Kamino

[Tiana Calthye]

Oddly enough, he was an easy person to kiss back with the same measure of intensity. There was still some sense left of sanity in her mind that took a wry, twisted sort of amusement in the very idea that she had slipped into the hands of a Sith Lord and now they had become close. The very theory--absurd.

 

But put into play, she felt she very much enjoyed the volatile nature of what they shared, something so very vivid in its tones and senses. Abstract.

 

She enjoyed the twisted emotions, and simply being unable to see made the contact so much more meaningful--no, not even that. It bore a sense of creepy danger to it, even moreso than the sound of pouring rain the surface of Kamino continually gave birth to. It was a sort of trust.

 

His hair was damp. Actually, his entire face had a bit of a damp feel from the simple perpetual rain of the surface. She affectionately brushed a strand of his silver locks back from his face before finally breaking the kiss with a grin. "Well, you feel happy. Your meeting went well, then?"

[Oblivion]

"Happy..." The word drew mixed feelings in one such as he, where such a word meant nothing more then petty emotions that weren't to be dwelled upon. Atleast, that had been before any period of enlightenment. When delved so deeply in the shadow, one must always look back to the past with reverence and new pose, "...I can't imagine someone functioning like that. I'll call this a celebration of sorts in its stead. Who knew the only important part to any enemy was his soul, how useful it will become under new mastership."

 

Holding her, like he had something to depend on, did bring him an increased feeling of whatever had transpired after the meeting. Cosmic energy seemed to pour out as he revelled in it, not once questioning the motives. It was good, as she had described, and would value it as such until they reached the underwater basen.

 

The doors snapped open at last, the silver haired man leaning back with heavy reluctance, parting one last embrace before public view would match their eyes again. With it, he would turn a blind eye toward them, even to Tiana. Morale had been low ever since the increased inactivity; the only chores being mandated were the daily maintenance checks and occassional deliverance of new stocked supplies for the labs.

 

Keeping three steps ahead of her, he had his hands kept upright against the fold of his back, talking very mannerly as he strode evenly in steady calculative paces as the man always seemed to do regularly without notice.

 

"You must understand something... With that charm of yours, you must have the skills to overcome the situation when the balance falls to you. The ability to exercise a weapon in proper form will not be needed, only the willingness to try something new -- something entirely different then we have performed before."

 

Tossing back the still dampened locks of his to one side, he turned to match her eyes, well aware of her inability to sense such a movement visually, but had a feeling she'd understand why; just as much as to why he had stopped in the middle of the hallway as well.

 

"Once you step inside this room, you will forfeit all allegiances to me and treat me as an opponent, an invader, and only while inside this room. Watch, listen, and wait for me I enter. I will show no mercy and shall not hesitate to destroy you. This begins the next step in your training; perception turned actuality..."

 

Allowing his eyes to close momentarily, the metal gates began to pull apart from one another, leaving a sizeable gap to enter. The room was pure darkness, not like it was any different to her now. The only difference was that the room was large; so larger then everything else, the walls could barely be felt, even the floors. Now he, Oblivion, would watch, listen, and wait for her to enter, wondering if she would even commit to the act after knowing what circumstances it would cost her.

[Tiana Calthye]

For a moment she leaned against the wall, black eyes purposelessly closed. Thoughts chased after each other, faster than time could permit them to be spoken.

 

Really.

 

...You're unarmed. How can you possibly expect to fight him and win? You'll lose and you know it...

 

...Not unarmed. Two of them. See?...

 

...He can very easily kill you and you know that?

 

So?

 

So?

 

So if you don't ever commit to a risk, you won't ever get better...and you know he has weaknesses...

 

She put her thoughts away and chose not to flee, pulling her hair back and knotting it into a quick braid before binding it so it would not get in her way. It had been a weakness in her last duel. This time it would not.

 

The room was dark.

 

Not as if that meant anything to her now.

 

It was cold, and large, and empty. She fed herself no thoughts, blanking her mind out into an icy focus. With no thoughts, there could be no misconceptions. She would wait for him.

[Oblivion]

With less apprehension then previously estimated, he would not draw to any emotion as she solemnly slipped inside without a word. Curiously, he knew full well what was inside, though was curious as to applications she would use if and when the settings were discovered. For now, that is how it remained, blanketed by complete shadow that did not reside in the room before this very stitch in time.

 

Remaining cloaked, though fully recognizing that visuals were far less efficent against this type of opponent, he carefully proceeded towards the door; crossing one of the hardest thresholds he would have to face during their training. She had be viewed as someone to face judgement, to break down and to build back up without being the tad least remorseful or else the message would be lost entirely. Even with this in mind, the man walked slower then usual inside, even if his legs were entirely made up of metal alloid.

 

Surronded by the abyss, he merely stood there and breathed the surrondings in. A heavy motion of his chest rising and falling signaled his readiness, an opaque grey flame jutting out from his side and dangling in midst of the darkness. With both eyes closed, the flame grew and grew, seperating into several other flames of identical size and proportion. Caught in the balance of the Force, they encirlced his body in an endless push and pull, drawn in then out in large looping archs. Prismatic flames continued this dance before a single upturned hand came up from his sleeve, the pale surface of his skin exposed with all five fingers enclosed into a tightly wound fist.

 

"Die..."

 

Fingers letting loose instanteously after the emotionly void words were uttered, one of the constantly lit flames channeled out from its cycle, jetting out with such intense speed. While, visually, it appeared as a flame cloaked in grey colour, fire was not the source of this onslaught. Pure energy, released from the tendrils of the darkness, now motivated its course, combusting energy found from within himself colliding with the darkness given its drive, its power. Once released, the hand which beckoned now guided, fingers rising and falling to direct the course, aware spiritually where she stood...

[Tiana Calthye]

You will know no emotion.

 

You will not be distracted.

 

Conflict within or not, it must not be permitted to surface.

 

You know no emotion.

 

You will be no more.

 

She waited for him.

 

And after some time, though seemingly with more aprehension than she had permitted, he crossed the threshhold and entered the dark room. The room to her was a void, for she had not fully explored it with her senses. Enough to gather that it was an emptier room, but perhaps held more potential if she were to take the time to explore it in more depth.

