The Inglorious Fortress

[Galad J. Victus]

Coruscant was a sight young crusader strongly preferred to avoid, yet the uneasy tides of the fate had cast him there anyway. Especially for that reason, perhaps.

He was here for two particular missions, one being official, the other one personal. He had never approved the act done to this place, yet he knew that as a result of it, there was much raw potential here now. So much so that he could not keep himself away from it. The view was, both tragic, and capturing. From the high hill of ruins and wreckage that he stood on the head of, like a winged beast of sorts keeping watch to the endless pit of misery below, he had a clear view of his surroundings. The once greatest stronghold of the greatest order, long before the times of the dark dawn. Now merely a sign of utter destruction and misfortune. For many it meant nothing, barely little more than an example, a quiet lesson for those who had the eyes to see it. To him, it was much more. More than he wished for. His emotions and memories of the place were rather fresh yet, the flow of time had failed to erase them. So much was lost, and he used to assume that he had already defeated the foe inside him, his foolish light side. Was he wrong? As he stared into the fallen temple from the distance, seeing through the idly flying ashes and the black clouds, the red tone in the air, could he possibly deny the point of him that ached with the slightest thought of his involved in it? It's destruction was necessary, a pleasure even, but such insensitiveness, he did not know. Death made everything useless. In a way it contibuted to their cause, in a different field, it weakened it. His own hunger for power studied the enviroment from the dreadful tower he stood upon, sucking the emptiness, the chaos from it. The darkness was the answer. Nothing else.

It was now time to lift his head from the grand library in Korriban, which he was completely bored of by now, and seek new sources of knowledge. In his past days of remorse, a few years ago now, he found the friendship in the books just like he did back in Naboo, where he was equally alone. Now the case was different, even if slightly. He had responsibilities, eager students very much like him.

As his cloak waved in the impassive wind, he kept staring into the soul of Coruscant; a few pathetic slums and common wreckages scattered here and there, with the distant storms of destructive lightning and black smoke completing the stunning view.

 

[Galisdoren]

He never thought he'd ever see such a place of destruction, where the rain was acid, accompanied by flakes of grey ash, and the air had contracted an eerie light, and repulsive taste. What horrors had the planet endured? What terrible stories did it's ragged scars, carved so deeply across it's surface, tell? For most of his time in the Sith, Korriban had become his home, it's desert wastes filling his dreams with hot, red grit, and waking him to heat flashes, drenched in sweat. Now, it seemed, he had grown within the order enough to be called to another temple, one he had originally intended to avoid, for it seemed the Reaper himself had laid his cloak around the planet, after hacking at it with his famous, dread heralding scythe, as if the action would prevent the planet's life force from leaking out of the tears. But despite the doom that had assailed Coruscant, to morph it into a hell of sorts, a nightmarish oblivion that would undoubtedly weave stories of vengeful spirits and tortured wraiths, life flourished in a temple built upon the remains of the last, it halls dark in comparison to the once grand structure of the Jedi. Look upon this destruction and study it well. This is the act of sentience. This is the plague of free will and thought. There is nothing we offer but destruction and hatred to one another, and soon our actions will lead to the end of reality itself. I will relish that day, the end of the disease, the end of all mankind and it's allies. And then, and only then, finally...peace. scowl marked his armored features, his cloak flowing behind him as he walked towards the place he would be meeting his teacher, practicing his force stealth so that when he would approach, his presence would be hidden. Practicing was something he took part in every day, and could hardly cease his efforts now, simply because he was on another planet. Finally finding the crusader that summoned him, Thamis drew up beside him with a greeting. "Greetings. The acolyte Thamis is now in your presence, awaiting your instruction."

 

[Galad J. Victus]

Some moments after he sensed a presence in the Force approching, the acolyte was beside him, announcing his arrival. His eyes remained fixed at the abyss below, as the draining touch of the wind went through his hair, and made his cloak dance. Hiding a connection to the Force was a difficult task, and a hard one to master. Which made it's successful demonstration impressive, especially an acolyte managing to get this close without being sensed.

[COLOR="#crimson"]"Greetings, Thamis."[/COLOR]

He simply spoke towards the view, not turning at him. He wrapped his arms around his chest, as he silently stared towards the huge, ruined temple in the near distance, perfectly visible to it's smallest detail from their tower. As a lightning cursed one of the many piles of junk scattered all around the scene, the young crusader slowly turned his head, fixing his eyes on the acolyte standing with him, as if he was trying to see through his body and glance at his very soul. He spoke slowly, the very first words being eaten by the ear-piercing noise of the thunder as a weak tone of blue fell to his face for a moment.

[COLOR="#crimson"]"Do you know why I chose this place as our training ground? From all the proper, safe options, why this?"[/COLOR]

Turning to eye the Coruscant after silence fell to his lips, he raised a hand, his palm open and finger tips directing the foul distance.

