Korriban

[Sanity]

Brad was slightly disheartened at the laughter his question received. It was quickly replaced by anger. How dare he assume I am like every other hopeful? Half of them are probably just doing it as a rebellious phase. The other half too weak. Holding onto themselves. Brads fists clenched. Brad had now=thing. He had nowhere to go. If he died here, he would have lost nothing.

 

Brad turned towards the warrior temple. "What the Pfassk was he thinking? Thinking I am just like the other hopefuls.I am nothing like them." He said as he stalked towards the warrior temple. With nothing to lose, Brad stormed in through the entrance of the warrior temple. "I'm here!" He called out into the temple getting a few looks. Brad didn't care. He would prove himself. "Hopefuls come forth and face me. I'll prove I am worthy."

[AVATAR Kain]

Construction was proceeding as scheduled for the Interdictor Destroyer being built over Korriban. The superstructure was completed, and a handful of areas even had rudimentary life support. The large gravwell domes were now under construction, mostly just arcs of durasteel at this point.

[Raynuk Montar]

Brad's storming of the Warrior Temple was initially met with a sort of stunned silence, as the few acolytes who had been milling about just inside the massive hallway stopped and looked at the newcommer with quirked eyebrows and wide eyes, sometimes exchanging looks with each other.

 

"Uhm... In there." One of the acolytes spoke up, raising a robed arm to point to one of the massive training rooms nearby, in which a group of hopefuls and acolytes were currently in the middle of an instructional period revolving around hand to hand combat; a cornerstone of the introductory teachings of the Sith Warrior temple. The class had likewise been momentarily halted with Brad's loud proclaimation, a few of the hopefuls near the door having looked over their shoulders at him. But it was the instructor, Lord Chanjak who appeared in the doorway, facing Brad.

 

"No. You will come forth, and face them, for you hold no command over them." The words were as cold and even as stone. An arm raised behind him to his students, and they all shifted to the side, leaving what amounted to an aisle down the center of their formation leading to the center of the massive room.

 

Chanjak, like many of the instructors, had no time for fools. With no intention of stalling his instruction further, he reached out with the Force to yank Brad off his feet, and fling him into the center of the room. The newcomer would hit the sandstone floor, as three of the nearest students turned to close a semi-circle around Brad.

 

"Begin." Chanjak's word echoed into the room, and the three students, consisting of an acolyte named Adrik, and two hopefuls - Faen and Grigor - closed in on Brad.

 

((OOC: Lets see how you do. Bit of a challenge here; 3 v 1. Lets go with a 3 post duel, with you starting. Open the spoiler tag below for more details/info/tips))

 

 

Ok so to set the stage;

 

- Brad got thrown into the center of a very large room, and three other hopefuls of average size are approaching him to fight him.

 

-The rest of the class - say 12 more plus Lord Chanjak - are observing from near the back of the room by the entrance. They won't get involved, unless Brad makes them involved (which, you can totally do if you want).

 

-This room is used for hand to hand combat training, so there are some punching dummies and the like spread out throughout the room, but no practical weapons; think of a like, Karate dojo or boxing gym in terms of what's around.

 

-Ive given the three names so its easier to sort out who is doing what to who.

 

-Brad gets the first move. In general, our duels work so that you post what your character can do within a short amount of time (I think of like, 6 seconds or so at the most)

 

-Make sure you react to and dont ignore things that happen to your character, and conceed certain points; for example, Brad getting thrown into the room. There's not much Brad could do about it since Lord Chanjak is a Sith Lord and has the power to do it, but you get to decide how Brad lands and what he does after. Who does Brad attack first? What does he try and do? Feel free to be creative, as long as it still makes sense. The stronger you craft an attack or move, the harder it will be for me to reasonably work around it.

 

-I will respond the same; react to what you did in your post, and respond accordingly with their own actions/attacks.

 

-It's like a Chess game. Sometimes you absolutely have to sacrifice to win. At the end of my posts, I'll do more Spoiler tags with feedback for you on your posts for you. Or I can PM you if you would prefer that instead of having my feedback be public. Let me know.

 

-Finally, be sure at the end of your next 3 posts (since it is a duel) to put the number, like this -- ((1)) or ((2)) So it's marked as part of a duel series.

 

-Any other questions before your post, PM or FB message me.

 

[Qaela]

Qaela scowled at her daughters question about being a perversion of nature. "Do not say such a thing, my daughter. You are not any perversion, not by any means. You were no conjured up in some lab, or created by the darkest of Krath or Nightsister spells. You were conceived naturally and are of nature. Even if your father's presence haunts and seeks to control you, you still have a choice how you will fit into the Galaxy. You can indeed become an unnatural, vile thing or you can do what nature intended you to do: cull the weak and rule as the fittest." She eyed the statue of Sheog the Hutt. To be honest, she didn't quite know where he fit into things. Was he simply what nature had him to be, or was he, like Faust before him, as much a threat to the balance of nature as any?

 

She watched as her daughter wrestled with her own demons, eventually casting aside the shoto and requesting to be taught strength. Qaela was more than happy to teach her daughter all she knew and, when the time came, let others teach her more. She wouldn't make the same mistakes her mother made with her nor would she allow Telpherien to follow her own foolish path.

 

"I will teach you all I know and then, we will learn more together," she vowed.

 

Taking the girl into the nearest empty training room, she sat the two of them down in the center. She placed her right hand on Telpherien's left shoulder and stared straight into those golden flecked purple eyes. "Before we begin, know that I must hurt you to teach you. To become strong, you must learn and to learn, you must suffer failures. I do this not because I enjoy it, but because you desire it and because I desire for you to be strong so that you can live as you please. This is a harsh world and to survive, you also must be harsh."

 

She opened herself to both her daughter and the Force using not the techniques of her ancestors, but of the Sith. "Our people have long used spells spoken and gestured. While that is what works for them, we are better. Speaking spells helps focus the mind on the task, but that is not the only nor is it the most efficient way. What our people did was to draw on the Force just as a Sith would, but through a different means. Sometimes, spells are too unique or complicated to be learned any other way, but for most of what we will do, the Sith methods are superior. They bypass the spoken ritual that is used to channel the Force in our minds and simply go straight to the heart of things. They directly access the Force, bend it to their will, and use it as they desire. So must you also do this if you are to become powerful.

 

"Keep what you may have seen and learned close to your heart. The Nightsister ways are different and sometimes weaker in many ways, but they can do some things better than even the Sith struggle or fail to do. Instead of abandoning the Nightsister ways, learn a new way to put along side them so that you have options no Sith would ever have. Listen, watch, feel, and learn as I teach you how to draw on the Force with control instead of letting it control you. Only once you have mastered this can you attempt to use the Force in anger without it consuming you like the fire does the forest.

 

"Killing is all well and good and unleashing massive destruction seems very flashy and appealing, but it is not the first step. No matter how powerful your offense is, if you have no defense, eventually someone will get around your attacks and kill you. You must first learn how to protect yourself before you can learn to attack.

