A Step in the Right Direction [Solo/Invite]

[EmKay]

Drachlann. A gift from [member="Isley Verd"], and now the weapon that Atretes would master. The creator described its abilities as close to those of a lightsaber, with obvious drawbacks by design. Nevertheless, Rhoujen planned to master this weapon on his own time, while [member="Salem Norongachi"] taught him the ways of the Force and, perhaps soon, the lightsaber. In fact, Atretes had brought the lightsaber that his mentor let him borrow to compare the way that weight, speed, and style differed between the two distinct weapons.

He was standing upon a plateau on Geonosis with some B1 Battle droids armed with blaster rifles surrounding him. He needed to get himself used to combat, and prevailing in uneven odds. After all, what good was the gift he was imparted if he didn't use it to his fullest and constantly work to hone his skills? The setting was indeed dangerous, but he wore his armour to avoid getting too roughed up. He wasn't entirely sure what Phrik was, but it was supposed to do well against lightsabers. That logically meant that it would do well against blaster fire as well. He decided to start with the lightsaber.

He unclipped the device from his belt and activated it. The blade was a standard yellow, and he gave the weapon a bit of a spin in his hand. It was awkward, especially since he didn't even know what Lightsaber Forms were, and he had to drop it, use telekinesis to stop it, then grab it again when he nearly chopped his arm off. He sighed and concentrated on the droids.

"Just let instinct take over, it'll come naturally..." the apprentice thought to himself calmingly. He lifted the saber and took a breath. He nodded to two of the droids.

The red bolts singed past him and burnt ozone, the scent wafted into his nostrils and he tried not to focus on that. He swept with the lightsaber, and a blaster bolt went deflecting off into the void of the Geonosian night, the glow illuminating the canyon below. He danced with the saber, but his dance was awkward. Slow. It lacked the finesse of those more skilled than him, yet he showed promise. He avoided bolts less and blocked them more, each movement gaining a subtle amount of fluidity in his inexperience. Part of the convenience was that these basic droids fired so predictably that he was able to follow the patterns and simply block as the shots were fired. Then, as per programming, another two droids entered the fray.

Surprise was their ally, and Atretes took shots in the torso and one clipped hair off the side of his head before he was able to compensate. It was harder to block four droids at once, and he found himself spinning, growing dizzy and disoriented, and sloppy in his technique. He moved his body, rather than his arms and saber, and was soon overwhelmed by the blasters and his own inexperience. He fell to one knee and a wave of telekinesis knocked the droids onto their metallic behinds and they ceased the onslaught. He huffed a few breaths, and looked to the blade that was searing the ground it touched. He deactivated the device and clipped it to his belt.

After a few moments to regroup himself, he stood and looked to the polished hilt that led to a sheathed blade on his belt, beside the lightsaber. He gripped it, and pulled. The blade smoothly slunk out of its casing, and reflected the minimal starlight. He found the thing beautiful, in a different way than the lightsaber. Where the saber was a thing of brilliance and awe, the blade was something decidedly more physical, and somehow more threatening. He smiled when the starlight played on the sigma emblazoned upon it and then held it in both hands as he had the lightsaber. The first thing he noticed was the weight. Instead of a strange, intangible blade of energy before him, he could feel where the sword went. He gave it a few test swings and found that he enjoyed the weight and counterbalance. He gave it a few spins as he had with the lightsaber, and was able to better handle the blade. Perhaps he would come to be more skilled with the lightsaber, but for now he felt that the sword was more comfortable for him.

He nodded, this time, to one droid. The blade was not a round tube of energy with even width. It was thinner on one axis and wider on another. He had to compensate. The droid opened fire.

Basing again on the instinct that allowed him to last approximately three minutes with a lightsaber, Atretes spun the blade sideways in his grip and gave it a spin. The shining pattern in front of him looked like a shield, for the brief moment he was able to spin it at that velocity. It faltered at the end of the twirl, but the deflect did its job and that bolt went out into the distance before either fizzling out of hitting something and dispersing. The droid fired again, and the Apprentice gave the sword another spin. The second time was slightly better, but he still nearly dropped the weapon when he stopped the whirl. His wrist was getting tired from the unfamiliar weight already. He decided to resort to more conventional means of blocking. Another bolt was fired, and he blocked that in similar fashion to how he used the lightsaber. It was successful, and two droids activated on either flank of the first one. They immediately opened fire, and Rhoujen's first reflex was his improvised spinning-deflect maneouvre. He had to hold it longer to block both bolts, and when he stopped the blade flew out of his hand. With an annoyed growl, he used his telekinesis to draw the wayward sword back to his hand, and cut the air before him to strike at the incoming blaster bolts and send them away before they hit their mark. One chanced to decapitate one of the droids. He hoped that wasn't coming out of his pay.

