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Valcor
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Dec 9, 2019 18:35:03 GMT -5
Post by Valcor on Dec 9, 2019 18:35:03 GMT -5
Janse's hand that was not extended to Karn, hovered warily by his foil. If this duel had told Janse anything, it was that this Arkanian was unstable, and defeat is not something the noble believed would be taken well. For a moment their eyes locked in this silent test, and was only broken by the human when the soft plods of approaching steps tore his attention free. Janse felt his hand go limp and his jaw nearly go slack, he recognized the approaching figure, who present would not? Darth Aurelius, the head instructor of the Sith Order.
With a clench of his jaw and a steeling of his posture, Janse ensured he held firm despite the quivering in his gut. As offered hand was slapped aside by Karn, Janse barely offered a glance. No, now he had to impress. Fear racked his mind, had he done something wrong during their bout? Sure, he had used his opponent's own reservations against him, but surely that was not worth an in person chastisement? Or was it the moment he was vulnerable? Curses. Janse knew he should have kept his guard more keen to telekinetic attacks.
With his hands folded behind his back, the human offered a polite bow, only to be stunned when the Arkanian was addressed first. No... Even if it was criticism that Janse feared, at least it was recognition of value, but to be passed over?! Janse shot daggers at the Arkanian only to catch flashes of lightening emanating from his pale fingers.
"Look, Albrecht,"
No.
“Far be it from me to stop you if you want more of a beating, but I wouldn’t do that, if I were you.”
NO.
“I don’t stop fights unless one of you is about to kill the other, but you’re beaten, boy,”
“For all the emotion running wild in you, boy, you’ve still got a long way to go. Learn from this. Get stronger and challenge Fashad another day.”
NO!
Janse had won! This was supposed to be his moment of glory! Not this... unstable Arkanian more eager to stroke his ego than use his brain! Why was Janse being passed over? Was his weakness that apparent to those higher than him that even his victories were stained with it? The noble clenched his teeth hard enough to crush stone and kept his bow, if only to hide his gaze burning into the sand with fury.
When footsteps retreated with an odd cadence to them, Janse finally rose back up. He expected to see the two of them heading off as apprentice and master in the wake of his show of skill. Instead he was greeted with the sight of Karn's leg failing him. Were anger not still lingering in the Noble's mind, this sight would have no doubt sparked a snort of amusement. Instead, confusion took anger's place. Karn was alone, shamefully sulking off to Force knows where.
When blue eyes turned to Aurelius they were met with words.
"And you,"
Oh god, had he missed something this Darth had said?
"Janse Fashad."
That's me!
“I assume you’ve still got gas in the tank after that, wouldn’t matter if you did. You won’t always get to work on full rest.”
"Ye-Yes sir." Janse replied with a firm nod. Clearing his throat to still any further stammers that might dare to ruin this moment for the noble boy, Janse gave every facet of his focus to this ranking Sith.
“Come with me.”
A determined nod answered, the younger Sith falling in a practiced distance behind the Darth as they strode out of the sands of the Acolyte dueling arena.
“Tell me, Fashad, why don’t you have a master?”
For a single step, Janse froze. This stun was quickly overcome and the pace was resumed while Janse thought of an answer. Sure, he knew why he had been passed over. At least, he thought he knew, but he certainly did not want that to ruin his chances at real training and status in this order. He feared just like the others, Aurelius could sense Janse's inherent weakness, just as his father had, just as the other Knights had. Though perhaps he did not, Janse would make that bet.
"I believe it has been due to the conflicts that have occupied much of the Order's attention Darth Aurelius. I cannot fault my superiors for focusing on the Archeri and Republic." Janse ensured his words were ordered and given with calmness, even if they fought not to be. This was his chance, he would not falter to childish trepidation.
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Rugs
The ring-dang-doo, now what is that?
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Dec 11, 2019 15:44:12 GMT -5
Post by Rugs on Dec 11, 2019 15:44:12 GMT -5
That crooked half-smile, showing the tip of a fanged tooth, returned as Aurelius saw Janse falter from the corner of his eye. For all that the Acolyte might have worried, there wasn’t much of a wrong answer for this question. Aurelius’ interest in Janse as a student was genuine, cemented by his victory in the dueling ring. Perhaps Albrecht would have gained that interest, if he’d triumphed, but Aurelius lacked the desire to train another student who couldn’t control himself.
Not again, after Zexva.
He walked around to the back of the speeder to inspect a small supply pack strapped to the rear, in front of the engine exhaust, as Janse rambled an answer at him.
As he climbed into the front seat, he eyed the young man again, from the corner of his eyes. “Is that what you think?” he asked dryly. Aurelius spent enough time running with gangs on Metellos’ grimy streets — he’d spent enough time with the Sith, for that matter — to know when someone was trying to hand him nerf shit and call it a delicacy.
A skilled duelist Janse might be, but he was not a liar. “Conflicts haven’t stopped some of the others from getting picked up, you know,” he said as he gunned the engine and the speeder burst into motion. “Hell, even Albrecht got picked up during the war. Surely you don’t think a knight or lord would see more potential in that hothead than you?”
The morning sun was still a long way from its zenith. Korriban was just beginning to warm from the night’s chill. Soon, the rocky desert would be sweltering.
Aurelius’ speeder zoomed on through the desert, leaving a trail of curling dust in its wake. He knew of a secluded place where he’d take Janse, far beyond the Valley of the Dark Lords. He’d taken his first student, Cadyren Calden, there for their first training session. If Janse survived the coming test, he’d become Aurelius’ third.
