Faction Acolyte Boot Camp [TSC]

[Jorryn Fordyce]

// Lady Jorryn Fordyce //
// Objective // Witness //
// Focus // // Arris Windrun // Kasir Dorran // Lirka Ka // Darth Amaymon // Neriah Calven // Kirie // Lysander von Ascania // Anet Raine // Reev Marr // Calyx Sundrift // Varin Mortifer // Irina Jesart // Darth Anathemous // Lyssara Thrynn //

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The pupils laying in the centre of the Echani's amber eyes dilated and reddened as the pair held a direct contact for an awkward amount of time before the cyborg answered the question. Jorryn couldn't truthfully say if she cared if the woman had been injured or not, but at least a small part of her felt pity that it may have been her fault.

"I haven't asked you not to put me down either, have I?" The words hung ambiguously in the air as she continued to look up at Arris, the hallucinogenic part of the substance dragging the lines that marked the woman as a cyborg lengthening. "I'm perfectly fine, I just need a moment to refocus myself."

A small part of her enjoyed being carried, probably due to the influence of the narcotics.

Fingers tugged at the corner of Jorryn's eyes as she tried to recenter, but found herself unable to. The woman wondered why she felt this way, there wasn't any drink that she had that might affect her so strongly.

She should be focusing on the acolytes fighting for their lives down below, seeing which of them had potential to strengthen the Sith legacy. Which ones she might be tempted to scout for future dominions and lay claim to.

But she was too fething out of it

There was no reason for her to feel this way, she hadn't had anything except for the cigarette that the cyborg gave h-

"That was a regular cigarette you gave me, right?" Amber eyes flared weakly as she looked up to the cyborg, an accusatory glance looking somewhat awkward as she remained in Arris' arms. "There aren't many other options for why I'm feeling this way, so I'd advise truth."

Even as she spoke, sweat bubbled up across her brow and the colours all seemed that much more vibrant. There was a weakness to her expression uncommon to the Sith Lady, having been caught off guard by the hold experience. She wasn't exactly mad at Arris for giving her the substance, but there was little patience in the Echani's face as she stared upwards.

It was clear that whatever she had been given had also dulled her anger, trying its best to deny the fleeting joy of the sensations.

 

[Arris Windrun]

"I haven't asked you not to put me down either, have I?" The words hung ambiguously in the air as she continued to look up at Arris, the hallucinogenic part of the substance dragging the lines that marked the woman as a cyborg lengthening. "I'm perfectly fine, I just need a moment to refocus myself."

Her head turned up quickly, focusing on the snowy path ahead.

"Fair 'nough," she muttered.

The battle of acolytes crackled nearby, as did the brief flash of lightning. Indeed, they both should have been paying more attention to that rather than to the awkwardness between them.

"That was a regular cigarette you gave me, right?" Amber eyes flared weakly as she looked up to the cyborg, an accusatory glance looking somewhat awkward as she remained in Arris' arms. "There aren't many other options for why I'm feeling this way, so I'd advise truth."

Snow crunched beneath her feet as Arris stopped dead in her tracks. She tilted her chin slightly up and let the question flood her.

Well, fuck. Arris thought. Yeah, that made all too much sense, and she was very embarrassed not to have said anything when she offered the smoke. Surely, it was obvious, right? Stupid. Stupid! Her head slowly turned back down, grey to meet amber.

"Uh...." That alone probably damned her. "No - No, it wasn't." She cleared her throat, "street shit from Narsh..."

Arris offered a conciliatory grin. "Sorry, force of habit to share."

 

[Varin Mortifer]

The commander darted in with quick slashes and swipes towards Varin’s shaken form. His attempts to block were mostly successful, but one attack came in with an awkward twist of the wrist knocking Varin’s mace off balance and causing him to stumble to the wall. Another swift strike knocked his heavy weapon from his hand and off the side of the tower. The weight of the mace itself landed on top of one of the frenzying acolytes heading towards Calyx, crushing their body into the dirt. The mace leaving a small crater in its wake.