 

[EmKay]

Dawn was breaking. Sweat poured from Atretes like tiny rivers. The grown around him, and some sports on his armor, were stained with carbon scoring. The blaster fire was ricocheting off the canyons around and making the area sound as though it were infested with phantoms. The first glimpses of sunlight played off the blade and danced within the sigma emblazoned low on the metal. The droids were firing relentlessly now, and the faint glimmer of rotation was all the hint of how Atretes was handling his blade. He'd remembered what [member="Salem Norongachi"] had told him of sensing things in preparation, to feel those small energy signatures that discharged just before the bolt was fired. He'd even layered on his abilities to deflect energy at one point when he was too tired to move, but wanted to keep the strain and focus going. He had trained through the night, and now that the sun was peeking out he caught his second wind. Bolts flew away, his sword arced in a lethal beauty, his muscles screamed for respite but he denied them such. This was about pushing himself to his limit, to test boundaries, to throw himself at the metaphorical wall until either he stuck or it broke.

The determination fueled him. He drew power from it, drew energy. It wasn't a placid lake that some draw from, or a torrent of rage others did either. It was the motivation to succeed, the determination not to fail, the drive to become better, it was something that worked for him and he was milking it for every drop he could. He twisted and a blaster bolt seared his arm. He winced, glared at the droid responsible, and by reflex his hands gripped the handle of his sword with both hands. Energy scaled along the blade and concentrated along the edge. It wasn't the blade absorbing and retaining the power like it would with lightning, but merely an object that Rhoujen used to channel his energy. A sharp wave of telekinesis collected finally at the tip, and the apprentice slashed. The energy flew off the blade in the arc of the slash. It connected with the droid and sent parts flying before the wake of the energy sent the droid itself flying into a canyon. Atretes drew a breath and in that moment his muscles failed.

He crumpled, to one knee. His mind was aching, his muscled on fire, and the droids were programmed to halt when he was defeated. They took a step back and folded back into their offline positions. He coughed, the sunlight leeching the evening cool from the air and parching his lungs immediately. He groaned aloud and used his sword to prop himself up to stand. He sheathed it, and tapped one of the droids to be collected. Then he made his way back to his ship and stumbled into it. He hit a button and the cargo ramp sealed and locked behind him.

He made his way to the cockpit and flopped down into the pilot's seat. He tapped the buttons necessary and autopilot engaged to take him back to the Hand. Once safe in the knowledge he was headed 'home' he passed out into an exhausted rest.

 

[EmKay]

Now Atretes stood in the hangar training room of the Hand of Fate. He looked over to the security camera that watched him. He noticed the lenses refocus as it honed in on him.

"Emah," he said to the air, "You know those training remotes? Let some of them out please." he said quietly. A click and a thunk announced that he was heard and that the AI decided to oblige. He looked over to the droids as they floated to him and he met the photoreceptor of one of them. He closed his his eyes for a moment to center himself, and felt the Force weave into the musculature of his arms and legs. He took a deep breath and he could sense the charging of the lasers on the remotes and the half-tick of energy that inspired the voicalisation of the ship's AI to speak.

"Begin." she announced again. She seemed to like giving him that half second warning. He was faster this time. Right as the speaker gave live to the 'b' of her word, Rhoujen's blade was halfway out of its sheath. His instincts mingled with his senses and his reflexes took over. The first bolt was deflected with a single slice at the air and it was directed back at the remote. The small bolt made it spin in the air, and it wobbled to regain its balance. He could sense the next offender as it charged, and moved his blade into position. Then his sense of danger warned him of a feint and dual-strike. He dropped to the ground in a feline crouch as the bolts fired, and they hit the remotes opposite their positions. He exhaled as he rose, and with the same motion he deflected another bolt that left his blade in a spin that allowed him to rotate his body and deflect the next bolt in the same movement. His eyes closed again and he flared out with his senses, choosing to use the Force to see rather than to use his eyes. It had changed ever so slightly. He could see the energy coming off the droids like waves of heat on glass, and he could sense the contorting of electricity in the brief moment when they charged to fire.

