Dark Archon

Xelker was thankfully interuppted from his boring walk around the woods by Nurgle's voice. "Gather wood, and find a dry spot of land. Build yourself a forge. There are metallic materials nearby that I have left to help you in this task." At last... something to do rather than parade around this forest for the rest of his life! He spat, releasing his scorn, and then focused. First things first, get the metal. Nurgle had said it was nearby, and with the Force as his guide finding it would be a simple task. Indeed, pinpointing the pieces of metal was indeed simple. The part Xelker hadn't anticipated, however, was the digging. And since he didn't have any digging 'tools,' he had to use his hands. Argh. His bad mood was slowly returning to him with every clump of dirt he heaved aside. If anything tried to stop him from becoming a Sith now... eventually, though, he had all the parts. Another fun part, he had to find a dry patch of land now. Which would take quite a while. He was eating his words, as he found a dry spot of land near the edge of the wood in 15-20 minutes. Lucky him. Xelker set down all six pieces of metal in the patch, then went to gather his wood. But if Nurgle expected him to walk all around this damned forest again and pick up pieces of wood from the swamp, he was insane. Oh no. Xelker whipped out both his blasters and started firing wildly at the nearest gnarltree. Birds, agitated, flew out of the tree in a rush of noise and commotion. Out of spite, he shot several of them down, then went back to his work, picking every solitary branch he could off the gnarltree. Once it was depleted, he moved on to the next one. And so on. He did this for a full hour, shooting up branches for his damned forge. By the time he was finished, Xelker left a trail of dead birds and lizards. Most importantly, though, he had what he needed to make a forge. Finally. Piling up the wood in a circlular fashion, Xelker arranged the metallic parts around the circle like logs. That would keep the fire in the wood. Aiming his pistol, he fired several shots into the wood. Having dumped some leaves in there as well, the whole thing ignited. At last. Finished. All of a sudden, Xelker felt a feeling of unease wash over him. As if he were being watched... His grip on his blasters tightened, daring whoever or whatever was watching him to stand up and die by his hands. He was in no mood for games with these stupid creatures, and if any predator tried stalking him it was going to get a hell of a lot more than it gambled for.

He didn't know how long he and Yeroc walked until the voice of his Master entered his mind. "I want both of you to pay close attention. This is your final trial. It will be the most difficult thing you've experienced. Your Force powers are raw and yet untested. But I have confidence in your abilities. Part of this trial will hone your skills. You will each journey in opposite directions. By the end, you will have forged your lightsabers. In the meantime, I will give you advice, as well as set obstacles in your path." So. This is it. The last thing standing between me and glory. Nothing will stop me now. "There is no more time for talk. You must each leave each other now. I want you to begin walking. This place is filled with wildlife. Feel their individual Force signatures. Take this time to reflect and prepare yourselves as you walk." Without a word, Xelker turned on his heel and strode away from Yeroc. He didn't look back, and sure enough it was only his own footsteps he heard after a minute of more walking. Now he was all alone. Xelker felt his mind wandering: what other Sith had been trained on this world? How many had succeeded, and risen up through through the ranks to become the greatest of their Order? How many had failed, their bones left to be gnawed on by rodents and slugs? What strange, dark wonders did this planet of bile and marsh hold? What did Nurgle want him to do? Did the venerable Sith Master seek revenge for the assault back on Mechis III? Xelker cleared his head, knowing that so many questions would just confuse him. Here in the swamp, his only allies were his blasters, his dagger, and the Force. Xelker looked around, feeling the Force flow through everything around him. It would serve as a powerful guide for him in this place. Nothing too dangerous in these woods: just birds and small lizards. But once he reached the end of the wood, he found himself facing a large swamp. Either he'd have to swim across, or pass it through the woods. Reaching out with the Force, and feeling the signatures of the immense serpentine monsters inside, Xelker chose the latter option. And so he began another through the woods, using the Force to sense all the living things they held.

The Wingless Seraph dropped out of hyperspace above Dagobah. "Ugly place," Xelker muttered as he took the ship down to the planet's surface. Disgusting mire. It lay everywhere he looked, and made him want to vomit. This entire planet was the color of vomit. Of all the worlds for the Empire NOT to burn, he had to go here. This trip had better be worth it. He touched the Seraph down on a spot that looked 3% less wet than everything else, then went to arm himself. He didn't really want to know what was out there in the swamp, so he took all his weapons: both blasters and his trusty dagger, as well as a Rebreather mask. Once he was adaquately armed, Xelker descended the landing ramp and stepped out into the swamp planet. "Coming, Yeroc?"

