Tempering the Blade (Asan Vahin's training)

[Will]

''I wish to learn to channel the force, and how to wield the lightsabres of your order, so that i can tear down the veneer of harmony this galaxy cowers behind, and reveal it for what it truly is.'' Asan replied.

 

[Ols]

"Is that singlehandedly speaking?" Nescius replied, scathingly, "And I'm going to need to see a little more planning and preparation on your part before I let you loose with that plan. If I'm going to bother to train you, there's no point in me sending you out there with such ridiculous ideas. The first thing you must realise, with big plans and ideas, is that there is no I in them. Real heroes of the battling sides are unsung. Real heroes know their places in the lines of battle, they know to stay quiet, to get the job done. The are nameless, faceless and lack glory and fame. Heroes rarely succeed, and even more rarely do they conquer."

 

[Will]

''Of course, master. I did not mean single handedly. I am but one organism in the vastness of the galaxy. Alone, i am nothing, but with my dark brethern with me, we would be able to work towards these desires.''

Asan mentally berated himself for how he had presented his response. He had been to used to talking simply of himself, and single facets of actions, not the greater picture.

 

[Ols]

'You are not nothing," Nescius replied, "the second you believe that, you become nothing. Alone you can do plenty of things, your possibilities are endless. But in any situation you have to realise your actual limitations, consider how to overcome them. How you must achieve your goals, how you take up your destiny is in your hands, but there are pitfalls everywhere."

 

[Will]

''I see, Master. I must not fall to pride, or excess humility.''

 

[Ols]

"Ideally, you must not fall at all," Nescius said, flatly. He turned and reached into a locker in the corner of the chamber and withdrew a plain, thin metal cylinder, tossing it to the Sephi. Nescius then took a similar, but more intricately made and ornate, cylinder and held it in his right hand.

"Make me switch my lightsaber on," Nescius instructed.

 

[Will]

Asan thumbed the activation stud, the blade hissing to life. He aimed a savage swipe at his master's neck. He would force his opponent into a situation in which he had to activate his lightsabre.

 

[Ols]

As Asan lumbered forward with a brutal and fast, albeit obvious attack, Nescius let his knees buckle and he perched in a low stance, well under the lightsaber blade which hissed harmlessly across where his neck had been moments before. In one fluid motion, pivoting on the ball of his foot as he turned away from the strike, he lashed out low with his other leg, kicking the Sephi's ankle out from beneath his considerable frame.

"I don't think that will work, acolyte."

 

[Will]

Asan hefted himself up. ''Very well. You could not best me with a lightsabre, anyway, master. It is your weakness. You have no skill with the blade. You, the most famous of all whom seek to expunge weakness, have your own, gaping flaw.''

 

[Ols]

"Interesting technique," Nescius replied, "Dun Moch was a good choice, not the best or easiest to accomplish the goal, but a good one nonetheless. However, it is a technique to use with caution. You must be careful when you use it in actual combat, for unless an opponent has begun to be demoralised, you might well spur them on to victory, incensing them, rather than disintegrating their spirit."

He paused, before adding, "Whilst Dun Moch was a good idea, there was a simpler solution. Rather than accusing me of weakness, rather than attempting to incense me into attacking, you could have simply demonstrated weakness yourself. You must be prepared to do even the most humiliating things, feigning weakness being one of the less so, to achieve your ends. You must be able to sink to any low, and keep your ability to rise back. Do you understand?"

 

[Will]

''I understand master.'' Asan inclined his head, mildly proud of receiving even the morsel of praise his master had given him.

''What do you wish of me now, master?''

 

[Ols]

Nescius looked at the Sephi standing before him and took a sheet of thick paper from his robes, handing it to the apprentice, "I have a mission for you, and you shall complete it with another student of mine. All the details are on this piece of paper, destroy it once you have memorised them. Take whatever weapons from the armoury you feel you will require. A ship is waiting for you in the hanger bay."

 

[Will]

Asan returned to the temple of the dark jedi triumphant. However, he did not let the pride control him. He returned, to train. He would be a crusader...

...even if it killed him.

 

[Ols]

((Assume you fought and killed the NPC Jedi I created, the Togruta Syna Bastro.))

"Welcome back," said Nescius to the hulking Sephi, "and congratulations upon your success. The package has been secured where you left it, and its contents are now in very safe hands." The high lord of the Bogan did not need to qualify that said safe hands were those of his own. Not that Asan would realise it, but his mission would have great consequences in years to come. He had provided Nescius with yet another ace in his hand, although the game that was being played at the moment stated that aces were low. No matter, the rules would alter as would his far away proteges until the ace was a trump.