Then more droids came. He had a feeling in his gut this would happen. He was, after all, dealing with Emah. He considered himself lucky that she wasn't using auto-turrets. He swept under the circle and flicked a bolt of energy back at the remote with his blade. He took the moment it took for the remotes to rearrange to consider his next move. He took a breath and considered his options. He could continue to play defence, he could attack the droids, or he could call off the session. He wasn't calling it off. He wanted to draw it out, and hone his skills more. He chose defence and in the moment his choice was made he spun in place and in his field of vision he projected an energy barrier. He watched a few lasers bounce off before it crumbled and remembered that these were very weak. He threw up another weak one, and the precious seconds that bought him allowed him to commit to a thicker, more durable barrier. He grinned, and watched the bolts bounce off and back into the fray of remotes. Some of them were felled by the barrier, and more came to replace them. This was getting fun.

[member="Salem Norongachi"]

 

[EmKay]

The swarm was nearly a kiddie version of [member="Salem Norongachi"]'s escapades with auto-turrets. The remotes were firing in timed intervals and irregular succession. It was intended by the ship's AI to be predictable, given her playmate's skill level, but it was still difficult. A pool of sweat gathered below Atretes and make footing both more treacherous and easier to slide along. Drachlann danced in his hands, flicking away at blaster bolts and causing his arm muscles to scream in protest from the prolonged forced exertion. He was losing his notable calm, and a flurry of emotion played through his mind.

"Don't do that." his Master's voice echoed through his mind from when Salem tore apart a frigate through sheer power of the Force. It was a frightening thing to behold, and he could feel the whirlwind of emotion-fueled Force pulling at him to act. He fought against it, but found that the split focus was sending a few stinging burns across his skin like fiery insects. He gripped his sword with both hands and all but wrung the hilt as he strained against his frustration and focused on the battle. Such only increased his frustration.

[Begin Battlemind training]

The emotions coiled through Rhoujen like a coil gearing for release. The tension within him only grew as he tried to control it, but as his blade cut through one of the remotes that grew too close, he was struck by a wonder. He took a quick, deep breath and swept under the remotes. He threw up an energy barrier and closed his eyes. He was immediately thrown into the Force, a result of the heightened state he'd put his senses into for the fight, and concentrated upon himself. The frustration and determination within him conjoined like a strange mutated beast, and he focused on it. He plucked them apart and merged them together into one entity. A force of emotion tied in with his in-born need to succeed. He concentrated on this thing he'd made within himself, and allowed the Force to channel through it rather than his own raw feelings. He opened his eyes to see and sense that his barrier was falling, but now he was ready.

In a smooth movement, he stepped through his ethereal construct and felt that frustration rise again, but rather than try and control him it flowed through the conduit he'd made. It channeled his power, rather than exacerbate it. Rather than the instinctual and furious movement that he took whenever Sigma was allowed to use his emotions for power, he was precise and measured. The air around Rhoujen could nearly be described as frigid. Whatever aggression took root in him was absorbed and channeled into his arms, feet, eyes, and blade.

[End Battlemind training]
[Begin Force Speed training]

With the next step, Atretes guided the Force to take root in his musculature. Beyond his legs, a weaker stretching of his ability slid across his entire being. His muscles first protested against, then accepted the intrusion of the energy into them. He kept his mind focused, doing his best not to miss a beat in his deflection of laser shots and repelling of droid remotes, while channeling the Force through him. The energy strengthened in his muscles, just slightly, and he felt that nearly unnatural boost flow through him yet again. With a smirk, he darted through the small devices and launched himself into a spinning, jumping lunge aided by the burst of speed. Arm stretched out with Drachlann at the end, Rhoujen embodied a whirlwind of razors. In his wake lie the remains of a swath of droids.

[End Force Speed training]

"Impressive," he heard from the speakers, "For someone your level." the feminine voice finished. He could hear the sarcasm in Emah's voice. She wasn't impressed at all. He shook his head and flicked his blade at an incoming laser shot. The bolt singed the wall just to the left of a camera watching him.

 

[EmKay]

"Let's step up the difficulty, then, if you're going to be that way." the voice came bitterly from the speakers, then the remotes sparked a little ad a bolt landed him square in the chest with searing pain. He looked down to see the burns were negligible, just the impact felt like his chest was being scorched off. The pain shook his emotional conduit and made his control over his impulses falter.

