Tempering the Blade (Asan Vahin's training)

[Will]

He stood in the training hall in the bowels of wherever Orion had taken him. He was to be trained. Apparently, he had powers. If this training enabled him to spill more blood, he would accept it. They had taken his weapon, he would have to forge a new one. He wore his tan slacks and tabi, with the thick coiling rope belt, the same clothes he had been taken in. He wanted to kill. Kill and maim. Kill, and maim, and burn.

 

[Ols]

Nescius Caedo was behind the new acolyte. He had obviously not seen his new master lurking in the shadows. And why should he? Nescius was a phenomenal assassin, capable of eluding great masters of even his own trade. Let alone this young, raw recruit of their great order. Stepping forward from the shadows, loudly enough to indicate for the acolyte to turn to face him, Nescius surveyed his apprentice. He looked strong and able physically, and his presence in the force was like rumbling thunder, but Nescius immediately doubted his mental capacity for the trials the dark side forced upon oneself. No, in training under Master Caedo, this specimen would be broken. A creature born out of havoc, bred in fire and murder. No matter. Nescius could refine him. He would either be refined, be made into a great crusader, or he would die an acolyte, Nescius was sure of that.

Nescius raised his hand ever so slightly and a footlocker floated to sit on the dusty floor next to his apprentice. He then cleared his throat, "You shall put all your possessions, clothes and whatever else you have into this locker," he instructed clearly.

 

[Will]

Asan turned to survey his master. A coward, sneaking around in the darkness. No matter. He could almost taste the arrogance he exuberated. The fire in his eyes flared even more, if possible, but he nodded. ''As you wish'', his thickly accented basic rumbling in his throat like the rumble of seismic events. He removed his trous, shoes and socks, placing them in the footlocker. He saw no point in this simpering posing. But, in order to get through this, he would go along with it.

 

[Ols]

As the student placed his things into the footlocker, Nescius addressed his statement with a controlled, demanding tone, "Whenever you address me you will call me 'master'." He spoke icily, not for any egotistical value, but to add to his students breaking. To make him realise that at the moment he was a nothing, a mere trifle in the force, and those of Nescius' band were to be respected. He would learn to respect power and talent in the force as it deserved. For one can only hope to master the force once they respect and revere its power, its subtlety and its ebb and flow to the deserving few. His apprentice stood back up, having put everything in the footlocker, and he stood before his master naked, yet still proud, if a little agitated. Impressive thought the master. With a flick of his wrist, the footlocker slammed shut and then slammed up against the far wall.

"Now follow," Nescius stated, walking past the hulking figure and into the catacombs of the great building. Through towards dungeons. Old hovels, stinking of the shit of prisoners and corpses that littered the area. The stench was foul and overwhelming, not that Nescius paid any attention to it. Nescius picked a winding, confusing path through the labyrinthine passageways, not that his apprentice would have to remember the way out. His challenge was not to escape. As they walked Nescius spoke, over his shoulder, but not turning his head, "Acolyte, before we truly begin your training, you shall have to prove your worth. It may come as a shock to you, but your predecessors as my students, acolytes and crusaders alike, have died performing these very tasks. In fact, you'll meet two of your predecessors when we arrive."

It was not that far through the jungle of stone. They arrived at a dark and dingy antechamber, beyond which was a small doorway., barely large enough for a short man to clamber through. Nescius gestured for his apprentice to enter. Inside he would find a small cramped chamber, totally dark other than for the few ebbs of light allowed by the doorway he would clamber through. Inside, other than the stone, was a damp muddy flooring, dirty and foul smelling, and, cramped into either side were his predecessors: a twi'lek male, barely twenty-five years of age, so foul and rotten that the corpes was barely recognisable as his species, and on the other side a human girl, unlikely even a legal adult. Her body rotting also. Both of them as bereft of possession and clothing as the new apprentice, but both too weak for the Bogan. Nescius waited for the apprentice to enter.

 

[Will]

Asan registered the surroundings as he made his way through the labyrinthine passages, cramped to his hulking frame. Fe obediantly followed 'master' to the antechamber as he gave some speech about those who died in the attempt of his trials.

He did not listen. He would succeed. He stepped into the small, dingy room, its miniscular proportions making the Sephi seem titanic. Nothing disturbed him. Asan was a killer, and the stench of death was nothing more than commonplace all thoughout his life.