[COLOR="#crimson"]"Do you like the view?" [/COLOR]

The question was simple, yet it's answer could be difficult to find, no to mention it's true point, how it completed Galad's first question. It was not about the scene, but what it made the acolyte feel. What it offered, in which ways it would make him stronger, what lessons it held under the cover of mist and ruins. It was full of darkness. At this point, a Sith would have to give up everything else; it did not matter how the place came to such destruction, such harm, who had cursed it with such intolerance. It was all about power, and power was there. One did not have to look for it. Before the training could commence, there were things for the crusader to learn, about the personality of the acolyte, his ideals and opinions. A simple answer, the removal of a single word or the slighthest change in his voice could reveal everything. His answer was to determine everything waiting for him.

 

[Galisdoren]

He didn't reply in any form to the greeting. An acknowledgment did not seem needed. Just as the other Sith was doing, Thamis took the moment to take in the appearance of the dying world, though he had seen quite enough of it as he had flown in. The ruins of the planet were somewhat satisfying...relieving, even, though not out of any sadistic nature. He glanced at his teacher as he began to speak, a scowl masking his features as it usually did. Silence pursued the man's words for some time, as the acolyte contemplated an appropriate answer. What would satisfy this man, of whom he knew so little about? After a few moments, Thamis decided he didn't care about the feelings of the other Sith, and instead, gave a brief reply that he had pulled from his thoughts. It was but a summary to what vast idea was swirling around in his head. "The destruction was necessary." The human growled in a dark and menacing tone. "All destruction is necessary. It is a means to an end I already cherish. One day, we shall all perish, much like the millions here on Coruscant, and on that day, I shall embrace death, and everyone else's. On that day, no more shall hatred and grief rule this galaxy. On that day...there will be no more need to preach to others about reality, for it will be shattered, and the first peace since the beginning of existence itself shall ensue. Mmmm, I shall relish that day." He realized that the answer might not have been what Galad was looking for, but felt rather relieved to share his thoughts on the situation, and the future that he believed was inevitable. Drawing in a heavy breath, he continued to gaze at the scarred planet. "Darkness breeds here." Thamis observed quietly.

 

[Galad J. Victus]

As Thamis spoke out the first set of words Galad did not turn to stare at him, though he gave a simple nod, silently beckoning that he had his attention. As he went on, however, the crusader was somewhat surprised, the answer was no doubt unexpected. It seemed that the ideas and motives of the man beside him were unique, like those of his own. Although it shared similiarities with the selfish and poor machinations of the common Sith aims, it had an aura of depth, a true cause which was covered by a shell of cruelty and lust for destruction, rendering the true point behind it hard to see, to recognize. Insanity would make the one see beyond the limitations of the weak mortal mind, lift the siege of cowardice and risk it all just to steal a direct glance at the sun, something none other could manage and live to tell the tale. There, at the heart of the fires the truth would be hidden, those who were worthy alone could see it. Insanity would make it possible, a cup of blessing, which they both had taken a sip from, according to his observation. No healthy mind could think and see so perfectly. He knew it better than anyone else. Just like the one next who stood with him, he also wished for peace, a grand peace which none would dare to act against. Much to his surprise, he was not alone.

[COLOR="#crimson"]"Destruction is a tool, but also an enemy. So is the power. A dangerous foe. They are wild, untamed. Like any other beast they might be slain, captured or tricked. Death, however, is the life itself, it is the balance, you are not supposed to control it, bend it, or guide it. The true power comes from the ability of rendering this law invalid. Perhaps, in the future, we shall speak about our thoughts in-depth, though for now, know that I am impressed."[/COLOR]

The mere fact that the man was honest with what his words, as much as Galad could tell, made it all simply far more interesting. From where he stood, the young man could easily stare at the darkened mind of the figure next to him. He looked through the Force, beyond his physical form, and stared at the dancing black flames inside, a shadow thick enough to be easily visible in in a place of this sort. The very same thing once plagued him, and would do so again if given the chance. Much required aid, not just within the acolyte, all around them. Thus, providing the pair with their first study.

[COLOR="#crimson"]"What would it take to heal wounds so deep and serious? The Force, of course, what causes them. Allow me."[/COLOR] With that, he pulled a small knife from under his robes and guided it into the air, controlling with the Force. In the meantime Thamis would feel a pressure in his arm, thick yet gentle, not painful, like an invisible force had taken hold of it, his hand would rise and palm would open, which then would be scarred by the knife, a scratch would open up, and blood would come out. Then the dagger would find it's way back to Galad's hand. The crusader spoke, slow as if he was forming each word carefully.
[COLOR="#crimson"]
"Reach to your wound with the Force, feel the pain, the blood coming out. Recognize your foe. Then, command the Force to cover it, to regenerate and heal, to aid you. Cover the scratch with the energy. Imagine it fading away, see with your mind how the pain goes, the skin appears back where the blood came out. First feel the pain; know what weakens you. Then through the Force, heal it. Trust the Force, it is the greatest companion you will ever know. It is a part of you, you could not use it to heal your wounds otherwise. Command it as you would command your sword to slay an enemy, or your eyes to see." [/COLOR]

