Faction Acolyte Boot Camp [TSC]

[Reev Marr]

Wearing: Acolyte Armor + Vambraces
Tag: Lysander von Ascania Varin Mortifer

Reev stopped as they crested the hill, gaze gently sweeping the city.

"Something out there already has its eyes on us. Keep the line loose. I don't feel like dying in someone else's shadow."

"I... feel it too, I think?" she said in reply.

"It's like nothing I've felt before. It feels... wrong-"

Neriah hit the ground before she even registered the flash. It would have left her stunned if not for the Mandalorian instinct drilled into her these past few years. Shield up, wrist blaster forward, she began firing in the direction the enemy had shot from before shouting over her shoulder;

"AMBUSH!"


A few rounds whistled past her ear, forcing the girl to take a knee while she honed in on the shooter's position. While Varin Mortifer marched past to cut down the oncoming soldiers, Reev put suppressing fire on a second floor balcony from which return fire was becoming sparse and sloppy.

"Frak!" she shouted, as the wrist blaster sputtered and died.

"I thought these guys were Acolytes, why the hell are we fighting at range?!"

Unless...

Reev stood up, flinching at every round which struck her shield. But in between each, she was looking for something.

"There!" she pointed at an unfinished building.

"Rooftop, above the scaffolding!"

She was of course speaking about a robed, armored figure not unlike herself, speaking into a commlink.

"I think he's leading them!"

​

 

[Lyssara Thrynn]

As I watch from my perch, I note that the group seems to be funneling into a chokepoint. They're right in the heart of the action now, starting to organize themselves efficiently despite the rivalry and the deadly nature of this trial.

Some are on the front lines, others hang back yet the one who once refused help now finds herself offering it. We all have a share of choice and responsibility; every action carries its consequences. That's even truer on the battlefield.

I continue to follow them through Akacron on Desevro. The enemy leader appears to be on the rooftop, soldiers are firing from every direction, and the group is slowly beginning to fragment. If their formation collapses, I doubt they'll last long once the rest of the examiners arrive. The extraction point looks within reach or maybe not.

This thought makes me fly a little lower. I land on an empty balcony, my feet dangling over the edge, my broom resting against the railing. Ready to grab it again if needed it has a little trick to it, but I'll keep that in reserve for now.

"What will happen now that the masks are falling, and everyone begins to reveal their true role? Who will be able to transcend their fate… or be consumed by it? Does the Sith Code not tell us to reject the rules of the game, to break our chains, and claim victory?"

The words are mostly for myself; they can't hear me from where I am anyway, and the sound of blaster fire drowns out my voice. I rest my hand beneath my chin, thinking quietly, lost in my own thoughts.

 

[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 //

---

---

A raised eyebrow and curious smirk would be the immediate answer to Arris' statement, a playful wondering tickling the Echani's mind. Why had the woman accepted educating these students if she was no Sith herself?

There was value in lessons outside of the Sith doctrine, that Jorryn couldn't argue. She herself had many tutors in the arts of finery as well as combat, though much of it didn't stay in her mind.

But these were Sith here to train Sith were they not?

A hand brushed the flowing robes away from the ledge as the Echani took a seat beside her fellow observer, before lithe fingers accepted the cigarette. She wasn't typically one to smoke, yet she also didn't have any values against it.

The dark clouds filled her lungs, taking the smoky taste of it as her lips dragged out a shorter breath. A cloud parted soon after, drifting away with the wind as she thought what to say.

"Abuse was common tutelage for the acolytes when I was learning, both mental and physical. It has its values, I will not deny, but it also broke so many promising gems before their time." Amber eyes looked past the scenery towards the wounded figure of Neriah Calven being dragged carefully away by her fellow handmaiden. Jorryn wondered if Kirie regret her earlier actions, and prayed either decision wouldn't weaken her. "I prefer a more positive approach, broken things are ever so receptive to a delicate touch."

Another puff of the cigarette released a small grey cloud before handing the cigarette back to Arris Windrun , a delicate smirk remaining on her dark lips.

"Though try not to break them too much before they come my way, love."

Memories traced along the back of her mind as she remembered her youth in the Sith, knowing little of another life. She had been raised in a desolate ship by a cruel master, yet it forged her to the woman she was today.

A hint of regret and curiosity was quickly snuffed.

"Sith lessons being taught in violence are often the easy way, though not necessarily the best. Base instincts being beaten into us during our education, taught to strive towards death and seduction in order to weave the galaxy around their fingers." The witch's feet softly swayed in the air, gathering her thoughts before she spoke. "Not that I don't implement them myself, but there is a certain beauty in the discipline the Jedi incorporate."

An amber gaze tossed backwards through the trusses of her white hair as she looked down upon the acolytes now engaging in battle, watching as Varin Mortifer caved in the chest of some poor soldier, a mist of blood answering his strike. That one would be one to choose death as their obsession, she surmised.

Another, Reev Marr , played the game more cautiously. A defence being thrown against the waves of incoming troopers and using the time to observe and find the enemies' leaders. She was one to watch as well.

"I suppose we shall wait and see which of these paths our lovely acolytes pick..."

As the blood of the berserker Varin raced, so too would a lithe hand raise up in the air. The soldiers were weak, starved, and ravenous, but ultimately scared. Scared of dying in some forgotten place.

The Echani would help them forget that fear, pulling at the vessels in their veins to bring forth their own rage. To forget all else that wasn't simply to kill.

