Silver Linings

[Tristar]

In the times of darkness, it was always good to have some measure of routine back in day to day activities. The flurry of confusion and the dead void filled what little space in the mind and left little for recollection of the past week's events. It rarely took much to destabilize an empire but for whatever reason the mind is wired such as to think that the possibility of reality crumbling around them is a distant prospect. It's a glaring weakness in but a powerful organ within the body, but nothing is entirely flawless in design.
Having relocated to the freezing wastes of Ziost was not the first thing I had in mind- indeed, due to my upbringing in the burning deserts the cold seems even more bitingly cruel to the pale flesh. Mist would frost in the air, water was never lukewarm unless heated and the feet...the extremities were oh so devoid of the usual warmth Korriban offered. If not for the loss of a home and stable foundation, then the aggressors would pay for punishing us all to the frigid wintry wonderland of Ziost. They say Pureblood tribes live here, though I cannot imagine any uncanny resemblance of natural life surviving here, least of all without any technological assistance.
Stygr, the arm of metal forcefully clamped onto the stump of the ghost of my arm would oft freeze, with a thin layer of condensation constantly breaking apart every time I moved it around- at first it seemed amusing, but the mind can take so much sounds of crackling ice before it grew ire of the shrill noise. Meditation was constantly interrupted by the sound and I grew restless with each passing day. Mayhaps I book a shuttle off to Coruscant- at least there the temperatures were bearable.
Time and time has proven however that the best method of dealing with change is by distracting oneself; what better way, might I wonder than to accumulate more fresh powers at one's arsenal of mythical powers? Not much, by a large margin of course. Seated within the vast training hall with its tables and chairs swept to the side, I sat on a chair with my cane straddled across my lap as I crossed a leg over another. My nails had required attention and it took proper care to keep it neat- with a file I began to work it with a bored expression. Sin'ryk should be arriving somewhat late- I have it on good word he's been keeping himself busy with 2 apprentices...and being in contact or one of the powers may be is a constantly demanding job. Sigh.

 

[Darth Maleficar]

Ziost, former capital of the first Sith Empire; all that remains of its former glory are the ruins and numerous Sith tribes that wander the frozen wastes. Whilst the cold didn't vex him as much as it used to years ago, he still found that it annoyed him to no end; however, no longer would he question why his kin had established their capital here. If their enemies had to make a planetside invasion, then Ziost's cold embrace would ruin them; as it would those who were too weak to survive the frozen depths of the planet. If any dared to wonder how the tribals of the planet could live there, it was because they had the strength to do so; theirs was a culture where the strong would prosper.

Yet Sin'ryk was not here to ruminate about Ziost and its relationship to the peoples that called her home; rather, he was here to get someone to ruminate on the deeper areas of their powers. His old Apprentice, Lauke Chaosas; having last seen him during the Invasion of Korriban, he knew from those instants that the Human would come to him for tuition. And so he had, he came to the Red Sith and asked for further tuition in the arcane arts. So he had come here in the end to give this tuition; soon enough he had found his way to the hall where he had would meet his old Apprentice. Entering this chamber, he vocalised his greeting.

"Well met my old friend, I trust that life has yielded many fruits?"

 

[Tristar]

The sight of the old arcanist was a break in the rising uneasiness of being alone- ever the same, his aesthetics were the painful slab of gold and wispy robes though I suppose being a Darth had its allowances and he was far my superior. In no way was I in any position to comment on his appearance for though he may have the uncommon blessing of kindness, he was also given the blessing of pain through poisons. One does not live long without a leash on the tongue and a controller within the mind. Thoughts killed men faster than words and bullets.

The file dropped with a clatter before being kicked away to the side where it skittered underneath a desk pushed to the side of the room, hidden in the dark. I retrieved my cane and stood, tapping the floor with the bottom end of the cane and gave a bow. "Were it so easy to say that, Sin'ryk- or do you prefer your Darth title?" I jested, giving a small hint of a smile as I arched my back up. It had been... a considerable amount of time since our last encounter as teacher and student. Indeed, I remember once we dueled- to which I summarily lost but retained some modicum of honor and my health. Admittedly for a blind man, he saw better than most individuals of my level, which is quite a considerable compliment. Rolling my wrist, I gave him a proper look- time and age wait for no one it seems, but if we were to sit on manners of outward appearances we'd be two very sorry pairs of fools indeed.