 

[Galisdoren]

Thamis was silent as he listened to his teacher's response, a dark scowl plastering his features, eyes narrowed as they gazed out with an eerie intensity at the ruined planet. The fact that he had impressed the other Sith was rather surprising, to say the least. The human had not expected another to share his views, yet it seemed, they were quite related in their ideas. That, however, had little to do with the lesson he would be learning, or so he thought. Surely Galad would not have called him there for that reason, for simple curiosity of his desires? No. The other Sith could have had no way of knowing. Tilting his head to gaze at his dark mentor, as he began to speak once more, a burning curiosity had ignited his gaze with greedy tongues of blue flame. His pupils fell upon the weapon to focus upon the sharpness of it's blade, so alluring, so...dangerously fascinating. He did not resist the pull of the force, the tug on his limb, and it rose just as Galad had intended it to, curled fingers released of their tension to stretch apart as if revealing some protected gem hidden within, the knife drawing across his palm, to carve a thin line that oozed fresh, warm blood. The sharp pain did little to later the man's expression, so firm, though inquisitive, as Thamis glared at the tear in his flesh. Galad's words echoed from deep within his mind, as his eyes closed, hidden behind fluttering lids, though the image of the small wound was still fresh and vivid, and he focused upon it, directing the force to his aid just as instructed. The crusader made it sound as if the action were natural, and he focused upon that. The burning of his pal intensified for a brief moment, as the skin drew back together, and the crimson fluid ceased it's flow. But that wasn't it. Even the veins that had been pierced were swiftly repaired. Opening his eyes, the pain drifting from existence, Thamis examined the skin where the cut had once lied, and admired the appearance of it, the only thing indicating that there had ever been a wound there were simple, quickly drying drops of blood.

 

[Galad J. Victus]

Galad stared at the small scratch as it healed rapidly, faster than he expected. The acolyte had proven himself as a student worth teaching, passing the small test of his with surprising success. Hiding the small yet deadly dagger to the back of his belt, under the cover of the cloak, the crusader's gaze once again turned to one beside him.

[COLOR="#crimson"]"Well done, Thamis. In time, you will discover the true potential of the healing abilities that the Force has to offer. Practice it until perfection." [/COLOR]

He spoke slowly, a warm smile accompanying the words. The acolyte had deserved to be congratulated. He quickly remembered himself, memories rushing back to his mind. As an acolyte he had to learn the power on his own, teaching himself, observing the others and reading, ah all the reading. Despite spending most of his time as a wandering masterless wreckage, who cared little for pretty much anything, his training had been easy enough. Countless hours he spent in the grand libraries, fierce battlegrounds and eavesdropping classes, and at last, he had managed to complete his own training, very quickly too. He remembered himself opening up scratches in his own body and healing them through the Force, the pain had been grand of course, yet the satisfaction of success, even greater. Now, he was teaching acolytes while still being younger than the age most others were even accepted into the academy. It was a demanding task to impress him, yet this one, had managed it.

[COLOR="#crimson"]"You have learned healing your physical wounds. We move on. Now, you must be given protection from the mental ones, the more dangerous sort. A stratch may slow you down. But insanity, or fear, can crush your very soul with ease. You must learn how to shield your mind from such destructive assaults."[/COLOR]

Galad turned, coming face to face with Thamis. His eyes gazing at those of the acolyte, narrowed, with a frightening feeling rushing out of them, an effect of the Dark Side that the young man had summoned to his aid. His mind reached upon that of the other figure, a menacing foul mist making it's way to his images, feelings, and emotions. The tool of terror, war-winning and empire-conquering soldier charged upon the acolyte's mental self; mere fear. The predetor's hunger for blood and sanity had possesed it. Galad sent a wave of sheer hopelessness and terror to his student's mind. It was of average strength, a crusader of his own level could successfully put it to rout. More than a true attemp to break his will, Galad was curious if the acolyte had the will to resist it, thus given that he would display determination, he could overcome the test.

[COLOR="#crimson"]"You willpower is the deciding element in a battle of minds. Before anything else, believe in victory, have faith in your inner strength. And never, never bow down, no matter the strength of the enemy rallied before you. When knocked out, rise back up, when forced to withdraw, charge in fury. Be stubborn in defense, unforgiving in offense. Give no ground, tolerate no hope. Remember that in a war of minds, there is a single chance of possible defeat, your own surrender. As soon as you feel the effects, fight back, set walls before them, bring forward your defenses, do not let them fall. Resist. If you are strong enough, the victory shall come to you. Otherwise, my influence shall drive you mad."

"Remember, this is a fight to the death. Try to unleash a fear of your own doing if you can, as a counter-attack, though I find it unlikely you will manage it."
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