 

For the long weeks after the Sith left for Onderon, the two spent whatever time they could working on the girl's ability to draw on the Force and use it without the use of spellcraft. Qaela was pleased to see the progress her daughter was making, be it with the influence of her father or not. She showed only minor disappointment when Tepherion failed, but unlike her own mother, she did not hide her pride when succeeded. The girl was still young, but Qaela was determined to ensure that she would not be helpless. As soon as the basis were out of the way, she began teaching her daughter how to draw the Force close to her thus concealing her presence.

 

When not focusing on the Force, the two of them trained in physical combat, mostly evasion and defensive tactics. Owing to the girl's small size, Qaela knew she would not be a brawler like many of the other Sith. Instead, she emphasized her daughter focusing on defensive and evasive moves while waiting for her opponent to make a mistake that she could exploit with a quick strike. There were times, she had said, that it is better to feign weakness in the hopes of making your opponent overconfident or to play innocent so they did not consider you a threat.

[Sanity]

Brad was thrown into the middle of the room hitting the sandstone floor hard. "Karking Druk" He muttered t himself as he rose to his feet. He looked around and saw the three men circling. This was not good. He would have to be creative. He stepped forward, closer to Grigor. He slid his left foot back to ready himself to attack. Pulling his survival tool from his belt, he flicked out the macrofuser. Activating the welding tool as he swung it at Grigor's leg. He followed it up with a uppercut with his free hand.

((1))

[Telperiën Ar-Pharazon]

You are a perversion within the force

For you are consumed by me

 

I know! She shouted into the force at the presence of her father. Letting her small hands ball into fists. She stayed silent, her gold flecked purple eyes watching her mother in silence as she explained the ways of the Sith and the nightsisters. How weak the spell casters seemed to be, no halls of carved stone, living huts of filth cooking by campfires and screaming at the stars in fear. How better it was to be on Korriban, far away from that destructive culture that had killed everything she loved.

 

But it was her past, and spellcasting was something she could do, she had seen it before, and mimicked it in the dark. Remembering, she wove her hands in an intricate pattern and spoke into the force the words of a basic spell she had seen practiced a hundred times.

 

Rahzah Kilibri

 

The voice that spoke was not hers, and the voice did not follow her moving lips but reverberated in a deep baritone of her biological father. The words when spoken summoned a blaze of white hot fire to leap from the cobblestones at her feet and settle into a blazing pyre before them. Though it was summoned by the force, the fire had little to feed upon in the cold and damp of the Korriban underground and quickly sputtered into darkness again. She looked up to her mother and the force ghost and grinned widely. It was certainly easier to channel the force through the familiar motions of her ancestors.

 

I will keep it close for all time mother, it is easier to channel this way I think.

 

Her heart suddenly yearned for something else and she looked up to her mother’s fierce face.

 

Can we use the force to bring them back?

 

She meant the twins in their triplets. The missing chunks in her heart. The knuckles on her clenched fists turned white then relaxed as she knew that answer before it was spoken. It was a useless request and one that spoke of weakness.

 

For they were gone. Forever.

 

She shook her head. And looked to the Ghost and her mother, her head downturned, but her shoulders squared defiantly.

 

So teach me, hurt me, I accept the price. Turn me into the weapon that can change the stars.

 

And so they did.

[Exodus]

• “..Your body holds an anger that your mind does not quite understand.”

 

Lockjaw entered the room as the small items collapsed to the floor. He realized that the man had listened and kept to his quarters, but did not seek further intel on where it was that he rested. His level of curiosity must have been low, or perhaps there was a reason he found himself here on this planet. “I am Ivos Lockjaw, a Lord of the Sith, an Assassin under the call of King Exodus.” The infamous Stalker bowed, still equipped in his full battle raiment. “Tell me who you are, and why you have come to our home?” The door slid shut behind him, and the light flickered in an irregular fashion, only highlighting the dark metallic of his helmet.

[Raynuk Montar]

Grigor closed the gap between himself and Brad, bringing his fists up as the newcomer took a step towards him; clearly the newcomer was itching for a fight and Grigor was more than happy to give him the beating of a lifetime. But then the little krong tried to pull a weapon from it's utility belt; a survival tool by the quick look Grigor got before Brad swung the tool at his leg. Grigor quickly jumped back, narrowly causing the welding tool to miss its mark, but also putting his chin out of reach from the uppercut that followed.

 

"YOU LITTLE CHEATING SCULAG!" Grigor yelled, retaliating immediately following the uppercut, grabbing for Brad's elbow as the uppercut missed, while throwing a fist of his own at Brad's other shoulder.

 

While Grigor engaged, Faen swung around wide, giving the two space enough to tangle until he saw an opening. Coming up on Brad from behind, he struck out at his full arm's length, rocketing a fist to connect with Brad's lower back, aiming for the man's spine before recoiling backwards.

 

Adrik just watched, hands folded behind is back as he too circled Grigor and Brad.

 

((1))

 

 

First few critiques; your posts could use some more substance. Dress it up a bit! What was Brad thinking or feeling as he was yanked off his feet by the Force? Was he surprised? Did he have an inner monologue? Its fun sometimes to see INSIDE a character's head; what they're thought process is, stuff like that. Duel posts can be tricky, especially when you're starting the duel, because a lot of it relies heavily on the other participant(s).

 

-I also like to think about the moves in slow motion, even going so far as to partially mime them - "Okay, so if his character throws a punch aimed here... where will his arm be, what position will his body be in, would he be off balance?"

 

- That thinking is what lead me to Grigor's reaction; you stepped forward and aimed for his leg then uppercut. Well, if my guy sees you pull the weapon in what was supposed to be a hand to hand fist fight, (more on this in a moment) he'd react,

as pulling a multitool and flicking on the welding tool isnt an instantaneous thing, and take a step back, adjust his stance and posture.

 

-Well, if he steps back, then the uppercut whiffs too, leaving Brad potentially open for a counter; going back to thinking about where Brad would be - "Okay so he missed the uppercut, his arm would be here" and Grigor can attempt to make a grab at the elbow with one hand, and throw a punch with the other arm to try and throw Brad off balance.

 

-Meanwhile Faen is circling and manages to get behind Brad, flanking him and throwing a punch of his own, being a little more sneaky; Im imagining him being more like a cobra - strikes and recoils instantly.

 

All that doesnt mean you're doing terrible; its merely my observations and thoughts. You did some moves, and got to see how I played a reaction, now its your turn to react to what I've had them do.

 

Which, btw, dunno if my intent for it to be a fist fight was adequately expressed, so sorry if it was unclear. Either way, its totally fine. The idea of Brad knowing it was meant to be a fist fight and deliberately pulling a weapon so quickly is an interesting note on the kind of character he might be - a "Screw the rules, we do it my way" kind of self confidence. So dont fret about that.