Xelker sat in the pilot seat and readied the ship for takeoff. Plugging the chip Yeroc had given him into a console, Xelker waited for the coordinates to load. As he did, though, he drove the ship off the landing pad and accelerated towards the sky. "do you have anything that is special to you"? Xelker, taking the ship in a circle around the facility, smirked. "Did you look in the cargo hold when we came in the ship?" The man set the ship on autopilot for a moment, then led Yeroc down into the cargo hold. It seemed blank and empty... except for the carbonite slab mounted on the wall. "I have something very dear to me on this ship..." Elias Xelker stepped closer to the slab, only its shape visible in the darkness of the cargo hold. "Perhaps you need light, Otten..." He hit a switch, and the room was filled with light. Illuminating the occupant of the carbonite slab. Whoever it was, the man was horribly burned. Some clothes covered most of his wounds, but those visible were bad enough: no flesh on the arms, burns all over his face, and one eye socket empty. But there was no look of agony plastered across his features. No, there was peace. He looked as though he were lying in a coffin... perhaps the carbonite was his coffin. But why? Why was Elias carrying a frozen man around with him whereever he went? The answer would be obvious, once you compared the man's battered face to Elias Xelker's. The Seraph's cargo hold was blank because it was a tomb. And lying inside the carbonite slab was the long-dead corpse of Xelker's father. "Do you know what they do with the bodies of dead Stormtroopers, Yeroc? Turning to the other Apprentice, Xelker gave him no time to answer. "The Imperials, whenever they could be bothered to clean up after themselves, will usually take their dead and dump them into furnaces. My father said that sometimes the so-called 'dead' soldier was still alive. He said he could hear screams from those furnaces sometimes. Now, when I entered the Academy years ago I heard rumors of something else that they do with their dead. They're put into food processors... and liquified. Supposedly that's how they fed POWs. Not a bad idea, that, saves the Empire money. But then my father died. He got shot dead by a Rebel in a burning building because he couldn't pull the trigger. What he did as an Imperial captain, before his demotion, haunted him. Never told me just what. But it had something to do with fire. Fire terrified him because it reminded him of what he did. Anyway, as you can see his corpse didn't fare too well in that fire, but most of it stayed intact. I took it and had it frozen in carbonite. This ship is as good as any graveyard." There was a burning intensity in Xelker's eyes that made you want to look away. "This is why I joined the Sith. Durok Xelker was just another cog in the Imperial war machine... a disposable cog, one who died shamefully and afraid. Not even worthy of a Holonet obituary. I'm probably the only one who remembers him. But not anymore. One day, Yeroc, I'll make the whole Galaxy remember his name. Our name. Carved in blood... and that'll be enough monologuing for today. Dagobah calls." He promptly exited the makeshift tomb, displayed the coordinates to Dagobah, and took the ship off Mechis III. Once it was far above the machine planet, the ship went into hyperspace.[/i]

Xelker got some clothes from the room and hopped into the shower. He didn't really mind that Yeroc had woken him up, he liked getting up early anyhow. Gave him a head-start before leaping into his daily schedule, whatever it was that day. The Sith remained aware of how far he was progressing in his training, and how soon it would be before he earned the prestigous title of Sith Lord. THEN... the real fun would begin. He would etch his name amongst those of the great Sith of old: Palpatine, Heretic, Sadism, Zar, Hatred, Ar-Pharazon, Sauron, and all those others he didn't feel like mentioning. It would be glorious. After 5 minutes or so, he heard Yeroc yelling for him. "hurry up I have the coordinates." He was finished anyway, but he took his sweet time getting dressed, just to annoy the other Apprentice. The new clothes were typical Sith- all black. Hopefully, where they were going, he didn't stand out. Much. Xelker calmly opened the door, tossed his old clothes into his quarters, gathered his minimal supplies (dagger, pistol, rifle) then gestured to Yeroc. "Follow me, and we'll be off to Dagobah." He led Yeroc down the hallway until they were on the landing pad. The Wingless Seraph was just up ahead. Swiping the chip from Yeroc's hand, Xelker ascended the landing ramp. Once the vocal and optical recognition was out of the way (which was speaking a quick phrase in Rodian, then scanning his face respectively), the hatch hissed open. Xelker turned to look at Yeroc. "Coming?"

"WAKE UP". Xelker awoke with a start, instinctively grabbing for the blaster pistol under his pillow before he recognized the laugh. "Just so you know, I have a habit of shooting people who wake me up early." He rubbed his eyes, then looked back to Yeroc as the other man said "so can I go with you or not"? Xelker stayed silent for a moment, coming back to awareness, before responding. "I don't see any reason why not. We're on the same side." He stepped out of bed, shooting Yeroc an odd look as to why he was so close to Xelker's bed. "But yeah. Let me get ready, shower and whatnot, then I'll prime the Wingless Seraph for the trip to Dagobah. While I'm there, do us a favor and check one of the terminals for coordinates to Dagobah. I've no clue where it is myself." He stepped out of his quarters. A new day, a new trial. Woohoo.

Xelker kept Nurgle pinned until he nearly collapsed from exhaustion. Was the training over? He hoped so, as one more blow from Nurgle would probably break his back. It was like trying to stand after being shot. Despite how tired he was, the Apprentice stayed alert. Nurgle had risen from the floor, staring at both Apprentices wordlessly. This went on for about a minute before the man finally moved. At first, it seemed like he was going for a lightsaber, but then he grabbed a syringe and shot himself up. Blinking, Xelker felt a hint of concern. Was he too harsh on the old man? Nurgle was still his Master, the Sith who'd offered to tutor him in the ways of the Force. This was how Xelker repayed him? "You have completed the task I set forth for you, though admittedly not in the manner in which I directed." At that, Xelker felt a curious sensation... like a hand had wrapped its fingers around his neck, then pulled away. The meaning was obvious to the young Sith. "It is time for you each to finish your training. I want you both to rest and heal. Then journey to Dagobah and await me." Xelker sighed in relief. Finally, a chance to rest. Not that he would rest for another hour or so. Xelker found he'd become a frequent insomniac in recent times, after the death of his father. But he'd been dismissed, so it was time to leave. He checked for his weapons- tossing the training sword aside while taking a quick look at his blaster pistol and his bloodstained dagger- before Yeroc went up to him. "Xelker my ship was kind of destroyed you think maybe I can ride with you"? Opening his mouth to speak the affirmative, he found himself cut off by the other man, "Don't worry about it now you can tell me in the morning after we rest". Whatever. Maybe he would ask Yeroc how he managed to lose his ship, maybe not. Might be a touchy subject, and Xelker wasn't too keen on the idea of getting strangled. Yeroc walked off, and Xelker trailed along. He didn't head to his quarters immediately, though, just put some of his stuff there and went off through the hallways again. After a quick walk, he found what he was looking for- a computer terminal. This was something he'd been looking forward to... sitting down in front of the terminal, Xelker scanned what it held available to him. Obviously, the Sith wouldn't place all their secret plans on a public terminal, but it DID offer something- some older records. For another hour, Xelker familarized himself with the Sith of old- names like Darth Heretic and Barohm Zar. In entering an organization, it was best to have rudimentary knowledge of their history. But he grew weary, and soon retired to bed. When he was a Sith Lord, he could read about the old days whenever he wanted. For now, though, Xelker was just an Apprentice, and he needed to rest up for the trials ahead.

