Taken Off the Streets ((Wo Bon's Training))

[Darth Fail]

((Profile here.))

Wo Bon stared awkwardly around the large room he was in. He watched Acolytes years younger than him with training sabers deflect blaster fire from training droids. He glanced down at his own saber. It had a relatively simple hilt with a black grip and a silver activation button. And it was no training device--it was very real. He hadn't let it out of his site in five years. He hoped he would be allowed to keep and use it--it had been his mother's, and he could easily change the green blade to red by replacing the crystal. But he hardly even knew how to use it. He hoped he would be a quick learner--he was seventeen and he couldn't even swing it without coming close to killing himself! Wo Bon checked his watch again. Where was the master that was supposed to be meeting him? He sighed and continued sitting on the hard stone bench, watching the Acolytes train.

Bon appeared totally human at first glance. He was tall for his age, just over six foot, bald with a blue diamond tattooed on his head. He wore a black tunic with shoulder pads, more for style than anything else, attached. He had a dark blue long-sleeved shirt underneath. He had no left sleeve and on his upper left arm was a tattoo of three blue snakes eating each other. His left forearm was bound in black cloth up to his elbow. His pants were simple black leggings and he wore black boots. Around his waist was a dark blue sash. He had pale skin, a neatly-trimmed black goatee, and two small, gold hoop earrings on his left ear. He wore tinted-black goggles over his non-existent eyes, so it was impossible to tell he was Miraluka just by looking at him.

Bon had met an Acolyte by chance on the streets when he'd tried to pick-pocket the Dark Jedi-in-training. Though the Acolyte had almost killed him, he saw potential in Bon when the Miraluka drew his lightsaber (though he was only bluffing; he couldn't actually fight with it). The Dark Jedi had asked if Bon wanted a place where he could belong and survive without having to steal for food, and Bon eagerly said yes. So the Acolyte led him here, told him a master would meet him shortly, and left.

The seventeen-year-old was not evil or even bad at heart. A horrendous misunderstanding when he was twelve had claimed his mother's life and turned Bon against his father. He'd fled home and lived on the streets for five years. In fact, he felt ashamed of all the people he'd conned, seduced and stolen from. He was a little intimidated by the Bogan because he'd always been taught that they were evil. But because his father was a Jedi and he believed his father to be evil, he thought maybe that he'd been told all wrong--maybe the Jedi were the evil ones and the Bogans were the good ones. He was about to find out...

 

[Gambler]

((OOC: That was a good first post, though for future reference the Bogan have been hiding for the past twenty years so he wouldn't really have much, if any, knowledge of them. Just for future reference. Wouldn't want someone crashing down on you saying "Nuh-uh! He did itz wrong!!". xD ))

The snap-crack of steel heeled boots against chromium reverberated through the halls of the temple. With structured arches spanning the length of the domed roof, the building was quite a daunting site. On the outside the stone was bleached white with undergrowth crawling up the edges. The entryway, shrouded by half broken branches and withered vines, stood unappealing and empty. It was much akin to a cemetery with the distinct feel that stray rays of light were refracted from the listless surface of the structure. Within, a hallway carved of that same bleached marble snaked in to a spiderweb of passages and rooms all connected to that singular entrance. This hall was dimly lit, and sickly yellow light made splotches in the darkness. They seemed to pool together, refusing the darkness yet at the same time embracing it.

A red-eyed man strode through the midst of this, silvery-blue hair thrown back in a clean cut manner. He stepped in to a pool of waning light and for a moment his appearance was clear. He held himself with an air of controlled power; reserved arrogance. The title of his smooth chin told whomever observed that he was a man used to having his orders followed by the letter. Should one look more closely in this glimpse they would notice the way his feet fell. Without fail he would step with the heel of his foot, barely making a sound other than the distant metallic rasp.

Nothing about him looked remotely malicious or otherwise ill-intended. He had the look of a man whose past was bought and paid for in blood, but he did not have a cruel cast to his eyes, that sharp tilt to the chin as if he were looking down at the world. The only clue one had to his nature were his eyes. Red in shade, they were pale as if lacking pigment though their intensity was more than enough to make up for it. If such a contradictory statement could be made they would be called icy fire if only in a metaphorical sense.

He walked without haste through the opening hall, making his way towards the anteroom. That was where he would find his apprentice. As with any Crusader worth his life he had been assigned an Acolyte to train. Some met this responsibility with barely contained distaste, but Kerian was quite the opposite. He could not wait to meet his first Acolyte. It would be an amusing experiment to see how much pain a body can take while the mind is being assaulted from every angle. Yes, it would be well worth the temporary nuisance of an apprentice.