She wondered how the acolytes would manage with more ferocious enemies.

 

[Calyx Sundrift]

Tag: Lysander von Ascania Varin Mortifer Kirie Reev Marr Neriah Calven

When the time came to depart, Calyx - rare as it was - kept to himself. He lingered at the edge of one of the acolyte groups, led by the woman who’d drawn the instructor’s ire earlier. All of them were strangers, and he hadn’t bothered learning their names. There was still a gap between accepting the Dark Side and embracing the path of the Sith. Though he’d been pushed down it, whether he liked it or not.

The ruins of the old city waited just beyond the cliffs, a short, unremarkable hike away. Idle chatter filled the air. Something about the latest season of a holoseries he’d never heard of.

An unremarkable hike, until it wasn’t.

Calyx spun just as the blaster bolt zipped past, slamming into the girl at the rear. His breath caught, the shock crackling through him like live current.

Ambush.

A storm of blasterfire followed. Instinct took over. Calyx reached for the Force, feeling its familiar chill wash through him as he seized the Dark Side. His lightsaber hissed to life, green light cutting through the smoke and dust of the stirring group. Rough and unsteady reflexes surfaced, but it would be instinct that kept him alive.

Their leader, the same woman who'd headed the group, rushed to the fallen girl. Other sabers flared into existence, red and yellow mingling with his green. Calyx fell in beside Varin Mortifer, their blades weaving a perimeter of light and fury. He grimaced at his uneven rhythm, cursing how long it had been since he’d fought like this.

"Energetic lads, I’ll give ’em that," he called over the noise as another wave surged forward without fear, armed with the most ridiculous collection of improvised weapons he’d ever seen. He’d planned to break away from the group earlier, but that option was gone.

A curse rang out behind him as Varin advanced on the attackers. Calyx slowed, setting himself as a second line of defense.

"I thought these guys were Acolytes, why the hell are we fighting at range?!"

"S’pose not everyone likes it up close and personal on the first encounter," he quipped, a grin tugging at his lips as his bladework started to find its rhythm.

"There!" she pointed at an unfinished building.

"Rooftop, above the scaffolding!"

Another shout from the woman drew his eyes upward. Movement, a figure on the rooftop, robes catching the wind. "Anyone?" Calyx barked, following her gaze. "I’ll give you a lift!" He reached out through the Force, ready to throw his strength behind whoever dared to take the leap.

 

[Darth Amaymon]

Acolyte Boot Camp
LOCATION: DESEVRO
LOCATION: THE PIT > The Ruined City

The next couple of moments proceeded to extend through Sith Lord's perception, like ash raining down. His crimson gaze swept through the pit, analyzing the scene of acolytes being humiliated, punished, scoffed at and all manner of social detriment. As was tradition. Kezeroth knew these proceedings, they carved flesh, bone and broke illusions, illusions of one's perceptions. And where he had witnessed these rites and rituals over a millennium, perceiving it all again was...predictable.

The Sith Lord turned his head with the guidance of what his ears were picking up from the observers and instructors around him. A echani that had a vague familiarity about her spoke of possession with another instructor, while another previously spoke of belief, having a sharp tongue of weaponizing and instrumentalizing these acolytes. It was no different than the comment before, or after, depending on your perception. There was a vested interest by lords and ladies in the certain prospects that were the acolytes here today, and it disgusted him. This was not raising a next generation of Sith. It was possession. The shackling of chains onto oneself, not the breaking of them. It was just turning those around into copies of the same foul stench that mistaked survival for power.

Taught how to mimic power, but not actually wield it.

It was the folly of all Sith, and even to the Sith Lord's own detriment, a pathway that he had followed for a great time before his more recent reflections in death. But knowledge was power, and now that Kezeroth had this knowledge, he would wield it like a tool, a weapon. And in the same way that the Sith carved their pickings of acolytes, Kezeroth would do the same, the only difference being he would teach them how to shed their own character defects in exchange for greater perception. But in order to do this, it could not be done by word or a simple teaching. No, he would have to break them. He would have to break them in every way possible. And then, only then, if they were strong enough, if they wanted it badly, if they truly embraced themselves, they would thrive. But this was a process that all Sith had to undergo, and it never ended. Much to the misgivings of what modern Sith Lords might think, this process was forever. As long as the force held influence, there was a process of undergoing and forging one's character into refinement. A paradox.

Located just adjacent to the epicenter of the Mass Driver Crater, also called the PIT, Kesaroth's gaze tilted slightly upward to inspect the horizon of the crater, its edge, and from this angle it seemed to appear as a steep incline, or even a mountain to some. Deliberately taking a couple steps back, he stopped and felt a surge of dark side energy hasten throughout his body. More and more it collected and gathered, as if sucking all of the conflict, violence, and despair from the atmosphere before priming it and locking it into engagement with his muscular body. Pausing he held the metaphysical tension and growled. A sound that implied agitation and shot a look toward the Echani Jorryn Fordyce and the other instructor Arris Windrun . Displaying his teeth he flashed a grin, or maybe that was a scowl. His presence and visage made it hard to discern which.

