A New Weapon To Wield (TSA Training)

[Xevek Nekonis]

Dantooine, Sith Temple


"Have our ... guests been properly seen to?" The stoic, gruff and emotionless voice rumbled out from the shadows cast by the cowl of the cloak that completely enveloped the form of Darth Lykos, consuming all recognisable features of the Zabrak and transforming him into a formless shape of cloth and a single, burning amber eyes that joined his voice in piercing through the shroud of shadows that concealed the majority of his face.

"Come now, my Lord, is such needless avoidance of fact necessary when not out in the field?" The ice cold and slightly sarcasm laden response by the similarly cloaked female standing at his shoulders roused no anger from the Zabrak, in fact, his emotionless countenance slipped ever so slightly, enough that a soft, ragged chuckle would bounce off of the metal wall of the large room.

"Unless you find yourself in a place of your own, yours to command over and an extension of your domain, then the answer to your question is yes, Gvibr. You will do well to not forget that." His voice had transitioned back to its emotionless state by the end of his snappish statement. "Now, go alert [member="Krest"] to the fact that we are prepared, the delays have been dealt with and that there will no longer any need to restrict the learners from approaching, if he has yet not needed to do so and that he can cease doing so if he has needed to do so."

Bowing her head in submission, the cloaked form swept out on near silent footsteps, the Shadow leaving her Master and leaving Lykos alone with the silence. For a minuet, that silence reigned and the stillness that had allowed Lykos to become such a skilled member of the Sith Assassins meant that he seemed to become an ornament in an otherwise bland room. However, the quiet was soon shattered by a long sigh as Lykos turned and walked over to one of the walls where a pile of wooden sticks were stacked.

As he strode over, a swift and single motion removed the cloak from his form, revealing his battered, scar worn features, ashen hair, leather plate armour and the fact that the only weapon on his person was a sheathed durasteel sword at his hip. Letting the cloak slip out of his hand, Lykos lowed himself atop it and allowed his head to roll backward and rest against the wall as his eyelids slid shut. Allowing his mind to wander, Lykos began to run over the memorised files of those that would be soon appearing before him to learn of how to channel the Force into their weapons and simply settled in to wait.

With no ego to stroke and possessing a view of distrust to those that might bow and simper before him, the fact that him sat, slumped against the wall, was the first view of him that those coming to learn would have did little to bother the Assassin.


[member="Ariealla Vareldi"] | [member="Jorryn Fordyce"] | [member="Orion Darkstar"] | [member="Lark"]

 

[Connorjg1]

(OOC I KNOW THIS IS FACTION ONLY BUT I THOUGHT I MIGHT BE ABLE TO JOIN IN AS A SPY THAT OK?)


"no more games tell me and don't leave anything out is this place real?" Connors voice grows louder then expected and a few drunken eyes dart his way the cantina growing silent for only a moment before continuing there routines. Connor lowers his voice to a whisper to talk to the cloaked figure across the cantina table "your telling me this "sith" is doing training tonight,and that you want me to sneak in and capture footage! i said i was a smuggler, but i never stated i had a death wish!" the cloaked figure starts to speak her voice a low rumble "i never said you were,smuggler but if you wont take the job i will find some one who can" a silence hangs in the air Connor ticks it over in his mind one last time before announcing his choice "fine but i better get my 5500 credits you promised" before standing up and prowling away the cloaked figure starts to yell "i wont disappoint" just as Connor leaves through the door 1000 credits the wiser.

 

[Venthis Zambrano]

The sound of his black, yet shiny boots clamping onto the ground as he entered the room would call out to everyone within the vicinity. It seemed he was the first to enter. He came in a black tunic, leaving the remainder of his attire back in his quarters, this was his training gear. He swapped his usual hood for a bottle of hydro strapped to his belt. He was prepared to learn. His tentacles peered out in front of him, swinging as he walked towards the Sith Lord.

The room stood out to him as somewhat elegant against what he was brought up in, he admired the structure. Though, he hadn't left his homeworld before. This planet was entirely new to the young acoltye. Completely new. Event though, the Quarren dreamed of becoming an explorer, it was odd to be this far out. Not as if he wasn't enjoying it though.

He was now a few feet away before he stopped in motion, eyeing the Zabrak's appearance before he exhaled slowly then raising his monotone voice and almost calling out. "Afternoon, my Lord." He said, watching him slump against the wall. His eyes flickered momentarily, before he would dip his head for a brief moment. He remained still, looking over the room noticing the sword he carried before darting his eyes to the sticks, getting an understanding for what was about to unfold. He idly cracked his clawed hands, slowly his breathing down.

[member="Darth Lykos"]

 

[Lark]

Lark walked through the newly established Sith Temple, a temple that he had helped claim for the Ascendancy. What had formerly been residence for Jedi, and then a hive of kinrath, now belonged to the Ascendancy. It was much less dreary than before, and he was glad for the lack of insectoids barraging them with vile spit and barbarous claws. Most would have felt pride for helping to constitute a temple of such grandeur, but Lark found little to appreciate about his accomplishment. The temple had changed hands so many times over the centuries, would the Ascendancy still be functioning in five-hundred years? A thousand? What was stopping the temple from being abandoned once more?

But it pleased the Lords, and that was what mattered most. Even a temporary residence for knowledge and training was better than none. Who knows? Maybe Lark would learn more of value here.

He approached the training room with a worn-down book in hand, skimming through words written in the ancient language of the Sith. He was far from fluent, but as he mouthed the words out-loud he was confident that he was making great strides in learning the old tongue. He finally entered the designated room, and his eyes flit upwards from his book, noting the presence of several weapons set beside the wall. More combat training? His enchanted weapons, a sword and a knife gifted to him by Master Krest, hung at his side. At first glance he believed that he was only the second to arrive, the only other person being an acolyte he wasn't familiar with. But then he saw the man, receded against the wall beside the assortment of weaponry, and he let out a soft chuckle. Many of the Lords weren't as... kosher as he had been led to believe. Lark clamped the book shut, and set it on the ground by the entrance, removing his hood as he did so, revealing his golden eyes and scarlet red hair. He leaned against the back wall, arms folded across his chest, and awaited the start of the training session.