[Begin Sense Level / Sense Force / Danger Sense training]

The first bolt came to his mind like a flag. He ducked and the intensified laser whizzed past his hair, singeing the tips just a little. He focused his senses through the channeled emotions, heightening them and allowing him greater immediate control over them. He concentrated on his ability to sense through the Force, and the way that it could bring him warnings of danger before they happened. Paired in synchronous, he was able to grasp the rough movements of the remotes and when they would fire. Every charging laser shot bright both a kind of precognition on two fronts, and he was able to avoid the blasts to the best of his ability.

His ducking, weaving, and jumping coupled with his focus on his senses dulled his ability to keep up his muscular symbiosis with the Force and his speed began to waver and falter. While he was doing well dashing and rolling to avoid the many lasers as his senses flared, there came a tipping point where the AI in control of them upped the ante and he was shot across the chest again by a small volley that left him writhing on the floor.

[End Sense Level / Sense Force / Danger Sense training]
[Begin Control Level / Control Pain training]

The searing was nearly mind-numbing. His thoughts were focused more in it than anything else, yet somewhere in his subconscious he rejected the hand of aid offered by Sigma and frowned harder than he was already. His mind broke free of the physical pain, and he dove into the energy of the Force for some kind of solace from the pain that caused his body to convulse and go inoperable. Somewhere in the void, he pondered. Within his small realm of the Force, it felt like hours before he pieced together the different ways he could control the Force. He ensnared his imagined fingers around a metaphysical tendril and brought it to him like a delicate thing. Then he focused his will into it, and it began to take an abstract form with its intent clear. Block, or at least hinder, the neural pathways that brought him such excruciating pain and allow him to carry on.

He brought that synthesis of the Force back with him as he dove back into the convulsing of his body. It had only been a few moments in reality, of which he meditated, but he let that creation permeate his body and flow through him to perform its duty. Slowly, the pain eased. He still ached as though he had been punched or worked out all day -- which, technically, he had -- but he was able to move again albeit stiffly. He gripped his sword and stood defiantly against the remotes, his will and control over himself overcoming the toys.

[End Control Level / Control Pain training]

 

[EmKay]

The ability to smooth over his pain was a valuable asset against the pain-inducing lasers thrown out by the remotes. Atretes winced as he moved, but he soldiered through. He had to complete this session, to become more than he was. The Force was his friend, Salem was his guide, but if he relied on others too much he would be lost without a teacher. He wouldn't let that happen. He deflected a bolt back with his sword and took a deep breath. As the air escaped his nostrils, his face hardened and he launched forward at the remotes. Their bolts raked against his skin in what would be agony, and as it was it felt like a hornet sting every time. This was an act of willpower, not Force power.

[Begin Telekinesis training]

Drachlann impaled one of the remotes, and Atretes felt a surge of his determination mingle with his frustration and jolt through the fragile conduit in his mind. The abilities imparted to him by Battlemind shattered, yet in its wake the flood of wrath wrought by the pain and struggle surged into him and motivated his will. He dug deep into the Force, every new sting of the lasers eroding at his ability to retain the level of pain control he was exhibiting. He pulled at the strands of the Force and channeled them. Through his hands, up the length of his blade, along the edge, and focused into the remote sparking two thirds the way up its length. The energy focused, and then moved. It nearly enveloped him, creating a shimmering layer around him that looked as though he were surrounded by heat, the last bolt he could take hit him, and he spun.

The remote launched itself at another, and the impact sent out a shockwave to the other remotes. This shockwave was complemented by a ripple of energy generated by Rhoujen's very movement that spread out, and where the two forces of energy met the remotes were crushed in the opposing force. He fell to a knee, the few intact remotes skittering across the floor trying to reestablish their floatation, and he dug the tip of his blade into the durasteel beneath him.

[End Telekinesis training]

 

[EmKay]

[Begin Control Level / Force Heal training]

The pain was growing again. He could feel it. It was creeping in on his focus again, and he knew that patching it over even more would only make it worse in the end. He had to fix it. He closed his eyes and focused inwardly. His muscles tightened with the encroaching pain, and his grip on his sword tightened as if it were his tether to sanity. He drew on the Force, so much so that ghostly wisps of it became visible around him in a double helix. It was as though it were testament to his origin. His brow furrowed as the pain made itself even more known, and the blade dug deeper into the ground. He honed, focused, concentrated. He drew on the Force, folded his will into it, controlled it to his needs.