''And what must i do...master?'' He growled, his black eyes turning to the man.

 

[Ols]

"Survive," Nescius replied flatly. He raised his arm, "before you begin, I shall give you one piece of advice. I know you have had little contact with the force, even less consciously. Well I'm sure you've heard the phrase: necessity is the mother of all creation and discovery, for your sake take it to heart," his advice was cryptic. Yet that was just one more part of the challenge. Proving his intelligence, proving his worth, proving his versatility.

"I'll be back in three days, to see what remains of you," he said and then, Nescius flicked his wrist and a great heavy stone built within the doorway of the small room that the Sephi was in came clattering down. A twist of one finger and it was locked into place. The room the apprentice was in was sealed shut. The walls immovable. Nescius had not told him the rules of the game, again the Sephi would have to work them out for himself. The one goal was survival until Nescius returned, as he had said. And the apprentice would have to work out how. The catches would become apparent to the student: there was no food or drink in there at all, he would have to do without (if he tried to eat the corpses then he would succumb to all manner of illness, and moreover Nescius wrath for ruining the decor), but three days was not that long to be without nourishment; it was stiflingly stuffy, hot and smelly, and muddy, not exactly life threatening issues, but enough to make the experience that much more unpleasant, that much harder; it was not big enough for a regular man, let alone the Sephi, to stand up straight, to stretch or to sleep, to add to his discomfort; he was buried alive in a tomb with the dead, an experience enough to terrify plenty of people.

Oh, and once the room was sealed, it was airtight. The Sephi would run out of air very, very soon, and he would have to deal with that. Not that Nescius had not already told him how, he would just have to decipher his clue before that happened. Not that Master Caedo would not be on hand to help, as he retired through the catacombs to a meditation chamber, deep in the lair, where he knelt and focused upon his apprentice, watching his plight.

 

[Will]

As the door shut, and lock clicked, Asan looked around the dingy room. No food. No water. For three days.

He ruled out smashing the walls down, he had seen their thickness as he walked in. What had he said? 'Necessity was the mother of invention and discovery'. Orion had taught him how to meditate, saying he could slow all bodily functions right down. Hopefully enough to survive this.

He sat, remembering as Orion said. He had to focus upon something. He focussed upon a smudge on the opposite wall, slowly letting his breathing slow down, as he dirfted into a trancelike state.

 

[Ols]

Well he had certainly grasped the concept of the challenge, Nescius thought as he focused on the small room with his own meditations, as though peering inside. But three days was a long time with no distraction, no room to stretch, sitting on what was essentially the mud and filth of prisoners and acolytes alike, the unholy smell of rotting corpses (not to mention that many could be driven insane by merely being locked in an empty, smell free small dark room, this challenge separated the weak from those worth training right at the start) not to mentioned he also had no food or water and an ever dwindling supply of air. Even slowing his body functions, unless he was a master of the great art of morichro and Nescius just had not realised (unlikely, given his lack of training), would not preserve the air in the room for three days. The breathable air would last a little longer, but not long enough. He would have to delve further still, he would have to prove he did not need to rely on just teaching but that he could endeavor to teach himself in a time of need, a skill that was invaluable and completely essential. Nescius may intervene at some point, of course, should he feel it necessary (not that he had any qualms about letting an apprentice die) but for now he would leave the apprentice to stew on his lonesome, in the cesspit of filth and mind numbing monotony.

 

[Will]

Asan felt his body slow, and a modicum of calm enter his wrathful soul. His meditation went ever deeper, his body slowing. This must have continued for hours.

Gradually, another feeling overtook him. Great lethargy. He had been told of this. He was falling into a meditation coma. Force users could survive these for months. The fatigue increased over a period of hours, before even thought was too much effort, and he entered the coma.

 

[Ols]

Impressive though it was that the student had discovered how to fall into a force coma, it wouldn't save him. In fact, unless Nescius intervened, that room would become his grave. Indeed, force users could survive for great lengths of time in a coma, provided they were in a place of breathable atmosphere, for he was still breathing. The Sephi had not delved into the realms of morichro, and such a difficult and obscure power eluded most masters use, let alone one with no formal training. And so, soon now, as hours passed, he would run out of oxygen and would choke on the unfamiliar abundance of carbon dioxide, and other gases.

Nescius focused on his apprentice in the force, to give him a little nudge, a nudge to wake him up before it was too late, and instruct him what to do. Another cryptic aid.