[member="Thral Canx"] [member="Darth Lykos"]

 

[Ariealla Vareldi]

Darkness cloaked her violet form as Ariealla entered the temple, slowly wandering through as though reminiscing fond memories. She had done nothing to wrest the planet for the Ascendancy, and even less for the temple itself. However, it had not been her first time here, oh no, she had visited here often after the fall of the Trayus academy at the hands of a particular exile. There was a peace here, even amidst dark, lustful beings coveting power above all else. Perhaps it was the planet, so permeated with force as it was. She knew not, but knew it was a strange comfort, even for a being of her ilk.

She lifted a goblet to her lips, sipping from the crimson ichor held within, as she let her hand trailing against the walls slowly return. She had business to attend to, and an important one at that. Many sith assassins of an age long gone had learned of varients of force weapon skills, and she had neglected in favor of her beloved suppression. It worked well enough, have no doubt, but without it she was vastly weaker. This would only close the gap, and extend it when she gained further power. In every respect, a win. She curled her lips in a smile, as her paced steps echoed empty halls.

She came then to a trio of individuals as she stepped into a courtyard. Her eyes, for once, had her contacts in, obscuring her sulfuric yellow for her original violet hues, letting her appearance fit more what one might expect for such a short human with silvery, lengthy hair. She recognized one, Lark, and offered him a knowing nod of the head, before studying the others. The Lord, a Zabrak, she realized many of the lords she knew of here were of that singular race. She would have to change that... and a Quarren. Curious, she hummed to herself as she lowered the goblet, the crimson liquid having been drained. Lark, had he remembered their exchange of blows a while ago, would know full well the likely former contents that still stained her lips a deep scarlet.

[member="Darth Lykos"] | [member="Lark"] | [member="Thral Canx"]

 

[Adriana Fortemps]

Jorryn brushed her cloak to the side as she made her way down the exit ramp of the shuttle, her heels transferring from the steel of the ship to the ancient stone of the temple. She took a moment to examine the ancient complex, taking in the beautiful sight. A former Jedi temple having been transformed into an academy for the dark studies, a proper analogy for the corruption and sheer power of the dark side of the force. It was also the first time that she had ever seen a Jedi Temple, though many of their symbols were kept intact the taint of the dark side could be felt withing the walls of the buildings.

As she made her way inside Jorryn could feel the presence of other's that were capable in the force, one moreso than the others. Feeling these auras reminded Jorryn of why she had come here in the first place. A Sith Lord had offered to teach some acolytes a way to imbue their weapons with the force, a useful ability in many circumstances. This Lord was a well-regarded assassin in the Ascendancy's ranks and, despite how distasteful Jorryn had found the act of assassination, could offer her plenty of insight into how to dispatch of Jedi. The ability to imbue her weapon with the force was too good of an opportunity to pass, another tool in her expanding arsenal.

As soon as Jorryn entered the main chamber, she began to examine the other acolytes that had already arrived before her. The first was a girl, roughly the same age as her, with similar long, silver hair. Another was a Quarren, hoping that he spoke basic and didn't communicate with those disgusting squishing noises they called a language. The final was a boy with long scarlet hair, appearing to be the youngest of the group. A quick glimpse would be all that she gave the other acolytes in way of acknowledging their presence, it was not them that she was here to gain something from.

After examining the group, Jorryn's gaze finally fell upon the Sith Lord that was instructing them. Of all the people in the room he appeared the least likely to be a proper Sith Lord, a Zabrak dressed in a simple dark cloak leaning upon the wall. He did not have the same flamboyancy that most Sith Lords had about them, even some of the acolyte's in the group had appeared wearing much finer clothes than the Lord himself. Though it is to be expected of an assassin, a stunning visage would only get you caught and killed faster. Quickly brushing aside this notion, Jorryn made her way towards the figure and made a small bow. "Good evening, my Lord.", before raising her posture straight again, awaiting his instructions.

[member="Ariealla Vareldi"] | [member="Lark"] | [member="Thral Canx"] | [member="Darth Lykos"]

 

[Orion Darkstar]

The vial that slipped between his fingers hit the counter, small pieces of glass dancing along the top as the azure liquid poured out. It didn't take long to make another batch like the very venom that now worked it's way to the edge of the steel work bench. Orion's eyes flared a bright yellow, before receding back to the beautiful green that they were known for. Violently he slammed his fist onto the counter, black gloves tainted with the spilled mucus. Diligence was always needed when working in the lab, Orion knew this. For as long as he could remember he had taken interest in the arts of alchemy. Since such interest, in his free time he experimented with blood, venom, chemicals and most of all; performing the necessary steps to make his tests successful. Dropping a vial filled with venom, wasn't the proper way of finishing his current project. Lost in his own efforts to make something new and creative he shook his head. He looked to the top part of the labs. a lone clock confirming his suspicion. He was late. ​

​

Thankfully, where he needed to go was located within the same temple. He had arrived on Dantooine in the efforts to make it to the training session early, given that the instructor was someone entirely new. Of course, unsure of whether or not what kind of Sith Lord, [member="Darth Lykos"] was; Orion preferred to be ahead of the game. Lost in his efforts to perform alchemy, without proper guidance; Orion lost track of time. It was a simple mistake, but certain Lords among the ranks of the Ascendancy had little time to accommodate those that refused to take lessons serious. This wasn't an ignorant act of neglect, learning new skills to fell Jedi and other useless threats to their system was always something he took serious. Whether the Sith Lord knew this or not, Orion had to make it to the other end of the temple quickly. ​

