Post by Kuhblam on Jan 31, 2011 21:04:27 GMT -5
It had been four days since his arrival to this forsaken Temple, and already Virgil was beginning to loathe claiming residence to the structure. The main courtyard had been impressive enough, what with its seas of initiates training with endless horizontal suns swinging about and the even more innumerable rows of colonnade surrounded by red sandy brick and mortar. Supplemented by modern structures of durasteel and other metals, it had if anything reminded him of decaying religious structures on several other planets in the Outer Rim. The interior was dark and unimpressive, and the greeting ceremony had been nothing but fluff and jibber-jabber from one of the various lords. Female was the gender, bu Virgil neither remembered any distinguishing features or a name.
The encounter with Memnon had been interesting enough upon gaining entrance to the main courtyard. The Sith Lord was something of an oddball to Virgil; he had the appearance of an elaborate crime lord, what with all that black and gold apparel and paraphernalia. However, his words had struck a cord in Virgil, and in an odd display of rarity, Virgil had pledged something of an oath of loyalty or fealty to him. Such things never happened; how he had managed to coerce it from Virgil or persuade him into joining him, the Dark Jedi-turned Sith Initiate would never know. What he did know, however, was that once he was done with the initial mandatory teachings and training, he would off to Bastion, if his memory served him correctly as to the planet in question.
In any rate, he was off for the morning. Training and the like was standard for everyone, although the age line was strikingly myriad concerning the diversity of the demographics. Young, old, it didn't matter; here, they knew nothing, as did Virgil. It was strange, really; he had spent all his life on top, and now he was at the bottom of the food chain again. His utility belt clicked together about his waste, securing his black robes as he stood about in his quarter preparing to leave. He chose to glove his left hand, concealing the severed half of it which had long since been replaced by a prosthetic. No need today to incapacitate someone for making the mistake of calling him a cripple. Checking his boots, Virgil ran a hand across his forehead, feeling the Sith letter branded between his eyebrows. The pain elicited from touching it so soon gave him a mental stimulus of sorts; however, it did not create in him a deeper understanding of its meaning, and he gave no pause to ponder on the true extent of its validity further.
Punching the door keys, Virgil exited his quarters and moved into the interior hallways of the Temple. A steady stream of recruits were already moving in either direction, headed to whatever force-forsaken place required their presence as their field boots echoed thuds off the ground and reverberated through the hallways. Hooking a left, Virgil headed for the courtyard grounds; perhaps the morning combat session would not require as much work or anger as yesterday.
----
"Initiate, enough."
Virgil sent another blow to the man's midsection, doubling him over a second time before bringing a robe-swathed elbow to slam down on his upper back. His opponent showed no further signs of resistance, but Virgil was still seething with anger from the man's insolent insults. More power built up behind his kicks, and he delivered consequently more momentous kicks to the ribcage of the aforementioned. His eyes, already a natural bloodshot full yellow, were darkening somewhat from the mindset currently manifesting itself. There was no fight here, only sadism and hedonism. Grasping him with the Force and raising him, Virgil smiled as the man's head rolled back, a thick stream of crimson flowing from his nose. His gloved hand flew down, and the man's husk slammed into the floor, kicking up sand and dust as he seized to grunt further. Another grin elicited itself from underneath Virgil's face; he prepared to raise him up again and continue the process of rinse and repeat. Had a voice not called out to him again, Virgil would have continued the onslaught.
"Initiate!"
His fury nearly over-taking him, Virgil had forgotten where he was for a moment. He had, in his haste, almost killed a fellow Initiate. However, the man had deserved every bit of the punishment that Virgil had dished out to him. He had had the nerve, the arrogance to try and push Virgil, and paid for it by fighting prowess with child's play techniques. Yes, there was no doubt that Virgil had done the right thing for himself. But what of his situation now in the Temple? Virgil played out the situation in his head. He'd disobeyed the instructor, crushed and at least maimed a fellow Initiate, perhaps even rendered him paralyzed. Come to think of it, there had been several eye-wincing bone crunches...
His eyes narrowed, zoning out the barks of the trainer. His mind blocked out the few young Initiates who had bothered to laugh at the beaten fool, as well as those who had continued their training. He stared at the unconscious figure of the man, focusing on his attire; he was dressed in the same exact black robes Virgil had been issued himself before arriving on planet several days ago. They wore the same clothes, shared the same hypothetical rank; both he and the debtor were one and the same, yet fundamentally and totally different. He had years of experience; this man had at best half his years. Still, Virgil still came back to the similarities in the comparison; were they all not a single entity? There was no way this man was the equal of Virgil by any long shot.