 

But as for now, Tiana sought only to see, if seeing could be believing in what surrounded her in ink.

 

The one word shattered the silence.

 

It lacked any tone, any depth, any reason or meaning. It meant nothing to her. She did not permit anything to shatter the set of her mind--she had taken only the time to sink against the wall and make up her mind, that if she would risk her life, she would do it without remorse.

 

Energy.

 

Even standing still, she could sense it, perhaps all the more than had she moved.

 

You'll find me wherever I move.

 

You know me.

 

She drew her hands together in a silent clap, with it carrying the essence of the Force and the attack. Energy to energy. It was child's play. It fell together and crushed, compacting into a pent up orb before she jerked her hands apart and it flew out in one telekinetic flare, shuddering from the reaction of the force...

 

"Not right now," she murmured in an unconscious answer to his word.

 

Had they been in a lighter room, it would have flared, but as it was, the dark drained away all light and she did not draw the attack from the light side of the Force. It merely collided with his attack.

 

Oblivion was an empty gray aura.

 

He hid himself from her eyes, but it said nothing to what she knew about him, the being she could sense with fragements of her soul. Without such an ability, she would have been incinerated within moments of his first attack. But it was there, and it would get stronger.

 

You will both remain indifferent...

 

She harnassed the ripple of telekinesis before hurling it towards him: rather than to throw the flame aside, this one had an intented target. It shivered in its movement.

[Oblivion]

Remaining distant, both emotionally and figuritively in distance, was near essential for the act of sorcery to manifest with the best result. To it, the bested opponent would be one who fell prey to the instincts of the darkness, paralyzed and consumed by the touch, to where no visual or reference to pain was felt at all. Neither real nor an illusion, the flames manifested from Oblivion's desire, a pire that burned with the intense vigor and vision of the miscoloured flame which matched his aura.

 

Revealing nothing, anticipating nothing, the darkness which seperated them now intervened the swift motion of the first aggressive attack. The surface of his hand twitched ever so slightly once exchange of control had been off balanced, digits clenching and seperating outwards, as if clutching intently on the very manipulaton of his own burning will.

 

She had adapted well to create such a clever manuver as to assume control and redirect the first flame. Almost instinctively, as it came spiralling back towards him, two pressed fingers from his free hand swept across his chest; with the motion, the identical spheres cycling his body in fluid motion amassed towards his center. The surface of one intense sphere expanded so tremendously that it doubled that of his own size, allowing the oncoming flame to be absorbed by this powerful vessel before breaking back apart into eight identical pieces, dangling around his remaining cloaked body.

 

"Desire me dead..."

 

The hand raised once again, showing the effects of strenous weight being compacted across his forearm as it gradually raised higher and higher. Several flames flared and dispersed from his body at all angles, taking a skyward climb out and away from him before being steadied and still, suspended in the air, by locking his wrist in place at that very moment,

 

"...or become embraced by it."

 

Leading with one step forward, acting now with the full extension of his one arm, the four gray spheres manifested into skulls of humans, pulsating and shrieking loud within the rippling tide of the darkness. The bone structure began to peel back as they cut through the thin dry air, a trail of the previous flame effect marking its course. This time, there would be no mistake. He projected all four to collide simulatenously, the length of his right arm stressing to control them will the fullest extent of his desire to eliminate her there and now.

 

How subtle it was, that a single brow be lowered by such a brutal act; how an ounce of concern be drowned by the void which now possessed the man. Deep down, he knew...

 

...This has to be done.

[Tiana Calthye]

"Then let it be so," she hissed before reaching out and harnessing the simplest threads of desires, braiding them together and leaping outwards before his attack could hit her where she had previously stood silent. The floor was a springboard in the large room of black bliss. Tiana wasted no time on simple defences against a magic she didn't know how to defeat, instead, she threw herself physically in his direction.

 

If his attack was motion oriented, it would follow her.

 

If he still encloaked himself in flame, it would consume her.

 

None of it was real, or an illusion. But she was real, he was real, only the surrounding area was what lingered between reality and myth.

 

She reacted in less than a second before he cast the skulls screaming through the air towards her.

 

The lids of her eyes twitched ever so slightly in a burning concentration as she fell back into a few almost childish learnings to spring herself through the black to where he stood cloaked in a fervorous desire to eliminate her from the galaxy. She responded in kind, feeling his dark attack's teeth snapping at her heels, threatening to annilhilate the persona that made her herself. If it grasped her, there would be nothing.

 

If there was any fate worse than death, it was being without pain, without focus, without any reason.

 

She would not allow this from him.

 

Ignoring the sensations it brought about, the pain and the fact that his magic would fight back, she threw herself into him to knock him over and her thoughts through his, a barrage of memories of reality ripping through his mind. There would be blocks, but even those could hurt to be slammed against, even if she could not find a way through before his attack completely removed her from the fight.

 

She was no longer indifferent--she was focused. And now that focus was on one sole possibility. To cause him pain, even if it caused her death.

[Oblivion]

How the strongest of threads, the hardest of metals, and the pure of heart could all be weakened by one universal idea. The power of motivation, of will power and desire, that succeeded all other emotions. Pride was its downfall, despair its follower; all had to be cast aside in order to achieve a single notion: that none of these can ever overcome one who is focused...

 

The spiritual barrage of sorts were as far from illusions as they were from reality itself. What the darkness can perceive from the power of the soul, rather then by the emotions which fuel them, unfathomable resources open up for the very first time. It was to this desired effect which he had seeked in her, what had inevitably been brought upon by the intense situations of the trial. Just as a metal is cast into a fiery pillar, broken down, deceased, and reborn anew, so should the journey of the student. She would be cast into the flames of this new idea without any precautions, shattering mind and soul, to be tempered anew.

 

"...That is my purpose now. For you, I will give you my ultimate gift. The oppertunity to reach enlightenment as I have within the spiritual realm."

 

Closing both eyes as his body began to move in a slow, precise manner, both arms gently curled back against his chest, cupping outward against its folds. The manifested skulls who acted as purely as the layer of framework for the darkness dispersed entirely, an invisible phantom that had no distinguishable traits from the darkness they were in and the strength he now controlled within this room.