It’d take the better part of an hour to get there, and for a time, Aurelius rode on in silence. After a while, the bleak, open desert gave way to a rocky ravine, with a mountain looming in the distance. Aurelius took the speeder into the ravine, navigating its broken bottom with the confidence of the Force and having made the journey dozens of times.
Eventually, the ravine widened to the mouth of a cave. Aurelius slowed the speeder to a halt under the cave’s wide mouth and keyed in the ignition code to kill the engine. “We’re here,” he said simply as he climbed out of the speeder.
He inhaled deeply, drawing on the Force as his feet touched the dusty, rocky ground. It blistering heat and bone-chilling cold at once, life and death together. Power to crush any who opposed him and a never-ending struggle no to let it consume him.
Deep within the cave, a tomb lay buried above the beating heart of an ancient volcano, forgotten to time and much of the outside Galaxy. So close, Aurelius could feel the presence of the Dark Side that saturated the rocks, the dirt, the very air around them.
It was exhilarating.
“Take one of these,” he said, tossing a glowrod from the supply pack to Janse. “It’s dark in there for a while. Use it, your lightsaber, or the Force to see. I don’t care which, but I will leave you behind if you stumble blindly along.”
He stepped past Janse unceremoniously and began walking into the cave’s yawning maw. The Force stirred around him as he used Force sight to peer through the dark.
“And take a good look at the outside before you come in, boy,” he called back over his shoulder, voice echoing in the dark. “If you fail the test ahead of you, it’s the last you’ll get.”
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Valcor
No longer lost in the woods
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Dec 15, 2019 9:20:17 GMT -5
Post by Valcor on Dec 15, 2019 9:20:17 GMT -5
Aurelius' words stung in a way Janse found strangely paternal; so much so Janse even physically flinched as they finished.
"Even Albrecht got picked up during the war."
As Janse followed the Firrerreo into the speeder, he could not manage to lift his gaze from the floorboards of his respective seat. His jaw clenched tight and his gaze seemed to glaze over for a moment. Words echoed in his mind, words that hurt, words that spoke to who he was even before he could know that himself; his father's words. Time seemed to lose traction as the speeder left the Sith Academy a shrinking blip behind the pair neither ventured a glance back to.
"Do you know where we are?"
"The mausoleum... of the Fashads?"
"..."
"Father?"
"Every Fashad, from first to last lies in these chambers, each one a leader of our people and a pillar upon which you now stand."
"I... Don't understand. Is this my punishment?"
"No."
"..."
"..."
"I-I don't... understand. If you want me to remedy the Asoman situation-"
"Who is this one? The one who lies in this casket?"
"Kinsley... Kinsley Fashad, Father."
"And why do you know this one?"
"Because he... was almost usurped?"
"Because he was weak. He spared threats when he should not have. He nearly broke the chain that is our family. Were it not for his brother, we would be lost to time. Awash in fate like all other life, without the providence to make this world ours."
"I still... don't understand the relevance?"
"We cannot afford another weak. link. Janse. And this time, there is no stronger brother to pick up the slack."
"F-father. I'm... I'm sorry."
"It is not a crime against me, or even those in this hall that you commit. But against those in these empty resting places. I have no need to punish you, the weight of further shortcomings will do that for me."
"Can-*sniff*... Can I go now?"
"Dismissed."
How long had Janse been lost in thought? Oh no, he had done it again!
Glancing around wildly, he then relaxed, if only for a moment, at the sight of rocky outcroppings zooming past and the cool air whipping his hair behind him. They were still in transit, so perhaps it had not been terribly long that he had simply sat in silence. In spite of the time that had passed, Janse could still hear those piercing words from Darth Aurelius.
The Sith had no doubt seen clear through the thinly veiled lie that was Janse's justification for his prolonged isolation. Curses. The boy had always been a terrible liar, he should not have even bothered. Yet, the truth was somehow... worse for Janse to spit out. He was weak, too weak to even do what he knew needed to be done, for petty love no less!
No.
He hesitated to be sure, but could he really be condemned for such a thing? He had commanded the Fashad Janissaries at the youngest age out of any of his line, and won! He had eliminated the traitors in the end. He had remedied his own Father's failures to stop an insurrection! If there was some weakness to notice in him, it was not of his making.
"Honestly Darth Aurelius? I do not know. If your order chooses not to recognize greatness, then so be it. A mistake you seem to be addressing anyway." With this Janse shrugged and gazed out the side of the speeder.
His usual haughty expression gone for the moment as he slumped into his seat. Folding his violet gloves over his chest, Janse settled comfortably back into the silence of the ride, content to keep his focus on the passing scenery for the rest of the trip rather than descend back into his past.
It seemed like he had watch the entire equator of this planet pass when they finally began to slow, yet the soft rumbling of a speeder echoing in the silence of their dead exchange had a way of dragging time to a crawl. So, it was welcome to step back onto the harsh terrain of Korriban, even more so when the silence was broken with words. Snapping his focus to Aurelius' statement, Janse let the severity and coldness bring him comfort. He was no stranger to flat reality, even when it meant a threat to his safety.
“Take one of these,” He took one.
“It’s dark in there for a while. Use it, your lightsaber, or the Force to see. I don’t care which, but I will leave you behind if you stumble blindly along.” Janse nodded firmly. He swelled with eagerness at having clear and direct orders for the foreseeable future. The danger and threat of punishment for failure only set the Noble's jaw in determination. Janse lived for this, and he would not fail.
