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The Hermit's Dojo - Mechis III


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Faux nodded silently as she listened, staring wide eyed at the current of heat swirl atop the surface of the crucible. Of course this was all in her head. Practically everything was, if she let her thoughts linger into the philosophical. But for the moment all she could think about was that time the monks brought in that man who had been stranded in the desert by the Hutts. Left without any water or even the shirt on his back, the poor man's skin had turned into one massive blister. Before she and Marcus could apply salves and bandages they had to remove all of the exposed skin, peeling it off in sheets as plasma leaked. Even with IV's, antibiotics, and bacta the poor soul didn't last the night. All of that suffering through exposure, what would this liquid metal do?

 

She felt herself take a deep, sobering breath and came back to the moment. Bashfully she took a step further, slipping into the meditation with each measured breath. She found presence of mind oddly easily, fear and doubt melting away with each step closer as heat cascaded over her. It was just another form of energy, just in higher concentrations than what she was used to handling. And Aryian was right there with her, having just done well beyond what he was asking her to do. He knew what was possible, and felt that she was capable of learning the same. He trusted her to do this and she trusted him, despite knowing him for a little over a week.

 

Calm and strangely collected she closed her eyes, letting everything fade away to feel everything else. Her own energy felt vibrant, flowing easily throughout the channels within. There seemed to be no knots, no weak points where she would hemorrhage or condensate. Another breath in and she could feel her lungs transmuting the essence of the world without her into something more like her. A breath out and she felt that same essence travel through the channels and mingle with the rest of her. This was in principle the same thing that Aryian was asking her to do, but in a method previously inconceived.

 

As breathing continued Faux expanded, drawing the essence without in with the whole of herself. Every inch of her skin tingled as more energy than she had ever drawn swept through her channels, swelling resevoirs before the excess released. Almost unconsciously she stretched out her hand a few feet over the crucible. The heat didn't feel intense as she expected. It was more like a strong wind she had to lean into with her concentration to remain upright. Drawing in pulled the heat into her, transmuting it into her own vital energy, spilling out the excess before it caused any internal damage.

 

Almost imperceptibly her hand lowered throughout the exercise. The intensity of the heat grew, but in her detatched rhythm the difficulty wasn't so much the drawing in the energy but expelling it quickly enough. Her vessels simply weren't expansive enough to contain this much energy. After quite a while Faux finally opened her eyes, seeing her hand hovering just above the surface of the liquid metal. She exhaled a final time, pulling her hand back and turning it over. No blisters, not even the redness of a sunburn. Her mouth felt dry, and she understood why as she noticed how drenchedin sweat she was.

 

"That was...exhausting." She beamed a wide smile, but the look on her face said nothing but tired. Without thinking she outstretched her hand toward her pack, summoning her water bottle and took a few small sips. She wanted more, but a life in the desert teaches one how to control thirst. It was only after her throat returned to normal that she realized just how easily she had levitated the bottle. Maybe it was the long time she just spent in meditation, or maybe the excess energy she was still bleeding out?

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  • 2 weeks later...

"It feels exhausting, certainly. Your mind is exhausted from the concentration required to keep the technique balanced correctly. But, if you had to, you could probably run for a few miles right now and feel just fine. Give yourself a bit, let your mind refresh itself and rest."

 

Aryian pulled a food pouch from his robes, tossing it to her. Always with the food. But, a warrior needed to replace all the calories they burned, and he was pushing her hard. She could deal with it. With a wry grin, he sat down on the catwalk opposite her, pulling out his own food pouch and preparing it.

 

"So, tell me. What is your confidence in the Force now? You've just performed the impossible."

Immediately reachable by  charlesjhall@gmail.com

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Tearing open the pouch Faux's mind drifted to Aryian's question rather than the jerky she mindlessly munched. She certainly felt the excess of vitality he spoke of, but she didn't feel weary in the mind like she thought she theoretically should be. A life in the monestary made concentrated thought as natural as breathing. Focusing on one thing was not difficult. The difficulty lied in focusing on multiple things at once. Slipping into meditation was simple for her, but pulling energy out of one source, internalizing it, and redirecting it into a new, different application while simultaneously paying attention to an opponent?

 

"I think..." She began, pausing to swallow her food before continuing the thought. "I know I can learn and do anything once I have an idea of the principles involved. But as far as using this knowledge in a combative setting, I feel like I need a lot of time practicing to increase my speed and endurance. I don't mean I intend to pick fights, or that these skills are only useful in a fight. I can easily see how I could learn to use the Force to fix things, build things, grow or heal things. But I am not so foolish as to ignore the fact that simply having this power will make me a target. I just need time to internalize all of this. Practice it until I can do it without thinking. Like... this knowledge exists outside of myself still. It isn't yet a part of my nature, so its still awkward, you know?"

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  • 2 weeks later...

"No, you're right. Absolutely right. I guess I meant do you trust it more now that you've seen it work for you firsthand, but you can't really trust something that's still largely an unknown. But in time, that trust will come, and you recognize and respect that, which is also important."

 

He took a sip from his water pouch, contemplating something.

 

"I think its time you built your lightsaber. You can keep using the one I gave you, but eventually you should craft one that better fits you, reflects who you are. The weapon is meant to be an extension of self, and that extension includes the design. Come, you've seen enough here for today."

 

They gathered their things, leaving the refinery the same way they came. Nearly half an hour later they found themselves back at the dojo, and Aryian already had drawn up instructions on constructing one on the nearest terminal, transferring them to a datapad for her ease of use.

 

"The hardest thing on the list of supplies you'll need to find will be the focusing crystal. The specifications on what will work and a list of known working materials for that particular part is included, but to be honest you could find a working focusing crystal just about anywhere. This is a construction planet, and it does have vast scrap fields which you may wish to try and navigate to find something suitable. Or, I've given you some credits to work with, you might wind up purchasing some materials straight from the holonet if you so desire. But follow your feelings and instincts. Don't try to force the design to come to you. If something you have is aesthetically pleasing to you, but doesn't feel right, it probably isn't right. Just take your time. Meanwhile, I have another project I'll be working on. Something I should have finished a long time ago."

 

Leaving her with the instructions, Aryian moved on in the dojo, retreating to one of the more private training rooms near his quarters.

Immediately reachable by  charlesjhall@gmail.com

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A lightsaber?!

 

The prospect was daunting, like everything else he had introduced her to, but a not so small part of her was extremely excited at the idea of tinkering again. A lightsaber was a far cry from the droids, moisture vaporators, and cooling units she built and repaired on a daily basis back home, but like most things mechanical so long as you understood the purpose of the parts and how they worked in conjunction with one another, you could learn to build anything you put your mind to. If anything, today's activities only proved to her how capable she was if she just trusted in herself and the Force.

 

A short ride back to the dojo, and Aryian had already drawn up schematics for her, transfered them to her datapad, and listed off some methods for finding the materials required, even going so far as offering her a stipend to buy what materials she couldn't find on the planet. If she had any questions they woukd have to wait for later, as Aryian had quickly ushered himself away mentioning another project he had to see to. Whatever it was would have to remain a mystery for tomorrow, because right now all she could think about was her own project.

 

Faux started looking over the schematics as she walked back to her room. Much of it didn't make sense yet, but she wasn't exactly used to lookig at actual schematics while working on things. Most of the time it was a bunch of trial and error pulling parts out one at a time until something looked broken. Once back in her room she set the terminal to do a broad search of lightsaber construction methods and materials while she took a shower. As excited as she was, it still wasn't enough to make her overlook the layer of sweat still drying on her robes. The shower was short, and once she was dry she slipped into her newly washed clothes. Finally out of those stuff robes.

 

The search yielded a ton of results, just like before. It took another ten minutes of refining to get at the heart of what she was looking for. A breakdown of each part in a lightsaber and how they interact with one another. After reading for a while most of it made sense. It was just a fancy plasma torch that recycled power. That wasn't to say it wasn't impressive. Without knowing what she knew about the Force, a lightsaber would seem impractical compared to a blaster. But in the hands of someone trained in the Force a lightsaber could be more useful by far.

 

The evening was drawing to a close with the setting sun, and Faux could feel the toll of today's training already sinking into her shoulders, weighing her down until she eventually gave up and gave in to sleep. If she was going to make the best use of her time, she was going to need help. Thankfully there were a fair number of droids networked between the dojo and accompanying factories surrounding. Before collapsing into bed for the night, Faux sent out a request to the salvage and inventory droids around Mechis for a broad selection of materials listed in the schematics. In the morning she would have time to read over the articles and select the best ones from whatever the droids managed to find. Batting her heavy eyelids a few times in eager protest to start on the new project, it wasn't long before sleep wrapped her snuggly in a dark, dreamless blanket.

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There would be no sleep for the Grey Master. The Force was restless where he worked, eddies and turbulence and all sorts of physical manifestations occurred as his hands danced over a project he'd worked on on and off for the better part of a decade. He'd never finished it because he'd never had someone worthy of inheriting his knowledge. But now...now things were different.

 

Delicately, he laid the latticework of Ilum crystals in place in the inner housing, securing it with a few stabilizing rods welded to the external framework. The Force guided his movements, only half aware of what he was doing because of his rudimentary understanding of it. The technology was all but lost, primarily the imprinting technique used, but that was why he allowed himself to be guided to such a degree so as to make up for the gaps in his knowledge. After all, the Force was everything, it held forgotten knowledge and ancient secrets, imparting gifts to those skilled enough in tapping into it.