The first couple of movements were just to build momentum, quick steps that quickly propelled him into a motion that looked as if he was testing the ground beneath him. His feet were light at first, and then progressively became heavier over time, as each step created a rebound effect. Then suddenly he blitzed into motion, sprinting for a short distance until he lowered his center of gravity and jumped, the takeoff itself creating a light tremor in the ground and fissures where he once stood, and then after that he was gone, ascending toward the edge of the crater, or the edge of the wall, per se. He landed with a rebounding slam before picking up momentum again and following up with the same motion. Only this time he cleared the crater's edge and went airborne toward the battlefield. There was a blur of red that came down, hurtling toward the ruined city. The ground below suddenly rose up to greet him and in that blur, the Sith Lord impacted like a falling star. Colliding with what remained of a ruined building of Duracrete and Durasteel, with an impact that sent it all shattering to the ground. A medium shockwave erupted, introducing a new chaotic element to the battlefield, a wave of dust and debris, obscuring vision and polluting lungs.

​

Acolytes: Neriah Calven | Reev Marr | Ghruna | Anet Raine | Varin Mortifer | Lysander von Ascania | Calyx Sundrift Kirie
Instructors: Arris Windrun | Lirka Ka | Kasir Dorran |
Observers: Darth Anathemous | Jorryn Fordyce

​

 

[Lyssara Thrynn]

Who dares? The vibration of the shockwave tears a section of the wall beside my balcony loose, shaking the whole structure. I almost lose my balance, barely catching my broom mid-fall. Dust covers me from head to toe as everything around me quivers with rare intensity. Whoever that was, he's definitely not here for subtlety.

I puff out a cheek, standing on the cracked railing with my broom in hand. I squint to get a better look a man, muscular, very muscular, with an undeniably dark aura. I'll give him that much. Is this part of the test? If so, I don't give the other apprentices much of a chance. I doubt they'll make it to the nearest shelter now; that plan seems compromised.

I sit back down and dust off my jacket, running a hand through my hair to shake off the gray residue. There back to my usual look and my calm from before the impact. Great. Now it's raining Sith. That's new. I shrug and decide to use levitation instead no need for the broom to fly. I move smoothly through the air to find a better vantage point, closer to the scene, keeping a direct line of sight.

The fact that I don't need my broom to do this says a lot.

I land softly on another building's edge and lean against a broken window, whistling softly while sipping my coffee. I hesitate to intervene. I'm not sure they can handle that monster of power… but then again, you need a challenge to transcend yourself. Maybe one of them will reach mastery before dying.

Counting on my fingers, I make a few private bets.

"I'm betting on her. Go on."

I raise my thermos and take another sip. Even though that thing down there is a walking disaster, I don't seem particularly worried. The show promises to be entertaining. Still, sacrificing promising apprentices feels like a bit of a waste to me. But hey, I'm not the one running this test. I might step in… if someone begs me to.

 

[Anet Raine]

The ambush caught them all off guard, and Anet felt entirely lost. She quickly ducked behind the cover of some debris as others tended to whoever had been shot. It was all a blur, and the scholar hadn't seen much of anything from her blind spot behind Ghruna 's back.

She could hear someone shouting in surprise as one acolyte spotted someone from a rooftop. She went to peek, mostly out of adrenaline-rushed curiosity and not knowing any better, when...

A medium shockwave erupted, introducing a new chaotic element to the battlefield, a wave of dust and debris, obscuring vision and polluting lungs.

The sudden rush of dust and other particles ripped across the wind, causing her eyes to sting and shut quickly.

"Gah!" She groaned in pain.

Her heart began to pound rapidly from overwhelming fear, and instinctively, the acolyte ignited her lightsaber. The brilliant blue blade exposed her like a beacon in the smog. Little did she know, the opposing acolytes had coerced some of the prisoners into fighting for them. No doubt hollow promises of liberation - or at least survival - were offered in exchange. Desperation was a powerful weapon indeed.

The armed soldiers and spacers began to circle them like prey, while an enemy acolyte popped out of a well-hidden foxhole in the ground and rushed Varin Mortifer in an attempt to flank him.

Anet, meanwhile, would feel the side of her leg suddenly burn hot as a blaster shot cut deep across her flesh. It failed to go deep, but the pain and damage badly immobilized her leg. The near-human doubled over in pain and dropped her weapon. She did her best to keep her mouth shut, gritting her teeth to avoid screaming.

Neriah Calven | Kirie | Lysander von Ascania | Calyx Sundrift | Lirka Ka | Lyssara Thrynn

 

[Arris Windrun]

Training may've amused some, but Arris felt little at the sight of struggling acolytes. There was honestly a drop in her stomach when she saw Neriah Calven get hit.

Is she? Arris wondered.

Morbid curiosity denied when Kirie managed to drag the girl along. She doubted anyone would do that for a dead body in these conditions. A small bit of relief replaced the melancholic churn. However, Arris did not wear her feelings openly - her expression looked distracted more than anything.

She grabbed the smoke when it was returned and took another long drag. A secret the cyborg never revealed was how little such substances affected her, and how necessary it all was... After all, her finely tuned implants regulated her hormones quite well and filtered out toxins before she could overdose. So why did she do it?

Another long drag.

Jorrny's explanations reminded Arris of something she was once told.

"It is customary for masters of the Dark Side to torture their protégés. This stokes a spectrum of emotional responses that are conducive to tapping into the Dark Side." He clicked his tongue against the roof of his mouth. "I have found that this is not so conducive to the long-term survival of the master, which happens to be one of my personal success metrics."