​

He swiped his arm across the steel counter, a cloth magically appearing as he wiped away the mess and tossing it to a nearby bin. His cloak rested on a chair, but instead of grabbing it he shuffled his feet across the floor and out into a narrow hallway. The torch lit corridor, revealing the young Zelosian. Pale and toned at the arms, a tank top greeted his torso. A dark wine color affixed to it as he sprinted to the other end. Making a nice turn, he ran faster. An even longer hallway greeting him, stones layered in a musty orange, showing signs of his ascent. Before long he found the steps, leading up to the section provided from the instructor. As he cleared the last step he turned and caught his breath. A nice work out before exerting himself in training wasn't so bad. his paced turned to a walk as he sauntered into the room. ​

​

His long black hair jetted upward, spiked like that of an unnatural phenomenon. Still, there was a calm before him as he strolled in. The lush green jewels for eyes shifted to the others. Without his cloak and battle armaments beneath, many may not have recognized the sith. Even without such things, what truly was missing was Orion's chrome mask; left behind with his cloak in the lab. On his right hip rested a lonely silver hilt, intricate with designs. On the other, a different saber, partially rusted along the handle. It was a trophy from one of his first bouts, an unparalleled success among his many ventures. Just below the belt was covered in a black loose pair of pants. Lastly his boots, while difficult for many to fight in, Orion had perfected such a hassle with ease. His body while slender, screamed athletic and as he strode closer to the acolytes he smiled. The red haired warrior [member="Lark"] from a previous lesson sparked his excitement. One other, among them and probably the least forgettable was [member="Ariealla Vareldi"]. the white haired maiden of Juyo. It made sense for someone like her, who was proficient at such a stressful form to learn Force Weapon. ​

​

Orion wasn't just here for fun, he too was proficient in the arts of Form VII. He would only get better and using such applications in the force to imbue his blades with indescribable outcomes, meant he would only become more dangerous. Finally, shifting his glance to the slouching instructor he nodded. His posture remained relaxed, his hands falling to his sides. A tingle sensation stretched to his fingers, Orion at that moment realized how powerful the man before them truly was. Darth Lykos was almost the dark side itself, laggardly waiting for his arrival. ​

​

[member="Darth Lykos"] | [member="Jorryn Fordyce"] | [member="Thral Canx"] | ​

 

[Xevek Nekonis]

As each Acolyte entered the designated training room, the only physical reaction that Lykos would give was a slight lift of his eyelids before letting them slide shut again. The Quarren's greeting would go without any greeting being offered in turn as would Jorryn's. However, through the lense granted to him through the ability widely known as Force Vision, learnt by the Zabrak out of necessity after he had ended up losing half of his breadth of vision, Lykos observed the Acolyte's actions. Through the ethereal sight the ebbs and flows that ran across the Aolytes' connection to the Force were revealed to him as Lykos watched them displayed their personality through their behaviour as they entered the room.

The first, Canx, entered without surveying the room, only doing so after he had taken a few strides inwards, where, upon seeing the sticks lined up next to Lykos, seemed to gleam an idea of what might be coming and began to prepare himself. Bold, fierce, someone currently more suited to standard combat and not someone that Lykos might consider an apprentice unless he could be taught new practices, a new sense of awareness, even if he was a recent member of the Sith Assassins. Lark, who strode in, book in hand and focus on the book, content that safety was assured within the Temple who, upon putting aside the book, simply chose to lean against a wall. Studious with a sense of serenity that did not align with the darkness rolling through the Force and wearing weapons that held [member="Krest"]'s aura of imbuement upon them. The there was Vereldi, one who had obvious training in assassination and a held a Presence within the Force that held more power, more age, than the body that held it could match. Fordyce, who held such focus and purpose and, finally Darkstar, another student of his fellow Zabrak and one to whom carried the scent of recent experimentation with Alchemy with him.

As the final student that he had been waiting for arrived, Lykos finally broke from his near-slumbering state, fierce amber eye staring out at the gathered Acolytes as he pushed himself to his feet, ignoring the cloak that now lay abandoned on the floor. Standing exactly where he stood, ignoring Jorryn who stood only meters away, Lykos stared at each of the gathered Sith before him. Never before had Lykos chosen to pass his knowledge onto another and, now, with him considering finally taking on an apprentice to pass his knowledge onto, this session would be a good indicator for the Zabrak as to how well he would be able to teach.

"Each of you," his voice started low and slow, "knows why you are here. Knowledge has been offered and as a Sith should, you have chosen to take advantage of the opportunity to learn the method to enhance the blows with which you strike at apostles of the Light." Lykos' often suppressed fondness for dramatics was, for once, clear in his actions, particularly his choice of words, as his left hand dropped to his left hip to wrap around the hilt of the durasteel sword.

"Through this art, you will learn not only empower strikes, but raise weapons that are not lightsabers above their potential." He would pause to lash out with the sword, drawing it from its sheath as an aura that looked almost like viscous shadows danced along the length of the blade before thrusting it backwards into the wall behind him with little effort then dragging it through the wall, leaving behind a large gash instead of failing to even pierce the wall as he should have. As he sheathed the blade, his right hand, his remaining one, would also lash out backwards, claws tearing five long wounds through the wall as his claws were also bathed in the aura of viscous shadows. "And even grant the potential to be a weapon to that which would not normally be considered one."

Pausing in his words to stride away from the damaged wall and to stand off to one side, clear and away from the gathering of Acolytes, Lykos waved a nonchalant hand through the air, causing the pile of wooden sticks to break apart as each Acolyte would fine a stick flying towards them. For those that chose not to catch them, they would find that Lykos was not considerate enough to stop them in their flight before they would hit the Acolytes. His demonstration done, Lykos turned his focus to his lesson.