Before Xelker (or Yeroc) could strike Nurgle, he was on the cold metal floor. Nurgle had broken out of it- he'd shoved them away. Just as he thought, Nurgle was much more powerful than his wisened body seemed to show. "Do not be discouraged, take pride. If you train harder, that attack will be more successful in the future. In fact, if you two could learn to get along better you might make a decent team. That is, if you survive this training." Oh... crap. Xelker had no time to prepare as the dreaded Force Lightning surged into him. He had been training to control his pain, to use it as a stimulus... but this felt overwhelming. What was Nurgle doing?! Had the man gone insane?! "Pain and fear are the true strength of a Sith. If you believe I would not kill you both, think again. Right now, you should fear death. Use that fear. I am growing impatient, it is time for you to feel the dark side on another level. Search within yourself. Summon the strength to stand, and I will release you. Fail and you will die." His teeth ground together. Xelker, for all his supposed mental power, was afraid. Afraid he'd die like this, a nobody, just another failed excuse for a Sith. His greatest fear; his oldest fear; his most terrifying fear. If he wasn't being shocked with electricity, and in so much pain he struggled to even draw breath, Xelker might've been trembling. It was worse than before. This was so much worse. No Rahalin to interfere now, it was Xelker and only Xelker that would get himself out of this voltage. A million faces danced before his eyes, whispering of failure. Some he didn't even recognize. Some were faces from the Imperial Academy... from memories he tried to keep supressed. His father's face. A rotted, hideous face that might have been Nurgle's behind the mask. Rahalin's ugly snarl. Yeroc's cocky grin. His own face. His own face moaning in agony as he was beaten down by his supposed Master... a man he'd respected and almost begun to look up to. Then Elias Xelker realized something... he was going to fail. He was in a lot of pain and he was afraid, so he was going to fail. Plain and simple. He couldn't even bring the strength to stand? He died. He was going to let himself die. Just lay down on the floor and die. An end to his constant pain. A reject. Just like the late Defel known as Rahalin, a mad fool who jumped into a battle he could not win. Xelker was completely the same, and in wherever Force afterlife he went the dead Defel would taunt him. Whereever he was now, Rahalin was laughing wildly, watching the man who took his life die. He himself had died shamefully, bested despite his greater knowledge of the Force by a 'weaker' Apprentice, and now Xelker would share in his fate. A death in shame and in fear, cowering before the end. He was laughing. It was this, Rahalin's hysterical laughter ringing in Xelker's ears, that drove the man up. Defiance drove him to stand; defiance of fate, defiance of failure, defiance of Nurgle, but most of all defiance of Rahalin. He saw himself, standing in a tidal wave of Force energy, and he spat in its hallucinatory eye. And then, before his eyes, the lightning stopped. Nurgle toppled back before another wave, shoving him back into the wall. Yeroc. Xelker heard him tell Nurgle that he, Nurgle, deserved that. He needed to realize something, Yeroc Otten, and that was how in battle, friends became enemies. No different here- Nurgle may have been their Master, but he attacked them. He was now the Enemy. And Xelker would deal with him as such. Manipulating his own Force current, Xelker sent it towards Nurgle, attempting to pin the Sith Master to the wall. "Submit," he breathed, trying with all his might to keep the Sith down. He knew he could (and probably would) fail, and the exertion hurt almost as much as the Force lightning- his aching bones no less- but none of that mattered to him. Nurgle needed to be stopped from attacking them again, Student-Teacher bonds be damned.

To Xelker's suprise, Nurgle ducked his knife swipe at a speed that seemed unnatural, especially for a man as diseased as he was. Then Nurgle's fist came crashing into Xelker's stomach, instantly knocking the wind out of his lungs. He doubled over, falling to his knees and gasping for breath. "You must put more effort into your attacks. When fighting someone vastly more powerful, you must have a strategy. Victory against a Master of the Sith or Jedi is very possible, even for an apprentice. You have to fight smart." Victory? What? Xelker, still recovering, felt himself thrown into a loop by his master's words. Was it a bluff, to boost their morale, or was Nurgle telling the truth? Is it even possible us mere apprentices could defeat someone like Nurgle? As he thought, he slowly got to his feet, taking deep breaths. His Master was moving away from him, letting him recover as he continued to instruct the two of them. "But most of all, you two need to increase the speed of your attacks. The Force is the key to doing this. It is how a sickly man like myself was able to injure Xelker, and dodge your attacks so easily. Whenever you strike or dodge, I want you to feel the Force flowing through your muscles. Remember the emotions you felt when fighting Rahalin. Unleash them, and force your muscles to move faster." Xelker stood at his full height, feeling the Force all around him. As always, it flowed through him... he felt its ebb, felt its flow Looking back into his memories, he remembered all the hatred and anger he'd directed at the intruder Rahalin... and the adrenaline rush he'd gotten from doing so. It was the same here. He felt his heart rate increasing, his blood pumping, his muscles working faster as if they were stimulated (of course they WERE). The lights went out, shattered by a thrown blaster rifle. As darkness engulfed the room, Xelker made his move, lunging at Nurgle with greater speed than ever before. Though, to the Apprentice, it was less about hitting Nurgle than it was getting used to this power.