The commander came in again with a stab, Varin swiftly darted to the side causing his foe to slam their saber into the wall. Using the moment of reprieve he slammed two fists into the ribs of the assailant, knocking the wind from their chest.

Varin grabbed his saber hilt, igniting the blade once again. A quick overhead slash was sent towards his foe who deftly parried. They began to trade blows with one another atop the tower, counter for counter, clash per clash.

Varin was able to sweep his enemies leg from under him, as he fell to the ground Varin attempted to slam the pommel of his hilt downward onto his sternum. A crack rang into Varin’s ears drawing ferocity from him as the opposing acolyte spat up blood.

The acolyte came back with a counter of his own however with a vibroshiv. Making a quick incision to Varin's calve, Varin let out a yell of pain as his leg collapsed from under him. But with the momentum he drove his fist towards the enemies skull, where he struck the stonework of the roof cracking it on impact as the acolyte rolled away, wheezing for breath.

Tags: Calyx Sundrift | Open​

 

[Lysander von Ascania]

Tag(s): Neriah Calven Ghruna Varin Mortifer Kirie Calyx Sundrift Anet Raine Arris Windrun Jorryn Fordyce Lyssara Thrynn@Lirka Ka Darth Amaymon

Grit was everywhere by this point; it was between Lysander’s teeth, grinding against the back of his molars. The apprentice spat, a mix of dust and copper, and dragged a single hand across his mouth. The polluted air was enough to choke on..

Through the haze he had seen Varin go; that familiar blur of fire and fury was already clawing his way up the tower. Perhaps the furnace would burn bright enough to draw every eye and buy them a needed moment, as Lysander would not have chosen him if he did not believe his former co-apprentice was capable.

Another shadow surged from the swirling dust, bent on chaos. Without hesitation, Lysander’s crimson blade whipped upward before cleaving the air in another arc. No elegance, no needless flair; every ounce of his strength poured into a single stroke. The body crumpled as though it were iron beneath an invisible hammer. His gaze never lingered; the moment was finished.. smoke on the wind.

Gaze cutting left, he heard Ghruna’s roar. A door was ripped open, a path, a sliver of escape that took root in his mind.

"Didn't get your name, Commander, but if you're going to reposition your pieces, now's the time." Bolts streaked through the air toward her position. "I can't hold them forever."

Crimson light carved across his jaw. “Hold what you can. I’ll cut the path.”

His focus flicked across the rest of the squad, pinning each of them. There was a colder, crueler part of him that dared them to fault; but in truth, he needed them more than he was willing to openly admit.

“Left flank!” he barked. “Through the breach! Keep the wounded low, blades high!” A bolt shrieked toward him; his saber caught it, flinging the green lance right back to where it came from.

The dust spat up another foe; his strike erased it, leaving only silence.

The breach swallowed him.

Inside were shadows and broken walls. The place was filled with the stink of mold. Lysander moved three steps in, saber sweeping once to catch another bolt and send it shrieking into stone. A figure lurched from behind a collapsed beam and the crimson edge cut the attacker down, body folding into the rubble. A sharp pivot followed as he scanned corners, before snapping over his shoulder. "Anchor here. Rear guard on the breach. Drag the wounded in."

Without looking back, he pressed on, deeper into the ruin.

"Forward. Cut them down. Leave no ground unclaimed."

​

 

[Kirie]

Location: Desevro
Acolytes: Neriah Calven | Reev Marr | Ghruna | Anet Raine | raine | Varin Mortifer | Lysander von Ascania | Naniti
Instructors: Arris Windrun | Lirka Ka | Kasir Dorran | Darth Amaymon
Observers: Darth Anathemous | Jorryn Fordyce | Lyssara Thrynn

Kirie tried to sit up slowly, finding it very difficult to make her limbs listen to her commands. Her head was pounding, and her tongue tasted like metal.

She struggled to remember what had happened. Words swam out of her fried brain. Neriah had told her that she would rather die than accept her help. Kirie had wanted to to tell her she would, that if she really wanted Kirie would leave her in the dirt and she could die. But she hadn't told her anything, as Neriah wrested from her grip, anger rolling off her in a wave, Kirie had just looked on helplessly, her mouth open in horror as she reaped the reward of her selfish attempt to avoid being the bottom of the pecking order.

