Private Apprentice to Flame

[Syd Celsius]

"You aren't trash." Syd said firmly. "Trash isn't such a good shot. Trash doesn't last against Sith trying to get their family crystal. Trash doesn't manifest the light so powerfully and succeeds at driving back an alchemized abomination on the first go-round. Are you rough around the edges? Certainly? Nobody's perfect..."

(Cutaway of Darth Phyre standing in the middle of an inferno of burning bodies laughing insanely.)

"...least of all 'me'." She admitted.

"You're anything but trash, Kid. I would not have accepted trash for an apprentice. Don't call yourself such."

Syd blinked as Starlin Rand asked about how she was made.

"That...that's the single most succinct way anyone has ever managed to describe it..." Syd admitted, somewhat amused.

Well not exactly. The Man in White had succeeded in creating Syd Celsius, The Flame Geist.

But he had only succeeded in doing so by using magic to tear apart her old self, Darth Phyre...

(Note: The following is a passage copied from a prior thread. Reposted here due to relevance.)

"Your crimes are abominable. You were a scourge during the plague, and if you are permitted to be a scourge after, the galaxy will suffer. By all rights, I should simply have you executed. Court systems are still spotty in most parts. Processing your sorry hide would be a nightmare for 'any' court system..." The Man in White declared.

Darth Phyre snorted at this.

"If you're trying to psyche yourself up you might as well just embrace the darkness and slay me. Either way, the darkness gains another servant." She mocked. "But I can show you the truth about the Force. I can show all of you the truth. Simply release me."

"I have a better idea..." the hooded, masked figure turned to her. "I believe in second chances..."

Phyre scowled at him, the dim settings of the poorly lit, unfinished tomb casting shadows across her face.

"I'll never turn to the light side!"

"Nope. No you won't."

Phyre felt the snip of scissors as someone cut a lock of dark red hair from her.

"You've prepared a magical ritual. Interesting. Am I to be altered in some way?"

"Oh no, you're going to die, alright. But you will be reborn. Reborn without your pesky hatred and vile cruelty."

"You are enslaving me."

"How many have you enslaved? Murdered? Tortured? Roasted alive in front of their families? For that matter, how many families 'have' you roasted?"

"Lost count." Phyre sneered.

The Man in White shook his head. "See what I mean?"

Phyre watched as his other men brought in a strange, hourglass like machine. It wasn't until she saw the twisted, unnatural mathematical scrawl glowing green against the transparisteel casing that she realized how doomed she was.

(BFG Division by Mick Gordon plays for a few seconds.)

The bottom of the hourglass, whose frame was of a twisting wrought iron lined with pearls of amber had an inner light from within that made Phyre's skin crawl.

"You...you have the Kolda-Bratha Calculus..." Phyre trailed, a tinge of fear entering her voice for the first time.

"You're one of the strongest pyrokinetics on record. Imagine the good you could have done with such a power."

"Sounds boring."

"To you, perhaps. The other you? She'll be doing a lot of good. Galaxy needs time to heal. Gulag is barely over. No thanks to monsters like you however..."

Two of the masked, green robed men unsealed the top of the hourglass. Phyre winced as she felt the flesh painfully tug at her face. The lock of her hair was carefully secured to the chamber in the hour glass bottom via two prongs.

"So much for the vaunted Jedi morality--"

"You lecturing us on morality is like a Mandalorian telling someone blasters are too savage a weapon of war." The Man in White interrupted. "Considering who you once were...its so sad to see you this way."

Phyre looked at the strange masked man. "Do I know you?" She asked, bracing herself for the horror about to ensue.

This only earned her silence from the Man in White.

"Begin the ritual." He said curtly.

The other robed and masked people around Darth Phyre began to chant. Phyre winced in real pain as the flesh started to tug on her face.

"There is a historical precedent, of course..." The Man in White trailed as Phyre began to howl and thrash in agony in her chains, the flesh on her skin rupturing and ripping parts of itself away starting with her face. She thrashed, her blood and flesh flinging itself into the top of the hour glass, where it swirled as a cloud of gore. Phyre screamed in agony, every ounce of blood and tissue, even the marrow, ripping itself from the bones, which thrashed still, even until the very end, when the brain leaked out through the eye sockets and swirled into the top of the glass, which was quickly sealed.

Phyre's skeleton, still clad in the white and gold chrome suit, clattered lifelessly into a heap.

The Man in White stared at the lock of hair suspended in the bottom. Watched as the blood and tissue flowed to the bottom chamber, and into the lock of hair which seemed to swell and wriggle as an entire human body's worth of tissue seemed to vanish into the dark red lock, which turned a fiery orange red.

The Man in White stared at the lock of hair, the hour glass now empty of blood and gore.

"Now for phase two, my old friend..."

Syd remembered her old self's murder more and more, in better detail. Remembered the pain and humiliation of being brought low and subverted by magic, Phyre's element.

The more she learned or remembered, the more she was certain Phyre was absolutely deserving of the terrible fate she had received at that strange Jedi's hands. Phyre had been cruel beyond what words could adequately express. If anything, Phyre being painfully ripped apart had not been harsh enough a death for that beast whose face Syd now bore.

Sometimes it genuinely worried Syd, whether Phyre would come back of her own accord, simply by remembering more and more while wearing this armor. Would Syd even notice it if it happened? Or would she suddenly blink after remembering one cruelty too many and then that beast would be standing in her place, like she had never left at all, while Syd would merely be a short footnote, a brief pause in Phyre's legacy of cruelty and destruction?