((OOC: Sorry for the latenesss)) "I am pleased by your answers. If you are both recovered enough, follow me." Xelker watched Nurgle leave without another word. Taking a second glance at his wounds- which seemed healed to him- the Sith Apprentice heaved himself out of the bed and followed Nurgle out. He made sure not to put too much pressure on his recovering left foot, examining his dagger as he walked. Some of Rahalin's blood had stuck to the sheath, but most of the blood had dried off. Grunting, Xelker resheathed his dagger and followed Nurgle into a room, Yeroc right behind him. Then, Nurgle gave the two a suprising order: "I want each of you to attack me in any way you choose. This will be your training henceforth. I will teach you the techniques you need to use to advance to the level of Sith Lord. It will a painful lesson, but you will learn a great deal." Xelker stared at Nurgle, his eyes briefly hopping from Yeroc to Nurgle and back. He looks so diseased... as if a single punch would break every bone in his body... Then Yeroc went for a flying kick to the Master, snapping Xelker out of his temporary stupor. He may have looked sick, but Nurgle was a Sith Master with the power (at least) of Force Lightning. Xelker would give no quarter. Also rushing Nurgle, Xelker drew his dagger and swung the weapon towards his erstwhile Master's throat.

Xelker sighed in relief as Nurgle took the both of them to the med bay. The Sith Master hadn't answered his question about Rahalin's body, but Xelker didn't care anymore. It seemed most appropriate, anyway, to leave Rahalin right where he was. Let the maggots deal with him. A decent burial was far less that that idiot deserved, anyway. The only problem was that Rahalin's corpse was going to start giving off a repulsive stench after a few days. Xelker kept on thinking about Rahalin as he laid on a bed in the medbay, particularly (but not exclusively) his last moments. Most Defels were assassins, due to their natural ability to bend light. Had Rahalin been one of these, too? Or had the Sith Lords programmed him, teaching him unnatural quickness and heat manipulation? When Rahalin died, he took his secrets with him. But there was something he said, wasn't there... something during his mad little speech? ...know that no force user ever truly dies, and that if one has the connection, one can find their knowledge and draw it from them... Rahalin's voice echoed through Xelker's consciousness as the droids put him out. For about an hour, the Apprentice slept, as did his comrade Yeroc. The med droids went to work treating Xelker's many wounds- of first priority was his bloody foot. The Apprentice would've been greatly embarassed, in the afterlife, if he'd bled to death from a gash on his foot. Once the wound was patched up, the droids sprayed some reserved bacta on it to help with the regeneration process. Fortunately, amputation was unnesscessary. The same applied for his blistering arm wound. One hour later, Xelker's eyelids slid open. Immediately he turned his head to his right arm, previously wounded. To his delight, there was only a small scar where there had once been a deep slice. For the first time, too, Xelker realized how tired he felt in his bones. Nurgle's Force Lightning, directed to him by the accursed Defel. But other than that, he felt good as new. Nurgle waited only a minute for the Apprentices to get their bearings before directing a question at them. "This is an important lesson for you both. I want you each to describe your feelings during the battle in detail." Xelker took a deep breath, reclining on the bed. How he'd felt during his fight with Rahalin... which was a mixture of conflicting emotions. He let Yeroc talk first, still a bit groggy, but once the other man was finished Xelker knew it was his turn. Wiping his eyes, the Apprentice sat up and began talking. "Well, Milord. Before the Defel ran in I was determined not to fail. The boulders had me in a lot of pain, but I was using the pain to heighten my senses. Then, as the one named Rahalin ran in I was caught off-guard by his rage alone. But then Yeroc and I were hit by the pole. By this point I was in a rage, struggling to keep myself under control and not ending up like the Defel. As the fight grew on, you see, my loathing for Rahalin grew more and more as I realized just how much of a disgrace to the Sith Order he was. A fool who was consumed by his own rage, rather than using it to focus. And with that... I wanted him to suffer. To pay for underestimating us, for his making me bleed badly, and for how much of an embarassment to the Sith he was. But I knew one thing, and that wasn't to underestimate him. I hated- and still hate- Rahalin. However... I felt I needed to test him after Yeroc hacked his hand off. So I hurled insults at him, trying to see if he was actually the fool he seemed or just toying with us. As the final insult, I levelled a blaster pistol at his head and pulled the trigger. If he was truly Sith, he'd dodge or deflect. If not, he would die for his incompetance. Rahalin deflected the bolts. However, he was summoning a large amount of raw dark side energy. I think, by the point he got up from my shots, Rahalin had gone mad. He was seeing things that weren't there. A couple minutes later, I killed him. I emptied my hate and rage into his body. Impaled him. Slit his throat. It was pleasureable to make him suffer, for all that he'd done to us, and from the fact he was the first Force-user I would ever kill. In a final insult, I drew that very same blaster pistol he called 'feeble' and blew his brains out. His death I felt through the Force. I must say, though, the adrenaline rush was simply amazing. The pain from my wounds I used to focus, to realize the reality of the situation and to keep myself determined to end Rahalin's life. And now he's dead." Though as he said that last sentence, the Defel's voice reverberated through his mind again. ...know that no force user ever truly dies, and that if one has the connection, one can find their knowledge and draw it from them...