 

After several hours, the physical part was done. While outwardly, the materials, styles and colors was very reminiscent of the Jedi, the shape and activation panel were prominently of Sith design and origin. It was a simple message, really, the person who engineered this holocron had walked both paths, and had found greater peace from following neither. Of course, the activation panel was engineered to react only to someone sensitive in the Force. But right now, it wouldn't work. It was an empty vessel, a beautiful husk.

 

For the first time in a long time, Aryian sat down to meditate. He knew this step was crucial, despite how little he enjoyed meditation. Aryian had long enjoyed more of a living relation with the Force, able to forego most deeper meditations since he was a Knight long ago. Sure, he'd guided others since, and lightly meditated, and made use of Force trances, but it had been some time since he'd revisited the rote steps most pupils took when walking their first steps down training in the Force.

 

He cleared his mind, the easiest step. There was nothing but him and the vastness of the Force. For a moment, he felt like he was being watched, silently observing and silently being observed in return. But the moment passed, and he began to pour himself into the holocron, imprinting every facet of his personality and knowledge onto the device.

 

It was a long process, and it lasted well into the morning.

Immediately reachable by  charlesjhall@gmail.com

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The world returned in silent darkness, a few rapid blinks discerning between the two states of consciousness with the meager light of the rising sun carving through the blinds. As exhausted as she felt the night before her mind was incapable of sleeping beyond dawn, apparently regardless of what planet she found herself on. The bed was so soft and warm her sleepy muscles didn't want to move, but she knew the remedy. Throwing one leg over the side of the bed, Faux didn't fight as the rest of her body slid with it, dropping into stretches immediately. As each muscle pushed themselves to their limit, she went through the events of yesterday and the tasks she had to see to today.

 

A light on the terminal told her she had new messages, most likely the results of her material procurement requests to Mechis’ factory droids. They would have to wait, because the first thing she saw to everyday was practice. Properly stretched, she went through her standard routine of calisthenics to maintain and build strength. Now, however, she had the added task of cultivating the Force as well as her body. She had always been able to meditate as she went about the routine, clearing her mind to be completely focused on each and every individual movement. The meditation now had an added layer to it, as the movement she paid attention to was no longer in the muscles themselves, but controlling the flow of the Force as it moved through her in conjunction with the movements. More than ever before, Faux felt vigorous, empowered through the sheer force of her will directing her abundant vital energy where she needed it most.

 

After completing her daily, Faux washed away the sweat from her workout, though noticed she had sweat a great deal less than she normally did, as if her body didn't feel the same strain she was used to. After drying she changed into her own clothes, feeling a bit more like herself than those loose robes, and took a seat at the terminal. The list of materials and components available on Mechis was ready, but it wouldn't be of any use until she knew more about the inner workings of the lightsaber. Only when she understood the possibilities and limitations of the weapon could she decide on a design.

 

Thus she began on what would be a four hour reading assignment into everything the dojo’s database had on lightsaber design and mechanics. Starting from the general working operation and working in toward specific operating parameters of specific parts, slowly the machine started to make sense. And that’s all it was, really, once you drop away the idea of a lightsaber strictly as a weapon. A machine with form and function like any other.

 

The trickiest part, to her at least, was the implementation of the focusing crystals. From what she read, the types of crystals were numerous, each with unique properties that had effects ranging from meager to substantial outside of their primary function of transmuting electricity to plasma. The one constructing this machine needed the Force to feel how the energy would flow through the crystal and be able to adjust their positions appropriately. If not, rogue energy would reflect at odd angles within the lightsaber, melting and sabotaging important parts that weren't designed to take that much heat. If you were lucky, the lightsaber would just short out, giving you a nasty shock and leaving you with some funny hair for a few days. Most of the time the lightsaber would explode violently, taking life or limb from the errant mechanic.

 

The rest of the parts seemed pretty common sense. A diatium power cell had a high capacity, and didn't wear out very quickly from the constant recharging from the cycling when the blade wasn't actively cutting. From there through the crystals to achieve plasma. It seemed the more crystals one had in a sequence stabilized the blade, but only one was necessary to achieve the conversion. And the more crystals a lightsaber had the more work would be required aligning them, as well as increasing the chance of misaligning them and blowing the whole thing. Once plasma is achieved it runs through at least one focusing lens to give the blade a shape, through an emitter that enshrouded the plasma in a magnetic containment field. This containment field both gave the blade a length and created a magnetic cycle that folded unused plasma back in on itself to return to the powercell through a series of energizers that converted the pasma back into electricity. The whole operation, when done properly, looked very elegant in idea and design. Without the recycling of the plasma the machine would require vastly more fuel to produce the heat and energy a lightsaber emits. This way, the only energy a lightsaber loses is the light produced by the blade, which is nearly unavoidable and pretty much negligible, and when the blade was actually transferring its heat into something else.

 

Of the materials available Faux settled on Songsteel to make the hilt. It was tricky to work with, but it was the lightest of the lightsaber resistant materials she had to work with. She wasn't worried about the weight of the weapon, but rather the balance of it. With the hilt taking up less weight, Faux would better be able to distribute the weight throughout the hilt to combat the normal gyroscopic motion of a lightsaber. True, some techniques of lightsaber combat learn to utilize these movements to the user’s benefit, but Faux was more concerned with precision and speed than power. That gyroscopic motion could push or pull the blade off course, and the quicker she wanted to move the less time she would have to feel, react, and adjust to these micromovements.

 

Another consideration was the width, length, and power level of the blade. Standard length and width was about a meter and three centimeters, but that didn’t feel right to her. Too static, too predictable. The reason she loved practicing with a long staff was the ability to change ranges quickly with a combination of good foot and arm work. Her ability to change attack vectors so quickly and strike from nearly any angle at any given moment had her as the monastery's top contestant since she was fourteen. She wanted to replicate that unpredictability in her lightsaber. That being said, she would need two custom focusing lenses and a few unique emitter parts. Being able to change these settings would require switches, but not switches that had set intervals. She instead wanted switches that worked like dials that could adjust the blade’s length and width anywhere between the parameters of the parts. Not a one, two, and three setting, but any fractional setting between the minimum and maximum. She also wanted to make these Force activated internal switches. While it would take longer for her to learn how to manipulate these switches back and forth with the Force amidst a battle, when she finally did master it the removed external switches would smooth out the handle for more grip space, prevent the buttons from being damaged and maybe deactivating or destroying the lightsaber, and make it more difficult for anyone else to use.

 

So far, her design felt mechanically sound with a versatility that matched her own preferences, but it still didn't feel right. Maybe it was because thus far the designing was purely mechanical, but she knew there would be a point where she would have to invest more of herself into the project to make it really come out right. This wasn't some droid or blaster that just needed parts to work. A lightsaber was impossible to craft and incredibly difficult to use without the Force. She wouldn't just have to arrange some crystals just right to prevent it all from exploding. She needed to align the crystal with her very will, creating a focal point through which she could move the Force and the Force could move through her. This same alignment could be said with any weapon in the hands of a conscientious Force using martial artist, but a lightsaber was the only weapon where this alignment was a requirement.

 

She considered her own skill and views of the Force, and how to best utilize and express that through this weapon. Her understanding was founded in the principles of energy; its flow and interactions, its many types and the transmutability of them all. Tutanamis, the Jedi called it, but to her it felt like natural law of the Universe. The very principles that bound all things. How could she add these ideas into her lightsaber? She went back to reading, cross referencing between the articles and the list of available materials. Nothing on the list rang out, but she noticed the crystals Aryian mentioned weren't on the list. Faux guessed the droids weren’t focused on the materials already in the Dojo.

 

Faux stood from the terminal with a stretch, for the first time realizing she hadn't eaten yet today as her stomach growled at her. That was weird. She normally always ate breakfast after her workout? Was she too excited about this project, or did she still have an abundance of energy from the practice yesterday? She transferred her design from the terminal to her datapad and headed off to the kitchen. There wasn't much to select from, but at least there was dehydrated fruit. Faux nabbed a few packages and a bottle of water, tearing them open with her teeth and mindlessly pouring the contents into her mouth as she continued to read articles as she walked down to the workbench Aryian mentioned.

 

It was just as he described it, everything she would need to build a lightsaber. If she was less inclined to augment her lightsaber beyond a standard lightsaber, she very well could make one with everything on the bench in front of her. To the left was a set of shelves with what she imagined to be crystals. Before walking over to the shelf Faux would have said that crystals were nothing more than shiney rocks that happened to catalyze energy in just the right way to produce plasma. But as she walked over to them, reaching out as she had been taught to get a feel for something, Faux paused and reeled for a moment, overwhelmed with what felt like a cascade of echoes reflecting her own sense of the Force back at her. These were not simple rocks. These crystals sang in the Force, twisting it in such a way to make pitches and hues. She somehow saw and heard them in the same sensation of the Force.

 

Collecting her thoughts, Faux pulled back her senses for a moment to better narrow them, now trying to look at individual crystals rather than all of them at once. Even still, she found she had to actually physically pick up the crystal she wanted to examine to be able to get a feel for it without the surrounding crystals to chorus white noise in the background. One by one she picked them up and turned them over in her hands. They all felt lovely, each with a unique sensation but all cool and gentle. She went through all of them of lightsaber size on the shelves, but none of them really stood out. There was no discernable difference between any of them. There was one on the desk much larger than the others that caught her eye. It held no color and looked as if it had never been shaped or polished.