Seems he wasn't the only one who thought that way, or so she believed to read between the lines of what the Echani said.

"Though try not to break them too much before they come my way, love."

Arris mustered the greatest amount of visible suspicion she could offer. Narrowed eyes, raised brow, and a tight jaw.

Then she laughed. "Sorry, do you have plans that I don't know about? I don't even know you."

The Talusian proceeded to elaborate her own thoughts on the matter.

"I was asked to make soldiers out of them, not prospects. If they can kill Jedi, if they can survive battle, then they are useful to us... If not..."

Her eyes peered high only to watch Darth Amaymon crash down like a mass driver round that got lost for a few millennia.

 

[Lysander von Ascania]

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

A bolt, hot from the barrel of a blaster, caught one of the young acolytes, dropping her against the earth; though whether it would become her grave too, only time would tell. Lysander's head snapped to the side, but he didn't flinch, as he had seen this all before. He had witnessed the destruction wrought by Sith banners that turned the sky black on Woostri, and the merciless burial of live Imperials under the rebirth of Brosi. And here, as ever, it was necessary that death and destruction walk in their wake.

Inhaling a slow breath, he let it out through his nose; something settled over the blonde's stare, like a sheet of ice over an inferno. He remained rooted for but a moment longer, surveying the scene that surrounded them. Curses and battle cries cut through the haze, a symphony of chaos echoing through the ruins of the city. The Force carried a myriad of emotions, a chorus of suffering

The hilt of his weapon in his grasp, possessive and hungry, as he drew it from his belt. The life forces of the surroundings were beginning to press in quickly, circling like ravenous wolves. What had once been fear emanating from them, twisted into rage. He was surrounded by acolytes, yes, but that didn't make them his allies, for that word held little meaning in this forsaken place.

Rivals as much as comrades.

The very ground beneath him trembled, the collapse of something suddenly rolling through his boots with a roar. Dust choked the air, stifling his senses, presenting a new area of chaos.

Several had made themselves useful, in their own way, but also dangerous, like a fire that could burn bright, but so often consumed itself in its own heat; a truth that Lysander knew all too well.

Then, unheralded, recent memories of Naboo conjured in his mind, a mocking ghost which whispered of gentler times and kinder souls; Isobel Serraris 's innocent smile over tea, the press of flowers into his hand, all feeling like absurdities now.. yet still clung to in the marrow of his being. But even in the midst of this warzone, where the scent of death was heavy, more so than anything else, his brows furrowed in puzzlement at this intrusion.

Survival was the only truth that mattered.

Beyond the trials, beyond the tests, all he needed was to live.

His mind began churning and calculating, devising ways to impose order, to turn the disparate into something more unified.. to fight as one.

And so, he was reluctant to allow the tumult of darker emotions to surface, clamping down on that inner turmoil, letting them coil tighter within. As his thumb found the emitter and activated the blade with a venomous snap-hiss, the ache would no longer be contained. The red light bathed him in its hellish glow.

At first, it was angled low, drawn across his body like a shield. Every muscle in the teen’s body was prepared to explode like a brutal hammer, true to Djem So.

Dust boiled, swallowing shapes whole. Blaster fire screamed through the ruins, and another acolyte's voice breaking in pain.

Like the bite of a vibroknife, Lysander's raw voice sliced through the cacophony of noise. “On me! Circle up! Don't scatter! Bring the wounded back, keep them down!"

These weren’t suggestions; they were lifelines, enough so that even the least experienced among them had something to cling onto..

A bolt cracked overhead, inches shy of grazing his blade, its warmth felt.

Then, a sharp glance was flicked to Varin Mortifer , the one he trusted to strike true. Words were forced out between clenched teeth, dripping with venom. "Varin, the sniper is yours. Burn him."

If anyone could carve a path through the inferno, it was his former co-apprentice.

The militia pressed closer, tightening the noose.

One broke through, wielding a jagged blade, eyes wide. The man lunged, screaming.

Fear had no place in Lysander's heart. Alien since birth, a tongue never spoken. He stepped into the fray with feral grace, saber lifting in a brutal arc, a crimson scythe through the smog. The strike caught the figure, cleaving through flesh and armor alike with a violent stroke that left nothing but a broken heap at his feet.

​

 

[Anet Raine]

Neriah Calven | Kirie | Lysander von Ascania | Varin Mortifer | Ghruna | Calyx Sundrift | Lirka Ka | Darth Amaymon | Jorryn Fordyce | Lyssara Thrynn

It was pleasant... warm air, gentle breeze, and the glow of sun rays broken by creamy cloud cover. Anet walked across the wooden canopy, wrapped in robes made of the softest fibers.

Of course, none of it was real - a recurring fantasy trapped in her memory, ever since that fateful day on Serias. The acolyte woke up with her face to the frost. Dust and debris clung to her clothes, and pieces embedded themselves in fresh cuts along her cheeks. She struggled to rise and saw Lysander and the others gather in a circle not far from where she lay.

Like the bite of a vibroknife, Lysander's raw voice sliced through the cacophony of noise. “On me! Circle up! Don't scatter! Bring the wounded back, keep them down!"

Another blaster shot reminded her of where they were. By instinct, Anet grabbed the lightsaber and limped for the others. A sensation warned her before she could think, alerting her to the danger of another impending bolt. The blue blade ignited once again and deflected it with a mind of its own. Never before had the woman used a weapon, let alone a lightsaber, and never before had she been in battle.