 

[Sanity]

The macrofuser missed. Damn. That's been done. Brad started to fall back as he shot upright from the jab to his spin. Pain coming from his lower back and shoulder as he received both punches.Refusing to let these hopefuls win, Brad tried something new. He twisted his arm around and caught a handful of Grigor's robes. He still had the macrofuser in his free hand. He Brad pulled on Grigor so he came face to face. Brad spat into Grigor's face and at the same moment, brought the macrofuser up into Grigor's armpit. He kept holding himself there with his arm while pushing the Macrofser further at Grigor's armpit. Brad then delivered two sharp knees to his groin.

((2))

[Neive Undant]

As the man looked up at he who stood before him, he slowly stood, and nodded his head at the man's question. "I am Neive Undant. I came here in search of the sith, as I wish to be trained in the ways of the dark side of the force, in hopes that I may become a sith and not only rule with the other great sith, but to avenge my family. My tribe on Dathomir were... slaughtered. I want to repay the favor to those who destroyed my home, and my family." His anger was something that radiated from him, but it was not blind fury. It had intent, it was meticulous and it was willing to destroy anything between Neive and those he wants dead. However, though his anger glowed like a blaze was within the man, he did not show it in body language as he stayed still, hands clasped behind his back and his head down in respect of the man before him. "And you being before me... will you grant me my request?" He knelt in front of the man, head still down as he awaited the lord's response.

[Qaela]

Qaela didn't have the heart to tell her daughter that no, her sons could not be brought back. She had considered doing such, but realized some time ago that it was not possible. In his fury and desire to avenge their betrayal, Ca'Aran had leveled the place with fire from the Marie. The bodies of her sons were nothing but ashes, long since scattered and dispersed on the winds of the char that remained of the place they died. Perhaps had their bodies been left, clones could be made and spirits restored, but no, all was gone.

 

Over their weeks of training, it was clear to her that she wasn't the only one teaching Telperiën. She was learning too quickly, was frequently distracted, and at times seemed to be holding discourse with someone not there. She realized that in this hall of so many tributes to dead Sith spirits, that it was possible that any number of them were drawn to her daughter's power and legacy. The one most likely was, of course, the sire of her children. Either way, she was content to let them practice their influence as long as it benefited Telperiën. If, at some point, she deemed their influence to be negative, well, there were ways to banish and exile the dead. The Sith weren't the only ones who knew of such, and it just might be that her own people knew more than they.

 

Finally, one day, Qaela woke Telperiën in the middle of night. "It is time," she said without any further instruction. Without giving the girl any time to change out of the simple cotton shirt and shorts she was wearing, she pulled her out of bed and said, "Follow me now."

 

Qaela walked at a very brisk pace, not once looking back, but expecting her daughter to follow her. They went to a hall of stone, metal, and mirrors that was around fifty-five meters long and eight wide. Scattered throughout it were metal blocks, small half walls, blocks with holes that offered minimal cover, and reflective mirrors. The objects were not arrayed in a singular fashion, but scattered seemingly randomly. It was clearly an obstacle course with a clear objective: get to the other side. Everything was bolted down and quite heavy.

 

"Your task is simple: make it to the other side of the room and press a glowing blue button in the wall. You may use any means necessary to accomplish this task. You have one minute after it starts."

 

Simple rules, but execution would not be so simple. As soon as she activated the small remote in her pocket, four auto-turrets would spring out at the ceiling on the other end and start firing at any movement. The bolts, while not lethal, were extremely unpleasant to be hit by and would undoubtedly leave a burn mark on all but the most resiliently armored species. Even more interestingly, much of the cover was actually a trap with the reflective mirrors along the walls offering firing solutions for the turrets. A few of them looked quite fine to touch, but were electrically charged to emit a numbing shock if someone came in contact with them.

 

Telperiën had no tools or weapons, just her simple clothes, little sleep, her two hands, and her brain. It would be up to her to figure how she was to make it through: using the Force, agility, strategic use of cover, or some other means. Qaela stepped to a back corner marked in green that was a no-fire zone and would allow her to observe her daughter's progress.

 

"It begins," she said as she pressed the remote.

[Telperiën Ar-Pharazon]

The loose nerf cotton shirt hung oversized from her shoulders, a size or two too big that provided little comfort from the biting frigid Korribani morning. Though they were deep underground the caves had cooled significantly during the night and her breath left little clouds of suspended visible vapour in front of her mouth. Her breathing was slow so it did not obscure her vision too much or the large stone room, full of traps and danger planted by the Sith or her mother, she couldn’t tell. The sense of danger emanated from everything in the room, bringing the hairs on the back of her neck to a full stand, and a grimace a delight spread across her face.

 

A challenge at last

 

A colder voice echoed through the force bringing with it the malice of a centuries dead Sith lord.

 

To succeed you must sprout wings child

 

Telperiën stood still for a moment observing the course, planning routes, weaving several paths from obstacle to obstacle then she looked to her mother. Her eyes blinked once and she was off. Sprinting into the arena, the too large shirt billowing out behind her back like a half cloak until she reached the first half wall. As she leapt towards it to clear it the danger sense burned bright and she tucked her body into a roll instead of the scaling jump so that instead of both of her feet landing directly on the half wall only her shin grazed it. Instantly her right shin burned white hot but she completed the roll and came up on wobbly legs as a blaster bolt clipped through the warrior braids that dangled alongside her face, burning away a few strands and filling her face with the noxious smoke of burned hair. She resisted the urge to wave her hand in front of her face to clear it away because the danger sense was burning even hotter than the blaster bolts likely coming to cut her to ribbons on the edge of the area.

 

Use it fool

 

The voice was her father's and it stirred her into action. She reached out with the force and time seemed to slow. She could feel the biting dust digging into her bare feet and the strength of the stone below the dust. The burning warnings about to excise where her neck would be, she let herself drop back onto her back, smacking her shoulders into the stone as two laser beams collided above her where her neck had been. Rotating her hips, she used their momentum to spring her back onto her feet and into another run.

 

Wings child

 

The pain in her shoulders cascaded down her back as she ran. Feeding on that pain she grabbed onto the force and used it to amplify her muscles and she lept into the air towards the blue button. She wove her hands in a pattern and let the whispers of her ancestors take over. They called for a spell that she had seen before, long ago in the mountains.

 

Hethfan

 

The force lifted her into the air towards the prize like she had wings on her back. Though a temporary power, and one developed to help ascend from the mountainous terrain of Dathomir, it was just as effective to leap from one section of a room to another.

 

Careful lest you become an Icarus

This did however bring her closer to the turrets and one of their bolts nailed her already hurt shoulder, dropping her like a stone on the ground in front of the prize. The laughter echoed in the hall of stone as the spirit delighted in her fall.

 

Too late

 

She growled deeply and fought against the air that refused to refill her lungs and struggled to her feet. Another bolt caught her in the back and burned another hole in the shirt and Telperiën’s back. This one didn’t hurt as much and she continued her journey beginning to anticipate the directions of the fire and bobbing back and forth until she completed the meter spring to slap the blue button on the wall.

 

I should focus more on dodging instead of flying I think

 

She shook her head and looked back to her mother. Shunting away the pain in her body and bringing her back straight.