“And take a good look at the outside before you come in, boy, if you fail the test ahead of you, it’s the last you’ll get."
Taking his place shortly behind his new teacher, he expected nothing less. When the Firrerreo's back was finally turned, Janse let slip the smallest of smiles. For all the challenges set up, all the death threats, Janse felt alive again. Purpose was... a sweet reward.
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Rugs
The ring-dang-doo, now what is that?
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Dec 18, 2019 13:27:58 GMT -5
Post by Rugs on Dec 18, 2019 13:27:58 GMT -5
Aurelius paid Janse little mind as he walked deeper into the cavern’s wide-open maw. The boy would follow, or he wouldn’t. If he didn’t, he could try to make his way back to the Temple on foot; Aurelius hadn’t shared the ignition code to unlock the speeder’s controls.
But no, Janse came along quickly. As I thought, Aurelius thought, sparing a subtle, silent smile. Janse kept a mostly-cool exterior, but he wanted more than he’d gotten from the Sith Order so far. He kept it under control, but Aurelius could feel the hunger that drove him. Whether the boy spared a backward glance the world beyond, Aurelius did not know—he did not spare one for Janse.
They descended in silence, broken only by the sound of their movements and the occasional bits of loose rock scraping free as they passed. The light from outside quickly faded, leaving them in darkness as thick as pitch. Aurelius walked on, unperturbed as he peered through the Force. He trusted Janse could keep his own footing by whatever method he used to see the way.
It was, after all, the easiest part of the tests ahead of the boy.
“Fashad.” Aurelius’ voice echoed in the cavern as he spoke. “How is it that you, heir to a kingdom, came here?” The answer to that was likely simple enough; it wasn’t uncommon for the Empire’s aristocracy to send their sons and daughters to the Order. Especially for those families that searched ceaselessly to elevate their standing in the Empire.
But Aurelius wanted to know more.
He opened himself to the Force. His presence spread around them, adding a weight to the air that wasn’t there before. It was the only warning that something was afoot, should Janse have the awareness to notice it.
“It must be challenging, bearing the weight of centuries of family history on your shoulders.” Aurelius’ voice oozed mock sympathy. He’d been born to a family that shattered and turned against itself. He’d learned his life lessons on the streets of Metellos, not in a school. “And now you want to rise within this Order, to bear the weight of a hundred generations of Sith before you.”
Rock cracked loudly around them as Aurelius tore chunks free from the cavern walls. They were smaller than they could be, but large enough to hurt; large enough to bruise or break bone, if they hit the wrong place.
“I can’t help but wonder, Fashad, at your devotion to what’s ahead of you,” he went on over the sound of breaking rock. “If you truly wish to Ascend, boy, the road you’ll walk is long and treacherous and hard,” with each of those three words, Aurelius hurled a rock at Janse. He offered no instruction, no order to cut them down or dodge them, leaving the boy to do what he would. Aurelius still walked on, hands in his coat pockets, acting for all the world as if nothing was out of the ordinary.
“I will demand a lot of you, Fashad,” Aurelius continued. “Our Empress will demand more.”
They emerged in a massive expanse of a chamber. In the middle, a slender, gently arching stone path laid in an age long forgotten, bridge a wide chasm. A faint orange glow lit the chasm from below. The two Sith stood atop a rise with a short, but sudden drop to the floor below and dozens of yards to go until reaching the chasm. The walls bowed out in a subtle curve with crystals embedded in even intervals in them.
On the far side, the cavern wall gave way to a pair of huge, heavy stone doors, sealed tight against time and any wayward adventurers.
“When your journey pushes you to your breaking point, when you are forced to endure more than you think you can, more than you think you should,” he reached out with the Force again, this time to take hold of Janse. The crystals on the walls glowed a dull, dark red as the Force flowed into the chamber, “will you find the strength to rise again?” Aurelius tightened his hold on Janse in the Force and suddenly flung him forward, enough to send him over the drop’s edge and to the floor below. He let go as soon as the Acolyte was in motion, leaving him to right himself or crash to the ground.
“Or will you break like so many before you?”
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Valcor
No longer lost in the woods
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Dec 23, 2019 11:14:42 GMT -5
Post by Valcor on Dec 23, 2019 11:14:42 GMT -5
The cave seemed to eat whatever light dared to venture into its domain; but darkness alone would not give Janse pause. Without hesitation, he took the light crystal and stepped into the maw. The noble quickly realized just how serious Darth Aurelius was when he told the youth of his pace, as Janse was barely able to keep the tails of the Sith's robes in view as they moved. After a fair distance of travel, the boy finally fell into a comfortable march, growing accustomed to the mildly rough terrain, as well as the speed at which he had to traverse it.
Janse's focus was taken from the journey after a short while however, as questions radiated back towards him through the ichor that surrounded the pair; questions he was all-too-eager to answer.
“How is it that you, heir to a kingdom, came here?”
"I came at the behest of my Father, and of my own desire." Janse answered calmly, his eyes remaining firmly on the threatening ground as he spoke.
Even as the words came easily, his footsteps did not. The ground seemed to ooze beneath each purple clad boot, eating his very strength. The Force radiated out and around Janse, laboring his breaths and sapping his might. He could not tell if it came from Darth Aurelius, or the very cave itself, but it set his jaw on edge. Then more words came, these being less welcome than the ones before.