A fluke? No - the will of the Force summoned by animal instincts. She needed to survive.

Stumbling paid off, and the half-pantoran threw her back into the circle and held the blade up high. It wasn't a form, as she knew no such thing, but she still held it like someone who knew what they were doing... even if she didn't. Fear had a way of moving you forward, she reckoned.

"Do you think this is where we die?" She asked the others plainly.

 

[Neriah Calven]

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

It hurt. It hurt so much. The burning spreading through her body. The pain made it obvious. She was still alive. For all intents and purposes, she was breathing. No matter how much she wanted otherwise. What was keeping her alive? Luck? Spite? Anger? It was then that she felt herself being lifted. Turning her gaze over towards...The Thief. All that pain. The Hurt. It was slowly twisted into fury. Glaring at the woman as they tried to help her. Tried to push her down the pecking order even more. Was humiliating her not enough? Now she had to come in and be the Hero?

"Get...Off...Me..."

Frustration and anger was building. Neriah wanted to hurt someone. As much as she was hurting. In a way, anger made for a good painkiller. If anything, pain helped to mix with it. She wasn't a fighter. Far from it. The thought of igniting her lightsaber and plunging it into The Thief's chest kept coming to her mind. But there was still that part of her. The Jedi inside of her holding her back from lashing out in that way.

"I would...rather...die...than accept your help."

She made no effort to hide the venom in her voice. The hatred. The Thief was making her entire life hell. Stealing her master's lightsaber. Pushing Neriah to the ground when she tried to help. And now her trying to help Neriah. It was all twisted. She was making fun of Neriah. Everyone was. Everyone wanted to her to fail. They wanted her to suffer. They wouldn't let her die. Otherwise they'd lose their precious little fool to make fun of.

They'reAllGoingToLaughAtMe. TheyWantToSeeMeFail. TheyWantMeHurt.

More and more she spiralled. Her mind twirling down the rabbit hole. The pain. The anger. She wanted to release it. Her gaze focusing on Kirie for a moment, as everything around her seemed to slow down. The orders from Lysander von Ascania buzzing in the girl's ear as Neriah flicked her hand up towards Kirie. She had no skill in lightsaber combat. But the Force had always been her ally. A weapon for her to use. As the anger and fury built, before a sudden crackle of Lightning erupted from her finger tips directly at the Thief...And then past her shoulder, to blast a rushing Acolyte in the chest.

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

The would-be attacker crumpling down to the ground as Neriah panted for air, beads of sweat falling down her face. She was suffering. She was hurt. But she was alive. And she wasn't going to be dead weight. They could laugh at her. They could bully her...but she wasn't going to give them an excuse to make fun of her.

Dust and debris clouded her vision, even as she squinted to adjust. Her glasses were for reading...but that didn't mean it wasn't difficult to see all of this. A hand clutched to her stomach, as she threw Kirie's arm off her and made her way towards the others. Using her Lightsaber to deflect various blaster shots now, as the green blade thummed with energy, flickers of red seeping their way into the colour. In a way, Neriah should have thanked Kirie. Not for trying to save her. No. For sparking the desire to live inside of the girl. She couldn't die. Not yet. She was a survivor.

​

 

[Varin Mortifer]

The ground shook around him causing his footing to stumble a bit. During the distraction the being sneaking behind him clasped his arm around Varin’s neck, jumping on his back. Varin felt a slight sharp point of a blade press to his neck. The stranger didn’t apply the pressure to finish the job. It was his mistake.

Varin felt the frustration build and grabbed his arms, holding him to his back. Varin’s back then erupted in large flames, bathing this individual in an inferno of heat and flame. His screams and howls of pain flooded the air around him as Varin kept his grip on his arms. The scent of cooked flesh traveled over the air as the sounds of screams and agony began to waver. As soon as the body went limp Varin let it drop like it was a heavy sack of grains.

"Varin, the sniper is yours. Burn him."

Varin's gaze transferred to Lysander and then back to the top of the tower where he saw the sniper fire and someone else up with them, as if giving orders or maybe even coordinates. He then saw a change in the charging battalion's eyes. It wasn’t just fear and desperation. Something took hold of them, gifting them a rage that Varin has felt so many times before.

He looked at the soldiers charging them and then back to the tower. He had to make a decision. After a yell of frustration Varin leapt onto the base of the tower. Jabbing his fingers into the walls, he began to climb. Pulling himself in small leaps further upwards. The rage began to take hold, he gave into it. Releasing it like a tamed weapon now. It was now His tool to command.

One sniper began to reload before putting his rifle back onto the edge of the wall he set up on. Varin’s large hand grabbed his head. All the soldier could do was scream for a second before Varin’s grip crushed his skull. He pulled himself up holding the body in front of him as a shield as the other snipers began to fire at him. His fury built more as he lifted his hand flexing his fingers, by the will of the force their weapons shattered.

He drew his mace again and like lambs to the slaughter he began to feast on the blood and violence. Some being slammed with such force from the mace the fell from the high tower. Leaving the one who commanded them left. Varin's breathing was deep and quick. But he watched as the individual drew a saber hilt. Igniting a white blade of his own.