 

Out of curiosity she picked the larger crystal up and immediately felt it growing warm to her touch. This wasn't a simple transfer of her own heat. The crystal itself felt as if it were producing its own heat. Faux pushed out with the Force, feeling very little resistance as her energy bounced around the facets. Even still, it was probably her own fumbling control of the Force that created the resistance and not the crystal itself. This was the first one that felt like it responded to her Force. Pulling out her datapad, Faux skimmed through the articles on crystals in an attempt to identify the crystal. It was translucent, so color would be no indicator. It eliminated a great many from the possibilities, but not enough. The scanner on her datapad wasn't good enough, but there appeared to be one on the bench. Resting the crystal in the clamps, the scanner went on autopilot and shot a range of lights through it at various angles. After a few moments the screen beeped back: Kyber. Narrowing in on the article, Faux began reading everything.

 

Amazing... Simply amazing.

 

This Kyber crystal concentrated energy in a unique way in the Force, and they seemed almost alive the way they were able to communicate or resonate with one another. Small cuts of this crystal would be perfect for the internal switches. And the crystal was capable of withstanding the temperatures and pressures found in the cores of stars, so it was extremely stable. Perhaps, if it were so good at conducting energy, she would be able to transfer energy from herself or another source through them, bypassing the powercell entirely and channeling through the primary crystal to either power or overpower the blade. The recycle would still apply, so this transfer of energy could also serve to recharge the powercell.

 

The applications seemed useful, but would the crystals work the way she envisioned? The extra parts to lead the energy from the external crystals to the primary will take up extra space inside the hilt, and so will the internal switches and second focusing lens. Increasing the width of the casing would only weaken her grip, so making the hilt longer was the only way to go. This would also help her balance the weight better to counter the gyroscopic motion. What else, what else? She plugged the new plans into the schematics, letting the AI run the numbers. Mechanically, it was sound, but the programming had no way of anticipating how the Kyber crystals would transfer any energy she sent through it. The only thing to do was try it and hope it didn't blow up.

 

She sent the schematics for the unique parts she would need to a nearby machine shop with all the tools needed to make them. Droids and AI would ensure the parts were seen to with exact precision, and Faux could assemble them once they arrived. The process will likely take the rest of the day and into the night, but that didn't matter. It would probably take longer than that to meditate on, cut, and align the kyber crystal.

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Hours passed. The Grey Master didn't notice. Many times the holocron almost failed spectacularly, and in a small number of instances the fault was molecular in nature, which unless Aryian had felt the imperfection and stopped it from progressing would have caused a chain reaction that would have destroyed the entire unit. Before he started, he knew the risks, he'd read what little he could find on constructing such a device. The entire process could have lasted months, years even. And while he'd started building this a long time ago, it wasn't as if he'd constantly worked on it. He might as well have started fresh on it a couple days ago. Which, of course, led to complications like cascade failures from potential molecular-sized imperfections.

 

The Force guided him and his actions, and many times Aryian wondered if it was even he who had noticed the problems. All signs pointed to this project of his failing, and in a large way. But despite that, a hidden hand had kept his focus on the straight and true, ironing out kinks, juggling conflicts as they occurred. Aryian had been an instrument of the will of the Force before, but never to this degree. Something, something wanted this to succeed, to play a part in the future that the Grey Master himself could not. In the back of Aryian's mind, this was the only explanation that made sense, but he was so focused on the task at hand that he barely gave it any consideration at all.

 

Instead, he was primarily focused on the structure of the holocron and perfecting it. And as he focused, he could feel parts of himself implanting onto the device. Knowledge, experience, personality...the entirety of who he was. From when he had grown up on Coruscant as a kid to being taken in by the Jedi, to accidentally killing his best friend and peer in a sabotaged exhibition lightsaber duel. Then many years later being accepted back into the Order, relearning everything from telekinesis to alchemy and healing. His training and Knighthood under the tutelage of Master Ben'a. Working with Kirlocca and Armiena to form the backbone of the Special Operations division of the Order. The Augury. The Battle of the Death Star. So many fights and enemies and friends and losses and reunions and meaningful moments interspersed by others that seemed trivial but still added to the sum of who he was.

 

Molecule by molecule, each part of the holocron subtly shifted over the hours, delicately reconfiguring to its most ideal state. Runes etched themselves inside and outside of the pyramid design, of both Jedi and Sith origin. Some runes were within others, overlaying patterns which spanned from being visible with the naked eye down to lines etched onto the hairlike crystal and metal filaments that wound within the device itself. The symbols Aryian didn't completely understand, though he knew it somehow tied him inexplicably to the holocron. That was a requirement of all holocrons, that they were unique to their creator. Anyone attempting to recreate another holocron would fail. And while Sith holocron gatekeepers (and thus the knowledge contained within) tended to decay over time due to the nature of the Dark Side, Jedi holocrons tended to only be susceptible to the elements. This holocron would be different. While the influences of the Dark Side would change it over time, the nature of the Light Side would repair damage and adapt to the change. Like scar tissue over a wound, Aryian the gatekeeper would likely change over time as well. In a way, the Grey Master would go on living for a long time after his physical death. But while he suspected all this, he wasn't entirely certain.

 

And finally, it was done. Aryian shakily rose from where he had sat. His body was in pristine condition, the Force having sustained it while he worked, though mentally he felt as if he'd just lived an entire other lifetime in that span of time. The tetrahedron sat on the floor innocuously, smaller than he thought it would be, slightly larger on one of its identical sides than the palm of his hand. Picking it up, he noticed it was also far more lightweight than he would have thought. For a brief moment as he stared at the thing, he wondered where it would find itself when eventually the light inside it would go out, but just as quickly realized it didn't really matter. And that last thought was very freeing.

 

Faux had been given the task of constructing a lightsaber for herself earlier, and seemed to still be busy with that task. Almost as an afterthought, he drew his own tonfa style lightsaber from his belt, using the Force to dismantle it until all that was left was the crystal at the heart of the device. He'd had many lightsabers over the years of all makes, styles, and colors. Most were prefabricated, made by machines and slightly tweaked by him telekinetically before their first use to ensure there were no problems. These were made for when it was necessary to clone himself, preventing the need to return to the spot where his last incarnation had died to try and retrieve other sabers...or just whenever his last used set was outright destroyed. The tonfa was no exception, it had been part of a pair like most had been, Aryian preferring twin sabers that could interlock to make a staff saber. But on Mandalore, in the middle of their war, he'd had no backup set and had to deal with an injured arm. One of this pair had been given to Tresha Ad'Nort, the other had been remade into the tonfa.

 

But what separated this crystal from the others was it had been with him for a long time, and it held some of his presence within. It would be useful to Faux, a reminder to stay objective in the challenges Aryian knew she would eventually face. It was a kind gesture, but also an important one. Aryian could use just about any lightsaber style he came across, and there were plenty others in the Dojo meant for training. Later he would choose one with a green blade to use, but right now he summoned a small messenger droid to take the crystal to Faux, wherever she was. She would receive it a few minutes later.

 

After the long day's work, Aryian removed his blindfold, finding he could see much better, though some things were still blurry. It was still a remarkable improvement, though, and he decided to leave it off. He found the closest room with a padded floor, one of the smaller sparring pits near the dojo entrance, and promptly fell asleep like he hadn't slept in years.

Immediately reachable by  charlesjhall@gmail.com

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Kyber crystal in hand, Faux took leave of the workshop to find a nice, comfortable place to sit for a few hours. Just looking at the crystals and feeling for a response was one thing, but this particular crystal required cutting and polishing before it could be aligned. To know the best way to go about that she would have to spend a long time guiding the Force through the crystal to feel the flow of the lattices hidden deep within. Without the effort, blindly hacking and sawing at the piece to make the facets one would find most shiney and shapely, she would most likely cleave through ley lines through which energy flowed the best. Energy would still flow through the butchered crystal, but a portion of it would shoot off trajectory, bouncing through the crystal and pushing energy that would be on course off course. The effect would be negligible in the broad scheme of design, but it was a matter of quality over negligence. She was taught to do everything with the maximum of both her effort and consideration. Anything less was a waste.

 

The crystal was warm in her hands, with an almost distinguishable anticipation toward a new purpose at Faux’s hands. Or perhaps it was a mere reflection of her own eagerness? The idea was amusing to ponder as she walked around the Dojo. She admittedly hadn't taken much time out of her training to explore very thoroughly. It felt like once she had looked over the layout on the terminal it was committed to memory and all sense of curiosity dwelt on the greater mystery of the Force rather than her surroundings. Until now she didn’t mind not knowing the building that intimately. She felt safe here with Aryian. The solitude they experiences reminded her of the monastery back home.

 

She settled on the memorial hall. It would be a nice place to consider the conviction of past legends while aligning her own into the heart of the crystal that would help her see it through. Faux wasn't familiar with all of their stories, but a few of them had come up in her research on the Force. Monsters and brigands, selfless healers and brash heroes, the men and women standing a story tall in this hall shaped the galaxy, for better or worse, through sheer force of will. This would be a splendid place to meditate on the intention of her first weapon.

 

The floor was cool to the touch as she eased into a seated position. She kept her hands folded in her lap as the palm sized crystal continued to warm them, and slowly began finding her rhythm. In and out, gentle yet persistent, feeling the wellspring within her abdomen uncoil and swell with her acknowledgement. The hall felt quiet, though she wasn't sure why she thought it would be any different. It wasn't like these great figures held a vestige of their formal presence. They were not here to witness her task and judge her accordingly. This effort was entirely in her hands, at the consideration or care of no one else.