"Life goes on- love, lessons and the occasional lesions have scattered marks here and there. Time alone has been nice, though I admit- the loss of Korriban....shame. And you?"

 

[Darth Maleficar]

Sin'ryk chuckled warmly as Lauke greeted him with a question; one that involved whether or not the Red Sith preferred to be known by his new title. Giving a smile, he gave his response.

"As I've said to my other close contacts, you can refer to me by my name when its just us two in the room; outside well...methinks you get the idea. Or perhaps call me whatever you please, but I can't promise the integrity of your tongue after that"

He said with a mischievous tone; though his former apprentice would go on to speak of his life, he felt his mood become slightly soured by the mention of the loss of Korriban. Yet he knew very well that he needs to save that rage and hatred for those who truly deserved its devastating embrace; thinking about it made his eyes briefly flicker red, before he turned his thoughts onto more pressing matters at hand. Lauke had asked him here for further training, and the Darth was obliged to give as was his duty to the Order.

"The loss of Korriban pains me deeply, but my anger and hate is reserved for avenging it; in the meantime, I believe you came seeking knowledge from me. Is it your skill in the deepest arts of the Dark Side that require further honing; t'would make sense given my position within the Sith."

He said, finishing with another mischievous grin.

 

[Tristar]

Oh how I've missed his quite banter- quite, the man has a certain unique quality in him that makes every comment a passing joy. Not entirely truthful but we've managed to push aside our differences during our first encounter. Flexing my shoulders, I watched him further before breaking my gaze and dropping a small cough. It was time to get it started with, as they said.
"'Tis true, yes. I find it better to expand one's repertoire when possible- you never know when's the next interview as they say." Did they really? I've been out of touch with society these days that it's hard to gauge what's hip around town. Problem with the Sith that they constantly changed- power figures, locations and styles. One day we could be rockin' a gothic look, the next we'd be screaming bloody Mary from our blood red speeder. No matter, one's style does not reflect on the society that he lives in, so says the scathing hermit.
The cane flips and the end is caught in my hands with a clap in the silence of a dimly lit room. The Force was a sensitive creature and it needed the right conditions before you could temper one's abilities. It didn't matter how close you were to the influence of the Force- you never treat it as a base servant and instead as a trusted, but shy ally- friend even, for those who spent hours in solitude with the Force. Meditation. Such a peaceful activity to relax, ease off the muscles and let the passions boil in a cooker. "Well. Magic and power for none makes Jane a dead nun. Let's get on with our first ability, yes?" Anxious, for I had still to learn the intricacies of Sith Magic.

 

[Darth Maleficar]

Whilst Sin'ryk had never heard the last phrase before, it amused him enough to elicit a chuckle from the Darth's lips; truly, there were many things he could pass on to his former Apprentice. One also didn't need telepathy to divine the Human's desire to begin crafting his repertoire of Arcane knowledge; one could not consider themselves a Sorcerer if they knew not of the art itself. Reaching out to the Dark Side, focussing on the flame within his mind's eye, the Red Sith reached out to the depths of the Dark Side. With the Force singing and the air rippling, an orb of fulminating darkness manifested as he cradled his hands together. Drops of pure darkness pattered onto the floor, dissipating several seconds after landing.

"It is then to Magic that we begin your studies upon; as it is a subject where knowledge is just as important as the techniques themselves, we will need to first refresh your mind of the lessons it had gleaned before. Tell me Lauke, what do you remember of that lesson back on Korriban, when we've discussed the knowledge of the Arcane arts?"

 

[Tristar]

A year? 8 months? It had been somewhere that long since our last session involving Sith Magic and the days under the hot Korriban suns were almost lost in a daze of nostalgia. It seemed distant, far off- as though it were but a dream within another dream. It was a horrible description of what I am in the midst of experiencing, but surely were there another word to sum it all up, I would have utilized it. As it stood, there was none, so we shall leave it at that. Still, we had the troubling matter of recollecting previous lessons, to which I am somewhat unsure off.
"I..the devil take my memory. Gah." It was a hard thing to admit but it took a lot of courage and humility to admit one's fault in a situation- I am a better person than that. The time had passed where humility was a far concept and these were difficult times, in more ways than merely the frigid temperatures of Ziost. I cracked my knuckles and flexed my fingers in frustration as wracking my brain proved an arduous and honestly dull task. In the end, I shrugged and sighed. "You'll have to refill the container, I'm afraid."