Varin froze as he watched the blade ignite.

no….that can’t be…

Lysander von Ascania | Kirie | Neriah Calven | Anet Raine | Calyx Sundrift | Reev Marr | Darth Amaymon | Lirka Ka | Arris Windrun​

 

[Lirka Ka]

ACOLYTES - Lysander von Ascania Varin Mortifer Kirie Neriah Calven Anet Raine Calyx Sundrift Reev Marr Ghruna
INSTRUCTORS - Arris Windrun Darth Amaymon Lyssara Thrynn
OBSERVERS - Jorryn Fordyce Darth Anathemous

A gathering of Sithlings always made for some interesting entertainment, with the Pit now alive with marching feet as the students pushed out towards the battlefield beyond. Lirka got to indulge in one of her many oddities while the crowd grew like the shifting of tides.

For all heft and metallic bulk, Lirka had a strange little knack for disappearing. Melting into the darkness and enjoying her time as an ever observant stalker. The acolytes pushed forward, she held within their shadow. A predator across the field of battle, horrid glowing eyes watching their every move with the analysis of a fleshcrafting scientist observing the meat.

They were an impressive bunch, all things considered. Some she knew of vaguely from back “home” - the domains beyond the Blackwall certainly had a knack for hardening its inhabitants. Yet it was the unfamiliar faces, both mighty or pitiful that truly drew in Lirka’s eyes.

In the grand scheme of things, she did not much care for the other instructors here - Lirka’s mind looked towards the future, always. Those who had already succeeded in some form or fashion were infinitely less exciting than who would could be guided towards her Dark Path - wittingly or otherwise. Whatever jesting bickering between Jorryn Fordyce and Arris Windrun was left to the distance. And the thunderous, dust cloud, advance of Darth Amaymon was left with some grumble of annoyance by the mechanical thing as air puffed out to clean the shield of dust that grew upon her lenses. A brief interlude, as she gazed back out upon the Acolytes.

Lysander von Ascania - Lirka had immediately noted him as the de-facto leader. Firm of stature, strong in word.

Varin Mortifer the brute, all fire and wrath. In his form Lirka saw some figment of herself - at least, the less respectable sides. It had been many years Lirka had spent as the metaphorical hound, a hammer for the Dark Lords to smash against their foes. It was a life she did not look upon with great fondness these days.

And those, whom the Once Sephi had gleamed little from yet. For her attention had been stolen by the meager and the meek - runts of the litter. The sort of scuttling creatures that the beast understood well, was where true darkness was born.

She watched the scuffle between Kirie and Neriah Calven with intent - many coveted the prolonged and healthy life of the former: Lirka wasn’t so convinced yet. The fool had helped the wounded, and been met only with wrath. A lesson in the foolishness of kindness.

A lesson that brought Lirka’s thundering voice back to life, in all of its obnoxious sneering. Casting far from wherever it is she hid, over the rancor of battle.

“And there it is! Witness, the true meaning of Darkness!”

There was a certain glee in her words, murderous praise cast down to the upstarts.

“Survive, struggle, rise above that which would keep you down! Your wounds are but figments, for true strength can overcome all! Do not disgrace the wounded with the helping hand, do not steal the moment for them to rise above! If they die in the dirt, know they were never truly worthy to walk in your shadow to begin with!”

As was often the case, Lirka danced the knife’s edge between warrior, and mad preacher. It all really depended on her ever shifting mood.

“In your failure, find the succor of power, open your mind to misery and cast aside all weakness that remains!”

Her mood seemed to lean towards preaching.

 

[Lyssara Thrynn]

The roar of battle still echoes in the air, even from here. The sounds of anger, fear, and twisted metal blend together like a symphony without a conductor. My gaze sweeps over the ruins below, the wind carrying dust and ash to where I stand. I watch the silhouettes clash one last time figures I've come to recognize, or at least guess at.

"They're doing… surprisingly well, for apprentices on the brink of extinction. Not bad, i'm curious to see how the battle evolve now."

A faint smile curves my lips. These kinds of shows always end the same way: one survives, the other learns or doesn't. And as for me? Let's just say I'd rather not end up buried under another wall, thank you very much.

I twirl my staff between my fingers, then trace a slow circle in the air. A crimson halo opens before me, pulsing with a familiar energy the power of the Nightsisters. Space tears apart with a quiet hiss, like a curtain being drawn aside on a forbidden stage.

"Alright then. Let's go to the security room."

I step through the portal, and in the blink of an eye, the suffocating heat of the battlefield vanishes, replaced by the cool hum of the control center. Screens line the walls, their pale light reflecting off my dust-covered figure. My broom clinks softly as I set it against the wall and glide into a rolling chair, kicking off to spin toward the main console. The portal green ichor go down and now he is closed.

A sigh escapes me. I cross my legs, give the chair a lazy spin, and press a button. The cameras flicker to life again, revealing the chaos below organized mayhem, fire, and fury.

"Let's see… which one of you manages to do more than just survive, hmm?"

I take a sip of my coffee, grimace, and set it down. With a flick of my wrist, the cup floats to the corner of the desk. The monitors dance, each one showing a different angle of disaster.

"I really should've placed a bigger bet."

A soft laugh leaves me as I settle back into the chair, eyes fixed on the screens calm and composed amid the storm.

 

[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 //

---

---

The observation continued as Jorryn looked down upon the force bearing against the group of acolytes, wondering just how they would manage to push them back. The bulwark of the students was obvious, the larger among them taking the lead to push back and slaughter their enemies.