“It must be challenging, bearing the weight of centuries of family history on your shoulders.”
Janse felt the sarcasm lacing these words more than he heard it, the Force growing malicious as it swirled the statement around him. Yet, the noble was no stranger to being seen as lesser and in a way, felt a tinge of comfort as he was given an opportunity to prove himself.
"Anvil tempers metal." Janse said with an air of litany to his words. The boy did not feel what he said however, as the sting of the Darth's insult plunged deeper than the boy let on.
Could Aurelius really see how unworthy I am in the few moments we have spent together?
With this thought occupying his mind, Janse let his gaze drop.
“And now you want to rise within this Order, to bear the weight of a hundred generations of Sith before you.”
"I can and will." Once again, his words held an air of training to them, as if they were drilled rather than felt. With his eyes still low, the acolyte was oblivious and preoccupied when the first assault came his way. With his own mental chastisements ringing in his ears, Janse did not hear the rocks crack free of their holdings, nor did he hear the soft whistle as they sailed in his direction. It was only when one crunched against his shoulder that Janse was shaken back to the moment. In surprise the acolyte could not keep a yelp from escaping his lips, the force of the impact spinning him back, but giving him a moment to ready himself for the assault he now realized he was beneath.
Twirling with the strike, and drawing his foil in the motion, Janse emerged from the pounding injury ready for the onslaught of stone. Lifting the crystal that shone in the darkness over his head, and lowering his foil into a prepared stance, he peered uselessly into the dark, as if somehow the stones would illuminate themselves if he looked hard enough.
“I can’t help but wonder, Fashad, at your devotion to what’s ahead of you, if you truly wish to Ascend, boy, the road you’ll walk is long and treacherous and hard,”
To these words, Janse listened. He took in their meaning, their weight, but more-so, he felt their reverberations in the Force. Opening himself up to the ethereal, the youth let his sense beyond sense guide him more than his eyes or ears. Before it shot out of the darkness, the boy felt a stone make itself known, meeting it with sizzling foil when it broke the shadows that enveloped him. The second came in quick succession, spurring Janse to snap in place to meet it, only barely deflecting it from impact with the hilt of his weapon. Then the third arrived, unwelcome and quick, quicker than Janse could meet it. Plunging hard into his thigh, the boy could only weather the agony of it.
This time Janse did not yelp. The noble youth only clenched his jaw and tightened his purple glove about his weapon, silently cursing his lethargy. Pain brought focus though, and Janse felt renewed drive to perform now that he had failed. With gaze burning into the darkness that radiated with the essence of his Sith guide, Janse lifted his illumination crystal to his mouth, and clamped it roughly between his jaws. With his off-hand now free, he drew his pistol.
Rocks don't stand a chance now. He said internally, a grin growing around the mineral in his mouth as he moved onward.
“I will demand a lot of you, Fashad, our Empress will demand more.”
Only a firm grunt answered.
When Janse finally caught sight of Aurelius, back-lit by the chamber they now entered, the Tarkan boy kept his gaze firmly on his elder. He watched for a twitch, a wave of a hand, anything to indicate another slew of attacks; yet felt no urge to launch his own. Janse recognized a test when he saw one, and was under no preconceptions an enraged attack would end well for him.
When the next test did arrive, Janse found himself once again caught off guard.
“When your journey pushes you to your breaking point, when you are forced to endure more than you think you can, more than you think you should,”
The boy felt constriction latch around him, felt the Force grip his figure against his will. The suddenness of it left no room for reaction from Janse. He could only push outward and call upon the power himself in a vain attempt to break this hold.
“will you find the strength to rise again?”
And he was free, both from the grip, and the ground upon which he had stood. In the air, Janse felt terror try to seep into his mind, begging for him to flail like a beast as he fell.
But he had felt this before. On the fields of Rebels Crossing, in the air over Estan, and on those sands in the practice arena, Janse had felt this fear, and in the drop before him, was silenced as quickly as it came. Steeling his thoughts, Janse spun himself, feet facing down, and pulled whatever might he could from the Force to cushion his impact.
“Or will you break like so many before you?”
And he made contact.
It was hard, both audibly and on the boy's body itself. His knees bent, his hands pressed their respective weapons into the cool stone, and his body curled down. When the force of gravity was finally overcome by muscle and ethereal might, the boy rose, and lifted his eyes to the man above. His icy gaze pierced back into the hooded set, before a purple clad hand rubbed pistol against bruised shoulder. This eased the throbbing pain, if only in expectation, even desire, for more.
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Rugs
The ring-dang-doo, now what is that?
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Dec 28, 2019 16:07:01 GMT -5
Post by Rugs on Dec 28, 2019 16:07:01 GMT -5
The boy landed with a thud. Aurelius imagined it was uncomfortable for Janse, but that was the point. The stone was unyielding, unforgiving. Though the drop wasn’t enough to kill, it could lead to a broken leg or twisted ankle if he landed poorly.
Should Janse find himself unable to press on, Aurelius would return to the Academy, and he’d be left behind.
Forgotten.
Yet as he peered through the darkness he watched Janse, illuminated by the glow rod clenched stubbornly in his teeth, rise. If the pain from the fall, the aches from the stones hitting him, hurt, the boy did not show it.
Good.
Aurelius hopped down. He landed with a cat’s grace and, sparing a brief look at Janse, carried on. The boy would follow, or be left behind.