 

Further into the trance, even the hallway began to fade away, leaving Faux in the vast field of her mind with nothing but a crystal and a tree. It was just like Aryian had shown her not long ago. A great wind of focus blew, and the great many leaves of other thought withered and flew away. Soon, too, did the bulk of the tree seem to wither in upon itself, shrinking down into the other side of everything to return from whence it came. The field was quiet, serene. If it wasn't for the conscious flow of her own vital energy all that would remain was the crystal. Yet, those were the only two things that needed to remain. The crystal drifted ever so delicately from her palm to leave no points of contact. Only her own Force to hold and feel the crystal.

 

Slowly Faux began to push the Force around and through the crystal. The flow was steady and, after a while, as naturally autonomous as the beat of her heart so that all she had to concentrate on was the crystal itself. There were several lines running through it that channeled the Force like branches of a tree. The lines had grown naturally over time as the crystal itself had grown. As time progressed, how quickly she couldn't be sure, shapes began to form in her mind’s eye. Segments of the crystal both large and small that could be cut away and not disturb the flow if energy in the surrounding clusters. There were many ways she could manage these cuts, but there would be only one chance to make them.

 

In time, even this flow became unconscious with the rhythm of her being, and visions of her creation began to bloom. She saw the lightsaber in her hand, saw it sparked alive with her will. The blade drew breath with her in her daily practice, hummed alive as she moved her path between those who would do her harm. She would not seek conflict, but neither would she shy from it when events unfolded to demand action. She would help the galaxy where she could, even if the best way to help was to do nothing. Knowing when to act and when to do nothing was the most difficult wisdom to grasp, she knew, and one that would take a lifetime of practice to master. All she could really do was master herself and wait for those pivotal moments to come as they may.

 

The meditation had drawn well into the afternoon. When she finally drifted back into the dojo and opened her eyes, she found the crystal in hand had gained a burnt orange hue, much like the setting suns on Tatooine. Faux smiled at the color, warmed by it knowing it couldn't have been any other color. Without lingering on her efforts she put the crystal in her pocket and headed for the kitchen. She had ignored the growling in her stomach throughout the meditation, but returned to the world it seemed more pressing than the creation of a lightsaber. While the bagged meal and rice was heating Faux went through her series of deep stretches to return her muscles to vibrancy. The long hours of stillness required for such meditation was never her favorite, much preferring moving meditation, but she could not ignore how much deeper she could go in stillness.

 

Faux ate in silence, glad she had the forethought to pour the prepackaged stew over a bed of rice. It added a texture that was sorely lacking from the meat and vegetables that had been marinating in the bag for gods know how long. Maybe once things at the dojo settled down into a normal pace Aryian would take her up on her offer to cook for them. While she was remiss to spend any of his money, the benefit of buying good ingredients for good meals went beyond nourishing the body. A soul thrives on enjoying good food, and so long as it was in moderation why couldn't anyone enjoy such a simple pleasure?

 

Well fed, attentions returned quickly to the task at hand. The sun was set now, so maybe her orders for the other components were done by now? Maybe she should take the crystal to Aryian for his own inspection? No… she knew very well that the crystal had come out just fine and that she was very thorough in inspecting the ley lines. Diverting her attention to seek his approval now would be like a little girl showing her parents the drawing she had made, so obviously wanting praise. She didn't require praise, but that didn't mean she didn't enjoy it. Plus, he had mentioned a project needed his own attention. It would be shallow of her to distract him for something so trivial when he had gone to such lengths to provide her the materials and solitude she needed to see to her own.

 

Back in the workshop, Faux was glad to see the components she requested had been freshly machined and delivered to the workbench. First things first, however, she needed to get this crystal cut. There was a machine suited to do just that, luckily enough. How arduous would it have been if she had to laser cut the crystal by hand? She set the crystal in the ray field that suspended it firmly in the middle of a grid. Along the sides of the grid were several lasers on articulate pintle arms capable of any angle of cut. Before any cutting the machine would have to spend an hour or so scanning the crystal to make sure it had a perfect three dimensional map. While that worked, Faux moved to the box of parts she ordered by the Mechis droids to customize for her. Some of the parts would still require some assembly.

 

The hilt casing was just as she ordered it. Entirely enclosed except for the small holes where the facets of Kyber crystal would inlay flush with the surface and where the emitter produced the blade. The fittings for the focusing lenses would set them not quite perpendicular to the hilt and set in revolving clasps. In a pair, the lenses would then be able to spin counter to one another, thinning and widening the blade as the plasma was either expanded or condensed. She started attaching the lenses to the settings so when it came time for construction she would just have to set them in place.

 

Next was the emitter. Connecting the parts was fairly simple. The uniqueness of the part was how it fanned out to allow the blade to widen without expanding over the emitter and melting it. The magnetic ring was larger and given extra space to allot for the parts necessary to deliver more power. This extra power would compensate for the emitter changing the length of the blade rapidly and often. Faux went about assembling the pieces, adding the extra components where needed and checking them with the hilt casing. The added length she accounted for made up for the space required by the extra components.

 

The machine beeped once, indicating it had completed its map of the crystal. Faux set the components down and turned to the display on the laser cutting machine. There were a few adjustments to be made, as the machine was looking for the best way to cut the crystal down as it was, and not aware of how she wanted all of the cut crystals to perform. Once adjusted she set the machine to start cutting and went back to the components. The machine would take another hour at least to make all the cuts, as the high capacity of a Kyber crystal would absorb and redirect a lot of power from the laser. A physical cutter would have been faster, but ran the risk of scuffing the surface or outright cracking it.

 

At the pommel Faux connected the magnetic lead that would meet with the end of the songsteel staff she was also having made. Once connected, the lightsaber would become a lightstaff and let her keep all the practice at the staff in her arsenal. She had practiced it for so long and was really proficient at it. It felt a shame to let it all go to waste.

 

Next she enshrouded the power cell in its insulating case and ran lines along the inside of the case that would connect with the exterior facets. As the smaller crystals were cut, Faux began fitting them into the outer casing, soldering them in and grinding away the excess to maintain a smooth finish. The machine cut the smaller ones faster than she was able to install them, so by the time was done the machine had completed cutting the internal crystals.

 

Now all that was left was to assemble it all together. Just then she felt Aryian walk into the workshop. Faux turned with a tired smile only to see one of the droids carrying her staff fresh from the factory. It had an annealed core to give the staff a little flexibility with a tempered exterior sure to crush bone. It was a lot different from the wooden staffs she trained with back home. Heavier, but not nearly as heavy as it would have been if she just made it out of durasteel. It was a pretty simple design aside for the magnetic sleeve on one end where the lightsaber could be attached. The sleeve remained closed with an internally folding cap when it wasn't holding the lightsaber. This, more than the lightsaber, would likely be her primary form of self defense so long as the situation didn't call for deadly force.

 

It was curious, though, why she felt Aryian. As she took the staff from the droid and thanked it, it held out its hand to give her a crystal, stating that Aryian had wanted her to use it. Was this where she felt him, in this tiny white crystal? Did her own crystal carry her presence the same way his did? And why give her the crystal at all? There were more than enough down here. It felt like a nice gesture. A little more personal than she would have thought, but one she would accept graciously.

 

Well, now she had an extra Kyber crystal, twin to the one she would put in her lightsaber. It felt rash to just return it to the scattering of crystals on the shelf after she had invested so much of herself in it. And a little sad to think it would be all alone, given purpose and then discarded. Faux decided that wouldn't do, taking a bit of twine intended for wrapping a weapon handle and twisted it around the crystal, turning it into a necklace. Maybe down the road she would make another lightsaber, or something may happen to this one.

 

Accepting the crystal with a bow, Faux returned to the workbench as the droid went about its business. All of the parts were ready, and she knew intimately where each of them went, their purpose, and their interactions with one another. She laid the parts out on the bench in an orderly fashion, wiggled around in the chair a moment until she found a comfortable spot, and closed her eyes and began her work once again.

 

With each breath the room fell away. All the tools and machines. This project was everything in this moment. Eyes closed, the case opened up as other parts gathered in air. The mechanical pieces drifted together immediately, with the ease of their binary nature. So too did the two crystals slip into place, nestling neatly into their housing as the pieces came together as one. She was so tired, having spent more time today in concentrated effort than she probably ever had. But that little bit of Aryian was there with her whispering just a little further.

 

Twisting the crystals in their housing, the alignment had to be just right. A little more for the primary, quarter turn on the secondary. This was the most nerve wracking part of the whole project. Holding all of these pieces in air was one thing, but to her they were already one thing, just with a bit of empty space between it. The hard part was holding the pieces while also pushing a little bit of the Force through not one, but both of the internal crystals at once to feel how energy flows through them. Just a little off and the whole thing could explode the moment she turned it on. If she had used both of her own crystals it would be much easier, since she had already spent so much time getting a feel for their conductivity, but using Aryian’s provided a whole new unknown element.

 

Once she felt the crystals were in place, everything began to come together. Internal wires connected, parts clicked into place, and the casing folded neatly around it all. With a few more quiet clicks the internal locks screwed themselves in, and the lightsaber floated gently down into her hands. With a sigh, Faux released the pent up energy that had been welling up in her temples, and she opened her eyes.

 

Without hesitating on the very real possibility of a destructive reckoning, she reached out in the Force one more time to the internal activation switch, and smiled wide as a bright orange light bathed the dimly lit workshop. The light felt warm, gentle with an underlying ferocity that matched the warrior she felt within herself. This weapon would be the at her side for a long time, a thought that stirred in her more apprehension than she anticipated. She let the blade extinguish as she stood up from the workbench. There would be plenty of time to show Aryian and play with it tomorrow. Now was the time for sleep.