 

As she drew nearer, it was easier for him to control over a short length in this style. Standing abashed while his body was drawn into this deeper state of concentration and relaxation, he had completly the tasks which had been delayed thus far. By expanding his senses high and low, out and around, all the areas which had been touched by the flames were apart of the spiritual realm; the tendrils of the darkness.

 

Seconds before she sprawled out to seek his destruction physically, the only attachment and weakness he had away from this state, he was able to seize her in a vice at that very moment. Bones and tendons immediately contorted by the very thought of their being, even the suspension of her body being uplifted high up into the air came into being. Every thought manifested into reality, while he sacrificed the will and the body to do so.

 

The longer this continued, the more brutal the act would become. Unhinging limbs from legaments, twisting and contorting, he imagined her engorged by a fiery sensation that teemed at the skin and burned, yet was never visible. He imagined a pain unlike any other, imagined the skin being peeled over and the mind, which mechanisms would naturally try to cope with such agony, were nonexistant.

 

A mysterious voice, a voice that held little to no resemblance to the man who enacted the torturous acts, one that was riddled with the voices of many, spoke in unison...

 

"...Death is a lie. To fear this is to become one with death. Pain shall be your remembrance, your key to living... Overcome such physical boundaries and be one with us, with the one you love."

[Tiana Calthye]

She knew her thoughts could be heard if they were even there. She knew she could throw them out, away from the confines of the barriers of her mind and let them float there, away from where they were bound into her personal fragments of darkness.

 

"Overcome such physical boundaries..."

 

I've never been afraid of death.

 

I stepped in here for a reason.

 

I'm not afraid to die.

 

Not afraid of pain, she thought through the pain, and she hadn't been. And the pain was overwhelming, to a point where the part of her still sane pleaded for unconsciousness to wash over it all and blend her back into the black where things were silent and didn't scream out in colors and tones that would stiffle her.

 

"Be one with us..."

 

She tried to deflect it and turn it back on Oblivion, turning her mind into a mirror, but by this point she had lost enough of her hold of the Force that it was a feeble attack that would have done little more than hurt for a few moments. Not unless he slipped.

 

It was his imagination working overtime...

 

"...With the one you love..."

 

She countered it.

 

She imagined that she could slip away and wrap herself in black rather than fire. Locked the pain away and threw away the keys. It was still there, but she wasn't afraid of it because there was no escape from it, and whatever happened, there was the voice of millions...

 

Can't fight back, can't think, can't breathe...

 

She didn't know how she physically reacted anymore, because it had been blinded with crimson past the point of being able to hear whether she screamed or not.

 

It held her there.

 

She wasn't there.

 

She didn't know what was there.

 

Beyond oblivion, without a capital o, beyond pain, with a capital P, beyond infinity with a capital I...

 

You're not a warrior.

 

You're not a fighter...

 

You're nothing...

 

...Well, at least nothing doesn't include fear...

 

...then let it be so!

 

And vaguely, some other part of her mind thought "ow".

[Oblivion]

In the feverous experience, a swell of emotion taking hold of him as he channeled all the souls directly harvested to transpire out of his body, the charm that dangled from the slender neck of the now mangled woman's flesh began to gradually open up. The more he persisted, the larger the folds the thin sheets of metal which encapsulized the material underneath to grow in distance from one another until, finally, it swung outwards. The entirity of the dark room became engorged with white light, basked in its brillance that shone with intense brightness.

 

Cringing at the sudden change, Oblivion's arms recoiled and hung over his eyes, the large abrupt sound of deafening screams resonating out in that one instance. The walls began to shake, the escaping shadow filling the hallway. The single charm remained suspended in the air with the likeness of its owner. By it, the veil which the darkness had taken hold of her eyes escaped along with the shadows. If she had enough strength to witness, the true nature of the room would be revealed.

 

In this blank room, once coveted by darkness, Oblivion's darkness, there was a single tablet hung on the walls...

 

The man, who had allowed himself to become possessed for his love, willing to risk his own life in order to show the true power that stemmed from the cooperation of the shadows and souls combined, fell to his knees. Tiana, who had been ravaged and tangeled in such a realm, returned to the solid earth again; barely a single mark on her body...

 

The charm lay on its side, the exuberant light now retracting slowly back to its chasms. Before the darkness took held of the room once again, the weary yet reverent face of the Sith Master peered at her, one arm resting over his opposite shoulder, breathing heavily in and out...

 

"You have taken the first of many steps in this twisted path of ours... From now on, the darkness is yours to command as a Sith Lord. You have overcome your desires and know what it means to endure its wear, both spiritually and physically..."

 

With what little remained of his own personal awareness and strength, he drew the tablet from the stone walls with the shadows which began to slowly fill the room once again, presenting it out to her feet and allowing it to rest nearest the amulet.

 

"...What remains in your Lordship is only what possessions you may create from this new found ability. Search inside yourself and recognize the weapon that will become the extension of your will... Remember. No goal is too great for any Sith to achieve."

 

Without wanting to reveal his own moment of weakness, he composed himself long enough outwardly to walk from the room and recoperate in hs own chambers, allowing the aftermath of the ritual flow out from his body and regain stability through meditation.

[Tiana Calthye]

She sank down in the room once he had left, the events swelling to finally wash over her in a stream of recollections and burdens, as they would eventually become.

 

She had broken through his defences, and not even of her own will... an extension of something else, something deeper than either of their intents... though Tiana was quite aware the encounter had been scripted from the start, leaving them both barely marked physically.

 

It had been an intentional, very deep mental trial, perhaps.

 

Her fingertips brushed the charm, reclasping it to recover from the strain it too had underwent. Then a brief smile crossed her face, rising once more to pick the tablet up and examine it with touch. The room was once again locked in shadows. It had no real effect on her.

 

With little grace or intensity, she slipped from the room, finding a place where the shadows grew quiet and sat to find solitude. She had an ability to see once more, though she suspected it was not her own eyes, but some further extension of the Force finally centered within her soul. Back in the Jedi Order, she had heard it was possible to use the Force to make up for a weakness, and this felt like such a comfinsation.