 

Again?

[Exodus]

The Dark Side swelled within these chambers, and it was infectious. Not just the room, but the vast temple itself was a monarch of the most undiluted emotions. The temperaments of a thousand men and women, saturated the walls that this place was made of. Their pain, their anger, and their emotions fed the Sith temple ceaselessly. Each of the dormitories in these halls was inhabited with a fresh blood, acolytes that wandered with their anguish, and found the answer they were looking for. Ivos Lockjaw knew this outsider felt, and knew these emotions well. The Sith Stalker pointed towards a brazier to his left, and one to his right, igniting them both as he did so. The candles that were set inside of them burned black, and let loose a foul smell that would soon seep deeply into Nieves’ nostrils.

 

 

• “Your vision lacks depth, but I will grant you your wish.” Lockjaw held no expression that could be seen, for the dull metal of his wide helmet only mirrored the face of the recruit.

 

 

The door behind Lord Ivos opened with a loud hiss, and through it, came six individuals wrapped in robes of black. The robes hung loosely off of their hunched frames, and none of their faces were visible, just short glimpses of their sagging skin as they walked by. They broke off three by three to stand adjacent to Mr. Undant, as the Zabrak sat unknowingly on the tidied bed-sheets. The six huddled in close, leaving a small space for Neive to sit in the middle of, but awaiting their orders before any of them decided to speak. “If I am to make you Sith, we must consume the weak flesh you have brought me on this day. We must tear down the walls of what you think you know, and prescribe you to the truth!” As the words left him, every bit as cold and passionate as only Lockjaw knew, the robed creatures began to murmur. They were little more than just whispers wafting through the clouded air, dark and intoxicating with the burning coal of the braziers. Neive could feel it now, the warmth of an unnatural power would start to crawl up his skin as the elders whispered.

 

 

“Come, sit with us. Close your eyes, and open your mind to us. Meditate over the pain you carry inside. Let your thoughts free, show us who you are. Show us what kind of power you seek. Let your thoughts run wild so we can see what you really are, Zabrakian.”

[Neive Undant]

As Neive sat with the 6 individuals, an unnerving sense of strength emitted from all around him. He wasn't afraid, however... he was inferior. And this only propelled him forward within this.

As he closed his eyes, the only thing that came to him was his past.

He could smell smoke, buildings burning all around him. His eyes watered from the thick clouds of ash that whirled above him. The smell of death, decaying and burning flesh in the air, the putrid odor of death in the air.

Eren opened his eyes, and he saw his village... houses ablaze all around him, men, women and children alike lie dead in the streets. His family... they were slaughtered. But then, where are their killers?

He walked through the village, the bodies everywhere. Until he finally saw a small group of men. They wore armor and helmets, and held sabers and blasters. Though, they were not lightsabers... it was something different. As Neive approached, they looked at him and chuckled. One of them walked forward, bringing out his hilt and opening the black blade. Neive looked at it... it was terrifying. But Neive wasn't intimidated.

As the man lazily lunged at him, Neive sidestepped and grabbed the man's arm, flipping him to the ground and taking the metal hilt from his hand, driving the blade into his back. The things he had heard about the sith, the things they could do... He wanted to do them all too. As he fled back into the village, the others followed before he disappeared into the flames.

One by one, he killed them. He hid within the shadows, and as they passed, one by one, he attacked them and destroyed them. But it wasn't enough.

There were more... somewhere. their insignias... he knew of them. The death watch of Mandalore... he would make them pay. But he couldn't do it alone, especially as weak as he still was. He could use the force, he had done it before... he just didn't know how. He needed to learn.

Pure, unadulterated power. That's what he had. But he knew that power alone was useless. He had to know how to use it.

 

He saw a vision... of himself, standing above Mandalore. Hundreds dead at his feet. Thousands kneeling before him. The death watch, annihilated. From there... he could do more. He could conquer, he could destroy. With the sith, he could do anything. But from the shadows.

He didn't want to face his problems head-on. It was a fool's errand. He would rather fight from the shadows, destroying his enemies when they least expect it, and skulking back into the shadows without a sound.That was how he would do it.

 

As his eyes opened, and he returned to reality, his breath was stolen. The raw power that he had, but could not use... it was intoxicating. And he had to know how to use this power.

[Raynuk Montar]

As Brad grabbed a hold of Grigor's robes and pulled closer before spitting, Grigor merely grinned like a madman. If the little sculag wanted to further endanger himself by being closer Grigor was happy to oblige. But Grigor wasn't the brightest of the hopefuls in the training room that day, and completely missed the fact that Brad was still wielding the macrofuser, a fact which became painfully apparent the moment Brad shoved the tool up into Grigor's armpit. The smell of burning robes, burning hair, and melting skin all mixed to fill the room along with Grigor's initial howl of pain, followed by two oof sounds as Brad drove knees into Grigor's groin, partially doubling the man over.

 

But Grigor was a Sith hopeful, and a bruiser at that. Pain was to be part of his existence, something to not recoil from, but embrace and use. So Grigor roared and stood back up, before slamming his head forward, smashing into Brad's face. Grigor delivered a massive headbutt against the smaller man with all his might and fury as the flesh and muscle under his arm continued to be burnt away. Grigor was pissed now, and was using that anger to dull out the pain as best he could. The hand that had been grappling Brad's arm by the elbow came shooting across in another balled fist, but this time aiming to knock the multitool from Brad's hand and send it clattering across the floor.

 

Following the headbutt from Grigor, Faen again darted in behind Brad, delivering a kick to the back of Brad's knee, meant to buckle the man's leg from under him before recoiling back again out of reach, an amused smile playing across his face, looking almost like a lion that was playing with its food. Adrik continued to circle them all, stopping only to catch the skittering multitool under his foot as it bounced across the floor.

 

((2))

 

 

Still a little on the short side, but creating more fluid and fleshed out posts can take time; keep pushing!

 

-You either forgot about, or ignored, the part where Grigor grabbed Brad's arm, which in this case didn't matter too much as what you responded with would still be possible even if Grigor had his arm, so just be careful of that down the road;

ignoring things your opponent does can loose you points in a duel.

 

-I do like your creativity in what Brad is doing though, so good work so far. I am curious to see what you've got in store now.

 

As always, don't be afraid to ask questions in PM or on FB if you're confused or worried about something!

 

[Exodus]

Lockjaw stood with his arms folded as he watched the man write in his memories. The Krath that surrounded the man left their crooked arms out towards Nieve, skin folded with age but seeped in power. They concentrated heavily on drawing the raw emotions out of him, dissecting his history and the experiences that drew him to this temple. Revenge, that was the tall tale that a great many fell too, a fuel that was near impossible resist. The Zabrak held the emotions in his face, Lockjaw knew what they meant, and how those pains would become an engine that pushed the acolyte to new power. If he was blinded by this hate, he would serve better under the ranks of a mindless warrior. If he learned to channel these emotions, he could strike just as he wished, and in the most calculated of manners. Lord Exodus would be proud, but it would take this one an endless amount of work to achieve such praise.