((OOC: I'm assuming the "gifts" are now void)) Xelker had been expecting the Defel to deflect his blasts, and Rahalin preformed exactly thus. "A blaster? A blaster Xelker? surely a future Sith would find a better weapon than a simple blaster to finish our duel ." Xelker backed up a few steps as Rahalin got to his feet, raising his sword to parry the Defel's next attack. Rahalin was a fast bastard, and Xelker needed to be ready. But, to Xelker's suprise, Rahalin turned and started talking to, of all people, Lord Nurgle! "They will do well as future Sith provided they are given adequate training and severe discipline. As it is, many Lords would execute them for allowing this battle to go on as long as it has." As he spoke, the Defel's form grew more shadowy than normal; but an increased bloodspray gushed from his wounds. Rahalin started rambling on about gifts for the two apprentices, clearly insane. Did he even know what was going on? Yeroc crossed over to Xelker's position. "You know he's right don't you a real sith would not of even tried to finish a duel with a little blaster, I would of finished him off with one of his own weapons that way he would of wished two things". "one he would of wished he hadn't picked a fight with me, and two he would of wished he wasn't carrying that weapon". "I'm sure that a Sith would of chosen a dagger or something to ease into the pain make him suffer, and the complete opposite with a Jedi just shoot him so it's quick and easy". "I bet that you could of thought of something better than that but then again I've seen Jedi more brutal than you" Yeroc laughed, said something pithy to Rahalin, and promptly shot out his kneecaps. But Xelker wasn't focused on Yeroc's posturing. He said that many Sith would've had us killed for allowing the battle to go on like this... Warily, Xelker craned his head over to the ominous gas mask of his master. Lord Nurgle still appeared to be watching the fight. So far, Yeroc's done most of the work. Does that mean I'll be punished for foolishness? For not doing 'my share?' He went back to watching Yeroc, and the other man walked back over to him. "Finish him he's nothing but a target now". Sword in hand, Xelker advanced on the prone Defel. But, before he reached Rahalin, he fixed Yeroc with a glare. "Why don't you watch and take notes, Yeroc? You really think there are JEDI out there worse than me?!" His eyes blazing, the Apprentice lashed out and kicked Rahalin in the ribs. "You stupid cur!" He threw another kick, this one into Rahalin's stomach with full force. The Defel's yelp of pain was silenced as Xelker's boot crashed down on his face, violently curbstomping him. Xelker winced for the briefest moment, blood from his injured foot mingling with Rahalin's own, before a sadistic grin began to form on his face. This was the first Force User he was going to kill... a monumentous occasion. Twirling his sword, Xelker struck, burying the sword almost up to the hilt in Rahalin's stomach and pinning the Defel to the floor. The waves of agony rolling off Rahalin's body were simply amazing. Throwing his head back, the Sith Apprentice laughed wildly. But there was a job to be done. He crounched next to Rahalin's head, still with that sick grin. "Y'know, Rahalin, there's a lesson to be learned from this endeavour." Reaching to his belt, Xelker pulled his trusty dagger free from its sheath. "...Look before you leap!" Savagely jerking Rahalin's chin back, Xelker ripped his knife across the Defel's throat, laughing in spite of the blood now coating his hands and face. "And now for the finishing touches!" Standing up, Xelker drew his blaster pistol. "You think I need a better weapon, Rahalin? Mull it over in Hell." Punchline delivered, Xelker fired three shots into Rahalin's forehead, splattering brains across the floor. Turning back to face his fellow apprentice, Xelker took a deep breath. His first fight to the death against another Force-User, and he'd won it. Well, with Yeroc's help. "Yeroc, my friend, go ahead and loot the bastard's corpse." Then he looked to Nurgle, and bowed his head. "Well, he's done with. Good riddance. What shall be done with his remains?" Xelker personally hoped Nurgle would let him and Yeroc retire after removing Rahalin's bloated carcass. Both of them were starting to look pale, and all the blood lost from his injured foot was beginning to make him dizzy. A trip to the med bay would do well for their numerous injuries, and he hoped Lord Nurgle would oblodge.

Silently, Xelker watched as Yeroc rushed the Defel, slicing off his hand before he could parry in time. A satisfied grin came to his lips, widening as Yeroc began to lay into the intruder. Now it wasn't just the Defel who was oozing spite, it was Yeroc. The Defel, on the other hand, had apparently been caught off-guard by the sudden dismemberment. At one point, he'd been controlling the battle, and suddenly one of the mere hopefuls, the one he'd deemed 'less dangerous' had spirited his hand away. The pain must've been agonizing... Xelker winced again, pressing one foot atop the other to mitigate the damage. I hope that Defel suffers. I don't care if he even dies... I just want him to feel pain. The same amount I'm feeling right now... how does it feel to lose your hand, Defel? Crippling? That disgrace deserves every last drop of agony he gets. I'll need serious help on this damn foot. Had better not lose too much blood, or I'll need an amputation. Maybe I'll 'amputate' that Defel's legs. Those animals deserve no less. Yeroc finished his beating of the Defel and went back over to Xelker. "It's your turn he's easy but tricky at some points, make sure to let the anger flow through you fueling the power brewing inside of you, and also try not to worry about him to much the anger flowing inside of him is not controlled well enough to harm you to an extreme if you need help I'll break you out". Yeroc chuckled, satisfied with himself. He then held out Xelker's lost sword and said "It's your's if you think you need it". "Not controlled well enough? I think you're the one underestimating our opponent, Yeroc." Xelker jerked the sword out of his hands. "He melted part of the floor, did he not? I don't think someone like this would suddenly start crying on the floor so soon. It's likely a trap. No worries, though, I'll rid us of this 'living shadow.'" The Sith Apprentice walked closer to the prone Rahalin, scowling. "Does it hurt, little wraith? Can't bear what you dish out?" He spat at the Defel before continuing his rant. "I've seen Gungans with more talent than you, hear me?! You're the most pathetic creature I've ever had the misfourtune to meet. You leap around like you're the master of the Sith, then Yeroc takes your hand off and you're quivering in the corner. What kind of Sith are you?! Weak, feeble, stupid, AND controlled by your anger. Sith rule the Force... not the other way around. Cur." Xelker stepped closer. "Or are you simply trying to fool me..." He probed deeper, "...Rahalin?" He went for his blaster and aimed it at the Defel's head, finger tightening on the trigger. If he was truly Sith, he would dodge the blast. If not, well, his loss.