Sith.
What did that word mean? To get into a philosophical situation at this point in time was balderdash and rubbish, but it was a question that Virgil had begun to probe into himself for an answer. The ambassador initiate who had spoken to him had orated of something bigger than any of the potential recruits, a scheme that they would fit into and possibly eventually play a much bigger role in. But there was no way someone like this man was destined to receive such a gift. He was a member of the Order in theory; so was Virgil, but he knew not the true meaning of the title. In truth, he had not the slightest notion as to the deeper meanings behind being a member of the Sith Order. A quick query also surmised that this petty weakling would have no recollection of a definition either.
He sighed for a moment. It wasn't a definition. The word meant something more than that; it had to mean something more than that. Virgil was lacking some quality that stopped him ice cold from complete comprehension of his new occupation as a destroyer of Jedi; whether it was humility or a team-style ethic, he had not the faintest clue. In any rate, he lacked both in earnest. What about the others in this room? The trainer, did he have a deeper knowledge than himself? What of the others? They all came from different backgrounds; some were fortunately human, while others were obviously of a lesser and more grotesque nature. These lesser beings still wore the same robes as Virgil though, and thus... they were equals? No, that was impossible. No exotic life form could compare to the genetic genius and ingenuity of a human, the dominant species. To be Sith and non-human, even near-human... to say the least, it was now leading Virgil down an all too familiar discussion. He didn't have the time to argue against himself for humanocentrism.
"Initiate, answer me!"
His head turned to the trainer, who had been trying to gain his attention with increasingly large barks and commands. It was beginning to get irritating. A ball of telekinetic energy was starting to build up in his hand, pulsating and numbing the feeling of his palm a bit by nipping at the edge of his nerves like a cool wind. The temptation to extend the hand, build up the blast further, and send the whining dog through a row of colonnade was extremely tempting, but Virgil would most likely already be reprimanded by someone higher for nearly breaking in half an investment of the Sith Order. The tension in his grip relaxed, and his breathing slowed. Slowly, he let the energy dissipate and diffuse back into the darkened energy waves surrounding the nexus he was standing upon. He could already sense someone of equal if not greater power approaching the room; his telepathic tendrils were detecting... confusion, curiosity, perhaps annoyance. Whomever it was, maybe they might have an answer for his question.
The encounter with Memnon had been interesting enough upon gaining entrance to the main courtyard. The Sith Lord was something of an oddball to Virgil; he had the appearance of an elaborate crime lord, what with all that black and gold apparel and paraphernalia. However, his words had struck a cord in Virgil, and in an odd display of rarity, Virgil had pledged something of an oath of loyalty or fealty to him. Such things never happened; how he had managed to coerce it from Virgil or persuade him into joining him, the Dark Jedi-turned Sith Initiate would never know. What he did know, however, was that once he was done with the initial mandatory teachings and training, he would off to Bastion, if his memory served him correctly as to the planet in question.
In any rate, he was off for the morning. Training and the like was standard for everyone, although the age line was strikingly myriad concerning the diversity of the demographics. Young, old, it didn't matter; here, they knew nothing, as did Virgil. It was strange, really; he had spent all his life on top, and now he was at the bottom of the food chain again. His utility belt clicked together about his waste, securing his black robes as he stood about in his quarter preparing to leave. He chose to glove his left hand, concealing the severed half of it which had long since been replaced by a prosthetic. No need today to incapacitate someone for making the mistake of calling him a cripple. Checking his boots, Virgil ran a hand across his forehead, feeling the Sith letter branded between his eyebrows. The pain elicited from touching it so soon gave him a mental stimulus of sorts; however, it did not create in him a deeper understanding of its meaning, and he gave no pause to ponder on the true extent of its validity further.
Punching the door keys, Virgil exited his quarters and moved into the interior hallways of the Temple. A steady stream of recruits were already moving in either direction, headed to whatever force-forsaken place required their presence as their field boots echoed thuds off the ground and reverberated through the hallways. Hooking a left, Virgil headed for the courtyard grounds; perhaps the morning combat session would not require as much work or anger as yesterday.
----
"Initiate, enough."