 

The Krath prospect focused their energies to better unleash the torrential downpour of emotions that the Zabrak exposed, churning his past into a weaponized fuel that he would be able to feel through the Force. He had zero understanding of the power that lay dormant inside of him, but the feeling of it between his fingers would give him a better understanding of what must be done. Suddenly, and as the dreams of his past ended, a blast of electricity shot from the fingers of one of the six. The raw power licked across the clothing of the Zabrak, tearing at it across his chest, and biting into his skin briefly. Chances were, his skin may tear and begin to bleed, but lashing of electrical energy was far from being lethal. The others five Krath began to laugh loudly, mockingly while they used basic telekinesis to control any kickback from the acolyte. If he tried to run or retaliate, they would use their collective energy to shove him to the floor once more. The idea was to suspend the man in a single position, and torture him with frustration and the memories that haunted him.

 

The braziers that were lit now filled the room whole with smoke, but the air was stifling with an element that Neive could not have anticipated. An ingredient burned by the flame of the Braziers that released an mild hallucinogenic, and soon the acolyte would start to manifest his fears. The Mandalorian that had decimated everything he had knew and loved, now whispered inside of his head in a terrifying voice. "Where were you when we burned them all? Did the smell of their flesh upset you more or less than their screams for help, knowing you were too weak to save them?" He laughed inside of the mind of the Zabarakian acolyte, but he was nowhere to be found or seen. The Krath that surrounded him laughed as well, harder even, understanding the disease of the weak far too well. One of the Krath walked closer to Neive, dangerously so. The smoke filled the air more intensely, the room almost dreamlike at this point. Neive would feel heavily restricted in his movement, his mind would be racing with emotion and the frustrations of their taunts, the voice of the Mandalorian that he was familiar with would boom off of the walls but come from no particular place. Lockjaw stood still, arms folded still, watching silently.

[Sanity]

Brad got headbutted by Grgor. Pain searing through his face. A small cut above his eye opened up. Blood spilling down the side of his face. The multi-tool was knocked from his hand and Brad was kicked in the back of the knee, crumpling him to the floor. Midway through his fall, time seemed to slow for Brad. His eyes turned yellow. They were making a fool of him. How could they do that? They didn't deserve mercy. They deserve death.As he fell, Brad launched his right foot out towards Grigor's gut. His right hand going for the blaster pistol still on his hip. He ack hit the ground, and the shudder of hitting the hard stone ground caused Brad to wince. It did not deter him. He would win at any cost. Brad, through all his anger, drew his blaster pistol and screamed. He fired two shots at the large Grigor. Rolling to the left, he stopped on his stomach and looked around for Faen. Once he saw the other hopeful, he sprung to his feet, firing at the nimble hopeful.

 

Brad stormed towards the agile hopeful. Still firing. He pulled the trigger one last time but it didn't fire. It had overheated. Brad screamed. Throwing the blaster itself at Faen before turning to Adik. "You!" He yelled raising his hand to point at the acolyte. "Think you're so tough. You haven't even tried attacking. You coward."

 

((3))

[Neive Undant]

The more they poked at him, the more enraged he was, and over and over he tried to fight. the more they knocked him down, the pain he endured, and that voice...

"You were too weak to save them..."

Neive snapped. His anger transferred into power, bottling up within him. It was useless fighting against the 6 men around him, and blind fury was foolish, he knew. But the second he heard that voice, his mind went blank.

"And you were too weak to survive yourself."

The room shook, the floor rumbled. The clank of metal was heard as across the room, an old mandalorian helmet fell to the floor. Soon, originating from Neive's standpoint, the floor cracked. At first it was blind, a breaking of the stone floor in all directions, before one crack shot out, past two of the kraft, and right towards the helmet.

Within seconds, the helmet scrunched like an empty can given to a thirsty wookie. It completely imploded, the glass broken and the metal becoming a small ball of scrap on the floor.

Neive panted, and slowly stood. As one of the men shot another lightning bolt at him, he put his hand out. The electricity shot around his arm, using it as a conduit before it shot back, twice as powerful right back towards the source.

"I will not be bullied by those who believe they are superior... I am untrained but I am anything but weak."

[Raynuk Montar]

The sight of Brad's face cracking open, releasing a torrent of crimson blood to cascade down his face served to only increase the confidence and 'righteous' idea in Grigor's mind that he was, in fact, superior to this sculag. As Brad fell backwards from the headbutt and knee kick, Grigor -- his own face smeared with Brad's blood from the contact -- stood his ground, looming over Brad, a tendril of smoke still rising from his armpit. Brad's kick as he fell was caught by Grigor's massive hands, preventing the attack from connecting. Brad had left him with a wound that would undoubtedly leave a nasty scar, and Grigor was itching to leave Brad with an injury that would be equally ongoing. He was going to snap Brad's ankle; he was going to turn the whelp's foot a full 180 degrees, and he was going to enjoy every pop, crack, and snap he would hear as he tore Brad's leg apart.

 

He was going to. But he didn't get the chance to even begin twisting. So focused on what he was planning to do, Grigor stopped paying attention for the fraction of a second that it took for Brad to draw the blaster and fire through a primal scream. Grigor had no chance, no defense against the weapon in that fraction of a second, cut down even more by his own stupidity and ego. The first shot from Brad's pistol nailed Grigor in the bicep, burning and tearing through his skin, causing Grigor to instictually let go of Brad's foot with both hands, as his other hand whipped up to cover the wound. The first shot had an impact to release Brad from Grigor's grip, but it also distracted him, to the point that Grigor never saw the second shot coming.

 

The second shot which nailed Grigor in the temple. As the larger man recoiled from the shot to the arm, turning his torso backwards slightly with the impact, the second blast bore a hole through the side of Grigor's head. Grigor seemed to freeze, unmoving even as the world around him continued to spiral into chaos. And then the towering man fell, crumpling to the ground under the weight of it all. It seemed to happen in slow motion; first tipping sideways, still rigid until he broke the line between being more vertical than horizontal, at which point his knees buckled and his arms went slack. The man collapsed like an imploded building, entangling and falling upon himself. But it had taken but a second, the same second that it took Brad to roll over onto his stomach and begin firing at Faen.

 

Faen was admittedly startled as Grigor began to fall, but had always been quicker on the uptake -- and in general -- than Grigor, and so he recovered from the shock fast enough to reconcile the fact that Brad was now turning his attention to Faen. The precious seconds it took for Brad to spot him was enough for Faen to ready himself. As Brad jumped to his feet and began unloading the rest of his power pack at Faen and closing in. Faen darted to and fro, using his own limited connection to the Force to push himself just that much faster as he dove behind anything he could for cover. But even so, Brad's volley was relentless, and Fen couldn't dodge it all in the end. Running out from one combat dummy, his luck ran out as Brad's aim turned true, sending a blaster bolt screaming and tearing through Faen's shin. No longer capable of carrying the weight and stress of his quick movements, the leg failed him and he tumbled off balance, slamming into and then sliding across the floor before crashing into one of the few weapon racks along the walls. And as if to add insult to injury, in a moment that was nearly torn straight out of a holo-comedy action movie, as Faen tried to stand again, he was hit in the head by the very blaster that had hamstrung him.

