could muster. He was still not sure what to make of the Sith before him. The young Initiate felt as if he was being studied; measured to unknown standards. It was a decidedly uncomfortable feeling but not entirely unwelcome. Never had any of the other Lords graced him with anything more than a simple glance. Kel did not want to be at the center of attention but neither did he wish to be completely ignored. He knew more loneliness and loss than the average person yet he was not even seventeen.

He cringed ever so slightly as the woman corrected him. She spoke like a person who knew what she was talking about and who was Kel to argue? In truth Kellanved understood little of what was being said other than the fact that he should refer to this woman as 'My Lord' and not 'Lady'. Of course now he was confused as to how he should address the other Sith Masters. The Initiate could never have guessed they could make even simple things like this, complicated. Kel had never really held any manner of extended conversation with anyone before with one exception. There was a steep learning curve and the young Sith was struggling to catch up.

"I'll remember that...my Lord," Kellanved responded, his lifeless voice touched with a lack of surety.

She continued to speak and the Initiate attempted to listen as best he could. He was still having trouble understanding some of the things she said. Words he had never heard and stuff about the past. Yet as a small smile came to her face, Kel slowly began to grasp what she was referring. There was something disconcerting about the way the woman smiled as she spoke. Kellanved's belief that the Sith before him was extremely dangerous was further compounded. His experience told him that he should get away but a mixture of awe and fear kept him in place.

"I kill because I must," he stated in response yet there seemed little conviction in the boy's voice.

As he lowered his knives, Kel wondered if he killed solely to survive. He had killed a man once because there was no other choice yet what about every time after that? There was something terrible about taking the life of another person but also thrilling. Kellanved had always rejected the idea that he took pleasure in killing, it would have made him the same as the thug who tried to kill him. He could have continued on with simple stealing and begging and probably manage survive but he didn't. One only need to look into Kel's deadened gaze to know that he was natural-born killer. Unfortunately the young Initiate had not looked into a mirror for some time.

[Apillis]

(( Very short post))

"Because you must?", Hervor was a little amused by the answer, for it was something she hears often. She used to make the same excuse to justify her own actions once upon a time. Until with time she realized that's all they were, mere excuses to undeniable reality: she was just grasping for a reason for something that truly had none. So many Sith try to justify their actions, try to give reason for why they are in the right, but there was something Hervor understood--if they truly believe they are in the right then they should feel no need to justify anything. Hervor has felt no compulsion to explain herself or her actions for a long, long time.

"There are many reasons to kill, young Initiate", Hervor remarked, "But there are many more not to. In either cases, the reasons may not be as good as the other, but all of that boils down to is perspective, which is little more than opinion. Killing is merely a more efficient solution to the equation granted to us in the moment. Some times this is planned, but far more often it's just the human animal acting upon its impulses. It's merely our nature taking over."

The Sith Lord begun to pace slowly around the adolescent Sith initiate, studying him closely--his posture, how he carried himself, his regard toward her. She then paused in her steps after making a full circle around the lad, and inquired, "What is your name? Who are your instructors? Who's been training you since you arrived?"