 

She closed her eyes when she sat down, leaning against one of the walls to find a part of herself that knew, beyond what she wanted, what she needed.

 

I need a weapon, she thought absently. Something better than a blaster, at any rate...

 

And another side of her mind calmed and glanced back to what had happened.

 

He pushed you into another reality for a time... let himself be taken over...

 

...Let you be taken over...

 

I must learn to confine this... must learn to match it... there is a side where another realm opens freely...

 

Could have been defeated from a lack of knowledge...

 

She drew in a breath and began to mentally work on what she would create.

[Oblivion]

Fairing from the late rest, after laboring over the tightly woven visual depictions lingering with each dream, the man had awoken drenched in sweat. Immediately, he would cast his body to the falling tides which drenched his body until he felt fresh and renewed once more. The sequences stayed in this memory, one particular standing out clear as day. Once the ritual of changing into his usual attire had finished, Oblivion drew his armor to conform around him once again, seeking out the final cloak to mask its wear.

 

"This feeling," He pronounced outloud, even if there were no other ears to hear his voice, "It's strange... Why would I have to return there, of all places?"

 

Closing his eyes, the vision came to past again, with only a vague representation of a face and the name of a place fitting to the puzzle. Curious, he called aside one of the aides at the lab, requesting a notice of his leave be told to Tiana. Afterwards, he proceeded back to the surface, taking up his prized black-plated A-Wing model craft to pierce the ever cloudy and torrent sky, soon leaving the atmosphere in a trail of vapor and onwards...

 

--

 

One of the aides, another scientist who had been running tests on the more well-known facilities, presented herself to where Tiana had been contemplating her next course of action. Curling a finger behind her ear to part way some of the hair which dangled past her forehead, unsure of how best to approach a Sith, she calmly set the note downside nearest the hallway before scurrying off.

[Oblivion]

OOC: Close enough to the 3-day rule. I expected Tiana to post by now anyways, so disregard this, o' strict enforcer of the rules.

 

--

 

During the long journey, there was complete silence. He ignored the being behind him, slumped and crowded in the back of his chair. Minding the sensations of the wind, the vast collection of void in space, he settled back to conscious thought once they arrived on the surface of the darkened clouded atmosphere. Torrents of rain always seemed to flood from the sky, accostumed to its rhythm by now not to mind it. Once the ship touched ground, landing near the loft, he exited with the Twi'Lek strung over his shoulder, carrying him in like a wounded prize more then anything more.

 

There was a lift that led underneath the vast ocean, secured in an air tight environment which safetly escorted their passage down to the black abyss of the ocean's heart. Passing from one surface to another, Oblivion and his prize entered the underwater lab facilities. Kept secret, concealed by the public eye, his activities could not be tracked and could freely pratice his arts of alchemy. Passing through the main halls, he arrived after a few minutes journey to his own vast chambers. The ceilings were hundreds of feet tall, a vast collection of knowledge, tomes, and artifacts at every corner. The Sith Master lay the creature, still passed out, on a padded chair as he moved to more private quarters.

 

A quick visit from the refresher, he felt anew, turning his cloak and armor for regular attire and came back into the study. Picking up a long, narrow pipe and a glass of red wine that had been left from days past when it had been first poured, Oblivion took his seat at his large desk. There were always stacks of faded sheets of parcment and holograms alike that required his attention, seeking out to fulfill the requests and designs until the boy came into...

 

Any minute now, I believe...

[Torin]

The wind seemed endless and dust seemed to attack everything. The tiny sharp pieces of glass stung as they struck the skin. A scream was swept up in the storm and carried to the ears of a young Twi'lek boy huddled under the protection of a large rock. Tears poured down his cheeks cutting through the caked dirt on his face. Silence, no more screams and no more tears. The end was here. The boy knew his parents had died, smothered by the dust.

 

Torin woke up gasping for air. His mouth was dry and rough like sandpaper and his eyes watered and burned. He looked around the cavernous room not knowing how he had arrived at such a place. Through his blurred vision he caught a glimpse of the man he had attempted to battle earlier. Torin tried to stand up but found that his whole body was stiff and sore as if from being crammed into a tight spot for hours on end.

 

Barely able to move, Torin forced himself to his feet and walked towards the creature that had apparently kidnapped him. A bead of sweat trickled off of his brow and butterflies rose up in his stomach. He had yet to speak to this man, and was still afraid to, but at this point information was a necessity.

 

He cleared his throat and spoke, "Where am I and why am I here?" Blunt honesty he figured was the last thing that would get him into trouble with a figure such as the one in the room with him. No sense for pleasentries with people who throw you through walls.

[Oblivion]

Taking a much more humble, approachable form must have set this boy's mind at some kind of ease. Or perhaps not. Whatever the reasons may be, the seated man rose a brow and turned in his chair, facing in the general direction which he now barely stood. The smell still lingered from before, only slightly masked by the other bits of filth and soot that still clung onto his body. Even with the darkness at his fingertips, there were no such talents of that sort which could persuade his eyesight to clarify, a drooping pair of spectacles that added years to his age resting on the bridge of his nose.

 

"Since you asked so kindly," Tethyn began to remark with a suspicious tone, "I shall tell you. Where those who have been reduced to nothing, where life is fleeting and no hope remains, all is led into oblivion. Here, you shall die and become reborn anew in darkness... So rest at ease, young one. Don't worry so much on if you shall be tortured and killed by my hands..."

 

A sinister smirk parted past thinned lips, "Dwell upon the when and how. That should surely help, no?"

 

If he had been any closer, the man would have slapped him on the back to shake up that already fragile mind teetering on the boundary between sanity and insanity. Since, by now, he grew quite fond of where he was, Tethyn continued to rest as he was, turning his back to the new comer and resumed with his work.

 

He rested his pen briefly thereafter, "Oh yes," Lowering the spectacles to the edge of the desk, one eye glanced back momentarily, "Do see that you be rid of that filth on your person by the time I'm done. Facilities are down the narrow hallway on your right."

[Torin]

Torin turned and walked away from the strange man slightly discouraged. He did not understand why he was here or where here was for that matter, and to top things off his host liked to speak in riddles and was never straight forward. The young twi'lek limped down the hall until he eventually found the refresher. A long steamy shower soothed his aching joints and cleansed him of his stench. It had been a long time since he had felt anything as nice.