"Each of you will pass all weapons upon your person, beyond that which I have just given you, to me before beginning. Fail to do so, and I will remove you from this lesson. After all, the only weapon you will need for this lesson shall be those sticks. After doing so, your first task is simple: channel the Force into those wooden sticks and maintain it within the structure, evenly. I care not how you do it, only that you do."

Of course, the task would not be as easy as it sounded unless the Acolyte's possessed experience in a similar task or brilliant control over the Force. The challenges they would face, as Lykos could attest from experience, would be that, if the Acolytes could coax the Force into the sticks, the Force would tend to gather closer to them, becoming more unstable and dispersing the further away it got from the one wielding it; leaving the tip of the stick without any Force within it. The easiest solution would be to not just channel the Force, but cycle it constantly through the stick, leaving it not chance to disperse. Of course, Lykos was curious to see if any of the Acolytes would develop another way to do achieve the same effect.


[member="Thral Canx"] | [member="Lark"] | [member="Ariealla Vareldi"] | [member="Jorryn Fordyce"] | [member="Orion Darkstar"]
OOC Note: Sorry if this post isn't that good and is a bit late in coming, I'm a bit under the weather at the moment.

 

[Venthis Zambrano]

Before the Sith Lord began to speak, the towering creature would slowly step through the door, assuming a position at the back of the room, watching onwards at the ensemble. A soft exhale would leave his mouth before nodding to [member="Darth Lykos"] in a silent apology for his tardiness. His eyes then drifted over to the sticks, eyeing them with interest as his ears flick forwards.

His words made sense to the Nelvaanian and as he finished Honas'di would stomp over to the rack and snatches a stick from it. Getting a feel for the weight he would tilt it around for several moments. Eventually, nodding and moving over to the Sith Lord. Removing his personal spear from it's holster and offering it out to him hesitantly, only having the stick remain in his arsenal. "Take good care of this." He said rather bluntly tot the Zabrak, before grunting and turning on his heels making his way back across the room.

Thral Canxhttp://starwarsrp.net/user/15398-thral-canx/http://starwarsrp.net/user/15398-thral-canx/ | Lark | Ariealla Vareldi | Jorryn Fordyce | Orion Darkstar

 

[Lark]

Lark watched the display with curiosity. He possessed weapons with qualities of a lightsaber, and he had always been curious as to how the effects had been attributed to the blade. Now it appeared he'd have his chance to learn how to do the process himself. The wooden weapon flew towards him, and he caught it deftly with one hand before it could collide with his head. That would've been embarrassing. He walked over towards [member="Darth Lykos"] and began handing over his weapons, starting with the sheathed enchanted sword and dagger, weapons that he had grown oddly fond of. Weird, they were really only pieces of magical metal. After those he relinquished several other knives hidden on his body. Two lay underneath his wrists, three lay in convenient places on his chest, and two more were sheathed on each side of his hips. The weapons weren't just for show. If for whatever reason his enchanted weapons failed, he was armed to the teeth with his most proficient weapon.

After he handed over his collection of knives, he retreated back towards the center of the training room. He already suspected that imbuing the wood with the Force wouldn't be as easy as Lykos made it sound. New Force techniques were never easily learned.

First attempts at something were often the most base and unplanned. There was nothing wrong with this. It gave one an idea of where to progress to next, of what could be done and what would not work. Lark's first attempt had him try to wheedle the Force into the weapon, careful not to push to strongly lest he splinter and shatter the wood. As expected, it didn't work. The Force barely broke through into the end of the stick. But failure never deterred him. With each successive attempt the Force lingered a bit longer and delved a little further into the weapon. But when Lark stopped pushing, the energy dissipated all at once. Perhaps not quite the same as my sword, he thought. But still a curious puzzle indeed. Lark had always loved puzzles.

He sat down, holding the stick gingerly with his two hands, feeling it's ridges and the smooth texture, getting an understanding for the craftsmanship of the tool. Memorizing it's structure, once more Lark goaded the Force into the weapon. It grew harder as the Force neared the opposite end of the weapon, fizzing in and out. He could hold it in place, perhaps for one strike the weapon could progress past it's potential. But as soon as he let go the weapon was drained, putting him back to square one.

Exhaustion slowly set in, but Lark was to determined to stop and rest. He was close, he could feel it. He had passed the solid barriers, but no matter what he tried he could not contain the Force within the weapon. There was no plug he could use to trap energy inside the weapon. It was like he was pouring a glass of water, but the glass was full of holes and constantly leaking. He could fill it up, but it would slowly drain out.

No, he needed to try something new. Once more he filled the weapon to the brim with Force energy, and using all of his concentration he held it there. He knew it wouldn't hold for long, no matter how focused he was. Curious, he pulled the energy back through the weapon, and slowly it complied. After a moment the energy flowed like a river through the weapon, cycling in a constant, oval-like motion. He sat back, pleased with the result.

[member="Honas'di"] [member="Darth Lykos"] [member="Orion Darkstar"] [member="Jorryn Fordyce"] [member="Ariealla Vareldi"] [member="Thral Canx"]

 

[Darth Ferus]

The watchful eyes of the elder Zabrak scanned through the group as [member="Darth Lykos"] began his lesson. He was but an observer of those who would be taught, and the teacher himself. Lykos was still new to training the new generation of Sith, and Krest was here to offer any assistance where it would be needed. So far, there was no need for it. In this room were several of his own apprentices, each meant to be groomed in a different way yet learn similar abilities. They fell under his banner, but soon enough they would make their own.

However there was one who caught his attention, a face and voice he had not heard for years. His blue gaze would fall upon [member="Honas'di"] , ever neutral, ever watchful. The Nelvaanian, once a being he had taught during the time of the Assassins. He would be the one to truly watch and see how far he may have come in all these years.