There was a certain revelry in the actions befitting Sith, that the Echani couldn't help but muster a smile upon observing.

But something else caught her sight, a quick flash of blue sparks being thrown into the chest of a ravenous acolyte. The action itself was worthy of praise, but it was even more impressive because of its wielder. Neriah Calven had somehow managed to tap into an aspect of the Dark Side that even the Sith Lady had not, the power of lightning still not hers to bear.

She supposed the girl didn't consider herself the pathetic sight that all else present expected her to be. A smirk took the dark lips of the Echani as her presence moved forwards, wrapping around the girl like a motherly embrace as words fell into her mind.

Well done, child.

Another presence pulled the Echani's attention however, smothering her own it garnered ire from the Sith Lady as she turned to meet the gaze of the final instructor. Kezeroth had garnered the witch's attention and irritation, only growing more irate as the man sought to bring down the rubble that she stood upon.

The earth shook with his movements, the sounds of steel breaking and rubble falling only coming in his wake. Whatever lesson this man sought to teach seemed daft in her opinion, though as she looked down to the building the acolytes held in, she supposed forcing them out of their shelter could hold value of it's own.

With a step towards her cyborg companion, the Echani would grasp towards her fellow. She stumbled for a moment, unsure why. It hadn't been the loosening of her foothold, but instead something else. A hand raised to hold her head as she felt her senses dull for a moment, wondering if some magic affected her alchemized flesh.

"You turn these children into the machines of war I shall command, if the Order and the Covenant get along well enough. I simply hope that they will kill many Jedi, not just a few."

As she stumbled forward, a hand wrapped itself around the back of Arris Windrun , using it for both stability and a request.

"Do us a favour, my dear, and bring us somewhere that will survive the uproar of that brute." A white strand of hair fell across her eye as she looked up towards the instructor, still maintaining a fierce gaze in spite of the drugs that had begun to dull her composure. "I would rather save the humiliation of falling down with this building."

 

[Ghruna]

"Something out there already has its eyes on us. Keep the line loose. I don't feel like dying in someone else's shadow."

​

From her perch, she could see it... The other acolytes knew they were coming and had prepared an ambush.

Ghruna Ghruna Reev Marr Reev Marr

"Well, let's get the party started then, yeah?" She muttered to herself.

So it'd come as no surprise when a blaster bolt screeched through the sky.

Hurriedly, Kirie got behind the injured girl and hooked an arm under her shoulder, waiting for another Acolyte to help her drag the girl. Blaster fire whizzed above their heads, exposed as they were on the bare hilltop between two buildings. Down below, she saw dark figures running towards them.

'Soldiers are coming! Defend us!'

"Rooftop, above the scaffolding!"

She was of course speaking about a robed, armored figure not unlike herself, speaking into a commlink.

"I think he's leading them!"

After a yell of frustration Varin leapt onto the base of the tower. Jabbing his fingers into the walls, he began to climb. Pulling himself in small leaps further upwards. The rage began to take hold, he gave into it.

A hand clutched to her stomach, as she threw Kirie's arm off her and made her way towards the others. Using her Lightsaber to deflect various blaster shots now

Blasterfire tore through the ruins, red light flashing against stone and smoke. One of their own was felled by a bolt, another trying to drag her into cover.

Ghruna hesitated.

For a heartbeat she stood nostrils flaring at the scent of blood and dust. Mercy was not the Sith way. But neither was dying like prey. The enemy fire was closing in.

She actually turned towards the wounded. She would have carried them with one hand. A sudden crack of lightning - a rare feat - showed that the wounded acolyte was still in the fight.

The circle needed to be broken. Varin had charged for the sniper and leader of the ambush. Ghruna instead looked to their flank.

The fire from the rooftops was tightening the trap. Ghruna lifted her axe, its weight familiar, grounding. The enemy wanted them pinned. She would show them what happened to hunters who cornered the wrong beast.

With a roar, she broke from cover, barreling to the left of the group. Her axe came down into a blaster. Her other hand grabbed her opponent by the tunic. Not only did she use them for cover but as a battering ram to slam open a door into an abandoned building.

Stone dust filled the air. When she looked back, she didn’t wait to see who followed only to see that there was a possible route to break left and out of the trap.

 

[Naniti]

The Acolyte's Dilemma. Cooperate, betray them first, be betrayed first, or betray each other simultaneously. That on top of being surrounded. These Sith Instructors really weren't pulling their punches. Especially when you added a massive red bulk shaking the firmament.

A violet figure darted through partially opened doors atop one of the buildings. An electric hum filled the air just a moment before a rapidly fading shriek of alarm and dawning realization of their impending doom. The first shooter on the roof had been kicked right off the side of the building to plunge toward the ground below. Seemed the fastest way to get rid of them. Everyone knew what a lightsaber sounded like. Once the peace was shattered through there wasn't any point hiding it; the violet blade ignite as the Togruta flew across the roof to slice a second one diagonally across the chest.

"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." Maybe hold their attention for half a minute? Minute tops. It'd feel like forever. The plasma blade shifted before her in an effort to block as many shots as possible as she slid atop the building; the repulsor skates added a little more agility than her would-be killers expected. Not enough for scalding hot gas discharges not to heat up her flesh in their passing.