 

[Darth Maleficar]

The High Arcanist simply smiled as Lauke stated that he had forgotten what they learned; instead, the knowledge of something else had been imparted. Humility, for his former apprentice had about as much of it as the Sith kings of old...which is to say very little or none at all. That this had manifested meant that there was more that the Human had learned; for now, it is what he will learn at this moment that is key here. Still maintaining his warm façade whilst acknowledging that it had been years, Sin'ryk proceeded to speak.

"Then I will be more than happy to refresh your memory...though I am amused that one such as you could have forgotten it." He said with a light-hearted chortle. "Anyways, Sith Magic is the purest expression of the power of the Dark Side; its practitioners capable of setting stars ablaze and even raise the dead to serve them. Though spells such as these have been lost and forgotten, there still remains plenty of knowledge that we can draw upon to this day. Through one's connection to the Dark Side, melded with incantation and ritual, you can bring forth spells that can rend both body and mind, as well enhancing the more...arcane powers outside this particular discipline."

After that was said, the Red Sith's tone then began to grow more serious, eyes narrowing to convey the notion that he is staring into Lauke's very soul...which was more than true to be exact, given his disposition; the next part was very crucial in the pursuit of the Arcane.

"Yet such power has a price and a certain number of risks that follow. The price is this; given that a Sorcerer draws upon the deepest reaches of the Dark Side, one may find its corruption seeping into themselves much sooner than their peers; unless you are of the blood of Korriban, you will find that the Dark Side will demand its toll of you much more quickly. As for the risks themselves, I leave them to you to answer."

 

[Tristar]

An expression of the Dark Side, drawing upon one's connection to the Force at the risk of falling prey to a darker entity than that of the Emperors of the Sith Empire long before- I let the jibe slip past without confrontation. It honestly wasn't worth bringing it up or even going the lengths to provoke certain death. He was a Darth and was allowed his jests here and there. I gave him the signs of an appreciative students- the oh yes's, grateful nods, submissive stance and the odd chuckle. "Of course," I let slip, "How could I forget? My memory, it fails me. Blast it."

Fingers wrapped around the handle of the walking stunt, I closed my eyes and breathed deep. Meditation's an easy enough technique and serves me well enough in times of great need I suppose, but in this case...the swirling darkness wasn't seen or felt, but rather sensed. An obvious enough answer to a question: Was I evil? Every instinct screamed "Yes!", but some part of me feared that benevolence lurked somewhere- not that being good was a negative trait in this context, but rather how it might interfere with the learning process. Evil clung to me like a stench of a homeless drunk, only more a sweeter scent and less a disgusting social loafer, drunk on his arse.

Light seeped into my field of view as I split my eyelids wide open, a smile tempting to slide up on my face. Passive-neutral expression I told myself- image to maintain. "Shall we begin then? What I learn today, I leave into your capable hands. Your student awaits his first skill."

 

[Darth Maleficar]

Sin'ryk knew; yes, his jibes had made their mark and Lauke did nothing save but mask them. Twas an exercise, designed to hone the restraint of the individual on the receiving end of such jokes; given the fact that they draw upon the more primal aspect of sentient nature, learning such a thing was vital for any Sith. Even more so for those who favour the subtle over the overt. When the Human jumped straight to the point, the Red Sith was all too happy to oblige.

"Before we begin learning spells," he began "you must first hone your mind, to prepare it in reaching out towards the deeper darkness." The High Arcanist gestured with his fingers towards Lauke's face, he knew what he was going to say next.

"Close your eyes, breath in the Dark Side that resonates within Ziost's air; whilst not as potent as Korriban, the old capital still has a power all its own. Yeeeessss reach out to it, let your conscious brush upon it; see the very power that you wish to wield so that you may know it. As you touch it you will hear the Force sing as grasp the true depths of the Dark Side."

 

[Tristar]

Eyes shut, the room and sounds disappeared in a simple command to the muscles- all that mattered was the cool sensation somewhere deep inside, deeper than the beating heart that gave me life and warmth. Something rallied, a deep darkness that stirred. It sniffed curiously and tasted the darkness within the lingering touch of an abstract but powerful concept. Evil riled up, the utter darkness that lurked the corners of Ziost. It felt wild, unruly- the mark of several hundred years of passing Warriors who let their unbridled rage consume them and forever be held as great and mighty champions of their time.