 

[Orion Darkstar]

​

In everything someone tried to do, there had to be practice in order to perfect the results. With the force however, you had to trust it, will it, bend it to your command. There weren't any road maps to manifesting such magical aspects such as this one from the force. In fact, Orion hadn't considered the benefit of such an application till he saw it used in battle, once before. Something so simple, could turn the tide of a saber battle in moments. He didn't need to learn force weapon, he wanted it. His mind had been stirring about the potential differences that could come out of such a practice. Still, the lesson had to be taught and at least performed with a result. Whether that would be failure or not remained to be seen. ​

​

Orion was attentive as [member="Darth Lykos"] carefully instructed each acolyte of the process. It made sense to strip them of their weapons, after all, most of the acolytes had a peculiar connection to their weapons. Orion had simple sabers, one holding sentimental value. As Lykos finished, Orion walked to the side releasing the utility belt from his waist stacked with miscellaneous gears and gadgets. The last two weapons were lightly placed on the ground before he snatched a wooden practice stick. He lifted it to the air, it was light, but heavier than the sabers he was used to. Orion's eyes examined the excess stringy wood along the edges and grinned. ​

​

They could have at least sanded it properly...​

​

He thought, walking to a free area in the room. He knew what he had to do, but doing it was entirely different. He slowly moved the stick through the air, careful not swing it too fast. Just to get a feel for the makeshift weapon in his hand. When he felt comfortable enough he held the stick in front of him. Lightly, his fingers wrapped around the base of it. His concentration silenced the area around him. Those that were present in the room with him, were no more. He was in a new world, a world of focus. What came after was a wave of energy strangling the air around him. Orion called on it, allowed it in to his heart. The darkness embracing him like it always had. The force was fickle however, calling on it didn't mean it would obey when trying new innovative ways to manipulate it. ​

​

Orion closed his eyes, a pitch black greeting him, before a quaint violet erupted from the dark. He wouldn't just channel the force into the stick, but another application he'd trained with in the past. Orion had learned to inflict the worst of all dark side powers on his foes, Force Lightning. Instead of basic application, he preferred to try the harder of methods. The roar of his desires fueled him, ready to break the gates that prevented him from executing the lesson. A sly smile painted his face. His free hand waved in the air before stopping above the wooden stick. ​

​

The once green irises of the acolyte began to fuse into a crimson red, making a shimmering yellow. The dark side prevailed, the lids of his eyes shot open. With his occupied hand, he surged a layer of the force into the stick. A small vibration grew in the core of the wood, this would not do well. If he forced the will of his lightning onto it the wood would expand, shattering into thousands of tiny pieces, potentially ash if uncontrolled. The surge stopped as Orion withdrew the force from the stick. He would start over. The stick needed to be prepped before Orion's other hand applied the static current to its edge. Trial and error. ​

​

Then he pictured the flow of the force, weaving it in and out of the stock kindled wood. the stick was a representation of the most vulnerable of its sources. Learning to concentrate enough electrical current around the stick would be difficult without another additive. Just like before, Orion weaved a small burst of energy around the stick. It server as a source of power to prevent the lightning from erupting the stick in flames, wrapping itself around the energy swirling in a circular motion around the potential weapon. Doing so would take a few attempts. As the force reached the tip of the weapon, he grabbed the weapon tighter, trying to chance the direction of it. The sudden curve of energy around the stick began to comply. It was a start.​

​

Orion was close, but so far away. Like all applications of such power, he had to time the electrical force into the weapon at the right moment. Otherwise, ash. Still, getting the energy around the stick to start swirling around it was an achievement in itself. He slightly turned his head, curious if the others cracked the code. Regardless, Orion would achieve something greater. A weapon of force lightning, a storm that would eventually be held in his hands, ready to destroy. ​

[member="Krest"] | [member="Jorryn Fordyce"] | [member="Thral Canx"] | [member="Lark"] | [member="Ariealla Vareldi"] | [member="Honas'di"]​

 

[Venthis Zambrano]

With the stick in his hand, he would glance around for a moment. His eyes lingering onto [member="Krest"] for a moment, then giving a dip of his head and turning back to the stick. He wasn't the best with utilizing the force. He was more engulfed with swinging things. Though, he felt that this would be an important ability. Something that would come to be useful for his arsenal. He would get a feel for the stick, estimating it's weight and swnging it once in order to fully grasp it's properties. Flicking off a excess piece of wood, sticking out from the stick with his claw.

He would envision the stick in his mind, even after shutting his eyes. He released a soft growl, as he envisioned the stick being engulfed with his own personal hatred and anger. He let out a quiet exhale, focusing his inner anger into the weapon. Empowering it with his own inner emotions. He wanted to reinforce it with a power entity, his own hatred. He envisioned a red-energy swirling around the stick before forming spikes of some sort, wrapping around it. His ears flicking forwards as he does so, before he would focus on maintaining the energy, shaking his head at the result.

"Hrgnh." He grumbled.

He wanted to permanently imprint his energy onto the object, permanently. Or atleast for long enough, to keep it going for this lesson.

Thral Canxhttp://starwarsrp.net/user/15398-thral-canx/http://starwarsrp.net/user/15398-thral-canx/ | Lark | Ariealla Vareldi | Jorryn Fordyce | Orion Darkstar

 

[Ariealla Vareldi]

Ariealla caught the stick thrown at her swiftly, preventing a rather humorous, embarrassing scene of it smacking her in the face. Soon after, her saberstaff and sword were laid to rest not far from the Lord teaching them that day, leaving her bare of her usual tools of death. Instead, all she had was this simple stick.. a well proportioned stick but a stick none the less. She turned it over in her hand, humming quietly, as she considered how to preform her task. Fill the force consistently into the weapon, a perfect filling.