They crossed the small bridge, arcing over the on-and-off active subterranean lava river, and came to stop before the huge stone doors that stood on the far side. Silent. Waiting. Nothing outwardly adorned the doors, save a carving of the Sith’s ancient symbol, worn faint by centuries of silence. No handles. No latch. No sensors to command them to swing open when someone drew near.
Aurelius inhaled deeply and pressed a hand to the door, rubbing it against the smooth sandstone. Once more, the Force came to him as he pressed his will out, into the mechanisms hidden within the doors. The crystals embedded along the cavern’s lit more brightly as the Force surged at Aureliu’s command.
After a moment, heavy click and whirring of some ancient mechanism announced his success and the doors swung slowly inward.
Their ponderous motion revealed an ancient mausoleum carved out of the rocky ground. The high, vaulted ceiling was lost to the shadows. At the far end, stone sarcophagus lay at the feet of a sandstone statue of some Sith Lord. Their face was hidden, forever lost to time. A chill lingered in the air, which smelled of dust and age.
“Do you know who lays here, boy?” The ground rumbled as the doors slowly shut behind them. Aurelius ignored them, walking slowly toward the sarcophagus. He unbuttoned his coat and threw it aside, leaving only a sleeveless training shirt that hugged his athletic form. Three lightsabers, now easily visible, hung at his waist. “You’d be the first, if you did. Most don’t even know this place is down here.”
Aurelius stopped before the sarcophagus, running a finger along its surface. The stone was smooth — it’d probably been polished, once, but even that had long ago worn away. “Some Sith Lord who thought themself great once upon a time, I’m sure. What did that greatness get them in the end?”
He flicked his finger, letting dust drift in the still air. “A legacy no one remebers, a tomb no one cares about, and dust for company.” Aurelius looked over his shoulder, a single golden eye watching Janse.
“And then there’s you. Janse Gorbitz Fashad. Heir to the Tarkan throne, in all your self-proclaimed greatness.” Aurelius’ shoulders shook as he chuckled darkly. “All this greatness, and still a lowly Acolyte. Your peers gain the eyes of your betters. Say what you will of Albrecht, but he hungers. You?” The corner of his lip turned up to a smile. “Are you just content to spend your days in the sparring grounds, hoping for something to change? With such a short, Human life, you think you’ve got that much time to waste?”
Aurelius turned around to face Janse fully now. The Force surged into him, life and death warring together as one. He did not move, but the two matching lightsabers at his waist rose to the, one on each side of him. They ignited, golden blade emerging from one, dark blue from the other. Aurelius lifted his arms to take each in hand.
“Come, boy. Prove your greatness or leave your life and your legacy here where they belong.” A cruel smile twisted his face as he entered a neutral stance. “Forgotten. Forever.”
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Valcor
No longer lost in the woods
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Jan 8, 2020 9:13:05 GMT -5
Post by Valcor on Jan 8, 2020 9:13:05 GMT -5
Janse's eyes now stayed locked on Aurelius. Up until this point Janse had held out some faint hope that Aurelius was going to reveal some deep secret to the youth here in this cave. Now, though, it had become clear that Aurelius meant for this to be a test of the noble himself, leaving no choice in Fashad's mind; this was now a matter of proving his worth.
When Aurelius himself descended, Janse tracked him like the predator the Sith likely could be if he so chose. The boy only followed when he was certain no more force powers were being directed his way, even being so wary as to keep is blade between himself and his guide in this darkness.
Once the way beyond the stone doors became clear, Janse still remained wary to proceed, letting Aurelius enter the, for once mildly lit, room first. Following tentatively behind, the youth ventured a quick glance at his surroundings, taking in both the flowing magma below, and the crystals that seemed to glow. When Aurelius pressed his will into the door to open it, Janse felt the Force radiate through and around the room, and perked a brow as the crystals themselves seemed to react. Perhaps this reaction might have given the youth pause, perhaps it might have caused him to ponder on the Force itself, were he not concerned for his safety deep in the bowels of this... whatever it was.
Onward they went, until finally the silence was broken, to Janse's relief, by words instead of cracking rock.
“Do you know who lays here, boy? You’d be the first, if you did. Most don’t even know this place is down here.”
Janse, with eyes darting to the tomb for scarcely a moment before returning to Aurelius, merely shrugged. He was too focused, his senses heightened to the moment and everything that participated in it. A soft ache pressed into the youth's gut, a more prominent tingle took hold of his fingers. Janse hated this; not the conflict, or the test that he was sure would arrive, but the waiting. It was always the waiting that bore the most agony to the Tarkan. Before any sort of conflict that had the chance to claim his life, Janse's nerves would play an agonizing melody within him, only for the following battle to banish it all in an instant. When in the moment, it was nothing to Janse, well tested muscle memory and hard learned lessons made it all to easy for the boy to trust himself, yet this insufferable waiting... it made him uncomfortable.
“Some Sith Lord who thought themself great once upon a time, I’m sure. What did that greatness get them in the end?”
Janse merely grunted out a sort of "I dunno." at the question, assuming by it's nature it was meant to be more rhetorical than probing. Yet, as the nerves continued to heighten, Janse felt his foil rising more and more into a stance, the mood in this moment seeming to build to a head. And Janse was no fool.
“A legacy no one remebers, a tomb no one cares about, and dust for company. And then there’s you. Janse Gorbitz Fashad. Heir to the Tarkan throne, in all your self-proclaimed greatness.”