Once he stepped in to the cathedral shaped room, his eyes scanned for his apprentice. It did not take him long to find the man. The complete outlandish nature of his outfit made him stick out like a sore thumb in a place where most of the men and women wore a bland set of robes. Of course, Kerian was not one to give fashion advice considering his black leather outfit. He dressed himself up to best offset his eyes, and bring out the luminescent quality of his hair. Vanity at its finest.

"You may call me Kerian," he said. He blew out a heavy sigh, his face falling back in to his customary disinterested expression. "From this point on I will be your master. To clarify, this means that if I tell you to eat shit off of the floor you will do so. If you accomplish this your life will only remain a partial hell. However," he paused for effect, "if you fail to obey my orders I will cut you down piece by piece, rip out your intestines and force them down your throat. Test me on this and you will find that pain can be a most... interesting motivational force. Do you understand?" He cut to the chase. Beating around the bush would only extend this meaningless greeting and blunt only began to describe his character.

 

[Darth Fail]

((Oh, ok sorry ^_^ I just kinda winged it.))

Bon's uncertainty and anticipation were all wiped away like worms in the rain. Before this his thoughts had been, "What kind of people are the Bogan? Are they evil? Do they follow the Light side or the Dark side?" Now these unanswered questions were replaced with one disturbing resolution: "Definitely evil." But then again, he may have had rotten luck with which Master picked him. Either way, he would have to live with it until...what? He didn't like the thought of trying to escape. And he couldn't go back to his former "home" and his bastard father. He would just have to tough it out.

"Yes master! Thank you for taking me on as your Acolyte." He stood and gave a little half-bow, and then waited awkwardly, wondering what he should do. More to fill the silence than anything he held out his lightsaber. "This was my mother's. Can I use it?" He asked.

 

[Gambler]

((OOC: I play to the other person's length for convenience.))

A ghost of a smile touched Kerian's lips. The Acolyte sounded eager to get on with his punishment. That was good: it would save Kerian the effort of having to break him down on a mental level right away. That was not to say that he wouldn't take each and every bit of his apprentice and shatter the image the young man had for himself. The way he perceived himself would change with the way he viewed the world. He would break the man down bit by bit and rebuild him tenfold. Once more he told himself that results are all that matter. With an assassination it generally didn't matter how the act was preformed as long as it could not be traced back to the assassin or his employer. Training an Acolyte was a similar concept. Kerian's job was to make his apprentice stronger, to prepare him for death and have him laugh in the face of slaughter. It did not matter how he accomplished this. The ends justify the means.

"Do you need my permission to tell you what you can and cannot use as a weapon? Am I your babysitter to make sure that you do not cut yourself on your first dinner knife?" He asked. The questions were dangerous ground for his apprentice to tread, but there was a method to it all. "I thought you came here as a man to become more powerful. I was under the impression that you wanted to learn the ways of arrogance, strength, and had a desire to express these emotions," he said. "Or was I wrong? Are you just an impudent child, confused and disheartened at the world? I should hope not, for if that is true then you have no place here." That final sentence slid like a well oiled blade out of its sheath.

 

[Darth Fail]

Bon instantly regretted the words as soon as they left his mouth. He was also thinking less and less of his new master. Little did he know the road ahead would be like trip through Hell. Fear flashed in his eyes, though he tried not to show it. "Yes master. I will use it." He stood awkwardly again, this time not even daring to try to break the silence, waiting for his master's next instructions.

 

[Gambler]

"Yes, you will use it. You will use it to kill," Kerian said. The faint smile that brushed his lips faded, leaving his face cold and void of expression. His eyes tightened at the edges, turning those orbs of icy fire in to infernos of red ice. "That is what you will do under my tutelage. You will kill. You are a weapon to be directed by the Bogan, and, through extension, me. When you are told to kill a man you will nod your head and stick your lightsaber through his heart. His name will be unimportant. His offense will never be revealed. But you will kill him," he continued, his voice calm as if discussing the weather with an acquaintance.

"Before you can learn how to kill you must learn how to fight. Right now you are a child who tried to skip learning how to crawl. I will teach you how to crawl, how to grovel and beg. That will be your first lesson." Kerian's eyes had a slight glint of amusement in them, if you knew exactly where to look. "For now we'll start slow. What is your name?"

 

[Darth Fail]

Wo Bon's knees trembled nervously. He had only felt more afraid the night he'd witnessed his mother's murder. All the twisted metaphors and cruelty of his master's words caused Bon to constantly second-guess the situation. His hand gripped his lightsaber tighter. For some reason he had a strange feeling he would need it unexpectedly. And would telling his master his name allow him to torture Bon with some mind trick?

No...no...he needed to calm down. His master was just going to teach him how to fight. He was being silly. His imagination was getting away from him. All he'd asked for was his name. "Wo Bon is my name, but everyone calls me Bon." He said after a few moments.