Yeroc was up. Xelker allowed a quick sigh of relief to escape his lips, but he was keeping his eyes on Rahalin. He had gotten up faster than Yeroc, and the Defel knew it. Now all he had to do was get his sword- just as he made a break for the weapon, Rahalin jumped at him, reaching the Apprentice just before he could lay arms on his blade. But instead of bringing down the ominously glowing lightsaber, the Defel opted to simply poke him in the thigh. A wave of burning pain swept through Xelker's body at Rahalin's touch, sending the Sith Apprentice down to the floor. It felt like liquid flame! For a moment, Xelker came close to blacking out. But he stayed focused on the sword lying before him, his senses continuing to scream at him that the Defel was moving incredibly fast, and with a groan he wrapped his fingers around its hilt. DamndamndamndamndamnDAMN He leapt forward, not a moment too soon as Rahalin jumped back at him. The Defel began a wild series of slashes, clearly absorbed by his hatred. He was talented, yes, but no Sith; Sith controlled their anger, controlled it; this Apprentice was a failure. He would not die to this... this reject! In a single motion, he drew his blaster pistol, running backwards to try and evade the lightsaber, and began firing close-range shots at the Defel. This was Yeroc's chance...

(OOC: Nurgle, is the "make bigger posts challenge" still on now that the training's been interuppted?) He delved deeper into the Force, increasing his level of concentration with every wave of stones. Nurgle's attacks grew more challenging by the minute, with every rock hurtling from a different angle at the same time. He had to keep exerting with every parry, even though a good number missed. It hurt. Alot. Being pelted with sizable boulders all over your body is not a fun process (and Xelker wasn't a masochist). But the pain... it didn't weaken him. Instead, it heightened his senses. Made him more alert. Less inclined to... to fail. And then, just as Nurgle unleashed a torrent of Force energy, in came the Big Bad Wolf. A huge surge of anger and hatred battered its way into Xelker's senses, just like the sharp object that lodged itself in the Apprentice's left foot. Reflexively, his hand went to his face, ripping the blindfold away to lay eyes upon this pissy upstart. Then Nurgle's lightning connected with the metal, sending a fierce pain through Xelker's body. The Apprentice tried, but could not hold back the cry that escaped his lips- one more of fury than shock or pain. How dare this idiot Defel come between him and his destiny?! "That is my place you usurp," growled the intruder, "It is mine and you are in my way!" "SCREW YOURSELF," Xelker hissed back, his teeth tightly clenched and his eyes burning like twin coals. "GET OUT OF HERE OR YOU WILL DIE!" As he spoke, the Apprentice swung his unarmed hand down, sharply wrenching the accursed weapon from his foot. With a yell, Xelker hurled the pole away, jumping blindly away to escape Nurgle's lightning. The jump was poorly executed- Xelker got out of the blast radius, but came to a crashing halt on the room's floor. Blood was already gushing out of his wound, leaving the Apprentice in constant pain. Pain which fueled his hate, and his will to survive at any and all costs. It only blankly resounded in his mind to not let his anger control him, like the Defel was letting his own. Desperately, Xelker struggled to find self-control, knowing that raw anger would only get him killed. "Yeroc! Break free! Quickly now!"

Without a moment's hesitation, Xelker grabbed the cloth and tied it around his eyes. What the hell does eyesight matter?! I'm tapping into something deeper here, something more complex... that which weaves the fabric of the universe, binds space and time together... Power... Unlimited power... ...Rely only on your instincts." Interesting. Hadn't he felt some kind of vibrations in the Force as Nurgle stoned him? All he had to do here was simply attune himself to these vibrations and he'd be fine. Or he'd get killed. He chose the former, and tapped into the Force... The side! Xelker swung his sword about, sending the first pair of rocks back into the wall. At the same time, though, he felt a growing movement near his back, and couldn't pivot fast enough before the stone struck. The man reeled, but still felt the oncoming rush of more vibrations, more manipulations of the Force. Letting his pain serve as fuel, Xelker drove forward, his sword smashing another barrage of rocks away from him. Once again, the stones collided with him, but Xelker knew he couldn't deflect them all. Not yet. But he could damn well try. Letting the Force be his guide, Xelker deflected five out of eight of the next barrage.