Janse now began to regret his comment earlier.
“Are you just content to spend your days in the sparring grounds, hoping for something to change? With such a short, Human life, you think you’ve got that much time to waste?”
As the Sith turned to face Janse, his nerves abated. There was no more twisting in his gut, or numbness in his fingers, only the twitchy focus of adrenaline now. The young noble let out a long breath as single purpose brought him much needed comfort. When the Sith presented ignited sabers and cruel smile, Janse only shifted his feet and tightened his grip on his own weapons.
There was no answer to Aurelius taunt or threat that followed. No counter-smirk, or wordplay. That sort of banter and bravado was only suited when Janse felt comparable to his opponent, and sought the mental edge. Yet here, Fashad knew he was out of his depth. He could feel the power radiating from this Sith, and had enough experience fighting opponents to sense lethality in them, almost before ever crossing a single strike. This opponent held no secrets of his ability to the Tarkan, leaving Janse rightfully wary.
Pistol and foil were gripped and readjusted over and over, as if there might be some sweet-spot to win this battle hidden in the two. Alas there was not, and Janse remained stuck where he stood. He pondered endlessly on whether to attack or wait, both carried immense risk, and neither held an advantage for him. Falling back on old habits, Janse finally made a decision, and stood his ground. This was not an idle action however, as he fought with all he could muster to fuel himself with the Force. He would need this one ally above all else right now, and he knew it.
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Rugs
The ring-dang-doo, now what is that?
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Jan 9, 2020 10:56:44 GMT -5
Post by Rugs on Jan 9, 2020 10:56:44 GMT -5
Aurelius watched as Janse steeled himself for the coming trial, glowrod clenched stubbornly in his teeth. It seemed an unspoken statement of his own ability with the Force, or of a lack of faith in his ability to perceive that which surrounded him without the artificial light to help him.
Interesting, Aurelius thought idly, watching the boy fidget with his lightfoil and blaster pistol. A weakness to address later. If there is a later, he corrected himself. The threat to leave Janse’s corpse behind in the crypt if he failed to impress was a very real one. Don’t get ahead of yourself.
Initially Aurelius spared Janse time to prepare himself. The boy was, from all indications, one of the more thoughtful Acolytes; a sharp contrast to the Arkanian he’d dispatched in the sparring sands. And dueling a Dark Lord, one of the Pillars of the Order itself, was considerably different than fighting a peer.
But this was, in a sense, a part of the test itself. Did Janse have the courage, the drive to seek out that which he claimed to want?
Or will you wait, Aurelius began to wonder as the boy stood there, for it to come to you?
He knew the game Janse played. The boy wasn’t standing passively by — he could feel the Force flowing into Janse. He wanted Aurelius to come to him, to make the first move. Aurelius, alas, didn’t feel like cooperating.
At least, not in the way Janse likely expected.
The Dark Side swelled in him as he raised his arm, golden lightsaber held in before him. The air within the crypt grew heavy and thick as he focused the Force within him and uncurled his fingers. “You seem to have the wrong impression,” he said, the edges of his voice heavy with effort. As his each but his forefinger and thumb uncurled from the lightsaber hilt, the air distorted in front of him, twisting his figure and the light from his sabers.
A blast of Dark Side power erupted, imperceptible to the eye save the distortion left in its wake, but all too easy to feel tearing through the Force. It roared by Janse, narrowly missing his shoulder and head and crashed into the stone crypt wall behind him in with an explosion of dust and shattered rock.
Behind Janse, a part of the wall was simply gone, to a depth of a few feet. Bits of loose rock from above, suddenly unsupported, crumbled to the crypt floor.
“I am not the one with something to prove here, boy,” Aurelius said. He fought to keep from breathing heavily. Force Destruction was still a new technique to him, and required the expense of a great deal of power. “I do not expect you to best me, but I do not expect you to idly wait, either. When I say come at me, it’s not a request.”
He twisted his lightsabers in a short flourish, leaving glowing gouges on the floor to either side of him, and assumed a waiting stance, one slightly extended, the other diagonal in front of him. “Now come show me you’re worth the apprenticeship you seek, or I swear the next one will not miss.”
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Valcor
No longer lost in the woods
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Jan 14, 2020 11:38:44 GMT -5
Post by Valcor on Jan 14, 2020 11:38:44 GMT -5
Janse scarcely had a moment to react before the explosion of crypt behind him sent shards of rock blazing past him. The youth's eyes widened and stayed shocked as the stones set free stilled in the smooth floor of the room between the pair. Janse had been told of the power the Force held, and maybe had believed it, but seeing it displayed before him was stunning none the less. When his eyes rose back from the stones to Aurelius', the shock passed as quickly as it came.
“I am not the one with something to prove here, boy, I do not expect you to best me, but I do not expect you to idly wait, either. When I say come at me, it’s not a request.”
To this, Janse listened and understood. Perhaps he had trained too long with his fellow apprentices, but old habits die hard; so with tentative steps forward, the youth broke his conditioning, much to his chagrin. With each step closer, Janse attempted to maximize his control over what power he could wrestle, and holstered his pistol. The closer he drew, the faster the steps came, careful eyes watching for a trap he had no doubt Aurelius could spring at any given moment.
With foil presented before him, he drew into a slow trot, then a run, then a sprint, and finally a force imbued burst. If this was a test with no real hope of victory, then Janse had no need to worry about defense. As the last short span was closed between the pair, Fashad coiled his foil back like a viper. With a grunt of effort emanating from around the crystal, Janse let his first strike be delivered. And he held nothing back from it.