 

-----------------------------------

 

An hour and a half later, after an invigorating experience in the refresher, young Torin strolled back towards the man who was just finishing his meal. More relaxed now after having refreshed himself, Torin felt confident he could ask a question.

 

"I thought about it while I was showering and I'm still a little stumped on when and how you will kill me?" Torin grinned devilishly and waited for a reply. The only real thing he could think of though was how good the food smelled that this man was just finishing.

[Oblivion]

During the long lapse of time that his newest guest had occupied the refresher, Tethyn's short-hand work of approvals and signatures was far in the past. Already having moved about, sorting other more domestic matters for the way the building naturally weared, it was around this time described that the man began making his own meal. It was vast, filled with rare delacies and enriched flavoring which would be enough to fill the largest of men, nearly several large men to be exact.

 

Since the design for his quarters had been highly personalized, the cultured taste of the anicent past had its theme in almost every corner. Smells exuded from the collection of rotting perfumed texts with wood carvings and other varieties of artifacts hanging every few feet along the walls. The meal which he had prepared himself, seared by hand and cooked over open flames of the gulching tempest of fire which exuded from the mammoth furnance, it was no wonder the Twi'lek was drawn to this spot.

 

Very mannerly, seated at the head of the long table with a whole selection of utensils and other instruments hand-crafted for tearing away or eating certain kinds of meals, those former empty grey eyes held some form of exuberance as he ate. Pleasure from food in gluttonous amounts was one of his weaknesses, always preparing more then his fill and having little remorse for how expensive and rare such animals or cultivations would be to any other man. Accompanied by a rich crimson wine, held aloft by one hand, he peered up from over the goblet raised to his lips, settling it back down again.

 

"You need not concern yourself of that for now... Dwelling on death can wait for a good meal. Come and eat, endulge in whatever your fancy."

 

With the flick of his wrist, a chair slid from underneath the long elegant table back out. The man outwardly smiled in reverence, yet pondered thoughts well beyond benevolence enitrely...

[Torin]

Fresh and clean smelling, Torin sat down and slid up to the table. His stomach quivered with the anticipation of being satisfied by a hearty delicious meal. Torin greedily reached for the heaps of meats, vegetables, and fruits that covered the expanse between himself and his host. Never before had he seen a spread like the one before him. He had lived his life surviving off of table scraps and garbage, so to be clean and comfortable sitting at a table littered with juicy food was quite a treat for the young Twi'lek.

 

He pierced an exotic piece of meat with his utensils and placed it into his salivating mouth. Crushing and ripping the meat with his teeth, Torin rolled the sweet and savory food over his tongue enjoying every time the delicate flavors stimulated his taste buds. He began to covet more of the food. As he sat at the table all he could think was to place as much of the food in his mouth as possible, but he noticed his host's polite manners and restrained himself from showing his brutality at the dinner table. He ate as much as he could fill himself with, and when finished leaned back in his chair and allowed the food to seep down his throat and into his gut.

 

"That was the best meal I have ever had, thank you." Torin relaxed and enjoyed the atmosphere for a moment. His mind not wandering anywhere, he sat peacefully, completely content.

 

"So," he said his head rolled back and looking towards the ceiling, "Why am I here? Excuse my curiosity, but you must understand the awkwardness for me when upon my first meeting with you I was nearly killed, then knocked out only to wake up in a wonderful place where I'm given the most extravagant food I have ever tasted. I'm sure you can understand why I am questioning the situation."

[Oblivion]

"Where you are, you have already been told," A slip of contempt rolling off his tongue, lashing out with such distaste as he still continue eating, "You are where the darkness leads all things when they have been abandoned of hope and folly; where the damned are kept against their will and evil is broken down and refined to serve a better purpose, neither divine nor truly maleficent."

 

A tinge of delight was seen as he, too, tried to mimic the good tastes he had. Handling the utsensils as he, drinking as he, it was like watching a mirror at times. But this held no grounds, for he would not react any different to either behaviors.

 

By the end, there was still a bounty of meat, vegetables, and sweets alike that could serve another round of meals for three more days. Imagining the process within his mind, Oblivion made the action so; pulling the cloth which suspended the plates and dragged it further to the Twi'Lek, amassing the food in heaps to either side.

 

"Now continue to devour as you showed. I do not care whether you feel satisfied with your portions now. Gorge, embrace gluttony, never cease... If I feel any bit of hesitation, I shall force the food in myself. Are we clear on this?... Hmm?"

 

Outwardly, a very serious fascade peeled over his facial expressions as most often seen. Deeper, tangled inside the warped psyche of the silver-haired man, he inwardly grinned, knowing full well this peasant child 's stomache could not handle such a feast, used to scraps if anything. This would the first series of tests to overcome, though within each, he would reveal more of the actual location and his identity in time. That is, if he did not die before then.

[Torin]

((Sorry for the delay. I should have a computer that works now so I will start posting more reguarly again. Thanks for waiting on me.))

 

"Where you are, you have already been told," A slip of contempt rolling off his tongue, lashing out with such distaste as he still continue eating, "You are where the darkness leads all things when they have been abandoned of hope and folly; where the damned are kept against their will and evil is broken down and refined to serve a better purpose, neither divine nor truly maleficent."

 

Torin heard this riddle once again but did not ponder the meaning of it for very long. Unknown to the Twi'lek, the words seeped into his mind and stored themselves for later use. Torin, on the other hand was too caught up in the astonishing command of his host.

 

"Now continue to devour as you showed. I do not care whether you feel satisfied with your portions now. Gorge, embrace gluttony, never cease... If I feel any bit of hesitation, I shall force the food in myself. Are we clear on this?... Hmm?"

 

Torin's jaw dropped nearly slamming into the table. He was already full beyond his wildest belief. Having grown up on mainly garbage, he had never had the opprotunity to even see as much food as sat before him now, and this radical individual would have him eat more? Impossible, he thought.