Wincing from the pain of the rock striking him, Xelker quickly snapped back to attention, his clever mind mentally replaying the blow. As the rock had struck him, he could recall feeling something in the Force... movement! He could feel them moving in the Force! The Sith Apprentice spun on his heel, slamming his sword into two rocks coming from his side. He then hit the deck, ignoring the blow of a rock against his thigh as he rolled under the other two. Xelker leapt back to his feet, trying to anticipate again where the rocks would come from.

"Holding a solid object is easy. Now I want you to hold the acid without the beaker." Xelker inhaled for a good five seconds, holding the breath as he prepared himself. He needed to keep going, to keep advancing through the power of the Force. One day he would make trees fall with a thought, but for now he had to start with the small things. It was still a relatively new feeling, the Force. The next day (provided there WAS a next day), he knew he would've adapted to using the Force already. But until then... he felt Nurgle shattering his beaker, felt his Master hold back the acid, felt shards of glass slash across his face. Scratches. Just blood. Ignore it. Don't stop concentrating. Don't fail. I can't fail. "I will now release the liquid. You must use all of your concentration to keep it in the air. Do not use rage to summon your power this time. That is a valuable tool, but when you use extreme anger to summon the dark side it is impossible to control. This task requires complete control. Just use the Force. Twist it to your will. The ability is within you both." Another deep breath. As his teacher spoke, Xelker was already beginning to concentrate on the acid. He could just picture the Force flowing through all that lived and breathed, including himself. Including Nurgle. Including Yeroc. Everywhere. Like an ocean... but most importantly, Xelker found it flowing through the acid; every last drop; every last molecule. With the power of his mind, he knew he could control that flow. Block it. Bend it to his will. His focus increased, and Xelker realized Nurgle had already let go. But now he saw all the acid's molecules stopping. Frozen by the Force, suddenly manipulated by Xelker's desire. His teeth clenched, as did his hands behind his back. It was like an invisible tractor beam, controlled by Xelker's brain, was containing the fluid in midair. Amazing...as long as he stayed focused on willing the acid to stop, the Force obeyed him. He truly was above the lot, wasn't he?

"Excellent work to both of you for protecting these. Xelker, I want you to do the same thing Yeroc is doing. Feel the Force flowing through you and into the beaker. Stand beside Yeroc." Xelker cast an odd glance in Yeroc's direction, particularly eyeing the beakers next to him. What was Yeroc doing... he stepped closer, kept walking until he was right beside Yeroc and facing Nurgle. Craning his head to the side, Xelker raised an eyebrow as he realized just what Yeroc was doing to the beakers. He was holding them. Without his hands. In fact, the more he looked at them, Xelker could almost feel something in the air... vibrations? No, it was more subtle than that...invisible, yes, but incredily powerful. It could only be one thing, the thing Xelker had desired to learn in the first place; manipulation of the great Force. The same thing he had briefly held; had tasted on Cardia. Then the mechanically filtered voice of his master came again. "Yeroc, move one of the beakers above Xelker's head. Once it is in position, release it, and Xelker will use his power to keep it up there. Remember, that acid is quite deadly." The cold sensation that was terror crept up Xelker's spinal cord like an internal parasite, sucking the heat out of his body. This was the next test. What if he failed? Instant death, brief pain as the acid melted through his brain, burned away his life. It felt as if Nurgle had drawn a knife and pressed it against Xelker's jugular vein. His life was on the line, a more direct threat than that from Cardia. Then he felt the terror going away, like ice dissolving against heat. This was his chance! He could truly consider himself a Force user, not just some pissed-off street punk with a brain, once he held the beakers aloft! Xelker looked up, and saw that Yeroc had already moved the beakers above his face. The other man looked visibly strained, though he was trying to hide it. If there was any sin Yeroc indulged in, it was pride. Unless the training boosted his wits, Xelker figured pride would lead to Yeroc's untimely end once he challenged a foe far superior. But that was of little importance to Xelker at the moment, merely a dull observation. More urgent matters concerned him. He knew that only one thing, and one thing alone would allow him to seize those beakers... the will to act. He could never hesitate. Never. Hesitation led to failure. Death. Just like... just like it had happened before... he saw a Stormtrooper in a burning household, face-to-face with a soldier of the Rebellion... unable to pull his blaster, to kill another man while looking him in the eyes.... a flash of plasma battering his life away... his spirit drifting away with the smoke, his last realization that he just couldn't do it, that he wasn't strong enough- His face curled into a snarl, Xelker reached out as Yeroc dropped the beakers. His hands remained by his sides, but he didn't need his hands. It was will that took hold of the beakers, will that kept them aloft above the determined youth's head. A look of slight astonishment was present on Xelker's face, shocked at how he had possessed the might, crossed the boundary between mortal and Force-user. But another side of him drew the ashtonishment away, remiding him he had held that power all along. Nurgle had only taught him how to wield it. And wield it he did.

The sudden appearence of Nurgle on the planet drew Xelker from a med station to him like a fish to a lure. While he'd been waiting, he'd been able to find a med center and get his wounds temporarily patched up. Somewhat relieved of his Master's survival, the Sith Apprentice crept through the base's corridors until he pinpointed Nurgle's exact location- and Yeroc with him. As he stepped into Nurgle's quarters, Xelker withdrew the data chip into his hand before letting his eyes roll over the room's every nook and cranny. Yeroc had some beakers next to him filled with green fluid, looking very similar to the acid he'd been preparing to dump all over enemy intruders back in the pile-of-ash-formerely-known-as-the-Sith-Temple. He paused a moment before offering the data chip to Nurgle. "If Yeroc hasn't already provided his, I have my own copy of your research. Take it if you need it, my liege. Useful map, by the way!" He made an attempt at a smile.