Aimed center of mass on the Darth, Janse filled the thrust with everything he could manage, dumping whatever power he had not used to fuel his speed into it. His feet planted hard, thighs extending forward to add their might to the blow, as arm, torso and shoulder all extended at once. The boy had no doubt he could not finish this Darth with this, nor any blow really for that matter, but he made sure it was a show.
Once he felt all of his might dissipate, the Tarkan Noble wasted no time in recovery and quickly moved with the motion of his strike to circle about his opponent. His steps were light, scarcely disturbing the dust and stone underfoot as he continued the assault. None of the successor blows held near the power the initial did, yet they were not supposed to. Each was probing and exploratory, meant to test the defenses they met, as well as keep reprisals from coming.
So, without any hope of victory, Janse fell into this pattern for nearly a full rotation about the Darth, stabbing, circling, and to a degree, waiting. For all his ability, pride, and honor, Janse had little experience with certain defeat, and was unsure how to even proceed with it.
Just keep stabbing...
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Rugs
The ring-dang-doo, now what is that?
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Jan 17, 2020 13:42:02 GMT -5
Post by Rugs on Jan 17, 2020 13:42:02 GMT -5
A step forward, perhaps a bit unsure. Tentative. Then another, and another, each more certain than the last. That’s it, boy. Dust stirred on the old stone floor around him as he drew the Force and focused it into himself. A smile tugged at Aurelius’ lips, baring his fangs as Janse broke to a jog, then a run, and finally broke into a Force-fueled rush at him.
This, Aurelius allowed. The boy answered his challenge; it’d be the only unchallenged advance he’d get.
He knew, from watching Janse’s earlier fight that Janse preferred Makashi. It was a fitting thing, for a rich boy; full of precision and grace. Aurelius knew the form, to an extent — he knew them all, to some degree, for the purposes of teaching the basics to the Order’s students.
Even if he didn’t know exactly what Janse planned, he could hazard a guess as his arm pulled back and his saber began to burst forward in a crimson blur.
A thrusting lunge, recognized and reacted to on instinct, faster than the cognizant thought came to mind. Aurelius stepped lightly aside, hastened by the Force. He kept his golden blade raised and between his body and Janse’s lightfoil, in case the boy tried to make a swipe out of the lunge. The blue blade, he extended slightly, making more a lazy wave in Janse’s direction while he was extended into the lunge.
A threatened attack. An unspoken expression of his ability to kill the boy while he was overextended if he wished it.
Yet Janse wasted no time in pressing the attack, as instructed. He recovered and came at Aurelius, began to move around him with cautious, probing strikes. Aurelius, for his part, settled into blocks and parries that were easy, almost lazy, wasting no more effort than what was needed to keep Janse’s lightsaber at bay. He used only one hand — the blue saber whirred around him, deceptively quick for his relaxed posture. The gold blade hummed at his side, waiting.
For now, he employed Niman. It was one of his preferred forms, if not his form of choice. Still, it allowed for some creative freedom and kept some of his cards hidden in this early testing phase.
“Quick on your feet. Strong, with the Force behind you, at least. Solid form.” His voice echoed in the dim chamber, over the hissing and humming lightsabers. “You might have run an Acolyte through with that lunge, boy, but I am not one of your sparring friends.”
Without warning, and with the Force strengthening him, Aurelius went on the offensive. As Janse delivered a stab, Aurelius attacked into it, moving his blue blade to intercept Janse’s from below before its predictable thrusting was complete and shove it roughly up and aside.
His golden blade exploded to motion as Aurelius made a short, quit cut at Janse’s side -- one reminiscent of, but not quite the same as one of Makashi’s graceful strokes. He’d pull the stroke short if it met skin — he’d not lowered his lightsaber’s intensity as Janse and Karn did before their bout, but he wasn’t ready to kill the boy just yet.
Regardless of the attack's success, more followed, with a measured, relentless pace that assaulted Janse from all directions. Aurelius did not circle, as Janse had, but pressed forward, unceasing as an avalanche. He'd continue until the boy did something to force a change.
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Valcor
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Feb 3, 2020 12:53:35 GMT -5
Post by Valcor on Feb 3, 2020 12:53:35 GMT -5
When the lunge connected with a block, Janse saw that second blade wave in his direction. Instinct more than conscious reaction launched the boy back and into his circling motion, he had left himself open, it was part of his display of ability, yet if Janse was to show his true worth, he could not be so open again. Then the assault shifted from the Tarkan, to against him, almost without ceremony.
Janse felt the subtle shifts in the blows; in the beginning they had met closer to Aurelius, with the sparks of impact nearly landing on Aurelius' robe. Now things had started to shift, first to the middle of the air between the pair of duelists, and finally towards Janse himself. For the moment the youth took solace in the fact the room gave space for retreat, but as he fell back, that space showed the extent of its forgiveness. Step after step the noble gave up to the master, further and further back until his heel meet the raised surface of a wall.
Were Janse of clearer mind, he would have known his footing, were his life not on the line, he would have acknowledged the impact without needing to see it, but Janse was neither of clear mind nor sound nerves. In a show of desperation he glanced back, taking his eyes off his opponent. In his panic, Janse threw a thrust, protective in its inception, but revealing in practice, and Aurelius capitalized. When wrist was turned upwards by connected and parrying blade, blue eyes snapped back to their opposition. It was in this moment Janse realized the terrible and terrifying position he had left himself in, and the punishment that was coming his way.
