A Helping Hand and a Fresh Eye

[Pureblood-Sin]

The light burnt through Sin'ryk's eyelids as he left the realm of dreams. Instinctively, he flexed his fingers; expecting no response from his burnt stump that ended at the inner end of his wrist. The Red Sith remembered frowning as the healers told him that his hand could not be salvaged since the spores of Drongar had badly damaged the blood vessels within it, meaning that the hand would have been dangerous to re-attach. Instead, Sin'ryk had requested a gold-plated, Sith-rune carved durasteel prosthetic with sensory capability and a velvety palm and under-fingers; in exchange for several hundred credits and his knowledge of the healing and poisoning properties of plants and animals. A dulled metallic tap and the feeling of a smooth surface answered the Pureblood's command. He raised his arm, dully remembering that he had requested it in the first place. It was made to his specifications; it was made tridactyl, just like his old hand. Save for the golden, rune-carved surface and the red velvet palms. Sin'ryk stroked the artificial limb, the metal tingled at the feeling of flesh over it. The claws were much more sharper than his old hand. Speaking of which, he swung his head around; catching sight of the tridactyl hand preserved in a golden liquid. Now he remembered, he actually requested the doctors to preserve it for him so as to serve as an extra motivation to work harder. Sin'ryk then heard the sound of a heavy snore and wove his head around to see Vyrzen sound asleep; the Pureblood could not make out the right side of the Zabrak's face.

 

[Negative Blessing]

Upon returning to the medical ship, Vyrzen had been relived of the Pureblood and he was ushered away to a bacta tank to have his eye flushed of any spores that could have invaded the wound. He spoke briefly to his Master through a holovid and knew what he wanted for his right eye. While in the tank, he fell into a meditation trance and then suddenly began to feel tired. He knew surgery was in his future.

He slowly began to wake up an as he opened his eyes, the images were different from his left eye and his right eye. His left eye perceived everything natural but his right eye was producing something different. During the surgery, his right eye socket was now playing host to a hi-sense enhancement that showed images in red. Also, he noticed that everything was not only enhanced in terms of images from his new right eye but it acted like some sort of camera device. It began to zoom in and out at will; something he would need to learn to control.

Sitting up on the bed, he turned his head to the left and saw empty beds but then he felt a familiar presence in the force and turned his head to the right and saw the Pureblood now sporting a golden hand. Vyrzen let a round of laughter and after it subsided, he said, "There is a nickname somewhere in your new future, mate."

 

[Bubák]

Not wasting any time, the Mon Cal immediately embarked on a journey to a medical ship that hosted his apprentice. The Sith Crusader was in a good mood, despite his apprentice being seriously wounded, as he knew Vyrzen had managed to win a fight against two other Acolytes who teamed up against him in the Crucible tournament. This spoke highly of the young Zabrak's skills, something Avreet was very proud of. Although the boy had lost his eye in a rather embarassing fashion, he defeated an apprentice of a Darth and won the first round of the tournament, earning himself a reward from his Master. A certain Dark Jedi who called herself Sith would no doubt award the Zabrak with six Sith pureblood whores to have sex with, but Avreet did not share the opinion. The Mon Calamari, being above such primitive urges and thinking with his brain instead of his sexual organ, wanted something that could be called a reward. Something practical and useful.

Docking next to the medical ship, the Mon Calamari Sith made his way through the docking bridge and boarded the bigger vessel, being greeted by a doctor in white coat. Avreet recognized the man, it was the same one he spoke to immediately after seeing Vyrzen's injury. Avreet was adamant, requesting the same cybernetic eye as his own (much smaller version, of course) for his apprentice, even contacting the man who had helped him to learn how to control all of its functions. It'd take time, it'd be hard, but a Sith could do anything.

After being informed of the operation's success, Avreet followed the man through an empty corridor, his heavy cloak hiding the twin lightsabers on the belt. When the doctor stopped in front of a door, Avreet gave him a nod and confidently entered the room. His apprentice, sitting on a bed, let out a laughter, something surprising considering what happened to him, but Vyrzen had every right to have such a joyful mood. Avreet paced past the bed with a Sith pureblood on it, only briefly glancing at him with his left eye as he approached his apprentice. "So my apprentice returns victorious from the battle. Fighting against all odds yet still prevailing. Very good." Giving Vyrzen a brief and formal smile, the amphibian reached into his cloak and pulled out a package. "You will not get any official reward for winning the first round. I cannot let you walk away entirely empty handed though. In this package, you will find a very special cloak... the same I have. Wear it with pride and know that you have proven much...," Avreet placed the package next to the Zabrak, "By the way, a certain specialist will be here soon to teach you basics of handling your new eye." There was another matter Avreet needed to adress that concerned Vyrzen's new eye, yet the thought of ruining the Zabrak's mood in its best did not sit right with Avreet. For now, the Mon Cal's right eye stared right into the Zabrak's cybernetic orb. It was strange, his apprentice losing the same eye as he had.