 

[Gambler]

The whole fear act was already beginning to wear at the edges of Kerian's patience. Fear, under controlled circumstances, was at best tolerable or even amusing, but after a fashion it became more of a nuisance than an asset. It took a patient man to endure the terror of others and Kerian was by no account a patient man. "Wo Bon," he said with a sigh. It was a simple name, easy to remember and even easier to pronounce. "You came here to learn how to fight, how to kill," he said again, uncaring of the repetition. His eyes slid along Bon's lightsaber, faint amusement flickering there for a moment. "Strike me down. Try to kill me if you can." Such simplicity. It was perfect. "If you kill me now you will undoubtedly be raised to the rank of Crusader immediately. All it takes is one little blow to the heart," he tapped a finger on his chest, "or the neck. Just one clean cut and you will have no need for further Acolyte training." Kerian smiled, his eyes mocking the younger man.


"But of course I will be obliged to fight back. Perhaps, if you are not worthy enough of being my apprentice, I will kill you. Maybe that arm of yours will find its way to the floor. It all depends: how much are you worth?" Kerian's feet slid shoulder length apart, his right hand smoothly wrestling a silver hilt from his hip. From this sleek length of chromium sprung a shaft of plasma, hissing as it burned through ozone and oxygen. His eyes were reflected in the blade, a violent crimson that could not possibly be found in nature. Not even blood could match this shade.

"Whatever you are going to do, decide quickly. My patience is running thin and we have only been training for a few seconds. If you don't attack first, then I will." It wasn't a threat. He did not have the subtlety for veiled threats. Action suited his character far better than words ever could.

 

[Darth Fail]

At first, Bon's fear only increased. But the more his new master ranted arrogantly in his annoying, condescending manner, the more Bon's fear turned to annoyance, then anger. Kerian wanted a fight? He would get one. Bon knew he would lose, but he was going to prove he could be an Acolyte! All he said was, "I am worthy!" Without warning, though Kerian could probably sense it before it happened anyway, Bon swung his lightsaber and activated the emerald-green blade at the same time. He had only used the lightsaber a few times before this, sometimes training with it to pass the time. However, he'd never swung it and activated it this quickly before, and the sudden weight and gyroscopic effect through him off. His lightsaber clashed with Kerian's, jarring Bon's right arm and producing a white flash and buzzing sound. However, he tried not to show his discomfort to his master and wondered what would happen next.

 

[Gambler]

A shower of sparks erupted in to the air, white hot with the acrid odor of burning ozone. Kerian's wrist turned a fraction of an inch, deflecting his apprentice's saber to the side. He held the pose for the briefest of moments, bracing his crimson blade against the other man's viridian one. The sparks sizzled to a stop, leaving only the hum of the lightsabers to fill the room with sound. Kerian looked in to his apprentice's eyes, captivating the young man for the duration of the strafe. Those cold, crimson orbs revealed no emotion. None save disinterest. No anger, no passion, just sheer boredom.

Then he disengaged, gliding back a few steps until he could just barely reach out to tap the edge of Bon's saber with his own blade. "Is that all you have?" He taunted, his voice flat. "I would have expected better from an Acolyte no matter how untrained. Is that all you are then? A child playing at Dark Jedi?" The way he phrased the words made them seem more like statements than questions. "A waste of time," he said. "Worthless." A whisper.

Without warning he closed the sparse distance between them, saber poised to strike. It spun, first in a line that could only be described as oblique, and then the direction reversed, drawing a line of red light across his own vision. The blade ignored his apprentice's lightsaber, arcing towards the man's heart. His next words were unmistakable. "The worthless do not deserve to live."

((OOC: In case it was unclear, the last paragraph describes Kerian striking at Bon. He is giving you a chance to either dodge or block, so don't worry about dying. I wouldn't actually kill you in training :) ))

 

[Darth Fail]

Bon angrily gripped his lightsaber with both hands. He brought it up, getting it between his opponent's blade and his heart. "I'd hate to die and prove you right." He said through clenched teeth. Then he aimed a kick at the man's shin.

 

[Gambler]

It was a clever move. Kerian was almost caught off guard. Almost being the operative word. As it happened, he smoothly evaded the kick, disengaging his saber with the motion. Placing his body between his and his apprentice's, Kerian drove his elbow towards the man's nose. His arm drawing near, he swept his saber across, aiming to flay Bon's ribs in a single swift maneuver.

 

[Darth Fail]

Bon knew he would have to sacrifice his nose. He blocked the blow aimed at his ribs with his lightsaber but was knocked back, his nose bleeding. He quickly got to his feet and swung with both hands on his lightsaber toward Kerian's legs.