As blue searing blade came his way, the boy recognized it was inevitable, and only manageable. So he tightened his core, and moved with the strike. He knew he could not stop this one, but perhaps he could regain his positioning for the next. So he turned, pressed one hand to the wall he found himself trapped by and let lose an unfocused burst of the Force into it, propelling himself off to one side. Then the strike landed.
Aurelius had not lied, his blade was no longer on its training setting, and Janse felt this viscerally as it passed easily through the fibers of his coat and sizzled into the pale flesh beneath. When Janse landed a few feet away, he let out a muffled howl in agony, his free hand snapping to the wound instinctively. His jaw might have been tightly clenched shut about the crystal, but his body demanded relief from the pain it felt, and insisted on letting it be known. Through his nose he grunted hard, and through the Force, he fueled himself to rise again.
With a hand still gripping his smarting, and now partially opened side, the boy righted himself, this time with an air of focus. First blood, and not in the boy's favor. This was a bad sign. Yet even from the outset Janse had known his odds of victory, slick zero, but he could still prove his ability.
It was dishonorable sure, but Janse had little choice, he needed to show this Sith Master all he was capable of. With what power remained within him, the youth let his mind reach out, let his thoughts press like an attack all their own into Aurelius'. With his guard back up, Janse took the offensive from the stillness of where he stood. With all the ethereal power he could muster, piercing thought drove home, hungry for the prize no mind was barren to.
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Rugs
The ring-dang-doo, now what is that?
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Feb 6, 2020 16:45:24 GMT -5
Post by Rugs on Feb 6, 2020 16:45:24 GMT -5
Contact.
Janse landed gracelessly, clutching at his side with a scream that was all the louder for its echoes on the crypt’s unforgiving stone. Aurelius paused, giving the boy a chance to gather himself. It was, to his knowledge, the lightsaber blow to fall on Janse since his bout with Albrecht began; the Arkanian had certainly never made contact.
Sure, he could press the attack now, but it would be cruel, rather than informative. Even a glancing blow from a lightsaber could be extraordinarily painful; Aurelius knew this well from year after brutal year of hard learning. How would Janse respond, without the upper hand he’d so obviously enjoyed earlier?
The path to strength — to greatness — was rough and riddled with innumerable pitfalls and perils, with suffering and loss. For followers of the Dark Side, this truth was immutable.
If Janse could fight out through his pain, through the hurts that he’d endured on the journey through the winding cavern, perhaps he would prove himself worthy. If he could find strength in his suffering, if he could use it to drive himself ever onward, he might even thrive, under Aurelius’ tutelage. But if he crumpled, if he folded and failed like some of his peers might...
Well, the boy already knew the stakes.
To his credit, Janse rose, steadied himself and braced for more. Aurelius began to smile, subtly, until some unseen force slammed into his mind.
A memory came sliding loose, unbidden.
“Get up.”
A lightsaber hummed, just behind and above him. His breaths came heavy against the dirty metal floor. His head throbbed. His back ached as if afire. “I-I can’t-”
Words cut off as a scream tore at his throat, already raw and hurting from countless more. The lightsaber dragged across his back, leaving a mark that joined half-dozen crisscrossing others.
“You will get up, Nieraan,” the voice said again. Kamirille’s voice.
His mother’s voice.
“Your first lesson must be finding your own strength,” she sounded disgusted, despite having spent the past few minutes beating Nieraan to the edge of consciousness, “since your father has obviously coddled you.”
Nieraan tried to push himself up. His arm trembled, strength on the edge of failure as he put his weight on one hand to grasp weakly with the other at a metal cylinder on the floor in front of him. If he could get reach his lightsaber, just a finger’s width beyond his reach-
No.
The Force exploded out of Aurelius’ outstretched palm at Janse, in a push so powerful it tore chunks of stone from the polished floor and sent them slamming into the walls a cloud in a spray of dust and dirt. The blast left a wide swath of ruined, broken ground in front of Aurelius, and it’d been centered squarely on Janse. Aurelius felt no pity as he heard the boy’s body make contact, as he felt Janse’s connection with his mind abruptly snap.
A burst of lightning followed, illuminating the entire crypt as it forked into the dust cloud and slammed into the rocks and whatever else waited within. More dust billowed forth, with glowing rock shards thrown away by the lightning’s energy.
Aurelius held little back. The reaction was instinctual, more than one of anger; he would not allow certain memories of his past to be dragged forward.
“I see,” he said when the onslaught ceased, returning the crypt to darkness, “so that’s how you broke Albrecht.” There had been a clear turning point, when the boys went from fighting as equals, with the Arkanian perhaps on the verge of seizing the upper hand, to Janse holding an insurmountable advantage.
To think, that Janse — or any Acolyte, for that matter — would be so bold as to turn that power on one of the Inner Sanctum.
The boy was taking Aurelius’ challenge seriously.
“You’ve got balls, I’ll give you that.” Aurelius advanced slowly, letting the tips of his lightsabers drag over the broken ground. His voice was different now; gone was the tone of a teacher, waiting, watching to see what his potential student might do. Now it carried a deadly serious weight. “A mark in your favor,” his lightsabers whirred as he raised them, “if you live.”
Whether the boy was ready or not, Aurelius descended upon him again.
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