She hummed, and began to enter her darkness inside, vast and deep, drawing from the inky well to fuel the item. She began to funnel this jet black spirit into the weapon, which at first worked, pooling into the wood where she gripped it. As it spread, however, it began to thin, until it looked more like a transparent veil at the tip. Despite her dark depths, and her potential, it seemed she failed to preform the task. She frowned a bit, and smiled shortly after as she retracted, and made a second attempt at the task.

The second, and third, and fourth attempts only marginally improved, however from the delight on her face one couldn't tell. For while she was failing at her task, another thought was forming in her head. She had to coat the insides of the weapon, yes, with the power of the Force, but the method to doing so was not so simple. Instead, she had to attempt to do so from an angle she understood, breathed, lived. For most this would be a difficult task, one that would require some time considering the methodology. However she had a simpler solution.

Taking a breath, she began to manipulate the force, yet not simply in the stick. Slowly she shimmered, as light bent around her like a soft blanket. Force Cloak, stealth, whatever one wished to call it. A skill so intimate with her, her very identity could be linked to the act of preforming this ability. She stood there silently, her body and weapon cloaked evenly in the force to obscure their form. She took note of the flow, the river about her shimmering with her every act. And slowly, she let it go from her body, coming into form even as the weapon remained hidden until the last.

When the weapon alone was held in the force, she slowly sunk it into the wood, focusing on the sensations that had made it and herself invisible, though no longer with that sole purpose. Even as the weapon came to sight, it was obvious enough for the Lords present her method had born some fruit. Though perhaps imperfect, the length of the weapon now held much more consistent force throughout. Perhaps not enough for a lengthy stay, or enough to match her own signature, but it would work far better than before. She took a breathe, and continued to focus on the current that she had coated the weapon in, sinking it further and further in.

Yes, this would do. For now, at least.

[member="Honas'di"] @Orion Darkstar @Krest @Lark @Darth Lykos [member="Jorryn Fordyce"] [member="Thral Canx"]

 

[Adriana Fortemps]

A small influence of the force lead the frayed stick right into Jorryn's arm, allowing it to rest in her right hand with ease. As she began running her thumb alongside the stick to get a better feel for the shape and intricacies of the object, she reach down to her waist with her free hand and unclasped the only weapon she had on her. The lightsaber was the only physical weapon that she had ever needed to rely on, deciding to only ever carry the one weapon. She had found other hidden weapons, that could be used to catch their opponents of guard to be distasteful to her view of the Sith. The power of the Dark Side was far too strong to ever have to need to rely on sneak attacks in order to defeat their enemies. That is why she found the art of assassination so distasteful, but still she knew that the Sith Lord had much that he could teach her.

Turning her attention back towards the object held in her hands, she had started to get a good feeling for the intricacies of the frayed piece of wood in her hand. It's fibres ran straight though they were not strong enough to combat a vibro blade, let alone a weapon as powerful as a lightsaber. But Jorryn understood the overwhelming power of the force, and that with even a small fraction of it running through something can make it so much more. With that in her mind, Jorryn gave only a small amount of effort into pouring the force between the fibres of the stick. It had managed to coat the weapon, but it was still obvious that she needed to have the force completely fill it instead of surrounding it.

She began to pass the thin weapon between her fingers to create a rhythmic pattern that allowed her to more properly gauge the weight and resistance of the object that she held, how it would feel to wield such and object and how the air would resist it's swing. She began again to coat the weapon with the force, before attempting to fill the blade with the power of the dark side. She strained, but eventually she had to retract what little progress she had made into the weapon. Her hand ceased spinning the stick around, already having a good feel for the blade in all of it's aspects.

The force affected objects differently than it did with people, something that Jorryn had felt when she had lived on Ruusan for a short time. The planet had a Dark Side Nexus on it and it's corruption could be felt pouring deep into the ground and stone, leaving a scarred and dark area. With the living, normally it simply influenced them in minor ways throughout their short, meaningless, lives, but those with talent could be trained to wield the force to a deadly degree in ways that the galaxy had felt over many aeons. But with non-living matter it was a different matter entirely, the force is rarely ever naturally engraved into dead matter with force nexuses being the most well-known phenomena. It was always easier to empower and influence the living with the force than it was to pour the force into an object, a fact that had allowed for Jorryn to come up with a way for her to empower the object.

She pricked her thumb against the side of the blade, a small spot began to grow against the top of her thumb before dripping to the floor. Using the force, Jorryn was able to make the blood flow more openly between her digit and the fibres of the object. After coating a small amount of the weapon with her blood, she began to use it as a focus for allowing the force to penetrate the object. her blood allowed for her to more easily interact with the weapon, as she began to pour her force into the red liquid. As soon as she was done, she began to pour the force from the blood into the object. She could feel the dark side causing her blood to boil and seeping into the wooden object, it's neutral properties being filled with the Dark Side of the force. She took a heavy breath as the hard part finished, the force sinking deeper into the stick the Sith Lord had passed her. Though she figured out how to seep the force into an object it might not be the most practical to have to bleed herself for result, though it was a start.

She reformed her proper posture as she examined the stick. She was pleased with the results, though it might appear odd to some, the dark red colour of where her hand grasped the weapon.

[member="Ariealla Vareldi"] | [member="Honas'di"] | [member="Orion Darkstar"] | [member="Krest"] | [member="Lark"] | [member="Darth Lykos"] | [member="Thral Canx"]

 

[Xevek Nekonis]

As the Acolytes went about exploring coaxing the wooden sticks they held to imbibe the Force, to strengthen it beyond its normal levels of strength, Lykos kept silent as he carefully watched how each different being chose to tackle the challenge. Only Lark ended up preforming the ability through the easiest solution, eventually choosing to create a cycle of the Force within the wood. Honas'di chose a more brute-strength approach, attempting to engulf the stick entirely, not choosing to try and conserve his strength by creating the cycle. However, it was Jorryn Fordyce, Ariealla Vareldi and Orion Darkstar that really drew his attention and interest.