Foolishness that influenced the darkness, or was it the other way round? It felt familiar yet different than the original touch of Korriban's evil. Metallic to the tongue but softer than Korriban's harsher sensation. If this was evil, it was bitterness that I tasted- something that is deemed appropriate given the bitter desolation that covered Ziost's frozen landscapes. The knowledge of such kept my emotions afloat, and I smiled genuinely- I would never know what it would feel to not enjoy power or sadism, for that would be akin to ripping a soul from a man's body.

"Aye, I feel it Sin'ryk. Bitter to the tongue, malleable as the Force too. What next? "

 

[Darth Maleficar]

"Next," began the Red Sith, "we begin learning your first spell." Reaching out to the Dark Side, revelling in its darkest depths, Sin'ryk drew upon it. Muttering an incantation, the words allowed for the shaping of spheres of Dark Side energies that seemed to suck in every single scrap of light that drew near his hands. These orbs screamed with otherworldly hatred, a fell sound that could be heard both physically and mentally. With a thrust of his hand, the High Arcanist unleashed the blast of screaming energies that completely annihilated a dummy it was aimed at. Content that his demonstration had made its point, Sin'ryk returned his attentions to his former apprentice.

"That was the Sutta Chwituskak, the Bolt of Hatred. As its name suggests, this spell draws upon the depths of the caster's own hatred to bring its full power to bear. To perform it, the Sorcerer who is learning it must make use of an incantation that safely allows the bolt to be cast. As your skill progresses, you will no longer need an incantation to manifest the bolt, but it will allow you to create a considerably powerful blast. The incantation one makes use of is up to them; their hatred, their words."

 

[Tristar]

Even as the wave of darkness washed over me, the impact of the bolt was more than one was both physical and mental- excitement flurried and became the dominant source of ecstasy within my mind. Such power! Such images of grandeur and a terrifying magnitude of an explosion that surged forth as a manifestation of pure hatred....and such little to be done to call it. I was trembling on the inside, passive on the outside, and I yearned to try it, Sutta Chwituskak.

To cast was to draw from the sense of hate- an infinite resource that lurked in the depths of my black heart. Yet what was the more intriguing fact was how versatile it was; the incantation was up to their caster, customized to whatever they wished to be the words of death. Have I a phrase for the bolt of death? Perhaps, something will come to me as I gather up the swirling red haze, feeding off the anger and negative emotions as it bubbled to immense degrees of volatility. My right hand began to tremble uncontrollably- what was this? This anger and hatred I was collecting, was this their side effect? What should I do? I swiveled my gaze to the dummy targets, the closest to Sin'ryk's original target half scorched from his blast.

It wouldn't stand.

Clenching my fist, I raised it and took a deep breath, channeling several years worth of hatred and pessimism, anger and fury into a singular orb that rest in the cage of fingers, essence leaking out. "Mairfidh mo phian!" At once a sphere of deadly energy spat out from my palm and flew straight to its target, where upon contact it shattered the wooden body and sent small splinters flying everywhere- unlike Sin'ryk's bolt, mine appeared to be more..violent? Explosive? Whereas his bolt seem to be more finely tuned to wiping the dummy from existence.....interesting observation. "That seems...productive. But I feel rather drained of my emotions- that a side effect of the bolt?"

 

[Darth Maleficar]

Sin'ryk watched, watched as the energies of the Dark Side swirled this place and were channelled through his former apprentice. His second sight watched as the sphere of screaming energies engulfed the targeting dummy, reducing it to nothing as the Dark Side ravaged it form. After this task was performed, Lauke proceeded to turn to the Red Sith once more with a question; he enquired as to whether or not it was normal to feel as though his hatred had been drained. Given his expertise on the matter, the High Arcanist provided him with an answer.

"Your hatred is still there, it merely found an outlet for expression; as with any emotion, expressing it makes it feel less intense...but such a thing will return in do time."

After that was said, he then turned his attention to continuing the lesson.

"You've done well manifesting one of the many overt expressions of the Dark Side's true power...but now we have onto something more subtle. A Sith Sorcerer's assault on his foes is two-pronged, striking at both the body and the mind; this next power focusses on the mind. Tell me Lauke, what do you know of Summon Fear?"