 

But Brad then turned to Adik, the acolyte who had spent the entire 'fight' so far simply circling and observing. He was still standing still, Brad's multitool still pinned under his foot. Adik had looked down at the tool, but was now looking back up as Brad turned his attention, pointing and taunting. Adik merely grinned slightly in the wake of the taunt from Brad.

 

"Barberous words from a hopeful..." Adik's voice came forth, smooth and almost mewing in tone. But the exchange of words spurred Adik to movement again, continuing his path as though nothing had happened, arms still crossed behind his back. "That's all you think matters... being tough. That by not attacking you as that brute did, it makes me a coward?"

 

Adik paused, pointing at Grigor. "Remind me again how that worked out for him."

 

He continued walking. "No, you will find my 'strength' lies elsewhere. I have no need to attack you as Grigor did; the charging bull. Or to do so as Faen did; the snake. No. I don't need to attack you at all. I merely need to do one simple thing."

 

Adik paused again, turning fully to Brad, another smile crossing his hooded face. "All I need to do... is distract you."

 

Adik had continued walking from his initial position until he was clear across the room from where Faen had fallen, pulling Brad's attention. And Faen, though injured, was not dead. And he was also surrounded by weapons. Weapons that the agile hopeful could wield. This entire fight was intended to be unarmed combat, but Brad had broken that singular rule; shattered and splintered it like the weapon rack that Faen had crashed into. If Brad wasn't going to play by the rules, then neither would Faen and Adik. So as Adik spoke and kept Brad's attention, Faen pulled himself up off his back, his hand falling to one of the vibroknives that had come tumbling down with him. He gripped it solidly, and in another blur of movement struck out again, flinging the knife as hard as he could, aimed squarely to hit Brad at the base of his neck.

 

Punishment in all sense of the word.

 

((3))

 

 

 

This would now be the end of the duel. One of the RP mods (Me, Aryian Darkfire or Handofthrawn) would now be contacted by one or both of the dueling parties to ask for a ruling. The mod would then look at the duel in its entirety, read it over, and decide who wins the duel, then the winner gets to make the next post and decide how it all actually ends, including possibly killing their opponent. I've already gone ahead and asked one of the others to look at it and make a ruling. But don't worry. I wont be killing Brad either way I just want you to see how the ruling and stuff plays out.

 

Now onto the critiques/tips:

 

-The blaster was a good move; my suggestion there is that you can be more precise about it, and indicate where Brad was aiming specifically; did he aim at Grigor's head? his knees? his groin? By not indicating, your opponent can just indicate that the shots were aimed at something less critical and important; I could have just said Grigor got hit in the hand or shoulder instead of conceding such a critical body part like I did for the sake of the story

 

-I also like the clearly emotional and angry side of Brad coming out to play. But Adik's words IC (in character) are also ones to heed OOC (out of character); just because a character doesnt physically attack doesnt mean they cant and wont ground you into dust

 

Otherwise, overall I think you played it pretty well, and I dont think you have much to worry about. You're capable of writing a duel if push comes to shove, and you didnt over-extend what Brad is realistically capable of; you didnt try and pull Force powers out of your ass (which other people in the past have tried). You stayed true to the character and used what you had at hand, and made some good tactical choices.

 

From here on out, you're going to be 'on your own' so to speak; its going to be all In character stuff on here. But always feel free to ask questions in PMs or on Facebook (either to me or in the New Player Resource chat that I added you to the other day.

 

[Ary the Grey]

After reviewing the duel between Brad and Grigor, Adik, and Faen (Controlled by Raynuk Montar), I have come to the following decision:

 

Due to the positioning in the end, Brad has almost no offensive capacity left other than his bare fists. Adik is the only viable fighter left standing, and has hurled a knife at Brad, but the concession should be made that Brad has also successfully taken out two others, and is still capable of further combat. As such, I think that it is prudent that this duel end in a Draw. This is only the second draw I've ever handed out, and despite Raynuk's nimble maneuvering with three NPCs, I feel Sanity handled the fight on their end quite well given the initial odds. But at the end of the duel, when all the cards are on the table, there isn't really anything that points to one party holding an advantage over the other, except perhaps in writing quality (but to my understanding, this was mostly for training purposes anyways, so I didn't make that consideration, and when I do it mostly concerns the issues I will address below).

 

Sanity, You may wish to consider using more imagery in your posts, as it can help the reader get a better grasp on actions, setting, and reasoning. Especially when those readers are the Mods when it comes to posts that will require rulings, like these. Consider how your character felt and reacted, consider how the environment looked, consider enhancing action sentences with more vivid description. You did a good job with the basics of "He did this" without being vague, but there is room for improvement, and in duels you find yourself in the future it can make all the difference. There is a duel simulation subforum found at the top of this forum where you can find examples of duels, or even set some up for practice if you like. The rules there can be bent or broken as they have no bearing on IC content, but they should equally apply to all combatant parties. Otherwise, very good effort of choreographed action.

 

Sanity gets the next post.

 

May I recommend reacting to the thrown knife? Anything else is up to you.

[Sanity]

"All I need to do is distract you."

Brad looked puzzled. He felt an odd tingling. Something was coming. He just couldn't place his finger on it, he stepped towards Adik. "What the Krong are you on about?" Brad said.

The change in range was enough to throw off the blade as it tumbled end over end towards Brad. Instead of the vibroblade connecting with Brad's neck, and dropping him, the handle of the weapon came around and slammed Brad in the base if the skull. Even though the blow was just with the handle, it was still quite a shock to Brad. His eye returned to their normal colour and everything seemed to go blurry for a second before coming back into focus. The vibroknife clattered to the cold, stone floor, and Brad's left hand moved up to the base of his skull to cradle the wound. He didn't know what hit him, but it hurt. "What the druk? That really hurt. Why would you do something like that?" Brad held up his right hand to motion Adik to wait. "I'm just gonna teach the little lurdo that if you do something, do it right." Brad turned away from Adik and stormed across the room. Little traces of yellow flashing across his eyes as he let the anger take over. "You blaster-brained Hutt spawn..." He muttered as he moved closer until he was standing over the hobbled Faen. He bent down to pick up a piece of wood, roughly the size of a baseball bat. Hefting the piece of shattered weapon rack on his shoulder, Brad scowled and stomped down onto Faen's already wounded leg, He used the stomp as an opportunity to swing the piece of wood down in an attempt to knock Faen out.

[Qaela]

Qaela was intrigued at how her daughter tackled the task in front of her. For one so young, she was quite skilled. Her reflexes needed a little work, but most importantly, she needed to plan ahead a bit more. Were this a real situation, the girl would be dead, but it wasn't. This was training: the thing that helped her prepare for the real thing so that she wouldn't end up dead.