Taking on an entire team of hostile Acolytes solo wasn't likely. Certainly not in the time restraint imposed on them. Keeping her fellow learners alive just made practical sense. Not that she knew where they were or what they planned to do, but she'd just have to gamble whatever it was contributed to their continued survival. And they wouldn't have long to do it before the shooters started deciding who was more deserving of the concentrated fire again.

Naniti had been separated from the group earlier, and once the live fire started neither of them were in a position to rejoin the other. So she'd tried finding some of the people they were there to kill. A simple plan. Problem was, she wasn't entirely certain what the next phase of it looked like yet. Hopefully not with her laying dead on a rooftop full of holes.

Reev Marr | Calyx Sundrift | Darth Amaymon | Anet Raine | Arris Windrun | Lysander von Ascania | Neriah Calven | Varin Mortifer | Ghruna | Kirie
Lyssara Thrynn | Jorryn Fordyce | Lirka Ka | Arris Windrun | Darth Anathemous​

 

[Arris Windrun]

Now there really wasn't much else to do, except watch, as the Acolytes huddled in their defensive circle against a clever enemy. This group was certainly more personable than the last, and it would be a shame to see them all die...

That was when her companion stumbled a little. Arris reached out to steady her.

"Easy - easy."

"You turn these children into the machines of war I shall command, if the Order and the Covenant get along well enough. I simply hope that they will kill many Jedi, not just a few."

Arris sighed. "Not my politics, don't care."

Exactly who was this woman, really? The scoundrel found her mannerisms far too comfortable for two who had just met, and over the training of bottom-runger Sith no less. That sort of aloof self-assuredness usually came with hefty baggage, or so Arris was convinced. Those thoughts left her as soon as the woman's hand found its way around her back. It hadn't crossed her mind that maybe it was the recreational narcotics they had just inhaled. Hard to remember how strong that stuff was when it's been half a decade since experiencing it from a 'ganic's point of view.

"Do us a favour, my dear, and bring us somewhere that will survive the uproar of that brute." A white strand of hair fell across her eye as she looked up towards the instructor, still maintaining a fierce gaze in spite of the drugs that had begun to dull her composure. "I would rather save the humiliation of falling down with this building."

Good point... The cyborg thought.

She turned to Jorryn and took her words a little too literally. Scooping her up was easy enough for the Talusian, thanks to her heavy-duty cybernetics. Arris bent her legs, took the Echani into her arms, and straightened up. She then fucking leaped off the tower before any complaints could be levied, aiming for what appeared to be a snowbank at the bottom.

It was more frozen than it looked, and one of the cyborg's knees snapped loudly on landing, along with four different reinforcements along her spine and lower back. Arris leaned to one side with Jorryn still in her arms and started to walk forward with a heavy limp.

Fuck! She groaned from the pain and tried to laugh it off. "I really should get some thrusters installed, yeah?" Not her best decision.

 

[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 //

---

---

Surprise would be the most apparent reaction Arris would receive as her arms wrapped around the Echani's legs, the redness on her face being from either the shock or the narcotics was unclear. Either way, aside from a flash of her amber eyes, no complaints would be levied against the cyborg as she scooped Jorryn up in her arms.

Not until she jumped off the top of the building at least.

Her imagination prepared Jorryn little for the scene that would follow. The Echani had wished for something perhaps a touch more graceful as the pair crashed down, a landing with more force than she hoped for. The cyborg took the blunt of the damage, which garnered an unspoken appreciation from Jorryn as she jostled in Arris' arms.

"Why do you have legs for jumping and not landing to begin with?"

The complaint was exasperated as a hand removed loose trusses of white hair from the Echani's face, before she close her eyes once again to dull the feeling of the sensation running through her veins. A magic dimly emanated from her as she attempted to discover whatever it was afflicting her internally, though her inexperience made it difficult to isolate.

Instead, she focused on more traditional methods of grounding her senses, an old breathing technique she learned from slaves in her girlhood. Long breathed drew into her nose and out through her lips as she attempted to focus, though there was a distraction.

The grunts Arris made as she limped forward pulled the ire of the silver-haired Sith, amber eyes glaring upwards from her arms. Though she supposed the woman had followed orders well enough, and deserved a touch of sympathy.

"You aren't hurt too badly are you?"

 

[Arris Windrun]

"Why do you have legs for jumping and not landing to begin with?"

"Shock absorption isn't a perfect science."

Ugh... Why did I say it that way? Arris shook her head. This current set of legs has been going strong since Kattada, where it had taken some damage. Suffice it to say, they were bound to go eventually.

She glanced down at the woman in her arms, whose unusual breathing was quite noticeable. Speaking of noticeable, Jorryn would probably spy the artificiality of her grey cyber eyes from her close perspective, and the subtle seams along the cyborg's face and neck.

"Are you--"

"You aren't hurt too badly are you?"

--Beat by a similar question. Arris was rather surprised by the woman's concern, a surprise unhidden by her continuous staring and lack of reply.

"Me? Naw!"

Between stimulants and her pain damper, what the Talusian felt was very dull - like something back in her mind rather than a physical feeling. Still, she smiled at Jorryn's concern, then snickered a little at their situation. She might've blushed as well, because she felt rather silly, but her synthflesh wasn't sophisticated enough for her cheeks to go all rosy - lack of blood vessels near the surface.

"So, um... Given you haven't asked me to put you down... everything okay? Noticed your breathing is a bit odd, too."

The cyborg continued to limp, Echani in her arms, towards nowhere in particular so long as it was outside the crossfire.