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Aryian awoke to a slight nudging at his face. The floorba cleaner droids were "dumb" droids, having only really been programmed with a rudimentary algorithmic sequence instead of true onboard AI, so when it met Aryian's face in an attempt to clean the "mess" off the floor, it treated him like any other object, merely thinking he was a couch or part of the decoration. It didn't know the difference, and it didn't really matter in the long run. What did matter was that it was a sufficient enough action to rouse the groggy old man from his place of rest and comfort on the padded floor.

 

Time churned on, another day had dawned. Though it was more of a fluid concept in the galactic sense, one day on one planet could be a small fraction of one on another, Aryian's circadian rhythm was used to rapidly matching to whatever planet he happened to be on at the time. It was a common issue for beings who were constantly traversing the galaxy between planets, and the Grey Master was no exception. After a while, Aryian finally pushed himself off the floor, trudging off to the dining area to make himself some coffeine. Faux was still nowhere to be found, but Aryian could still sense she was within the dojo, so at least she hadn't abandoned him and the task he'd given her. After a while of sitting and reading some galactic news on a datapad while he sipped his coffeine, he sent another messenger droid to go and gently wake her up.

 

It was only a bit after the droid left that Aryian began to wonder what the droid considered gentle...it wasn't programmed for protocol.

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Something was...poking her. In the ribs. Hard.

 

At first her muddled mind thought the sensation some vague vestige of a dream, but with each gnawing jab the waking world could not be denied.

 

"Are you alive?" Inquired a mechanical, monotone voice, delivering another uncomfortable poke.

 

"Yes..." She mumbled into her pillow. What time was it? She was up way into the morning, but with no windows in her room it was impossible to tell the time of day. Something told her she had only been asleep a couple of hours and the dawn was still unfolding, but she had no reason to know that. Another sharp poke in the ribs.

 

"Master Darkfire requires your presence at his location."

 

The smell of coffee told her he was in the kitchen. Did the droid trail it in? The kitchen was too far away for the smell to make it all the way here on its own.

 

"Tell him I will be there in twenty minutes."

 

The droid said nothing in acknowledgement, and as it left Faux slipped from the bed to go into stretches, wincing for a moment at the soreness in her ribs. Why the droid chose to poke her repeatedly in the ribs was beyond her. After stretching and calisthenics a quick shower and change of clothes, back into the white dojo robes, and she was on her way to the kitchen, lightsaber in hand.

 

Taking a seat at te table across from Aryian, Faux set her lightsaber on the table without cermony as she poured herself a glass of juice.

 

"Your droids are weird. Do they not know what sleeping is, or is a jab in the ribs the preferred method of checking vitals around here?"

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"I mean, technically most of them belong to an autonomous collective, while others are direct extensions of the planet's hive mind. Very few of them are actually mine. But, uh...my bad?"

 

Aryian eyed the hilt she laid on the table, reaching out to draw it to him so as to examine it closer. It was mostly a plain design, with standard studs and a grip, but he also noticed a couple nodes with small crystals sticking out of the hilt. Decoration, perhaps? He'd never really seen anything like it before, and paid it little attention. There was no obvious activation stud, meaning it was internal and not really something Aryian wanted to tinker with too hard so as to accidentally mess up her hard work.

 

"It's done? Have you turned it on?"

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"Oh, sure." She said as she got up from the table to prepare some breakfast. She wasn't sure if Aryian had eaten yet, but given his eating habits he was probably one of those people who skipped the meal in exchange for four cups of caf. "Didn't explode, which is probably good. Haven't really run it through a full trial yet. I figure the internal switches are going to take a little time to get adjusted to, but best to do that from the start rather than have to learn the controls all over again."

 

She started gathering supplies, mixing the powdered egg with milk and cinnamon. "Go ahead and ckeck it out if you like. The four internal switches are just below the emitter, running parallel to the hilt. Top one is length, then width, power level, then the on/off switch."

 

Next she started cutting the bread into strips while warming up a pan on the range. "The crystals on the outside let me channel energy into and out of the lightsaber. The practice at the foundry gave me the idea."

 

Dunking the strips of bread into the eggs, she then set them one by one in the pan. This type of scrambled toast took a while to make, so she washed her hands and the dishes she used to prepare the meal. "I balanced it out to dampen the gyroscopic motion, and gave it a magnetic pommel cap to attach to the staff I also had commisioned."

 

Once the dishes were done she took a spatula and flipped the toast, now turned a lovely golden brown on the top. "I had to fabricate a few unique pieces for the emitter and lenses, but the blade should have a much broader range than standard lightsabers. I figured you would appreciate the maleability."

 

Perfectly grilled on both sides, Faux pulled the strips of egg battered toast from the pan and divided them between two plates. She looked around the rest of the kitchen, but couldn't find any syrup sadly. Instead she had to settle on dusting the toast with a little powdered sugar. She set one plate in front of Aryian and returned to her seat opposite him, wasting no time digging in. While she was very interested to hear what he had to say about the lightsaber, and would love to hear him praise her considerate craftsmanship, she already knew she had made a blade that would suit her well enough. This was her first one after all, and she could always make more. Her designs could only improve from here.

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Aryian activated it, noting the brilliant orange blade. But when she mentioned what the crystals for, he gave a slight impressed grunt.

 

"That's nifty. Orange blade, huh? Feels nice, too. I think this will do you well."

 

He thanked her as she passed the food to him, putting her saber back on the table and sliding it to her. In between mouthfuls of the toast egg thing she'd made, he spoke to her about their next move.

 

"You'll have time to test it out soon enough. If you do well, I think you can move on with the next part of your training, and then you'll be recognized as on par with a Jedi Knight. I know this has all moved rather fast for you, but sometimes there are people who just have natural talents."

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Test it out on what? Droids? Surely he doesn't mean to get me into a real fight.

 

He seemed to accept the lightsaber as sufficiet, but it was hard to tell. Other than a grunt at her mention of the external crystal network, her Master said nothing noteworthy about the blade. It was nifty and felt nice, so it was good enough. She smiled warmly as he thanked her for breakfast, glad he was eating.

 

She thought silently as she ate, considering the path outlined in front of her. The speed of her training wasn't concerning to Faux. How other people learned didn't matter so long as she understood the lessons herself, and learning a lot of different techniques only let her examine how they interact. Maybe she did have natural talents, but that didn't make her any better than anyone. If anything it could be a weakness if she let it go to her head. Picking up a subject with ease didn't make her struggle to wrap herself around it. Maybe it made sense to her immediately through one point of view, but full understanding may not come until looking at it from every angle, in conjunction with everything else you have struggled to comprehend. Struggling to master something is what developed strength of mind and body, not the subject of study itself. Perservering, pushing youself further and further everyday, that was true power. Ultimately her gifts were also her burdens if she fell into the trap of relying on them too much.

 

Another thing she paused to consider was the recognition of being on par with Jedi knights. "I'll take whatever tests you think best, but does it really matter if others acknowledge me or not? I'm quite content mastering myself to my own standards and practices. Their opinion of standards can only act as a point of reference to benchmark my progress, but it doesn't really give me anything, does it? They can't tell me who or what I am. Only I have the ability to shape myself."

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"It gives you respect. And in the wide, wide galaxy, a little respect goes a long way. Plus, it will be a chance to potentially gain notice and recognition of people who might have a serious positive impact on your future."

 

Finishing, he put his dishes in the tray receptacle, wiping bits of food from the sides of his mouth.

 

"But for right now, a bit more of the basics. Do you still have that training remote?"

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She narrowed her eyes in pensive consideration. She didn't like the idea of anyone having an impact on her future other than herself, but if it weren't for people like Aryian she would most definately be on a different path. While she considered herself amenable and open minded, she ultimately considered her opinion the final word on all things considering herself. Why should others get a say on who or what she was?

 

"Of course," She said as she pulled the small training remote out of the pouch on her hip. "But I haven't had much chance to use it."

 

Faux tossed the remote to Aryian as she called her lightsaber from the table to her hand, clipping it to her belt. Turning to return her own dishes to the recepticle, she noticed how the lightsaber twirled a bit on her hip, swinging wildly in her stride. Her nose scrunched at the unanticipated flaw in her design. Of all the small things to not consider...

 

Untying one of the leather straps around her wrist, Faux twisted a loop into part of it, then tied the rest of it around her thigh and slipped the lightsaber snuggly into the loop. Now it didn't swing oddly as she walked.

 

"I suppose you're right about respect. I guess I never really considered developing relationships with people outside of the monastery. I mean, student and teacher is one thing, but...I've never really had friends, or any sort of cause or purpose to align me with others. Just monks who onlyever worried about my training. They cared for me, sure, and wanted me to be happy, but considered nothing outside of their lifestyles as possibilities of happiness. I still don't know what I should do, so all I focus on is training. It's my only means of measuring my progress forward in my own life."

 

She blinked rapidly, suddenly realizing the almost tears welling up at the corners ofher eyes and how drastically real she got out of no where.

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Aryian chuckled as he felt her get emotional. He turned before her eyes got wet, sparing her perceived embarrassment, but still spoke as he adjusted the settings on the remote.

 

"Just do whatever makes you happy that doesn't make someone else unhappy. There's no real trick or secret to life. Your skills will get you far in life, but only you can choose where to find your happiness. But for right now, studying all this is still important. We leave for Onderon. Pack your things, and grab a comfortable blaster of your choosing from the armory, with a few spare power packs."

 

Aryian sent a quick wireless command to a nearby console via his implant, requesting travel accommodations from the planetary AI, as well as summoning a droid to bring him a fresh pair of his old generic lightsabers, silver bladed ones that could lock at the base of the hilts to form a staff saber.

