The New Arrival (Open)

[Isan]

Isan nodded unswayed by why most would most likely take as insulting comments as to his physical stature. Isan, however, was not concerned when one spoke the truth of their observations. Isan knew that he was slight in build and the order in which he was raised placed little priority on strength or agility. It was a cult that based itself heavily on understanding and dedication to the Bogan. A dedication they believed was evident based on the power of the gifts the Bogan gifted into them. That was until the usurper stepped forth and changed the rules by killing the high priest and turning to rule the order with intimidation. A usurper that Isan knew best to defeat with the old ways by stealing that which instilled the power into the order. So was it the reason that the ancient tomes now rested in the hands of the Dark Overlord and not in the hands of the fallen cult.

Isan had followed Memnon to the training chamber. The whole time his eyes were scanning the halls of the temple. Taking careful note of the various locations that lead off of the main stretch and where they may lead to. The deeper into the temple they traveled he could feel the spirit of Bogan more strongly. Though the spirits slumbered in this ancient place their mark was still prominent. When at last they arrived at the training chamber Isan knew he had made the right decision to come here.

Still, despite Memnon seeking to leap quickly into the challenge a question still lingered on Isan's mind. "Before we begin... perhaps you may enlighten me on a Lightsaber. From your words it relates to me as an Eye of Bogan. A symbol of dedication. Though I do not understand why you would wish to use a symbol like that of those whom you speak of with such disdain. These followers of the stagnant ashla. These... Jedi."

As brilliant as Isan may have been some concepts still escaped him. He had never experienced a Lightsaber. He did not grasp why an order seemingly sworn to the concepts of Bogan would seek to implement a weapon like that of those who strive to lead the galaxy to stagnancy. Isan's mind was already churning at the thought of these weapons and of ways they may be countered. The art of weaving had many applications and Isan was sure that the gift he studied so diligently would have some use in a situation where these weapons came into play.


Isan dismissed his thoughts and looked to Memnon. "Perhaps that is a discussion for the future. Now a challenge is upon us and we do not seek to take more of the Overlord's time than is necessary. I feel to delve into these things would require a great deal of focus and discussion. So I shall deem that we simply begin our test and see how well I stand among one who walks as a Lord among these halls."

Isan's stretched his hands from his side and turned his fingers upward toward the ceiling as his dark eyes peered forth from behind the curtains of straight black hair. As he reach out to the heart of the temple he drew forth that ancient darkness locked away in the halls to fuel his powers. Ages of pain, fear, anger... all rested in wait at his command as the forces grew. He knew not what sort of display Memnon wished for so Isan had decided to show him how deep of an understanding he had over the powers that Memnon had displayed a touch of. The power that the cult which he was born into focused so diligently on from an early age.

His keen senses reach out touching the very atmosphere of the room. Delving more deeply into the composite make-up of the air Isan reach out with the art of weaving, as his cult had called it, shifting the very molecules themselves into something more lethal.

He condensed the molecules and bound them more closely together. The air spread forth from him toward Memnon. The tightly bound molecules were not to be easily separated by natural means. Such heavy air would choke most out rather quickly. It wound indeed be interesting, Isan thought, to see how Memnon would handle such an action. It would be even more interesting to see if he recognized the application involved in such an action.

It was meant as a test for Isan. Though he was certain the Lord would learn a few things as well during this exercise.

[Karl the Unfettered]

"As I said, to use a lightsaber is a sign of personal skill and power," Shard explained. "We can explore it in more detail later." Isan was preparing his attack, a spear of bound air molecules; in the Miraluka's vision it was a glittering arrowhead of power, the cultist's influence bright amongst the swirling colors. He watched as the cultist tightened his grip on the air, then released it toward the waiting Sith Lord.

"I see," he murmured, putting a hand up. He used the same trick to erect a wall of air before himself, gathering the molecules into a murky, syrupy barrier; Isan's attack stopped short, and the formation lost its focused and diffused again throughout the area as something in Shard's barrier counteracted and nullified Isan's power. "Very creative, you are indeed skilled in this. We call it the Art of the Small around here."

Without losing focus he manipulated the wall of air, sending it forward to wrap around Isan in a cylinder. A touch of a different sort of power charged the wall, filling it with snaps and tiny hisses of the potent powers now contained within. A creative application of Force Lightning, the wall of air was now charged; Isan could not make any movements without suffering a debilitating shock. The test was apparently to escape the makeshift prison without being harmed.

Shard had essentially reversed Isan's attack back on him, adding a touch of his own to up the ante.

((Sorry for the short post; I finally have the mindset to post with Shard and it fizzles out short on me. wtf >_< ))

[Isan]

OOC: Sorry about the insane delay. I was suddenly cut off from access and am just now about to get it back. Should have solid access in about a week so I'm going to go ahead and post the much delayed response.


Isan felt the charge as the air surrounded him. The static power lifted his thin hair in a halo about his head as his eyes thinned to slits and his hand grasped the Eye of Bogan that hang above his heart.

With a focused mind the distanced the molecules between him and the charge cutting them off from effecting him. The insulated buffer area served well to disperse the static near his body and his hair returned to rest. Though his body was still from influence his mind held a sharp focus as he forced the molecules outside the cylindrical wall to condense in a sharp line at Memnon's feet. The tightly woven molecules served well to conduct the electrical energy from their position to send it forth like a bolt of lightning to the grounding point targeted by the stream.

The act was not a direct attack. It was more a ploy to disrupt the concentration of the Sith and give him an opportunity for another maneuver.

As the molecules guided away the bolt of energy Isan stepped between the molecules within the room. Using the natural refraction each molecule holds he allowed it to blend the light around him as he shimmered from sight and simply moved through the blanket before reappearing three yards to the left side of Memnon.

"Your order is much more suited to the knowledge I bring than the Heretics which had usurped the teachings. You are much more clever and creative than those fools." Isan's head tilted as he examined the Sith Lord. "Though I suppose you would wish to know the extent of that which the art would bestow. It is more than these simple tricks. These plays of light and shadow. The Bogan, at its heart, is change... and change is the gift that is bestowed upon the most loyal. Though I can not show these grand gifts here in this sacred place. It is blessed by the Bogan and shall make its own change by its own course and by the will of the Bogan and not my own. Though if you truly wish to see the power of change. The true spirit of Bogan... we may move to less hallowed halls."