 

Answering the command with action, he slowly picked up his knife and fork and began sawing apart strips of meat. Still wide eyed and in shock, he raised the juicy food to his mouth and started chewing. The taste of the food became even better everytime his teeth pierced the dead flesh, but his stomach churned and protested the very idea of him swallowing. He performed the action with a large and loud gulp, First bite down.

 

He scanned the expanse of food that lay before him and knew that pain would be his near future. Gradually picking up the pace, toughing it out, Torin continued to cut and chew the glorius food...

[Oblivion]

With such meager displays performed by his command, he did not wish to see him tear with knives or other sharp instruments, savoring the taste and delaying the act of swallowing. This would not teach him anything and surely had no time to sit and around and wait for the entirity of the feast to be consumed at this rate. Narrowing his gaze, first giving him a warning glance, the hard turned stare turned bitter, scowling as he insisted on nibbling and chewing then ravenously gorging.

 

Rather then punish directly, he used his presence within the darkness to cover the once splendor of food. The table turned over its colour to the shadows; meats and sweets alike being consumed and blackened by the eerie matter which now covered their surfaces. Within the motion, he further pushed the entirity ever closer to the Twi'Lek, to the point where it heaped over his shoulders and spread all across the front of the table in piles, even holding him in position by this foreign power source.

 

"Dwell not on what your body commands of you, command your body to do as you desire... What food is left shall turn rotten in your mouth since you have not attempted to follow my previous commands. This task shall be harder, but if it is not completed soon, I will see to it that you never eat again."

[Torin]

The meat Torin was chewing truned from a sweet savory flavor to the most rancid putrid taste he had ever experienced. He had spent his life eating garbage and had indulged on rotting food before, but the flavor passing through his mouth presently was an unimanigable horror.

 

Pinned into his chair by the mounds of dark matter that surronded him, his only option to eat his way free, Torin dropped the knife and fork and jammed his face directly into the food. He chomped and munched through the dark matter whilst trying not to gag. The taste grew worse with every morsel he devoured. So bad in fact that tears began to pour from Torin's eyes. It was actually painful for the Twi'lek to taste.

 

Pound after pound disappeared from the table, but just as Torin would began to gain the slightest bit of freedom more food would tighten around his body locking him in his position. He could feel his skin stretching as more and more mass entered his body. How he was not exploding he did not know. He was finished chewing. He merely sank his teeth into the dark matter surronding his body and swallowed.

 

Eventually he was able to suck down the endless amounts of food leaving only a small bite in his lap. He picked it up with his hand, and finally understanding his hosts purpose, he jammed it into his mouth and ate it willingly. Every moment he chewed his body screamed with pain and refused to allow any more food to be swallowed, but overcoming this hinderance Torin swallowed the maggoty flesh and stood up in defiance to his host.

 

Anger swelled inside the young boy. He wanted to strike out at this evil twisted being, but he had did that once and it had proved fruitless. Torin would not soon forget this humilation though. Someday he would strike at this man and his silver haired head would fall to the ground. For now he swallowed his pride with his anger. He would bide his time.

[Oblivion]

No doubt there was enjoyment in seeing the pain each bite took, how each piuece regressed into his bowels with little savor, the pure savagidry of the moment. Clasping his long slender white fingers together in a resounding clap, Oblivion stood to match his counterpart with a much more pleasing demeanor about him. One could even say he looked almost human for once.

 

"Hahaha," A very gutteral laugh escaped him, rolling off his sweet slick tongue, "Well done, well done, indeed. You have gained more control of your body and, as such, were able to deal with the impossible task. But, this is not what pleases me so. Oh, no."

 

The esteemed man paced across the table, etching his way closer to the boy, hands now brought behind his back, manuvering in gentle controlled strides.

 

"...It is this hate. I can see why it chose you, but it shall be a devilish task in controlling it. For all intenstive purposes, I should see you dead now before you become a thorn in my side; an object of concern on my behalf. Though, as much deceit I see in you, it is the key to your success here, I am sure. Build on it, learn to dispise me, for you should."

 

Taken to his side, reaching across with one hand to touch the Twi'Lek's opposite shoulder, with his other hand he brought up one of the many ornate knives. It was longer then average, with a delicate curve on the end, used for carving between the ribs and eviscerating the organs to extract the tenderness within.

 

"Surely, if you are to beseige me with this hate, it must become focused... The darkness, as I have told, is what brought you here. It shall also be your tool, your guide to give what you desire. With it, the potential is endless... Whatever your mind guides you, it shall be."

 

"Now," He gently offered the knife to him with an open palm, opposite arm still wrapped beneath the dangling lekku and hinged at the boy's shoulder, "Take and I shall grant you what you desire. Plunge this into my body with all of these feelings. Focus on the darkness around you, the darkness that has been consumed by you, and let it give you the strength necessary to bring me down..."

[Torin]

Confused about the man's intentions, Torin paused before taking action. Part of him was fearful, afraid of the retalliation of the man now touching his shoulder. The silver-tongued devil was his superior, that had been proven, but in their brief relationship Torin had formed a hatred for this man equal to all of his previous masters.

 

That was when it struck him. The word masters, this man was his new master, and that thought brought on more rage, more passion than any other thought could have evoked. Torin had spent his life slaving at the feet of others and he had experienced freedom for only a short period of his life. Barely a year before this incident had he escaped bondage and claimed his life to be his own; he would not bow to another.

 

Seeing it has his only chance of escape from this dark and wretched place, Torin grabbed the elegant weapon and prepared to thrust it into the side of his host. The suffering, the pain, the hate for the faces of all his previous masters boiled forth from deep within Torin's soul. He would never be another's slave. The fear he had for this individual disappeared as he moved to push the metal blade into the man's side. He would deal with any retalliation, physical pain no longer scared him, it was freedom he demanded and freedom he would have.

 

Darkness consumed his motives. The thick shadows found a home in his veins and became the fuel for the lightning thrust he made towards the man. The blade moved within inches of the man's skin, Torin not stopping his movements, intent on murdering the foul beast...

[Oblivion]

Remarkable as it was, this motion of hatred was not as focused as intended. Anger tended to blind, though acted as the motivator to many causes that receed back to the darkness. While this emotion was prevelant, what was guiding the blade itself was reckless without any thought declaring a single, most effective point on his body. Well aware of where the curved end was going, he did not flinch once it pierced the layer of his satin shirt, nor when it penetrated the level of skin and muscle which the end carved deep.