"You are learning well, but there is no time to get carried away with assumptions of power. As far as you've come, the road ahead lies awaiting your tread. You may need to arm yourself."

As he spoke these last words, the chamber seemed to grow dark, even more cavernous than it first seemed. Nescius dissipated, as if dissolving into thin air, and from the shadows behind him stepped what should have been a very dead Jedi: Syna Bastro.

She was a Togruta Jedi Knight, her orange-red skin radiating her youthful exuberance, as she was still quite young at only twenty-four years of age. Standing at a mere five and a half feet, including her pertruding montrals, what she lacked in height she made up for with her pretty features and vibrant skin tone, the rusty red contrasting with the bony white of her lekku. She was clothed in beige trousers, brown boots and a light brown, sleeveless top, that left her flat stomach exposed. On her hands, she wore brown leather, mechanic-style fingerless gloves, that extended halfway along each forearm. But as she stepped closer, the radiance that had been there on Eriadu was visibly gone. She looked set, her hope and smile was gone. Yet fire seemed to still burn in her eyes. Her clothes were torn, her right boot scuffed, her left missing completely. Grazes were on her knuckles and knees, cuts and bruises littering her arms, stomach and even face. In one chapped hand a lightsaber hilt nestled.

"You killed me," she said softly, her voice laced with a much grimmer tone than anything she had said on Eriadu, "now you shall atone."

She raised her empty left hand and a wall of powerful force energy leapt out, knocking Asan flying into the back wall. A blue blade lanced forth from her lightsaber and she dropped into a combative stance.

 

[Will]

Asan dropped to a battle stance, whipping the hand-and a half lightsabre hilt. ''i gutted you like a pig once, I shall do it again." He let the essence in his head speak.

KILL! MAIM! BURN!!

He rushed forward, using the strength of his swing to attempt to knock the weaker foes arms aside. He aided his move by letting force energy flow through his muscles, increasing speed and strength. Asan had limited force skill, but in body enhancement he excelled.

 

[Ols]

The apprentice was quick to his anger. The words in his mind seemed to ring out in the force, and Nescius, the conductor of the scene, cringed internally. As Asan rushed forwards in attack, the Jedi calmly waited for him to become committed to his speed. His blade about to swing, mere feet from her, she calmly sidestepped and allowed his attack to fizz through the thin air. With his defenseless side to her, namely the back of him, she would have had the opportunity of a crucial blow had her blade been held in a two handed grip. As it was, she did not let herself hesitate and drove an elbow strike, backed up with her lightsaber hand, into the small of Asan's back. Without the power of the force, the preciseness of the blow, coupled with impressive strength for a slight girl, would have been enough to send most staggering. With a force focused boost, it would send Asan reeling.

Nescius had his voice ring out, echoey, in the chamber: "Let your anger drive you, not control you."

 

[Will]

Asan juddered forward, spinning around to face the foe. He exhaled slowly. The rage of the voice becoming softer, more something in the back of his head. He moved forward, jabbing the blade, then swinging it low to perform a hamstringing move.

 

[Ols]

Bringing her flashing blue blade to bear in both hands, Nescius controlling her every movement like a puppeteer, her form was inch perfect. Rather than connecting with Asan's powerful strikes, as she had done at first on Eriadu, and being sent staggering away from the force, her defensive parry was angled. Their lightsabers connected with a loud crackle, and instead of being clubbed back, Asan's strike slid along the length of the blade and slipped off harmlessly on the other side of her legs, a move that would send Asan clumsily off balance. She flicked her blade up and aimed a quick stab at his forward shoulder, the one angled downwards from his strike.

As she was not a real being, but a construct of Nescius' through the force, her lightsaber would do no physical damage. But if her blade did connect with Asan, he would feel the pain from a real lightsaber strike. As the fight went on, if Asan did lose, Nescius could only hope that in the pain, Asan's mental strength would prevail, as it could well send him into shock, or indeed instant death if his body felt that it had, for example, been decapitated.

 

[Will]

Asan grunted as the apparition forced it's blade through his shoulder. He rolled out of the way, reanalyzing his foe. This was not the weakling Jedi he had faced, but a construct of Necius, a master, and far more accomplished in the nuances of battle than he. He came back at her, leg scything to knock her off her feet. He waited until she made a move, aiming to strike as her feet moved, when she was of balance and vulnerable.

 

[Ols]

((HE'S ALIVE!!!))

Nescius noted the acolyte now choose to hold himself back rather than simply charging in as he had done before. He was learning. The kick lashed out, and the Syna appartion, keeping her lightsaber vertically upwards, nimbly hopped over the powerful kick, and as she came to land, brought her weapon around in a defensive stance, waiting for his next attack.