After wandering into the building, Xelker took some time to look around. When they said on the HoloNet Mechis III was completely industrial, they weren't kidding. He wouldn't be suprised if even the planet's core was mechanical! Not that it was a bad thing- Xelker loved technology. It was the backbone of civilization, after all. In fact, he'd once believed whoever and whatever race held the most advanced technology would rule the galaxy. His recent travels, however, proved that theory wrong. Against the power of the Force, even the greatest superweapon was insigificant... He heard someone behind him, and turned to face Yeroc. "How did you do in the battle". "I truly experienced the Force for the first time. There's nothing quite like blasting Rebel pilots down to their graves. I forgot to get their scalps, though. Sorry about that." Any chance of further conversation was ended when an ornately dressed figure came into view about 10 feet away. The Sith Master called to them, "You will do, get on the ship with your personal belongings, I have need of you on a mission." Nodding politely, Xelker headed off towards his ship, to fetch some belongings and join the Sith Master on whatever he needed. Midway, something struck him. Wait. Lord Nurgle told us to stay here. He blinked. Whose orders was he supposed to follow? Did he go with the new arrival, possibly angering Nurgle? Or did he stay put, obeying Nurgle and ignoring the other Sith? Sensing the Sith Master was somewhere else in the facility, Xelker hurried down the halls into Dagon's lab. With any luck, this Master was acquainted with Lord Nurgle- and not as an enemy! "Greetings, my lord." He bowed his head for a moment, then continued, "Myself and Yeroc Otten were given instructions by my master, Lord Nurgle, to stay here until his arrival. Do you want us to come along on your mission, or to remain here for Lord Nurgle's arrival?"

The Wingless Seraph winked out of hyperspace, descending towards the machine planet. Nurgle's data chip was proving to be very useful, what with the map of Sith worlds it had provided him with. Shame he'd have to give it up once he got here, but at least he still had it. Yeroc looked like he'd gotten into a couple of scrapes, and his copy of the data might've been destroyed. As he headed for the planet's surface, Xelker took a moment to think about what he'd need to do once he landed. Priority One was to get Nurgle's data chip into safe hands. Priority Two was to get himself cleaned up- the wounds from his fight with Yeroc and those annoying blisters. His ship could use a bit of stocking up as well. If he was going to become a Sith, he'd need more supplies and weapons than a pair of blasters and a dagger. The Seraph touched down on a nearby landing pad, Xelker descending the ramp in his normal attire (having gotten out of that clunky armor). In one hand he held his Stormtrooper rifle, in the other Nurgle's data chip. "Anybody home?" he called out.

Xelker turned to face Nurgle's ominous visage, still catching his breath as the Sith Lord spoke. "You two have fought well, I am pleased but soon the Jedi will land. I want you to head for Mechis III. You are no match for Jedi. But don't fret, you have spilled plenty of blood today. Leave this place now, you will be able to slip away. Care for your injuries until I meet you on Mechis." Xelker turned to look at Yeroc, and the other man said to leave without him; he had something to do before he left. "Suit yourself," Xelker said with a shrug, and then jogged over to the Wingless Seraph. Hurrying up the landing ramp and through the optical/vocal recognition, he went to the cockpit and brought up the map he'd obtained from Nurgle's data file. Quickly processing the coordinates, Xelker settled back in his chair and slipped the Seraph away from Cardia.

Everything around Xelker had become a blur: all that mattered was to blast the pathetic, cowardly terrorists straight out of the sky and straight to the lowest level of Hell! He didn't care that a line of drool was oozing out the corner of his mouth, nor that his hands were beginning to blister from squeezing the firing mechanism so many times. All he heard was the eruption of fire and metal against the ground- all he saw was the Rebel ships fall- all he knew was the pain, the suffering, the deaths of his enemies- their fear as a cloud of fire rushed up to engulf them, to make them into nothing at all- Exhaustion took him, and Elias Xelker snapped back to awareness. The battle had been taken to the ground? He had no idea, but frankly he didn't care, because he needed to get a breath and his importance was above all others and... he needed help. With a strenous effort, Xelker pushed himself out of the turret, leaning on it for support once his feet had touched the soil. Nurgle was right: hate gave him focus... but it had taken a toll on his body. And for a man who often prided himself for having self-control, Xelker found he had none over the power of his hatred. Could the Sith teach him how to use hate as power, and yet not be blinded by it? Legend said the Sith used anger like... like fuel- but did they really? Or were they as flawed as any normal man? His tired mind rambled over such things. Any Sith out there... gimme a hand, please. thought Xelker, already spotting a group of people. He recognized Yeroc heading back to the fight, and so headed towards the little bunch of Sith. Strength in numbers, and all that schpiel.

Xelker felt Nurgle move behind him, delighted his Master had made it. "These people are trying to kill you. Can you feel the anger at their approach? Let the Force and the rage guide your fire." Rage. Xelker's fingers tightened on their triggers, hands curling into fists. And it was then he realized that HE was the one wearing his father's battered, old armor. Not his father. Durok Xelker was a dead man... and the reason he was dead loomed overhead, preparing to raze the Imperial base like so many before. Elias Xelker clenched his teeth, letting hate for the Republic swoon throughout him. The only way to win was to kill- and it was time to kill! As his hate sharpened and focused, Xelker felt the lives of the men and women inside their ships. He knew them. He knew just where they were- where they were moving, where they WOULD move. And with that, he knew exactly where to shoot. And they started dying.