 

Breathing deeply in and out, there would be no blood to come from the exposed ends of the wound. This man was able to control the blood flow throughout the many channels of his body, ignoring pain receptors and rerouting plasma around the point of impact. The hand which touched the shoulder pulled back, remaining calm and sturdy in his position, with those two empty grey pools of eyes staring back at the Twi'Lek.

 

"...Is that all?"

 

The freed hand contorted the wrist of the boy, seizing which had the hold of the dagger and ripped it back. With a quick blow to one knee by the metallic legs he possessed, the servant's body was bowed down to him, held aloft over the ground by the single twisted wrist.

 

"...If you want to overcome this state you are in, you must learn discipline. Wanton rage shall be turned against you to match your own demise. From now on, you will be my understudy to the Sith Order. An inniate at best, not an apprentice. You must show me you are ready to truly overcome the servitude you are in before I teach you how to get the things you desire most in this life."

 

Releasing his grip over the boy's wrist, he stepped aside and brought an old text up from his desk, dusted off the cover with his sleeve, and lowered it down to him.

 

"This language is one you are not familiar with... You must trust the darkness enough for the words to become alive in your head. Focus, concentrate, and hone that anger of yours to truly connect with each word."

[Torin]

Torin knelt on a knee at the man's feet regaining his breath after the hard blow. His eyes turned a rusty red and watered with rage and disbelief, That Demon should be dead! he thought not fully understanding what had taken place. The man was right, he was overcome with more blind rage than true hatred, but Torin had listened to the man's words and would do as he said. He saw in the man something he wanted, a power, and he would listen to this being in order to grasp the same command as he.

 

"Yes...master," were the only words Torin spoke when he recieved the command from his Lord. It was decided, he would bow, he would follow, he would listen, and he would train to become a Sith. No matter what it took, no matter the pain or embarassment, no matter the time, he would grasp the power that his master possessed and weild it as his own.

 

Not understanding the Sith, not even being able to name the Force which supplied that illustrious group with its power, Torin Thard took the ancient book full of dark secrets from his new master, made one last bow of servitude, and receeded to a spot of solitude within the room where he could study the book. He sat down and began to skim over the symbols he did not understand. How did that attack fail? he thought, There is no reason this man should not be dead or at least in pain.

 

Torin was full of anger and frustration until his master's words came to mind, "You must trust the darkness enough for the words to become alive in your head. Focus, concentrate, and hone that anger of yours to truly connect with each word." He tried to put aside his frustration and focus only on his anger. He scanned the symbols over and over trying to allow that darkness his master had mentioned to take over his soul.

 

His eyes passed over the runes time after time never making any sense of what they saw. The room became darker as the shadows crept in and tightened their grasp on Torin's heart. Deeper and deeper he went down his path to the Dark Side venturing close to a point of no return. The deeper he went the more familar the symbols became to him until finally something presented itself to his mind, the words my chains are broken seemed to jump off the page and attack Torin. Astonished that he had actually understood something he studied with even more ferocity. My chains are broken, the thought tempted him and urged him to read farther. Still in a state of servitude to his new master he would discover the way to break free and spread his will over thousands. He would control the galaxy and shape it to his image. These words empowered him, but he knew there was more so he read further.

[Oblivion]

Allowing the young mind to wander, the man known as Oblivion retired to another part of the chambers; an area secluded where he, too, could find some sense of clarity and silence. Lowering himself to the ground, taking a relaxed yet thoughtful meditative pose, he began to loose the ties on his shirt, the dagger still well impaled into his gut. Regulating breathing and focusing outwards on the darkness, it began to feed through the entirity of his body, slowly repeling the end of the blade outwards and harmlessly out from the wound.

 

Concentrating deeper, he extended his hand, extracting the life force that had collected in the shadows and began breaking it down. Softly manipulating the matter with his mind, it seeped into the wound and filled the void where flesh and muscle had been pushed. Pushing down his focus even more, it expanded and took hold, contorting and resting in its place for the time being.

 

After the vamprism ritual had finished, Oblivion sought deeper meaning in this time, looking inward then passively outward to the extended universe. Though the darkness could not yield such images of premenitions, emotions and the string which bound all those to the shadow fold could be felt. More powers were emerging, he felt, more then before. Having been out of touch with the rest of the Order for so long, it was pleasing to know that some had returned; members he, too, would have to confront in order to settle the issue regarding command.

[Torin]

His attention now fully on the book, Torin focused as hard as possible, intent on understanding as much as he could from the work. The book itself was large and thick. The cover was a black bound leather and was honestly the first book Torin had ever held. Most information came to people of this day and age through datapads and holograms.

 

He picked out brief sentences for comprehension. One read, Anger is a living thing. Feed it and it will grow. This seemed to correspond with the message the Master had been trying to convey to him earlier. Hone that anger , the Master had said, and that was exactly what Torin was in the process of learning. To focus his anger and draw upon the power of the shadows that lurked around him, that seemed to be the Master's lesson and the message of this book.

 

Some strange ominous Force was giving Torin the power to comprehend the words, and not only that but he felt as if this Force was guiding him to specific sections. One of the first things he was led to was a definition he did not fully comprehend. Torin could only barely grasp its meaning, his understanding of it made even more difficult by the fact that he was reading a language he did not recognize and could not explain how he comprehended at all, but he believed the words were describing a mystical presence, a power that surronds and penetrates every living organism in the universe, an energy that can be harnassed and controlled and that will provide its master with great unrivaled power. The term the book used for this mystical energy was The Force. Thus it was that Torin Thard first read about the energy that he would later draw upon in his efforts to rule the galaxy.

 

The book also contained stories of Sith long dead, both masters and apprentices. The few stories he could understand dealt with the way these particular Sith rose in power, or failed to achieve their goals. It was as if he was being presented with examples of what to do and what not to do.