Each one of the three followed the same basic idea, even if they chose different routes to go down, for, in the end, they all used a medium to achieve their desired effects. Orion chose to use one of the most basic sparks of Darknesss, weaving Force Lighting through the resistant material, using the currents as a manner to impart the Force into the weapon while simultaneously using the Force in a much less taxing way to keep a shield around the stick so as to prevent it exploding within his grasp. Whereas Orion leaned upon the basic Lighting, Ariealla, it seemed, chose to rely upon Force Cloak, first enveloping herself within it before shrinking it down so that it existed within the stick. Their chooses of manipulations of the Force to use was, in Lykos' mind, somewhat telling as to their personalities considering the ease that they had called upon their chosen abilities. However, rather than dwelling on that analysis, he moved on, intrigued by the choice of Jorryn.

Whereas the others had chosen to use the Force directly, even when manipulating it to serve as a conduit, Jorryn chose to use a different medium entirely. Inorganic and dead material did not carry the Force as organic and living material did, however, instead of accepting that fact, Jorryn, it seemed, sought to circumvent it, using her blood, using organic material, to bridge the gap that served to make it difficult for non-organic matter to have the Force carved into them. Blood was something that Lykos had made sure to use within the course of either Alchemising or Imbuing and item, so, to see one of the Acolytes choose to make use of it was of some grim amusement to the Zabrak.

After each Acolyte had managed to begin channeling the Force into their sticks, Lykos spoke softly, his voice echoing slighting within the room. "My congratulations on managing the most basic step of this process. The good news for you all is that the most mentally taxing part of this endeavor for you all, using your minds to come up with how to channel the force into these sticks, is over. But, you are by no means even close to being skilled in this technique. Your methods are slow, unwieldy in battle, useless if you do not have time to prepare. Repetition and challenge will now serve you best. As, after all, the more you practice in channeling the Force in this manner, the more easier it will be." As he had been speaking, the weapons that the Acolytes had discarded as asked had begun to move under the Zabrak's telekinetic grip, set off to one side, a fair distance from their owners. "I will of course, due to my ... caring nature," sarcasm curled beneath a stoic voice as he spoke those last three words, "be ensuring that before you leave today you will have progressed further than just understanding how you will each choose to go about practicing Force Weapon."

Waving his hand nonchalantly, droids, humanoid in nature and equal in number to the amount of Acolytes, would drift into the room, their 'eyes' illuminating as soon as they were set down. A series of snapping hisses rang out as lightsaber would activate within each droids hands, red blades of plasma casting a crimson hue across the ground around the droids. Each droid's head snapped to a specific Acolyte. Casting his gaze at each Acolyte's stick, he nodded in satisfaction at seeing that each one still held the Force, albeit in different amounts.

"Each droid has been programmed to attack in a unique pattern and each of you will face one of them. They will attack for a short while and then retreat for a bit before restarting their attack. Each assault will be more viscous and longer lasting while the breaks in between will shorten. Defend, and, if you can, destroy the droids before you die. You may use the breaks between assaults to re-channel the Force into your sticks, but, you will have to learn how to do so quicker each time. Now, enjoy," each droid began to charge as grim humour rang clearly within Lykos voice, "and try not to die. Dealing with your bodies would be an annoyance."


[member="Jorryn Fordyce"] | [member="Ariealla Vareldi"] | [member="Honas'di"] | [member="Orion Darkstar"] | [member="Lark"] | [member="Thral Canx"] | [member="Krest"]
(The intent behind this is that each of you can control your droids until they are destroyed, so that you're not reliant on me nor on a posting order. However, if you want, I can control what the droids will do, just let me know if that is your preference.)

 

[Lark]

The droid approached Lark, it's lightsaber appearing with a fiery red aura. It was somewhat disconcerting to be fighting such an enemy with naught but a wooden stick, even though he knew what the stick was now capable of. The droid launched it's first attack and Lark raised his stick, the paranoid part of his mind was still convinced that the wood would splinter and snap as soon as the scarlet blade made contact. He braced himself for the possibility, but when the weapons collided it was as though Lark had blocked with his own lightsaber. This delighted him. He had always relied on his wit and adaptability to survive more so than brute force, and the ability to make the most mundane object a weapon equal to the ancient weapons of the Sith would be a marvelous asset to have, so long as he could make it work.

That 'Making it work' part wasn't so easily done, however. After countering a few more of the droid's strikes Lark's control of the Force within the weapon slipped, and he was forced to dodge the next attack. Thankfully, the droid halted it's assault, and gave Lark a brief reprieve to cycle the Force through once more. But he knew he only had one try before the attack would be continued. Remembering how he accomplished the feat earlier, he injected the Force into the weapon, and weaved it back and forth in a circular motion. Just in time too. The droid attacked once more, much more aggressively than the first time.

Lark was put in a difficult situation. If he focused on maintaining the flow of the Force, he might be struck down by the droid. If he focused on fighting, the weapon would be drained and he'd be left with a mere stick. He attempted the put fighting to the back of his mind, he was all to familiar with it and it would come more naturally to him. Focusing instead on keeping the flow going, letting his arms be guided by the rhythmic motions of battle. He matched every blow the droid dealt, and after he pushed aside one rather telegraphed attack, he used this stick, this piece of wood, to decapitate the droid, burning it's metal neck.

The body fell to the ground with a crash, and Lark looked down with satisfaction. This ability would be extremely valuable, one more trick to add to his ever-growing collection.