As one orchestrates a symphony, Atretes conducted the Force through him, through every part of his body that ailed him. Granted they were small burns and neural agitations, but the effort requires felt great while he guided the Force to do this new thing for him. He imparted his will, as he had before, into the Force as it wove around him. The ghostly tendrils helixing around him suddenly glowed bright and took on a violet colour. He felt the energy surge through him then, taking on its own form as per his will, and concentrating on his wounds and stamina. He took a deep breath as this happened, and felt rejuvenated from his encounter with the remotes. He closed his eyes and let a faint smile touch his lips.

[End Control Level / Force Heal training]

Rhoujen stood and kicked his blade at the same time. It dislodged from the ground and flicked up in a spin, and he snatched it by the handle as he spun on his heel to face the droids. They were keeping their distance, up until now. He suspected Emah was watching him, studying him. He wondered how much she knew about the Force for a brief moment, before he bowed his head.

[Begin Battlemind / Force Speed / Tutaminis training]

He dipped into the Force. He focused hard, and found that creation that allowed him to channel his emotions into focus and power. A brief moment was all it took for him to lock his experiment into something more stable, and feel it out on how to better call upon it. He took a deep breath as his being in the Force familiarised itself with the construct, and warped it into greater efficiency.

Next, he turned to his ability to weave the Force into his very muscles, and created an even better meshing between energy and flesh. He could nearly feel the ethereal strands soak into the fibers of his bodily muscles, penetrating more effectively. It was... unpleasant, but he underwent the process in the name of bettering himself. It was necessity.

Finally, he took the latticed design of his energy barriers and thinned it, to require less effort on his part at the cost of effectiveness. He needed to be able to take some bolts without taking burns and agony. The barrier worked along the surface of his skin, creating an invisible bodysuit that would last at least a few rounds with the remotes. He opened his eyes, and stared the remotes dead on.

[End Battlemind / Force Speed / Tutaminis training]

He could feel it, somehow. That Emah had upped the ante again. Then he blinked and the remotes were in entirely different positions. He smiled to himself. That AI was just full of surprises.

 

[EmKay]

Cut, step, deflect, dodge, duck. The movements were quicker than he'd had to perform in the past, all simply to avoid being assaulted by the lasers. The remotes, the four remaining, were relentless and on a higher echelon than they were previously. He narrowed his eyes, his senses flaring but too late. The barrier that protected him from the hostile energy crumbled and a successive shot landed right in his leg. He growled, biting back the pain that shot from his calf, and sidestepped a shot that he'd barely been able to sense.

[Begin Sense Level training]

He could feel the fresh wave of recycled air leave the vents when he inhaled and the crispness filled his lungs. He turned his attention to the droids, and dug his metaphorical claws even deeper into the Force as he had before. He wove into it, and sought to sense more than he could before. Not only in a specific way, but as a whole. He needed to be able to become more attuned to the Force, to sense it better. Further. Deeper. He gritted his teeth as the waves of untouched depth washed over him, and he fought to remain aware of the droids. One fired, he ducked out of the way precious moments before. He could feel the sensory extension working over him slowly, easing in and allowing him further perception.

He jumped, and two shots intersected where he was crouched. He touched down and ducked low to avoid one shot, then rolled to avoid another. The extra potency was finally playing through him and allowing him to better see things as a Force user would.

[End Sense Level training]

With the intertwining of muscle and energy still allowing him quicker movement, and the added sense flowing into his perceptions, he made short sprints toward two of the remotes, with pauses to avoid shots from two or more of the four remotes. With a forward dive, he made his way behind the remotes and quickly stood, then spun around and sliced a horizontal line that bisected the remotes nearest him. A flick of his wrist deflected twin shots form the two remaining remotes.

 

[EmKay]

The final two remotes succumbed to quick glances against his blade, his ability to calculate and sense the blaster shots allowing him to deflect the bolts into their partners. He couldn't reflect, but he could accurately deflect. With the remotes downed, Atretes sheathed his sword and looked around him at the devastation.

"Would you like to run through it again?" the feminine computerised voice came. Atretes shook his head in response.

"No, not today, thank you Emah. I'm going to rest now." he added, before heading out of the hangar.

 

[EmKay]

Through the halls he went, and finally he got to his quarters. He shrugged off the sword, his clothing, and took two showers. A hot one to remove the grime and carbon, and a cold one to soothe him. After he was done, he got dressed in some loose pants and flopped into his cot. The shower allowed the training to catch up with him, and he was sore. His last memory was of wishing to relive the events in his dreams before he nodded off for a nap.

And his wish was granted, only in a myriad of different ways and potential corrections. Even Sigma had a say in some points, but overall the message was clear. He did well, and took a great leap in progress.

[End]