 

But what are the Sith? he asked himself. It was as if he had said the question out loud, for as soon as he thought it the book's pages began to move until they eventually fell open on a page in which Torin could read and understand every single word. The page told of an initial great race called Sith. This species had long since been extinct, but during their rein they had mastered the control of the Force. The actual term Sith at the present time defined a sect of Force users that followed a similar teaching to the ancient race. Sith of Torin's time learned to harness the power of their strongest emotions, anger and hatred. These are not blind random emotions sparked by occurences such as Torin's anger earlier with the Master. The book spoke of a controlled anger, a constant passion that allowed the individual to draw fully upon the power of the Force and bend it to his or her will.

 

It was at this section the book also spoke briefly of beings called Jedi. Listed as being the eternal enemies of the Sith, the book mentioned only that their teachings were weak and pointless. The book claimed Jedi were confused and unworthy for they refused to harness the full essence of the Force. It claimed that Jedi are Force users that are able to control its power but conciously refuse to. Even at times when it means saving the lives of thousands a Jedi will neglect to use his or her power. Torin saw this as ludicrous. He immediately felt a great contempt for these Jedi. He paid the books description of them no more attention and read further. It compared the Jedi's use of the Force to proper practice of the art. It read, "...the Force is not a shield to protect the useless... but is, in reality, a weapon... to empower the worthy!" Torin took this definition to heart. It was at this moment that he knew he was of this class, the worthy, and it was at this moment he understood his reason for being in this place. He had the potential. The Force was the presence he consistently felt but could not describe and the energy that had guided him throughout his life. He felt empowered upon this realization and became determined to read more. His eyes raced through the pages, the more he read the greater his comprehension became. It was as if he were reading basic, the words began to come to him that easily. He would prove to the Master how worthy he could be, he would learn to control his anger, he would learn to hate passionately, and he would learn to control the Force, bending and shaping its power for his purpose.

[Oblivion]

Already he could feel it, make no mistake of that. There was a time where he, after abandoning his former scholarly goals as a teen and left with nothing, were these texts the very fabric of his being. They were the only sensible material to him, at the time, given to him by a mysterious man of age as well. Tethyn... Oblivion began to rise from his meditative stance, still empty and boundless in his stance, that his began transfixed on changing attire. With his upper body and torso still exposed, the silver haired man reached for his casual cloak, a lighter weight material that was embrodied with onyx scales and ancient markings; a long since forgotten gift he took to hold once more.

 

Proceeding to the corner in which Torin had now been spending fair more then a couple hours reviewing, he first observed with his own eyes. Senses were much more palpable and alive to vision, much more vivid then pure emotions felt. To see was a luxury, not a necessity, and with it would bring great pleasure in using it in such a way as to observe a mind opening up for the first time as this boy had.

 

In a quiet and inviting voice, as if adhering to the shadow's breath and sinking deep into his ears only, Oblivion spoke again with a sweet tongue.

 

"...So, you have taken your first step into a larger world. It is true, every word in that document. It was the same book I read when I was about your age, perhaps younger. The Sith are still present today, but are not common place in today's society. As it seems, growing in numbers and lurking under a blind eye gives us the most freedom; the best cover for other certain plans to come."

 

"Though, that is not your place yet. This race was successful under a certain code, long ago when history was only the beginning of being recorded. It is to this code that we honor, some more then others, and it strictly forbids any humanoid speices thereof to live, much less join the very order which sees its destruction."

 

"...That was then, as rules have little changed, though swayed are those other species who are not hominids. They must be further loyal, further willing to give life and blood to the cause at a moments notice."

 

He began to become silent, then serious, "I must ask you to pledge this now, if you wish to seek my knowledge any further. You must cleanse yourself of physical attachment to this race and receive a mark of redemption... I would perform this myself, but I leave it up for you to decide."

 

The Sith Master lowered an ornate blade, a shortened dagger that was curved and sharpened on three different levels that tappered off at hooked end, adorned with runes and precious metals that would value an entire metropolis' capital for an entire day.

 

"...Cut it off, all of it."

 

After he had presented the blade, his hand formed over the lekku, folding it up into the air before releasing it with a sly grin.

[Torin]

Not sure at first what the Master meant, Torin soon realized when his teacher placed his hand over his lekku. He was to cut off the symbol of his heritage. The very thought of slicing off his lekku had never occured to Torin. It was part of his identity, the one thing that connected him to his parents, his family, and his race.

 

He remembered the words he had recently read, Anger is a living thing. Feed it and it will grow. Torin longed for power, longed to be stronger and worthy. Everything he had just studied in that book he desired with a great passion. He would go to the ends of the universe to acquire the power the book had spoke of even if it meant self mutilation. He asked himself why?, but there was never any real doubt as to what action he was going to take. The desire was there, the passion, the anger it was all present within him now. It had a foot hold inside his soul. There was no turning back.

 

He took the elaborate dagger from the Master's hands and placed it up near the base of his lekku. He was not afraid of the pain he was about to endure, he did not fear the humiliation and ridicule he would suffer from other Twi'leks. That species had abandoned him long ago. He focused only on his anger. He formed it into a desire, a craving for something stronger and greater. With visions of himself sitting upon a thrown controlling the galaxy with the mere wave of his hand, Torin made a strong, swift stroke with the blade. The metal tore through muscle and flesh. Blood dripped down Torin's back, but he made it only half way through with the first cut.

 

The pain was crippling, but he stayed focused. He knew this was a lesson of discipline teaching him to obey the Master's commands, but also a lesson of what it meant to be a Sith. Never relenting, staying focused, and pushing towards one's ultimate goal. Always craving more and never being afraid to sacrifice anything. A true Sith was cut off from emotional attachment. Wih a few more hacking cuts the lekku fell to the ground. The flesh lay lifeless, but Torin was still alive. In fact, he had never felt more so. The pain he was currently experiencing convinced him that his situation was real, not a dream, he really had done it, he really had taken his first step towards true freedom.

 

He looked up towards the Master. Warm blood fell from his wound and rolled down his back forming a pool of thick red liquid on the floor beneath him. "As you wish, Master," Torin said through his teeth. The pain was so intense Torin felt as if he were going to faint, but he held strong and stayed focused. He wanted power and would go to any means to grasp his dreams.

 

((Edited the end. I was cut off earlier and not able to finish this post the way I wanted. Better now))