 

I should focus more on dodging instead of flying I think, Telpherien "said."

 

Qaela shook her head gently. "Dodging is a reflex, one born of reacting to what is already coming for you. If you are simply reacting to your enemy, they are controlling the situation and you will find it vastly harder to succeed. Instead, you should focus on anticipating, positioning yourself in an advantageous position before anything comes at you." She began evaluating the girl's wounds and saw that none were actually dangerous, merely painful. A medkit was in the wall behind the safe zone, so she grabbed and opened it. She elected to allow the girl to experience the pain to teach her how to continue to fight on even with that distraction. Still, she didn't want any infection, so she got an antiseptic without pain numbing agents and sprayed the burns.

 

As she was applying the spray, she continued to teach, "Take charge of the Force, bend it to your will, and make it show you where the threats and obstacles will be before they even come into existence. In time, not only will you be able to gauge where the threats will be before they happen, but you will be able to guide their own actions through skilled actions of your own so that they will be vulnerable to attack."

 

Once finished, she stepped back to the safe zone and reset the course. "Remember, while I have taught you that defense is usually the best strategy, you can never win by only defending yourself. Do not forget the second part of my teaching: defend until you see an opportunity to strike and do so.

 

"Your task is simple: make it to the other side and press the glowing blue button on the wall. You may use any means necessary to accomplish this task. You have one minute," she said as she pressed the button to start the trial again.

[Telperiën Ar-Pharazon]

Telperiën let out a hiss of pain at the antiseptic but didn’t dare shrink away from the pain. She stayed still, her back rigid watching and feeling the antiseptic bubbling away and peeling away the dead skin on her wounds. The pain focused her mind, waking her up clearly and defogging her mind from the night's sleep. She rubbed at the wounds with her hands until the pain subsided and then took her position back on the starting line, her bare feet just touching the yellow line. The dust from the ancient excavation that had uncovered the full tunnel system clung to her clothes, feet, and arms, giving the hair on her arms a shiny white look. She looked over to her mother and nodded. The buzzer went off and she summoned the force by channeling the pain in her body. The force flowed through her like a fire, and she stretched out her hand letting out a grunt of exhilaration she seized one of the mirrored ramps with the force. She found the object stark and uninteresting in the force, manufactured without love and care, but willing to be bent to the wills of the force. Manipulated with an exertion of power and malice. She pulled the ramp from its position in the rock and tossed it like a brick into the blue button on the wall.

 

The ramp tumbled in a precision movement that smacked the button with the fine edge of the ramp before Telperiën brought it back under control and prevented it from smashing the button to bits. The muscles in Telperiën’s arms bulged and her chest heaved with the exertion and she sighed softly as the ramp returned to its position on the floor with a ‘clunk’ of metal on rock. She took three deep breaths and wiped the sweat off her brow before it could fill her eyes. She surveyed her work and made not that she had been hit with no blaster bolts and had destroyed no property she could be beaten for. She looked up to her mama and smiled.

 

Better?

[Qaela]

Qaela watched her daughter's actions with an arched eyebrow and a bit of bemusement. She noted that the auto turrets ceased their firing when the button was pressed and met the girl's eyes when she asked for her mother's appraisal. She crossed her arms and stood there for a minute, saying nothing and doing nothing.

 

Finally, she uncrossed her arms and lifted one hand out towards Telpherien. A tight grip in the Force grabbed the girl and threw her against the wall on the side of the course across from the safe zone with enough impact to definitely not be pleasant, but not enough to cause major harm. She held her daughter there as she walked up until she was only a few dozen centimeters from the girl. "You are clever," she said calmly, "however, you forgot the full measure of your task. Pressing the button and disabling the turrets was but one part. Tell me the other."

[Telperiën Ar-Pharazon]

Telperiën felt a flash of anger rip up her spine at her mother’s condemnation. She would much rather have a slap to the face or a punch to the stomach than the weird passive expression her mother wore at that moment. But at least she had been tossed against a wall, it was just like home on Dathomir. She grinned widely as her skull cracked against the stone outcropping and stars flashed in front of her eyes for a moment before she blinked them away. As her vision cleared, the face of her mother stared with blank and unremorseful eyes. Telperiën looked down at the ground a meter below her kicking feet and gulped down a breath of air. A flash of fear spiked into the back of Telperiën’s head before she calmed the emotion. She sneered at her mother, taking her biological father’s approach to confrontation.

 

If Delta saw you do that he would kill you mama.

 

If the black clad clone saw any of the training it would be dangerous to them all. Especially if he wanted to take them to the Jedi... She shook her head and cleared away the sneer and smiled apologetically.

 

I'm sorry I can't remember what you told me to do

 

She mimicked placing a gun against her head with her finger and pulling the trigger.

[Qaela]

Qaela didn't respond to the anger that she felt from her daughter. She was, however, pleased that the girl managed to control it and didn't allow it to cloud her judgment enough to try to attack her mother. "Ca'Aran may indeed attempt to, but he is also smart enough to know that if you suffer no pain now, you will only suffer it at the hands of your enemies later, and it would be too late then to learn from your mistakes. He has suffered a great deal, as have I. Both of us were broken for it, and both of us are stronger as a result. Remember the pledge I made to you when we began: I will have to hurt you at times to make you strong and powerful. Remember also that you agreed to this. Any time you wish to quit, simply say so and the training will end. Though I will be saddened at your lost potential, I will love you no less than I do now."

 

She released her daughter from her Force grip and took a few steps back. "You are also wise to admit your failure instead of make excuses. The Galaxy is not a place that tolerates excuses well. There are some that coddle and allow it, but those create weakness and stagnation. Both the Nightsisters and the Sith do not tolerate excuses or deflection, neither do I. Better to admit your failings so that they may be corrected than to try to place blame on something else.

 

"I will repeat what I told you: 'make it to the other side and press the glowing blue button.' You succeeded in pressing the button, but you didn't make it to the other side. In any mission, it is crucial to follow orders to the letter. Failure to do so could mean the failure of the mission, loss of allies, or your own death. You are quite clever in using the Force to press the button as you did, and for that, you deserve praise. However, be careful that you don't let pride in your cleverness distract you from the task at hand."

 

She offered her hand for Telperien to take. "Do you understand what I am teaching you?"

[Telperiën Ar-Pharazon]

Telperiën let out a cough and brought herself to her feet from where she fell from being released and let the pain in her back roll by. She shook her head and ran to the starting line again. She felt the bedrock under her feet, feeling its strength, its age, its corruption. The sound of the buzzer going off sent her into a sprint and she projected her presence around her, in an effort to anticipate the likely incoming blaster shots. A burning sensation from her left arm caused her to yank it out of the way and a blaster bolt shot by where the arm had been a second before.