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Faux rubbed her eyes abscently as she nodded at Aryian, pushing aside self pity for the greater abstract truth that there is no absolute answer. She half bowed as she was customed to dismiss herself wordlessly, heading first toward her room to retrieve her songsteel staff for the journey. What was it that would make her happy? For the longest time she thought that if she was free to leave the monastery and explore the galaxy on her own she would see such wonderful things that something would spark her interest. Her daydreams always drifted her to acts of service that would surround her with kind, well meaning people. Teaching, building, farming, simple things to settle into after a short lifetime among the stars.

 

But right out of the gate, from the very first planet she found herself amidst men who preyed on others for the shortsighted desire of wealth. Rather than push on and give the galaxy another chance, she fell into the first offer of protection under tutelage. The only thing that made her feel happy and safe was the familiarity that came from seclusion and focus solely on self cultivation. Maybe that was all she should worry about for now, at least until she had some measure of mastery over this thing called the Force, and worry about serving others as opportunities arose?

 

Reaching her room feeling a little more resolved, Faux packed her satchel of a few small sundries and a spare set of clothes, noticing the kyber necklace laying on the nightstand. It gave her a sense of unfinished business, like this second of the twin crystals was fated to be a part of another project. Her brow furrowed at an unknown task uncompleted, and she put the necklace on to remind herself of it. She also wished she had more than one set of clothes. Maybe she could find something on Onderon?

 

Satchel packed and staff in hand, she shut the door to her room and headed off toward the armory. It was one of the many parts of the Dojo she hadn't been to yet. Keying the entry pad, Faux's eyes went wide as the door parted and revealed enough weapons to field a militia. A great many of them were melee weapons, relfecting Aryian's mastery of weapons, but firearms were not found wanting. Pistols, rifles, cannons, parts as far as the eye could see. Her mind went ablaze with the possibilities, but now wasn't the time. If she wasn't headed off planet she would dive into the terminal just as she had on her lightsaber research to utilize this armory to the best of her ability. For now, though, she picked up the first blaster within arms reach that wasn't too bulky. Strapping the holster to her rigt thigh and securing it to her belt, she adjusted the strap until the blaster grip was at the proper reach from her hand. Blaster on the right, lightsaber on the left. Once she was satisfied with how the holster sat, she left and sealed the armory, heading back to Aryian.

 

"So what's on Onderon?"

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"Probably some decorative funeral robes, if they haven't decayed much."

 

It was a stretch, but she likely hadn't heard of Onderin Starlisk despite his widespread fame while he was alive, if only because she had been raised in a monastery. Even so, the joke was in poor taste.

 

"Uh, never mind." He shifted uncomfortably a bit, knowing she'd likely pick up on the fact that it was an awful joke about a dead person despite lack of other context. "It's a chance to go out and see the galaxy a bit. Culture, food, people. To study and revel in what the Jedi call the Living Force, or the connection between all things. We will train there a bit, but we will also take in the sights and maybe experience something new. At the least, perhaps I can use my connections to introduce you to the royal family. Never know when a royal connection will be useful."

 

A notification to his implant alerted him that their shuttle had arrived. He gestured, leading the way for both of them and boarding it on the roof. It was only a planetary shuttle, but it would transport them to one of the larger cargo spaceports on the planet, where they would catch a hop on a barge contracted to ferry Sith supplies to Onderon. As the shuttle gently shook from atmospheric turbulence, Aryian continued the conversation.

 

"First thing's first though, I want to know you understand how to properly fire a blaster, without the aid of the Force. Never know when it'll come in handy. We can practice on the way there."

 

They arrived at the spaceport shortly thereafter, and inside a galactic standard hour were spaceborne.

 

((Next post in space))

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  • 9 months later...

As the Shadowfalcon exited hyperspace above Mechis III, transponder codes were transmitted abruptly to signal the arrival of a 'friendly' toward the planet below, a mundane task to say the least, but even Neo knew that he held no chance should the planet decide to activate and defend its self. Having been here once before many years ago, he only hoped that his ship's transponder codes would be quickly recognized and he would be allowed safe passage toward the Dojo below. A moment of silence fell upon the former Alcazarin and the atmosphere of his ship as he awaited confirmation, and what felt like an eternity eventually came to an end.

 

Given clearance, Neo landed his ship atop the cliffside upon one of the landing pads with a soft thump as the TIE/D's wings set themselves upon the durasteel plated surface and the engines began to die down. Grabbing a rebreather, he exited the ship, being met by a somewhat familiar face as a name he had not heard in years was spoken. "Welcome Master.... Chisum? Turning to face the droid that had welcomed him so long ago when he first crashed landed upon Mechis, the droid spoke with confusion. "You look different, yet, I can tell it's you. Might I inquire what this is about? Master Darkfire isn't here at the moment and we haven't seen you in quite some time."

 

A hint of sadness fell within his heart as the droid's words brought hin back to Onderon, to the presence he felt grow extinguished in the distance, and his gaze shifted away for a moment. "So news of Aryian's death hasn't reached here yet? Neo questioned, the lump in his throat subsiding as the droid realized what he meant. "He died upon Onderon only a few weeks ago. I'm sorry." Neo spoke, his gaze shifting about as his slivered hair twisted in the turbulent winds before settling upon the droid, shared pain in his eyes. "I've come to request permission to use the Dojo for only a brief amount of time as I regain myself..." Neo's gaze shifted toward the Oni-bot that stood beside him. "And in return, my friend here is offering to remain and help aid you should you need him."

 

The droid, having remained quiet for some time, finally spoke, ushering both of them inside at least for a pot of tea while his circuits processed what he had informed him of, to which Neo nodded, and followed him inside the Dojo without question. It wasn't until they were on the lift down into the Dojo that the droid finally asked what had happened. It was a hard answer to provide, especially considering that Neo had only been a few clicks away when it all went down. Even now, he pondered on whether he should have acted or let it happen as it did. With a humbled sigh, Neo finally spoke as the lift stopped and the three stepped out into the large entrance of the Dojo.

 

"I believe it was Aryian's wish in all honesty." Neo spoke, his voice speaking a hopeful truth. "But I can not fully say. I have only recently returned to the Sith Order and was on Onderon when I became aware of his presence shortly before i felt his death with the current Dark Lord present at what i can only believe was Aryian's execution. As much as I wanted to act in his defence, I could only feel the urge to remain away." Neo sighed briefly, his gaze shifting toward the pillar he had sat beside during his first visit here. "Shortly after, I received a mysterious package containing a holocron that emitnated with his presence, sorely addressed to another, but still managing to find me. I can only assume this was not by chance."

 

The droid perked up briefly. "You have it?" He questioned, Neo's head hanging low as he shook it in discontent. "Unfortunately, no. I was killed a few days ago at Kuat during a battle with the Imperial Remnant, hence my different appearence. I lost to an Exorcist who managed to somehow cleanse me of the disease I was plagued with during my last visit, which is the reason i stand before you now. The Force has willed me here." The droid bowed and thanked him for the information before opening the Dojo completely up to him as the systems and power came fully online. "As before, you are welcome here completely Master Chisum, and I'll have quarters made for you during your stay."

 

Before Neo made my way toward the Dojo's main computer, he turned and presented one last question. "Aryian wouldn't happen to have a son, would he?" The droid turned his gaze toward the Sith Master. "Why do you ask Master Chisum?" Neo kind of chuckled a bit before turning away. "The young man that has the holocron, the one who slew me, he resembled Aryian quite a bit." He spoke as his voice trailed off, the droid making a semblance of a smile as Neo did, his circuits thinking the same as Neo. "The Force wills it."

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R.I.P. Nanny (6/3/1941-1/9/2012)

R.I.P. Papa (2/14/1936-2/7/2012)

R.I.P. Big Mike (5/12/82-11/9/2012)

~Revelations 21:4 (KJV)~

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  • 2 weeks later...

Days had passed since Neo had arrived upon Mechis III, here to Aryian's Dojo, and began his investigation into anything having to deal with the term that the spirit in Chaos had spoken of. Neo Krell, Last BattleLord? He had heard the term before, but couldn't quite place it. And what knowledge the Dojo archives held on them spoke very little, mostly upon a ritual involving subordinates marching in the blood of a near dead Master. But this was not Neo's way. Never would the magics of the darker Sith be something he would ever transgress. "Unless...."

 

Neo had been looking in the wrong place. He had assumed that because it was Rivan whom had called him that, that it had to do with Sith Lore. But no, it held nothing to do with the Sith at all, nor the Alcazarins in which were created from the term under Nurgle/Dominus' tutelage. In fact, the only info Aryian had gathered of the Alcazarins were of what Neo had provided years earlier. Instead, Neo searches for the term that Rivan had spoken, Lord of Battle, and that is where he found what he had been searching for. And it tied in perfectly. From his childhood, through his slavery, into his days as a Bounty Hunter and through his life as a Sith. He was Battleborn.

 

Battleborn were sentients whom spent their lives not only in servitude and in war, but were immensely loyal and dedicated to their leaders. They were born for it, reveled in it despite their own philosophies and personas, and they thrived from it, simply to engage another in battle. They cared little for title or stature, only if it meant to further their hunt for battle. And even as Neo read on, he could feel his heart burn with excitement, the passion within him boiling at the simplest thought of what he was reading. To be Battleborn was to live and die by its creed, such as he had done his entire life. Only in his time as a Sith Master, away from the battlefield, did he stray from himself, losing himself to drink and depression. And now he knew. Such a realization was devastating, yet, freeing at the same time.