Virgil sent another blow to the man's midsection, doubling him over a second time before bringing a robe-swathed elbow to slam down on his upper back. His opponent showed no further signs of resistance, but Virgil was still seething with anger from the man's insolent insults. More power built up behind his kicks, and he delivered consequently more momentous kicks to the ribcage of the aforementioned. His eyes, already a natural bloodshot full yellow, were darkening somewhat from the mindset currently manifesting itself. There was no fight here, only sadism and hedonism. Grasping him with the Force and raising him, Virgil smiled as the man's head rolled back, a thick stream of crimson flowing from his nose. His gloved hand flew down, and the man's husk slammed into the floor, kicking up sand and dust as he seized to grunt further. Another grin elicited itself from underneath Virgil's face; he prepared to raise him up again and continue the process of rinse and repeat. Had a voice not called out to him again, Virgil would have continued the onslaught.
"Initiate!"
His fury nearly over-taking him, Virgil had forgotten where he was for a moment. He had, in his haste, almost killed a fellow Initiate. However, the man had deserved every bit of the punishment that Virgil had dished out to him. He had had the nerve, the arrogance to try and push Virgil, and paid for it by fighting prowess with child's play techniques. Yes, there was no doubt that Virgil had done the right thing for himself. But what of his situation now in the Temple? Virgil played out the situation in his head. He'd disobeyed the instructor, crushed and at least maimed a fellow Initiate, perhaps even rendered him paralyzed. Come to think of it, there had been several eye-wincing bone crunches...
His eyes narrowed, zoning out the barks of the trainer. His mind blocked out the few young Initiates who had bothered to laugh at the beaten fool, as well as those who had continued their training. He stared at the unconscious figure of the man, focusing on his attire; he was dressed in the same exact black robes Virgil had been issued himself before arriving on planet several days ago. They wore the same clothes, shared the same hypothetical rank; both he and the debtor were one and the same, yet fundamentally and totally different. He had years of experience; this man had at best half his years. Still, Virgil still came back to the similarities in the comparison; were they all not a single entity? There was no way this man was the equal of Virgil by any long shot.
Sith.
What did that word mean? To get into a philosophical situation at this point in time was balderdash and rubbish, but it was a question that Virgil had begun to probe into himself for an answer. The ambassador initiate who had spoken to him had orated of something bigger than any of the potential recruits, a scheme that they would fit into and possibly eventually play a much bigger role in. But there was no way someone like this man was destined to receive such a gift. He was a member of the Order in theory; so was Virgil, but he knew not the true meaning of the title. In truth, he had not the slightest notion as to the deeper meanings behind being a member of the Sith Order. A quick query also surmised that this petty weakling would have no recollection of a definition either.
He sighed for a moment. It wasn't a definition. The word meant something more than that; it had to mean something more than that. Virgil was lacking some quality that stopped him ice cold from complete comprehension of his new occupation as a destroyer of Jedi; whether it was humility or a team-style ethic, he had not the faintest clue. In any rate, he lacked both in earnest. What about the others in this room? The trainer, did he have a deeper knowledge than himself? What of the others? They all came from different backgrounds; some were fortunately human, while others were obviously of a lesser and more grotesque nature. These lesser beings still wore the same robes as Virgil though, and thus... they were equals? No, that was impossible. No exotic life form could compare to the genetic genius and ingenuity of a human, the dominant species. To be Sith and non-human, even near-human... to say the least, it was now leading Virgil down an all too familiar discussion. He didn't have the time to argue against himself for humanocentrism.
"Initiate, answer me!"
His head turned to the trainer, who had been trying to gain his attention with increasingly large barks and commands. It was beginning to get irritating. A ball of telekinetic energy was starting to build up in his hand, pulsating and numbing the feeling of his palm a bit by nipping at the edge of his nerves like a cool wind. The temptation to extend the hand, build up the blast further, and send the whining dog through a row of colonnade was extremely tempting, but Virgil would most likely already be reprimanded by someone higher for nearly breaking in half an investment of the Sith Order. The tension in his grip relaxed, and his breathing slowed. Slowly, he let the energy dissipate and diffuse back into the darkened energy waves surrounding the nexus he was standing upon. He could already sense someone of equal if not greater power approaching the room; his telepathic tendrils were detecting... confusion, curiosity, perhaps annoyance. Whomever it was, maybe they might have an answer for his question.