:: Confront your problems head on ::

 

[Will]

Asan awoke with a start. His master had nudged him awake. He was obviously wrong, and running out of time. He looked around. The obvious problem was lack of air. If he could stop the body's need for oxygen, he would be set. Or at least numb the instinct to shut down. He remained seated, turning focus inward. He let the wisps of air remaining in his lungs sustain him. His breathing slowed...

And slowed...

...And stopped.

 

[Ols]

And so his apprentice had clambered over the first hurdle. Just in time too, by Nescius' reckoning, for he would be running dangerously low on air soon. But holding that level of concentration, that level of discipline would perhaps be as hard, if not harder than what he had already done. The first day was nearly done, but two more of unmoving, solemn meditation upon the power. And even though it was possible, it was surely uncomfortable. Nescius would not interfere to make it harder, not yet anyway, but simply observe and see how his apprentice fared for the next day.

 

[Will]

The first day was over. Asan had to battle through two more.

The second day was far harder. He wanted to move, stretch his legs, to avoid cramp, but if he did, he would rapidly asphyxiate and die, as breath control would be lost. His brow furrowed and forehead glistened with perspiration.

 

[Ols]

Yet still Asan persisted. Perhaps he was not as much of a lost cause as Nescius had first thought. Yet two days our of three was not success. Others had managed two days out of three and gone on to die in the stuffy hell hole in which Asan now took residence. Indeed he would have to push himself yet, always concentrating, calming himself and forcing the very air left to him to sustain him. Only then would he last another twenty-four hours and not end up like the other occupants of the tomb Nescius had locked him in.

 

[Will]

The second day passed. Now it was the third. Four hours into the third day, Asan felt irritation in his lungs. This grew into a burning sensation. Sheer determination kept Asan from gasping in. The furrwed brow of concentration transformed into a rictus grin of pain. Asan would get through. He would show that arrogant sack of flesh outside that Asan was more than worthy for the Bogan.

 

[Ols]

Unmoved from his meditations from the entire time his apprentice had spent in the chamber, Nescius felt the pain of his apprentice. And the anger that it brought in him. And the desire to overcome the pain, to complete the challenge, even animosity at Nescius himself. But Nescius knew full well either the boy would become a great crusader under his training or he would die in the attempt, there was to be no other outcome. And so far, he was striving for the former, yet barely avoiding the latter. As his entire training would be. Still Nescius would leave him in there until his seventy-two hours were completed. This was only the first challenge of many for the boy, and all he had done in completing it was to prove that he was about to take on the next one. But the hours had passed and the boy had not yet died.

Nescius stood and walked back through the caverns to the tomb he had left him in and raised his hand. The door unlocked and slid to one side, allowing a stray beam of light to fall across the Sephi's kneeling body.

"No peace, only suffering," Nescius said, simply.

 

[Will]

As air flooded the cramped room, Asan grunted, clambering out from the chamber into the light. He would not show any pain. Pain was a weakness. His master quoted the first line of the code he had seen somewhere on Orion's ship as he was bound in chains forged of force alchemy. He understood.

He was ready to take the next step on the path to power.

 

[Ols]

Nescius offered his apprentice a pair of shorts, similar to cycling shorts, that would protect his dignity, and keep any vital areas from getting in the way in future tasks, before turning on his heel and walking through the lower levels into a large circular room with a high ceiling and little light. The room was shadowy, with a door opposite the one they had just come into. Nescius raised his arms and made each door close. He then looked at his apprentice and kicked him, hard and fast, in the stomach. That would hurt after three days of exertion and hunger and thirst. He dropped a dagger before the Sephi, who had doublec over on his knees, before the master leapt back a meter or so and stood, unarmed, in a defensive stance.

 

[Will]

Asan doubled over, glaring at the knife. He had been given little more than a letter opener. He could break it in his fist, if he so wished. He believed he grasped the nature of this exercise. Score a hit. He would enjoy this. He charged. knife in hand, scything it straight at the master.

 

[Ols]

As the sephi powered towards him, Nescius had only to balance his weight on the balls of his feet and sidestep the heavy handed slash, twisting to elbow the apprentice hard in the small of his back as he dodged the attack. At least he had picked up on the early stage of the game. Now it was time to really see what drove the boy.

"If you attack me again, I will not hold back," Nescius said, flatly, still standing in his defensive stance. Would Asan understand the game?