 

But that was all that was known of the Battleborns in Aryian's archives, leaving more questions in Neo's mind than answers. Why did Rivan turn him to this place if so little was known?

Why did he call him the last of the Lords of Battle if this was all he would find? Neo's excitement was beginning to wear off and his head was beginning to hurt from looking down at the viewscreen for the past few days. He needed sleep. Thankfully the droids here had be adamant about his nourishment, likely due to their own realization that Aryian would never return. Grabbing the sandwich which laid beside him upon the console, Neo headed toward his quarters. Perhaps a good nights rest and some morning meditation would make sense of what he had found.

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R.I.P. Nanny (6/3/1941-1/9/2012)

R.I.P. Papa (2/14/1936-2/7/2012)

R.I.P. Big Mike (5/12/82-11/9/2012)

~Revelations 21:4 (KJV)~

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  • 2 weeks later...

 

As Neo laid within the quarters he had been assigned, the spirits of those past held no qualm in bothering his rest. Tossing and turning in his restless sleep, visions of ancient beings flooded his mind, reavers of war, masters of blades and of combat, all flooding his mind as the Force touched upon his thoughts and gave him answers he had yet to ask the questions for. Some were wielders of the Force,

carrying either blades of light or blades of metal within their palms. But others held no connection to the Force, yet still readied their bodies as if made of steel. It was their discipline, their livelihood, their life that revolved around it.

 

"First you must Master your body, and harden its weak flesh." Spoke a voice, its tone echoing within the wind of his mind.

 

"Then you must draw upon your power, and let it flow naturally through you." Spoke another, its tone filled with a feeling of tranquility similar to that of Aryian Darkfire.

 

"And lastly, you must allow your form to become one with that of your power, so that your true gifts may blossom." Spoke the last of the voices, this tone echoing of his own mind.

 

"For we are born of and for battle no matter our allegiance, and if we deny ourselves, we will never be complete." The three spoke in unison.

 

 

Neo shot up out bed almost instantly, sweat pouring from his form as he began to question the dream's meaning, his breath slightly panicked. What did they mean? Our power as one with our bodies? Neo always hated cryptic messages. Why was it with the Force that everything had to be in riddles? Why could they never simply spell it out for you. Even as a Sith Master, he held no clue as to the meaning behind it. Catching his breath, he headed to the refresher.

 

Once that was done, Neo put on some clothes the droids here had managed to gather for him, mainly a darkened vest, brown trousers, and black combat boots. The vest its self was sturdy and solid, mimicking a military training vest with slots for armor plating hid underneath. And the brown trousers were similar to the vest, military issue with slots for plates as upon the thigh and shin. But the boots themselves were basic rough terrain boots, or so they seemed at the time he first laced them up. Unbeknownst to Neo at the time, but they were modified with magnetic locking capabilities for maintenance on the temple's outer areas, likely designed for Aryian Darkfire or his students should the need for them ever present its self.

 

Rising from the side of the bed, Neo made his way toward the training area he noticed during his previous visits. It was a small room, one of a few Aryian had designed for solo training with his pupils. So Neo thought it best this would be suit his needs. But first, Neo needed to test himself, test to see how much of his skill he had lost when Oni had been caste from his soul. Quieting his thoughts, Neo delves within himself, his thoughts searching his soul not only for any remnants of the Necrocorrhosis, but of his own capabilities. It seemed simple enough, at least for an onlooker, as Neo reached out and began levitating as many items as he possibly could, including a droid that managed to happen by. So the basics of his training under Nurgle remained, just as he thought. But did the rest remain? That was the true question. He could not stand before Exodus a lesser, not after ridding himself of the darkness that was Oni.

 

Rising up, Neo let the Force flow around him, it's current guiding his mind as well as his hands as he reached out and beckoned the Oni-bot. As the Oni bot came into the room, Neo nodded, his gaze saying all without uttering a single word. Now would be the moment of truth, as Neo faced the machine built to mimic his own visage. Letting the Force flow beneath him, Neo took off toward his opponent, no longer a blur upon the wind, but still as quick as speeder. Raising his fist into the air, Neo struck at the Oni-bot, his bare hand connecting hard enough to dent the armor, and hard enough to shatter his hand. Perhaps his choice in opponents was not the best choice to have chosen. Reeling in pain, Neo cursed, all the while the Oni-bot went to find a bacta wrap so that Neo's hand would find healing in a day or two.

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R.I.P. Nanny (6/3/1941-1/9/2012)

R.I.P. Papa (2/14/1936-2/7/2012)

R.I.P. Big Mike (5/12/82-11/9/2012)

~Revelations 21:4 (KJV)~

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  • 1 month later...

Rihn sighs, the flickering red and grey glow of his pale visage lightly accenting the ground. He "stands" only a few feet from where Oni fell. Waiting for his droid to scurrry off, Rihn finally deciding to open his mouth and alert the force user of his presence. Standing before Neo is a ghostly figure with the appearance of a large, canine predator with black fur all over his body. His four protruding fangs moving up and down as the Gurlanin speaks. 

"You clearly don't get it. Subtly was never your strong suit, Reaper Grimm. I had such high hopes for you. Such high hopes for the Hutts. And even at death's door, such high hopes for my return. And yet I am awoken from my slumber only to find you weaker than ever. Failure after failure. I needed you against the Sith! But instead, your incompetence allowed one man to destroy an entire uprising that was months, if not years, in the making! And we were winning, Oni! Winning! And what of you now?! You abandon the way of the Sith to follow your own path of weakness and impotence!?"
 

The Gurlanin's faded orange eyes glare at the sith. He pauses for emphasis before speaking over whatever reply Neo might have prepared in his defense.

"Have you learned nothing from your time among them? When I sent you off, I saw a leader! Someone who would take the Sith by the throat and demand their obedience. Someone who could get the job done! Maybe not at first. But in time!"

Rihn motions to Oni's injured hand as he paces. The exasperation is evident in his voice even if his alien facial features are harder to read.

"Instead you hide away and play with your toys on this god forsaken planet. It's fitting after your latest blunder. First, my empire. Then the Sith throne. Now the source of your very power. What next will you lose? Or are you finally through doing things your way?" Rihn grunts with a slight sneer at the end for emphasis.

 

Jidai Geki said:
Hmm... the possibilities for new atrocities just widened with the advent of a new RP baby...
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Hearing a familiar voice echo across what felt like the cosmos, Neo would have jumped had he not felt its presence begin to materialize. A hint of sadness entered his mind as he remembered it so well, yet knowing it had been so long since he last felt it. And the words it spoke, words of taunts and anger. Neo felt almost sorrowful for it. Without adverting his gaze toward the creature, he spoke, the hint of sadness in his voice.

"You may be correct old friend. But Reaper Grimm is as dead as you and the others are, and yet I remain, even in my weakened state. So what does this say about you?"

Neo stands, still not meeting the gaze of Rihn as he paces over toward a nearby locker, reaching in and grabbing a hand wrap as he listens to the Gurlanin continue his taunts, finding some truth to his words. Oni had been a part of Neo, the power within himself. But it was false power, power that he had leached on for far too long. Now he was free of it, and he needed to find his own true power within. Ghosts of the past or not, Neo would not be persuaded otherwise.

"I infiltrated the Sith just as you asked. I rose through the ranks just as you asked. But word never came. Only that of your destruction not longer after you sent me on that mission. So I found comradery in those that had taken me in. And do you know what I found? Treachery. Each and everyone gunning for the throne and each successful attempt only a delayed inevitablility, even among those I chose to once again call brethren."

Neo chose now to look toward the transparent figure standing before him, his eyes glowing with the anger he felt within his own self toward Rihn and the mission he gave so long ago, a smirk crossing his own face.

"So I became Sith and it became me."

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R.I.P. Nanny (6/3/1941-1/9/2012)

R.I.P. Papa (2/14/1936-2/7/2012)

R.I.P. Big Mike (5/12/82-11/9/2012)

~Revelations 21:4 (KJV)~

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Part of Rihn is surprised that Neo wouldn't look him in the face like a man. But the other part of him isn't terribly shocked.

"You may be correct old friend. But Reaper Grimm is as dead as you and the others are, and yet I remain, even in my weakened state. So what does this say about you?"

"That I would rather die on my feet than live on my knees," Rihn mutters under his breath.

He carefully observes the "shell of a sith" as he moves to and fro. Rihn knew that at least somewhere deep down inside some part of Oni's psyche must have registered his words.

"I infiltrated the Sith just as you asked. I rose through the ranks just as you asked. But word never came. Only that of your destruction not longer after you sent me on that mission. So I found comradery in those that had taken me in. And do you know what I found? Treachery. Each and everyone gunning for the throne and each successful attempt only a delayed inevitablility, even among those I chose to once again call brethren."

"Treachery? It sounds like you get out what you put in, Apprentice," Rihn replies with a soft somber tone as he watches the movement of Neo's shadow.

"So I became Sith and it became me."

Rihn returns Neo's glare with one of his own, "If you believe treachery made or makes you Sith then I overestimated your capabilities and aptitude. It would explain, though, why I was never given a warning that Ryu was coming."

Sighing slightly, Rihn folds his arms, "But to be fair, I have myself to blame.  I probably should have been harder on you. Or sent someone else. And what is done cannot be undone. But to watch you wallow in all of this self-pity and confusion? The galaxy is tearing itself apart and you're here punching dolls. No, Grimm. You pretended to die and pretended to become a Sith and a pretender you became. But it is not too late for you to do the right thing. It's not too late for you to learn the correct lessons and take the rightful place you should have taken all these years ago. Thanks to Kyrie, I am now all yours and I have all time in the world."