The girl had turned towards her, hand raised, and Kirie had felt the hairs raise on her skin and then-

"The only one who'll get to kill you...is me."

Kirie pawed at her right ear, which was still ringing from the blast of energy that had passed over her shoulder. Out of the corner of her eye, she could see the smoking remains of the acolyte. That would have been me. Kirie thought. A hands breadth to the right and it would have been. Then, another thought occurred to her. That acolyte, that smoking pile of stuff that used to be someone, they had been coming to kill her. Neriah had saved her, even though she hated her.

Stars, this was so confusing.

Kirie groaned and tried to shake the grogginess from her head. What was happening now? She finally managed to sit up, squinting around at the figures around her, most of them obscured by the sudden dust storm that now choked the battlefield. Some of the other Acolytes had teamed up with the soldiers, or used the ambush as an opportunity to finish them off. She wasn't sure it was hard to see what was happening and her mind felt dull and foggy, still rattling from the lightning blast.

She thought she could make out the shapes of Varin Mortifer and Calyx Sundrift , fighting a series of opponents, their red shapes glimmering faintly in the storm. Further away she saw Lysander von Ascania , Ghruna , Naniti and Reev Marr moving to flank their attackers. The enemy themselves were all but hidden in the dust. Kirie saw figures falling and she hope it wasn't their own. She didn't want to hope for their deaths, but it had been mandated that they were to destroy each other, and Kirie wasn't ready to die. That meant she had to be on the winning team, they all did.

Unless...

She caught the form of Neriah, not far away, struggling her way through blaster fire towards the group. Kirie rose to her feet, wavering a moment before half stumbling half jogging to Neriah. She grabbed the girl roughly by the shoulder to spin her around, not to push her, but to sign urgently at her.

'You want to escape, right?' Kirie flinched as a blaster bolt whizzed past her head. Unlike Neriah, she had no idea how to block them. 'You should run. The dust might cover you. '

That was a tall order. Neriah had no reason to trust her. Neriah hated her, and Kirie didn't know if she could make it far after being shot, and even then if she could run, what were the realistic chances that Neriah could actually get away from the Covenant? After all, Kirie had never escaped the Sith. But, if Neriah did try to run, she would cover her, she thought she might even fight to buy her time, if she needed to.

All Kirie knew was that she had been struck by a terrible fear, one that had solidified when she'd seen the lightning burst from Neriah's fingers: If the girl stayed and fought, she would undergo a terrible change, and that change would be all Kirie's fault.

'You're not like us.' Kirie insisted, looking at Neriah earnestly. 'You should try to run.'

 

[Neriah Calven]

Tag: Arris Windrun Kasir Dorran Lirka Ka Darth Amaymon Reev Marr Calyx Sundrift Varin Mortifer Irina Jesart Kirie

A voice echoed within Neriah's mind. A voice she didn't recognise. It wasn't one of the voices that taunted her when she was alone. One of the ones that played on her slowly fragmenting psyche. No. It was one that had...given her a compliment. She wasn't sure how to feel about it. Was it someone speaking to her through the Force? Was it her own psyche, proud of what she had accomplished? None of that mattered in this moment, as dust, debris and blaster bolts sang through the air.

She had to get towards the group. Alone, she was a sitting duck. Even as her body screamed in agony, Neriah kept herself standing. Using what basic velocities she knew to protect herself from the blaster bolts this time, deflecting them away from herself...whilst a small part of her subconscious, the part of her that was still good, making sure that she didn't deflect them in the direction of the other Acolytes. There was still a fragment of good in her, that was swiftly being smothered beneath all of the pain and suffering she was going through. Evident by the slow shift of her Lightsaber's colour, the blue slowly but surely darkening in colour. The colour shifting towards more of a purple.