[member="Darth Lykos"] [member="Jorryn Fordyce"] [member="Ariealla Vareldi"] [member="Honas'di"] [member="Orion Darkstar"] [member="Krest"] [member="Thral Canx"]

 

[Venthis Zambrano]

His droid, larger than the rest of the droids given to the others in the lesson. Charged over to the towering Nelvaanian, it was around the same size as the acolyte. Which was suprising. It firstly stood still, it's hands weirdly rotating in a 360 degree manner, at high speeds. Almost like a drill, on each of his arms. A soft grunt left the Nelvaanian's mouth, before he would raise the stick. It had a rock-like texture to it, after he had imbued it with energy. It had strengthened itself. He raised it facing upwards as he held in front of his face. He took a moments glance over to [member="Krest"], almost distracted.

In the moment he did, the droid struck him. With his drill-like right hand, scratching off some of the skin and fur from the Nelvaanian's left shoulder. A growl left Honas'di's sharpened teeth as he took a side-step and swung the stick at the droid's right arm. What had previously struck him. The stick would make a dent in the arm, causing it to bend and stick out slightly. "Ha." He chuckled, squinting briefly at the droid. Awaiting it's next move.

The droid charged forwards, attempting to tackle the blue creature, though he would jump over the attack and plant his feet down onto the droid's back, almost crushing it's chasis in the process. Though the droid's head simply span around facing upwards, previously down and emitted a wave of energy pushing the Nelvaanian off him. Though, luckily landing on his feet, Honas'di was off-balance, briefly.

Darth Lykoshttp://starwarsrp.net/user/8601-darth-lykos/http://starwarsrp.net/user/8601-darth-lykos/ Jorryn Fordyce Ariealla Vareldi Honas'di Orion Darkstar Krest Thral Canx

 

[Orion Darkstar]

​

Circulation. ​

​

That was the key factor to the exercise. Only it applied to thousands of working and churning organisms throughout the galaxy. It was a consistent process that only those who weren't truly blind to its beauty could appreciate. Orion was not blind to such things, in everything he did there was always some method to it; some antiquated thought process behind the outcome of his decisions. This of course meant most cared little for his opinions, but that meant little to him in a galaxy filled with lies, power, and corruption. Of course, Orion had his own thoughts on what to do to change the galaxies current state. Like all other acolytes he too, had dreams. The dark side had provided him with an outstanding opportunity, one that if seized would grant Orion everything he wanted. The power he now yearned to learn was a stepping stone; a necessary power to prevent failure and most of all stop those against him. ​

​

He looked down at the rough slender stick. A consistent spiral of energy gyrated clockwise in a smooth motion, the force allowing him to continue. Small bursts, that's what started it until the consistency became stagnant. Unfortunately, despite his success; there was another step to the true process Orion wanted to achieve. The tingle in his fingers began to sting. Just before he bent the force to his will, a droid mechanically stepped in front of him. The bronze rusty color showed its age. Orion's eyes widened as he shifted his glance from the stick to the newly ascertained threat. The words of Lykos submerged into his brain. ​

​

"and try not to die. Dealing with your bodies would be an annoyance."​

​

As quickly as the words left the desecrate master's mouth the droid sprung forward. The high pitch whining of the internal systems snapping to life. The loud clanks and ticks that imprinted to the floor as it charged proved its weight. This was no ordinary droid. The modifications clearly were deceptive and the solid steel frame around its chest showed an iron defense. The waist of the droid buckled, a violent turn sending a magically gripped lightsaber pierced through the silent thinking of Orion. ​

​

Now.​

​

Orion raised the stick upward, the wide arc swinging for the yellow saber that came crashing down towards him. Orion felt it. Seconds from colliding with the saber the stick was retracted and Orion pivoted off his back foot as another swing came fro his shoulder. A slight panic set in, the stick had lost its properties of force. It was just a normal stick, useless as much as it was awfully crafted. With a bent knee Orion leaped out of the way, the droid stopping in its tracks to give a moment of reprieve. There had to be a way to balance his focus between the two. Being a stationary success meant nothing in the art of war, movement was necessary. Orion smiled, a sudden thought striking him with ease. He was trying, a fault of his own. The threat of the droid had overcome his natural ability to bend the force around the stick. ​

​

He stared at the glowing red eyes inside the empty machine. A small twitch from its wrist showing another showcase of swings and lunges ready to come at him. Orion felt it, the blanket of the force swirling around the stick at his side. The mental thought of a liquid flow force it to react, the clear energy meandered along its edges as Orion swung toward the fast yellow saber. The stick and saber collided, a hint of sparks clashing blow after blow. It was a success, only; Orion had other plans. He took a step back from the droid after the onslaught. The tingle in his fingers came back once more. The burn that reached the tips of his fingers forcing a smile from him. He knew at that moment he achieved it. ​

​

The droid charged forward, swing after swing Orion dodged, careful not to bring his success to fruition till the building friction in his fingers hit its boiling point. Just as the yellow glow was about to meet his face a brighter, more intricate weapon stopped it. What was once a stick was an electrical storm of purple tendrils dancing along the edges of the blade. The surge of violet colors knocked the droids weapon wide. The snaps and sizzles from the stick swiftly finding its mark as it did. The stick slipped into the core of the metal plating, another burst of the force channeled into the electrical weapon. A display of lightning slowly fried the droid. Smoke rose to the air, the smell of natural oils and phosphorus filled the room. The electrical current around his stick died out as he turned away. ​

​

The heavy thick heap of frying junk fell forward a loud crash following. It was magnificent, although it still needed work. Orion would perfect it in time. Day by day he grew stronger, wiser, and dangerous. He looked down at his pale hand as he let go of the stick, a black and red burn swallowing where his palm used to be. ​

​

Perhaps I over did it. ​

​

Orion thought clenching a fist with his injured hand. Everything came with a cost.​

​

[member="Darth Lykos"] | [member="Lark"] | [member="Honas'di"] | [member="Jorryn Fordyce"] | [member="Ariealla Vareldi"] | ​