 

[Gambler]

Kerian barely had enough time to register his apprentice's move. Quite interesting. Rather than standing down with a broken nose, the man got back to his feet for another beating. He could almost admire the persistence, but first he had other matters to worry about, mainly the state his legs would be in if he didn't manage to dodge. Unlike most master-acolyte pairs, they weren't using training sabers. Kerian found that survival was excellent motivation for one to show his or her true potential. Unfortunately, getting hit wouldn't result in a minor shock or burn. It would cut clean through a limb at best.

His feet left the ground an instant before the viridian saber sailed on by, leaving the scent of charred leather in the air. He cringed inwardly. Those boots had cost quite a few credits and he would be hard pressed to find another pair. Shaking his head, the distracting thoughts were tucked away for a later time. For now he would need to teach his Acolyte a new lesson. Which one?

"Well done, you almost hit me," he began, his tone congratulatory. "It's a shame that almost never counts. Never," his words ripped away the compliment. "What would your mother say if she saw you now? Oh wait, she's dead, isn't she? Just like every other wannabe Acolyte's. Wait, let me guess: you killed her in a fit of rage? Or did your father come home one night, drunk and filled with hatred, to murder her? Perhaps some criminal came along and just happened to blow her brains out, but whatever the case, you are not unique. Yes, that's right, I've heard your story so many times that I no longer need you to tell it to me." The smile on his lips was mocking.

He let the words hang in the air, waiting for them to soak in. Without warning he lurched forward, closing the distance he put between them in the span of a second. The crimson glow of his saber was reflected in his eyes, the light of malevolence. His blade danced in front of him, cutting sharply at a ninety degree angle in the direction of his apprentice's skull. At the last second his arms tensed and he changed directions, the blade arcing towards the man's elbow.

 

[Darth Fail]

Fortunately for Bon, Miraluka weren't limited to the pathetic field of vision of most beings. They saw with the Force. He pulled his arm from the saber's path just in time, then brought his arm back out from his body swiftly, knocking the crimson blade away with his emerald one. "My father killed her," He said through clenched teeth. "And someday I'll kill him!!" He yelled in rage, twisting his lightsaber with both hands so that Kerian's ended up pressed down under his. Then he released his opponent's saber with a flash, swinging his saber up toward his master's unprotected neck.

 

[Gambler]

Kerian's saber whipped up to his exposed neck, fluidly snagging his apprentice's blade once more. He held the pose, tensing slightly to keep the weight on the sabers balanced. Neither blade would move an inch at that rate. "Typical anger and predictable motivations," he sighed, tsking his tongue against the roof of his mouth. "Did I mention the most important rule of combat?" He asked. "Cheat." His free hand rose up until the palm was scarce inches from Bon's face. Then he unleashed a small burst of energy, just enough to twist the man's head backwards or toss him to the ground. It really depended on his balance. Then his blade snapped around, following through with a jab to the stomach. It was a wicked ploy, but one that would teach Bon something about battle if he survived. If.

 

[Darth Fail]

Bon's heart skipped a beat when he "saw" (being a Miraluka) Kerian building up the Force in his hand. He dropped to the ground to avoid being hit, then realized what a disadvantage position he was in. He scrambled to get out of range and raised his lightsaber to defend himself.

 

[Gambler]

Kerian was moderately surprised when Bon scrambled out of the way of his attack. That surprise doubled when the miraluka was able to get his lightsaber in place to block his vertical strike. He buried that surprise a moment later when his crimson blade met the man's viridian one once again. He pressed the blade down, appearing as if he would attempt to overpower his apprentice with brute force. Then he reversed direction, using his superior angle to slide his blade a fraction of an inch across his opponent's, just enough to bypass the strafe. Blocking it would be impossible at this angle, but dodging it was not out of the question. He restrained himself slightly to give the man enough time to roll out off harm's way. That is, unless he panicked. Then the man might end up with a missing arm or leg out of sheer stupidity. A win-win situation, Kerian thought. Either way he would win.

 

[Darth Fail]

Bon tried to get up under the weight of his opponent's lightsaber, and then promptly deactivated his lightsaber and rolled away, narrowly avoiding losing his left arm. He clambered to his feet and activated his lightsaber again, trying to ready himself for the next attack.

 

[Gambler]

It was good that Bon braced himself for another attack for Kerian was moving even as the final move in the sequence ended fruitlessly. His saber came back to bear, the crimson blade centered with his chest, and he took a measured step forward. With the step he gauged the distance between himself and his apprentice, taking a moment to close just enough to strike out once more. The tip of his saber flashed in at Bon's sightless eyes.

((OOC: I apologize for the delay and the shitty quality of this post.))