That's when she felt someone grab onto her shoulder. She couldn't properly see in the haze of smoke and dust, as Neriah brought her lightsaber up, ready to slash out at whoever had grabbed her, though she stopped midswing, upon realisation that it was The Thief. It was a struggle for Neriah to pay attention to what the other girl was trying to say. The signing. All she could understand was that she was trying to tell Neriah to run. To leave...

How STUPID did this girl think Neriah was?

Did she seriously believe that Neriah would trust her? That Neriah wouldn't think the Thief would use that as an excuse to cut Neriah down. To prop herself further amongst the rankings. It just made the disgust and anger within Neriah fester more. Her heart being twisted, pulled apart and changed from how she used to be. The infection that were her emotions being spread throughout her body with every pump of blood. The once warm and bright life dwelling inside of her slowly growing cold. The spark of curiosity and knowledge that was once contained in her gaze dulled to an gaze of hatred and calculated cruelty. The love of history and culture as a whole that had found a root in her mind twisted and shifted for a focus on the most efficient way to rid her foes from the Galaxy. If it hadn't been for the anger, the fear that coursed through Neriah's veins, she might have realised that Kirie was being genuine...But alas...

Neriah reached her blood covered hand out to grab Kirie by the collar of her outfit, her cold and dead eyes glaring directly into the eyes of the Thief, as Neriah snarled out, venom in her words. The girl who had been willing to help Kirie, to treat her pain, had died. Not when Neriah had been shot. No, that part of Neriah had died when Kirie had shoved her down to the ground.

"You can't trick me, Thief. First you steal my master's lightsaber, and next you plot to kill me whilst I have my back turned. I am not like You. When I plan to kill someone, I will look them in the eyes."

Exactly like how she was doing now. She tore her own hand away from Kirie's collar, before proceeding to head towards the group, her hand clenched in rage, small sparks flickering every few steps, even as Neriah winced in pain. She didn't have a proper control of her emotions. The Force. It meant every little spark was hurting her. Burning her hand and Neriah from the inside.

Kirie was wrong. Neriah would not undergo a terrible change if she stayed, if she killed.

Because that change had already happened.

​

 

[Calyx Sundrift]

He’d promised to lend his strength to whoever attempted to scale the tower, but Calyx quickly realized that wouldn’t be necessary. Before he could even shape the Dark Side, the being of fire and shadow was already halfway up the tower. He now understood why the acolyte barking orders had singled him out.

Calyx backpedaled, the borrowed saber tracing a defensive arc of green light that turned aside incoming red bolts. He kept his movements precise, calculating, always angling himself so that his sides and back were covered by the other acolytes, and so that they took the brunt of the assault. Let them handle the heavy hits. Let them take the risks. Survival was about mitigation.

The mercenaries surged forward in relentless waves, crazed and fearless. He’d cut down three, maimed five more, but still they pressed on, undeterred. His gaze flicked upward toward the tower’s peak. Only one of 'em here. Then across the battlefield. None here. He’d counted their numbers; the opposing acolytes should’ve matched them in size.

So where were they?

The question almost got him killed.

He caught a glint of motion in the corner of his eye. Calyx twisted just as a vibrolance thrust straight for his chest. He wasn’t fast enough to counter, only to flinch.

And then a vibromace dropped from above, crushing the mercenary in a single, wet crunch.

Calyx froze, blade raised, blinking at the corpse. The weapon - he recognized it - the same mace the fiery vanguard had wielded moments ago. "Flying objects. Noted."

He shook himself back to focus, eyes darting left toward an open doorway, then up again at the tower. He’d promised to help, but safety beckoned louder.

He reached out with the Force, feeling it coil and seize the fallen mace. With a grunt, he swept upward with both hands, channeling the strain through his arms and mind alike. The mace shot back through the air like a missile.

Return to sender. Least I can do

Breathing hard, saber still ready, Calyx sprinted for the open door. Inside, safety proved less safe than he'd hoped for.

There were more mercenaries.
And still no acolytes.


"We need to focus on finding the Acolytes! Ignore these-" he kicked a mercenary aside. "-lowlifes before they wear us down or box us in!"

It was the only way he saw them making it out alive.

Lysander von Ascania Varin Mortifer