Clasping his hands in front of himself, just below his waist, Rihn allows his gaze to linger on Neo. He was most curious to see what the former Sith protege would have to say for himself.

 

Jidai Geki said:
Hmm... the possibilities for new atrocities just widened with the advent of a new RP baby...
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A hysterical laughter erupted from Neo as he stood there gazing at his old friend, the audacity of his claims only fueling the anger the crept up through his mind and boiled the blood within his veins. Ryu? Neo had never even met the man behind the name, let alone, knew of any plans he held for Rihn and the others. No. Their demise would not he put upon his shoulders. Calming himself, Neo spoke, the fire of his anger flickering in his eyes.

"You are wise to assume to your own fault in this old friend. When you and the others fell, I was but a mere Apprentice still undergoing my training under the former Chaos God Nurgle. I had yet to even know the name Kakuto Ryu, let alone any of his plans."

Neo sighed, his anger slowly slipping away as did his gaze, remembering back to the days of yesteryear.

"Such was the Sith in those days, unstructured with no bounds, lost in their own destruction. Even with a DarkLord to lead them, there was no leadership. Each was left to their own devices. I did not even met another of the Order until after my Lording. Then I heard of your destruction at his hands, but by then it was too late. So I joined Nurgle and his Alcazarins to make up for my absence, found my place among them in their plans to help restructure and strengthen the Sith under Lady Dominique. But even that was a lie, their own motives to place themselves into power."

Turning his gaze to Rihn, Neo's eyes shown a hint of sorrow, a pain that he rarely showed, masked behind the eyes of a veteran warrior who had seen too much to speak. 

"I do wish I could have been there, been able to warn you or save you. But I truly did not know. And you're right. I have hid myself away. But not in fear or in self pity. No. I hid myself away to breath, to regather myself, and to prepare for my next move. I do plan to take my rightful place, my place as a Sith Master. Under Exodus, the Sith will truly rise to a glory yet to be seen and I will aim it there with these very hands."

Neo chuckled, holding up his broken hand along side the other as his jovial mood returned. There was conviction replacing the sadness now, and strength replacing the sorrow.

"There is a reason I was born with two. Haunt me if you wish Rihn, but it is because of you that this path is laid before me. Just as much as it your doing that I will follow it through. Now if you'll excuse me, I still have training to do."

And with that, Neo left the room, more determined than ever before.

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R.I.P. Nanny (6/3/1941-1/9/2012)

R.I.P. Papa (2/14/1936-2/7/2012)

R.I.P. Big Mike (5/12/82-11/9/2012)

~Revelations 21:4 (KJV)~

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Rihn grins widely at Neo's response. At the anger that flickered in his eyes and flowed through his veins.

"You are wise to assume to your own fault in this old friend. When you and the others fell, I was but a mere Apprentice still undergoing my training under the former Chaos God Nurgle. I had yet to even know the name Kakuto Ryu, let alone any of his plans."

"Huh," is Rihn's only reply. It is more the sound of acknowledging his words in a critical fashion than one to signify any sort of surprise.

"Such was the Sith in those days, unstructured with no bounds, lost in their own destruction. Even with a Dark Lord to lead them, there was no leadership. Each was left to their own devices. I did not even met another of the Order until after my Lording. Then I heard of your destruction at his hands, but by then it was too late. So I joined Nurgle and his Alcazarins to make up for my absence, found my place among them in their plans to help restructure and strengthen the Sith under Lady Dominique. But even that was a lie, their own motives to place themselves into power."

"Huh."

"I do wish I could have been there, been able to warn you or save you. But I truly did not know. And you're right. I have hid myself away. But not in fear or in self pity. No. I hid myself away to breath, to regather myself, and to prepare for my next move. I do plan to take my rightful place, my place as a Sith Master. Under Exodus, the Sith will truly rise to a glory yet to be seen and I will aim it there with these very hands."

"Huh."

"There is a reason I was born with two. Haunt me if you wish Rihn, but it is because of you that this path is laid before me. Just as much as it your doing that I will follow it through. Now if you'll excuse me, I still have training to do."

"Are you finished, Grimm? I did not send you away and save your life for nothing! You still don't get it! You feel it but you ignore it. You calm it even as I guide you! Those hands are the reason I sent you! You hide from your destiny! You were not meant to follow! I sent you away because you were meant to lead! But you have ran away to Mechis III and hid in its belly for far too long. Do you still not get it!? You will never be able to reach the power from within you while you hid away here!"

As Neo turns to leave, Rihn vanishes and reappears in front of Neo, "blocking" his exit.

"I should not have to harass you but you seem to have learned nothing from whoever you have been following! Don't mock me with your fake pity. If you truly cared you would avenge me. But no matter."


Rihn pauses momentarily for dramatic effect as he tries to meet Neo's eyes. Then he continues.
 

"You may know the Sith mantra. Their code. But have you studied their teachings? Do you understand it? You will never be able to master the force within you unless you first harness your mind! You must understand before you can unlock that power. Clearly, your masters have withheld that understanding and filled you with inadequacies, half-truths, and fallacies to keep you their slave. For so long you've relied on the brute force of unearned power! But now that power is gone. You have been left like an abandon little puppy lost in the bowels of Coruscant. And yet here I am. And only me. Nip at the hand that tries to feed you. I can understand your fear. But when you are done groping in the dark, I'll still be here. From the day we first met, I knew our fates are linked, Grimm, whether you like that or not. I will not abandon you. You have only to say my name."

And with that, the apparition dissipates as subtly as it first appeared. Deep down, Rihn hoped that he had peaked Neo's interest enough that Neo would call out for him. But for now, Rihn is satisfied with watching from the shadows and waiting for the next opportune moment to continue Neo's training. For now, it would seem that time is on their side. For now.

 

Jidai Geki said:
Hmm... the possibilities for new atrocities just widened with the advent of a new RP baby...
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"Avenge you?" Neo questions, the anger within beginning to boil again. "Avenge how Rihn? Other ghosts? Those who slew you, slew our clan, our purpose... they are all dead, just like you. I alone am the sole survivor, carrying your memory upon my shoulders. Only now, I am a man of my own, of my choosing, free of the chains that once bound me."

As he spoke, his hands began to crackle with static electricity, the hairs upon his arms standing as the charge began to grow and collect, the crackling of electrical discharge roaming across his now balled fist, causing him to become surprised. Shaking his hands, he sighed, releasing his anger as his gaze met Rihn's.

"I know the mantra well, and I know the lies that hide within it. Which is why I walk by my own code now. I am an outcast even among the Sith, but only by my choice. I chose the walk this path alone, to understand not only the dark, but the whole as it is. And that is why I stand here, within the very dojo that was built to understand the Force itself. The Jedi fear emotion because it can lead toward darker emotions, and the Sith fear harmony because it calms the very emotions that drive them. But here, in the realm of the between, true power can be found. I've shed my darkness, yet I understood its necessity. Just as an old friend whom built this place once understood that to truly be whole was to accept all of yourself. This is the path I now walk toward, to grasp within myself, and to understand. Now watch me become who I truly am Rihn."

Watching Rihn disappear as quickly as he had shown, Neo walks toward the other room where the Oni-bot waited with the bacta wrap. Applying it, a new glare formed within the Sith's eyes, a new determination. He was beginning to understand what his future held in store. Soon his hand would be healed, and he had an idea to test out thanks to his show of temper.

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R.I.P. Nanny (6/3/1941-1/9/2012)

R.I.P. Papa (2/14/1936-2/7/2012)

R.I.P. Big Mike (5/12/82-11/9/2012)

~Revelations 21:4 (KJV)~

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As Neo has his hand tended to, a disembodied chuckle echoes off the walls. The echo bounces for some time, the laughter almost sounding like a mixture of mockery and pity. Then the room is still for a few moments before the voice tickles at Neo's ears with a light whisper.

"Is that the lie you tell yourself, Grimm? Believe there is nothing to avenge if you would like. But the Sith mantra? No. No! Peace is a lie. And you are not free. You have imprisoned your mind and your powers in a box. Do you actually believe that a true Sith restricts his use of the force? He could care less about the lines a Jedi draws. In fact, many Sith began as Jedi and are very familiar with their powers and abilities and how to use them."

Pulling back, the voice raises to more normal levels as Rihn positions himself a few feet away from Neo. He materializes once again in front of the Sith exile. But now mimicking the form, face, and voice of Canderous Bralor"Is that why you are really hiding here, Neo? The Jedi teach the peace of stagnation. The Sith teach the opposite. That conflict forces you to better yourself. It forces change, growth, adaption, evolution, or death. This is not a Sith law. Truly, this is the law of the universe. It is why our universe revolves around war and conflict. It's why the Jedi repeatedly fail to protect their charges. Because they deny their very nature, the nature of life itself. We are all born out of conflict. For some of us, we fight change, clinging to our mother's womb in fear of the unknown. For others, we embrace it, fighting to escape and discover what true life outside of that womb has to offer. So is the Jedi and the Sith. But regardless of our choice, change is inevitable. We will be born in conflict or we will DIE. And if we don't adapt quickly enough, then yes. We certainly will die. We have been reborn so many times and yet still you run from it for the safety of your lie? There is no safety in this womb once you have been born, Neo. But Peace is a lie, there is only passion."

 

Jidai Geki said:
Hmm... the possibilities for new atrocities just widened with the advent of a new RP baby...
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