 

Oh this is how it feels to be precognitive? Ohhhh

 

She filled her muscles with the strength of the force and sped through the obstacle course, dodging and weaving as she went, letting the blaster bolts whip by with millimeters to spare in an effort to exert the least amount of concentration and force power as possible keeping her reserves for the final stretch. As she ran, she grabbed a flagstone with the force and threw it upwards, where it intercepted a half dozen blasts before exploding into dust and shards of melted magma like stone. Several of those shards embedded themselves in her flank but she kept running, ignoring where they set small clumps of her clothes on fire. She summoned her last reserves and jumped to the button hitting it with her palm as the last two bolts churned through the air around her arm.

 

She collapsed into a pile of burning clothes, sweat, and tired muscles shakes. She did happen to put out the fires before the took all her clothing though. Before collapsing onto her back again and breathing heavily.

Was that better mama?

[Qaela]

Qaela was proud of the girl's spirit. Rather than lash out, rebel, or shut down, she put her determination into the task at hand and ran the course again. This time, Qaela could tell that things were processing different for the girl, she was using the Force differently, moving differently, and most importantly, she was learning.

 

When the course was completed, she walked across the training course to where Telperien was standing with a smile on her face. She didn't gush, but neither did she conceal her pride at the girl's accomplishment. "Yes, it is better. You have done well and made me proud tonight. Through your pain, you are learning. Never shy away from pain: it is one of the most valuable teachers. Do not worship it and do not inflict it upon yourself for no reason, but let the memories of the sting of the blaster bolts teach you to avoid them. Let the memories of burning teach you that, even if they miss you, blaster bolts can explode objects and give you splash damage. Let the memory of my slamming you against the wall remind you that you must always watch your pride and that you must accept correction even if it is harsh."

 

She pulled off her outer shirt and gave it to her daughter to cover for her own very damaged clothing. For now, Qaela's own undershirt would suffice in this cold environment, but Telperien had earned the warmth that her mother's shirt would offer. "Itis time for you to return to sleep and recover your energy. We continue to train tomorrow when the sun is up."

 

She led the girl back to their quarters and helped more properly clean her wounds. Once she was cleaned and bandaged, she tucked Telperien into bed. A simple spell helped the girl fall into a deep, restful sleep so that Qaela could do her own work.

 

Once Telperien had drifted off, Qaela sat cross legged at side of the bed. Falling into her own trance and summoning Nightsister spells that even the Sith struggled with, Qaela began healing her daughter of the wounds inflicted. Deep within herself, she wept at what she had done to the girl and for what she must do in the future. If only the girl knew how difficult it was to conceal the pain she felt when seeing her daughter struggle and become injured. She couldn't, though, to let the girl see would weaken her own resolve to push herself to the maximum potential and to take the risks needed to become strong.

 

While healing, Qaela pondered if her own mother felt this way during the brutal training she inflicted on her. Somehow, she doubted it because there was never any remorse, never any affectionate touch, never any sign of genuine approval. She wasn't like her mother, not in that way. Qaela knew that to become strong, one must be broken and pushed to the edge, but she did it out of love for her daughter, not simply to make her a tool for her own power. She wanted more than anything for Telperien to be strong and independent, powerful enough to guide her own destiny and strong enough to survive those who would oppose her.

 

While she could heal using the rituals of the Nightsisters, it was not easy for one who embraced the dark. She knew the Jedi could heal with incredible speed and minimal effort, but not so for her. She spent the rest of the night until the sun was fully above the horizon weaving her spells. When she was finished, her face was covered in salty droplets, though not all of them were sweat.

 

At last, with her task complete and Telperien fully healed of her burns and scrapes, Qaela stood up on weak legs and with a stiff back. She got into the shower and attempted to draw on the pain and heartache she was feeling to summon the Force enough to revitalize her. It was an effort that didn't quite leave her fulfilled, but it was better than nothing. She spent a few minutes in the hot water composing herself and preparing for the next day.

 

After drying off and putting on the Krath leathers Sheog the Hutt had given her, she woke Telperien. "Come," she said with her normal, neutrally calm voice, "we have more training to complete. First, though, breakfast."

[Telperiën Ar-Pharazon]

Telperiën thanks the serving girl who was not much older than herself with a bow when she was handed the platter of freshly prepared Antooin sausage and nerf milk biscuits. She noticed the girls skimpy attire and slave collar and wondered what the girl’s life had been like up until now. The girl was only about twelve and had a beautifully carved face with alabaster skin, a beauty if she was older. Telperiën sat down across from her mother at a low and secluded table and sipping on a glass of blue milk pondered what the training for today would be. Perhaps lightsaber building? Murder and mayhem? More force abilities? The possibilities were endless.

 

She itched her healed arm under the leather jerkin she wore and looked up to her mother.

 

What do we have today mama?

[Qaela]

Breakfast was a very needed source of nutrition that Qaela needed now after the efforts of the night. She knew there was much to do today, so she didn't take long in savoring the foods. When they were done, she stood up and clutched a satchel she had brought. "There is a lesson you must learn, then we work on a new field of spells: mind manipulation."

 

She took Telperien through the stone halls of Korriban's temple to a large, imposing statue of an equally imposing man. "This is Darth Bane, one of the most celebrated heroes of the Sith. He created the Rule of Two in which only a master and an apprentice could exist. All others must be eliminated. He is credited with creating the Sith Order that eventually spawned Darth Sideous, known as Emperor Palpatine, the man who managed to take over the majority of the Galaxy and create the Galactic Empire.

 

"Sith revere him as a supremely strong and powerful Sith who destroyed all who opposed him and slaughtered both Jedi and Sith alike. He created the idea of Sith laying low and biding their time and expanded the concept of the apprentice growing more powerful than the master then killing them."

 

Disgust grew in her voice, "Darth Bane was a fool. He eliminated many Jedi, yes, and he tricked the Sith into killing themselves, but that was foolish. He wasted perfectly good allies, shattered the idea of a tribe or clan, and all but ensured that the Sith would never really work together again. If the only way to ascend is to literally kill your master, then you always ensure your numbers are too weak to do anything. It is no wonder that it took the Sith thousands of years to ever become a power in the Galaxy again. Not only were their numbers too small, but how many beings were killed in the name of the Rule of Two that could otherwise have done great things for the Sith or discovered new powers?

 

"Never forget the power of a clan or tribe. In such an organization, it allows us to specialize, to pool knowledge, to take on bigger prey, and to grow more powerful. A single Rancor is formidable, but it can't corner the herd. It takes several Rancors working as one to drive the herd into a trap and to corner and take down their prey. Imagine if the Sith of today abode by the Rule of Two. We would have possibly lost all the sorcery and Krath knowledge of Sheog the Hutt. We would have lost the foresight of Furion and Exodus, we would have lost the sheer power of your father, and we would not have the numbers to openly challenge the armies of the Jedi and the GA and Remnant. The Sith wouldn't have been able to build this Temple or create an empire. And, most importantly, you and I would not be allowed to exist.

 

"Remember always that to truly excel, the Sith need to form a tribal unit that both sharpens each other, but also doesn't slaughter our own. If we are to have a chance to truly rise to power, we need numbers, wisdom, and skills that no one or two individuals can hope to possess."