Post by Grawn on Feb 26, 2010 5:19:24 GMT -5
The room was made of stone. Gray, soulless stone that didn't offer any warmth and was always cold to the touch. It wasnt a very large room, perhaps smaller then an average bed room. It was sparse in its decoration as well, a small mat that was probably as thick as a stack of papers and a raggy blanket was in a corner. This was the extent of what his uncle would give him in comfort. The rest of given in near mind numbing pain.
A young boy laid on the mat, but not bothering to cover himself with the blanket. It was itchy to his skin, the stone itself even though it was rough and would sometimes scrap his skin off if he hit it particularly hard, would be a better defense against the chilling cold. He laid on his side, his blue eyes watching his hand as it felt the stone floor. The boy had done this many times before, this being, because it was basically all he could do.
His hand slid left to right in a small sweep across the hard surface, ignoring the ache his body was coursing with. He had awoken not long ago, though if it was sleep or being beaten in a spar with his Master, he couldn't say. It wouldn't be the first time Ibapo had beaten him into exhaustion then dragged him to his room. How he hated that man, his uncle, and the things he had done. He was the source for everything bad in his life, along with the Jedi.
Sometimes he couldn't decide who he hated more. Ibapo, his dark master or the Jedi Order. The self righteous "defenders" of the galaxy. Ibapo was a unforgiving, dark, heartless old man who seemed to take great delight in dealing pain in any form to his nephew. As he taught the boy his path of darkness, he did so with a interesting perspective of teaching.
He used pain in every aspect of the word to punish or reward the boy. The lad took it all and really showed no signs of physically breaking. While the bruises and the cuts were there, no such blemishes existed on his mentality or his soul. Or, so he liked to think.
"Grawn", the voice boomed suddenly in the boys head, but if he felt any pain from the mental blow, he showed no signs.
"Yes, my master", the boy replied, his lips barely moving. Even though he spoke physically, the old man would hear him.
"It is time for more training. Prepare yourself".
Grawn felt the adrenaline rush through him and any weariness he felt evaporated like a rain drop falling on a lightsaber as he rose to a knee. A small light hung from the middle of the room and it now made his blue eyes shine with an almost unnatural glow. His toned body was covered in a black tunic, pants and boots with his shaggy black hair partially covering his eyes as they went sharply to the door to the room.
He could feel the old man's presence approach and if he felt any hopelessness or helplessness, Grawn showed none. One of his first lessons was to show no fear and he intended to never show or feel the word. Opening his right hand, the training lightsaber slowly left his belt and entered his grip in a reversed fashion, the blade igniting. The red lit up the corner of the room that had his bed as he waited intently for the old man to enter.
Perhaps he could take him by surprise. Strike him as he entered.
[To be continued]
A young boy laid on the mat, but not bothering to cover himself with the blanket. It was itchy to his skin, the stone itself even though it was rough and would sometimes scrap his skin off if he hit it particularly hard, would be a better defense against the chilling cold. He laid on his side, his blue eyes watching his hand as it felt the stone floor. The boy had done this many times before, this being, because it was basically all he could do.
His hand slid left to right in a small sweep across the hard surface, ignoring the ache his body was coursing with. He had awoken not long ago, though if it was sleep or being beaten in a spar with his Master, he couldn't say. It wouldn't be the first time Ibapo had beaten him into exhaustion then dragged him to his room. How he hated that man, his uncle, and the things he had done. He was the source for everything bad in his life, along with the Jedi.
Sometimes he couldn't decide who he hated more. Ibapo, his dark master or the Jedi Order. The self righteous "defenders" of the galaxy. Ibapo was a unforgiving, dark, heartless old man who seemed to take great delight in dealing pain in any form to his nephew. As he taught the boy his path of darkness, he did so with a interesting perspective of teaching.
He used pain in every aspect of the word to punish or reward the boy. The lad took it all and really showed no signs of physically breaking. While the bruises and the cuts were there, no such blemishes existed on his mentality or his soul. Or, so he liked to think.
"Grawn", the voice boomed suddenly in the boys head, but if he felt any pain from the mental blow, he showed no signs.
"Yes, my master", the boy replied, his lips barely moving. Even though he spoke physically, the old man would hear him.
"It is time for more training. Prepare yourself".
Grawn felt the adrenaline rush through him and any weariness he felt evaporated like a rain drop falling on a lightsaber as he rose to a knee. A small light hung from the middle of the room and it now made his blue eyes shine with an almost unnatural glow. His toned body was covered in a black tunic, pants and boots with his shaggy black hair partially covering his eyes as they went sharply to the door to the room.
He could feel the old man's presence approach and if he felt any hopelessness or helplessness, Grawn showed none. One of his first lessons was to show no fear and he intended to never show or feel the word. Opening his right hand, the training lightsaber slowly left his belt and entered his grip in a reversed fashion, the blade igniting. The red lit up the corner of the room that had his bed as he waited intently for the old man to enter.
Perhaps he could take him by surprise. Strike him as he entered.
[To be continued]