 

[Dmitri]

Under the disguise of Ran na-Mevrain, Geist Weiss was serving as Master of Ceremonies for The Crucible. Already two Forges had finished. The first had been the Forge of Earth, with Arane'zahn seizing victory. Now its elemental counterpart had finished, taken by Vyrzen. Despite Vyrzen's opponent being a student of Geist's, the alchemist hadn't been surprised with the outcome. Sin'ryk and Tsukihana were decent Sith, but not fully adept in combat as Vyrzen was. The alchemist had at least been impressed Sin'ryk managed to last so long, being the second to last to lose his Forge, dozens of others losing before him.

Almost as a whim, Geist decided to try to cheer the Sith Pureblood up a little bit. The boy had lost his hand (which as Ran na-Mevrain he had commentated about for a good ten minutes, though mercifully the teenager didn't know of his side gig). Geist charitably decided to fit the bill for the prosthetic hand. Not the most elegant or expensive, but a workable one, an effective replacement. Or to be more precise, he had attempted to do so. However, Sin'ryk had already taken care of the cost before any such assistance could be done. Whether out of defiance or to promote his own independence, he had paid the bill himself. Geist was impressed the boy had taken initiative and didn't let his master do everything for him to fix his mistakes.

Despite being Master of Ceremonies for The Crucible, Geist himself was no where near any of the four planets with Forges, not even Coruscant, where the final round would take place. In fact, he was on the other side of the galaxy, taking care of other matters. However, technology had a way to circumvent such dilemmas. A small probe droid fitted with a hologram projector floated into Sin'ryk's room. As it approached, hologram already erected, Geist heard a conversation ensuing in the room. Apparently the Forge's victor was sharing the same room as the person that took out his eye. Concern tickled his mind, wondering who foolishly thought that would end well. A possible detriment to such revenge schemes came from an earlier visitor. Avreet Zatarus was already in the room, conversing with is student.

"Very good indeed," agreed the holographic form of Geist Weiss as it entered the form. "Acolyte Vyrzen did a terrific job." Geist's form turned to face Sin'ryk. "And you did well lasting till the end. Not all managed to last as long as you. Despite what is common belief, victory is not always necessary. Sometimes you just need to survive." These words he spoke from personal experience. He had fought many Jedi and Imperial Knights, even fellow Sith, over the years. He had managed to survive duels with Jhon Cordatus and Merlin Ambrosius, even slew Darths Kayos and Oseth. Not all he won, but he managed to survive and always learned from them. He parted this wisdom to his student, "The important thing is to remember is to learn from such experiences. Vyrzen beat you with superior skill and strategy. This has shown you your inferiority in such topics. You now know where you are weak in. Your next task is to grow, to turn those weaknesses into strengths. Remember where you failed, and train yourself so you don't make the same mistakes twice." Lifting up a finger, he added, "But don't underestimate your opponent. You'll grow stronger over time, Sin'ryk, but so shall your opponent. You may in the future become as strong as Vyrzen is right now," Geist glanced at Vyrzen, "but all the while Vyrzen will grow to become stronger than he is now."

 

[Pureblood-Sin]

Sin'ryk listened closely to Lord Weiss's words, and took them to heart. He realised his style had grown far too predictable, a major problem in situations where he could not use Sith magic. To counter this, the Red Sith concluded that he would require developing a more unpredictable style of combat. Flexing his artificial fingers, he looked upon the holographic visage of his master.

"I will take your words with me my Lord and I humbly ask for further training in the arts that would lead one down a more the path of unpredictability."

As to the matter of unpredictability in lightsaber combat, an idea had come to his mind which created a gleam in his naturally luminescent eyes. The Pureblood realised his answers lay with the way of the saberstaff, a most unpredictable weapon.. Then the issue of who would teach him in how to wield such a weapon came to mind; but then it came to him. Sin'ryk remembered that a friend of his, the Crusader Satoryu who had stroked his facial tendrils, was a practitioner of the saberstaff art. He then knew in that moment that she was the one to teach him its usage.