Syd wanted Phyre to never return. She hated her old self. She had never really made it personal with other Sith. But she 'hated' Darth Phyre. The worst part was not being able to pretend she was her own fully seperate entity. She would not exist without the actions and body of that horrid, wretched Sith. So Syd had vowed to do everything she could to spite her old self, hoping each good deed she did would bury the wretched creature a little more.

"Yes, somebody mixed some Force Funk, chanted magic words, and here I stand. You hit it right on the nose." She answered, bemused.

She sighed.

"My creators were a group of Jedi Alchemists called The Resistors of Darkness. The individual who was my chief handler, The Man in White, personally oversaw all facets of the project that led to my creation. Within moments of coming to life, I was given my first task. I was told to slay the alchemist they had forced to aid in my creation. I burned him alive and then decapitated him. I was crafted as a living weapon to slay Sith, their minions, and their abominations, confiscating or destroying their equipment and supplies as needed. I was very effective at my job. Perhaps...too effective...for my own good. I was imprisoned, after operating for twenty-five years without a shred of disloyalty or even a hint of disobedience towards my creators. They stuck me in a chunk of Nullification Resin the size of an apple and left me to scream inside it for over three centuries."

All of that had happened 'after' her recreation as The Geist.

"I got out, eventually. Understandably I have claustrophobia. This place is 'not' doing me any favors."

All of what she had told him had happened--but after Phyre's death.

The Man in White had been a cunning, subtle motherfether...twenty-five years taking his orders to kill people and he never let anything slip, no off-color comment or joke that would have aroused her curiousity or suspicion in the slightest. His minions, who often served as her field support, had never let anything slip either.

Part of her hated him, but as more of Phyre's memories started to come back, each more horrific than the one before it, it had begun to cross her mind that perhaps she had killed someone he cared about...perhaps multiple people he loved...

If so, had he hated her so much that he stayed coldly silent except to instruct or give orders, only to trick her onto her prison without a second thought?

More than once had Syd thought about the day she had been imprisoned...even then, he hadn't said a thing. The man's Sabaac face had been perfect. But why. What would have been the point in holding it in then if her usefulness was expended? Why not tell her the truth to grind it in? Why not mock her for unknowingly being his combat-slave?

Syd didn't know. To be honest, most days she tried not to think about him. There was now. There was Starlin. A young man with much promise in the Light.

"When I joined the Jedi..." she admitted. "It took realizing the truth about how I was little more than a weapon to try and rethink my identity. To actually try to develop one. Developed a fondness for collecting shiny things...I've even gotten better at holding conversations, like so."

Syd stood up, looking at an exposed, upright broken slab.

"As long as I'm holding one, might as well use it to show you new tricks, apprentice. Ever seen The Men Who Stare at Wampas?"

Syd sprinted at the exposed monument and focused. Effortlessly she phased right through it.

"You give it a shot." she offered. "Don't run on your first try. I see padawans break their nose doing that. They always try and recreate the last scene where the reporter runs through the wall so they can say out loud 'We need The Jedi!' if they succeed."

Syd scratched the back of her head awkwardly.

"It got so frequent some of the masters even took bets on which of the padawans would run into the wall they trained with the fastest before they semi-banned running during the phase-training. Knew a padawan who actually 'did' get it on the first try, though. He was treated like a God by the other padawans for about a week...sooo...sorry, I got off track there. Don't run! Walk."

 

[Starlin Rand]

Starlin observed with silent interest as Syd experienced an obvious flashback to the events she was describing. It sounded simple and kind of cool, but judging by the look on her face and the vibes he got from her, it was anything but. Painful, too.

“Sounds like your creators were a bunch of backstabbing schutta,” he commented, blissfully unaware of his own blunt ignorance. “I mean, what kind of people create a being that’s loyal to them, then turn around and imprison them in an apple-sized prison? What, did they get scared of how awesome and powerful you were? That’s lame.”

Despite his blustering, a new fear was unwittingly awoken in Starlin. Syd said he had great potential. The Sith who chased him for his crystal had likewise wanted to capture and turn him to the Dark Side. Would he have to face his own Man in White one day, someone who only wanted to enslave and exploit him?

Well, all the more reason to start studying now—he’d at least have a fighting chance then.

He had not actually seen The Men Who Stare At Wampas, but he pretended he had. “One of my favorite holofilms,” he said, his tone as serious as an art connoisseur. Turning toward the broken slab, he watched her phase through it, his eyes widening.

“Hooo boy… okay, I’ll give it a shot.”

He positioned himself as if he were about to bolt, remembered she said not to run at first, then awkwardly proceeded forward at a careful walk. Didn’t even need to do that—as he approached the slab, he slowed to a stop, reached his hand forward, and touched the rock cautiously as if he were afraid it would be hot. It was cool, but more importantly, it was solid.

Grimacing, he glanced over his shoulder at Syd, took a few steps back, then walked into it. Even without running, he still bounced off with a grunt.

“Uh… how exactly does this work, anyhow?” he asked, rubbing his shoulder. “Do I just… think about going through it, and it happens?”

That seemed to be more or less the case with all Force powers. The Force was… a force that certain people could manipulate, bending it to their will. It was also a spiritual thing that they were supposed to rely upon for guidance, or at least the good guys did. But anyway, the point was, anything he could imagine, he could make real, within certain limits. There was no secret trick, no magic words to say, no ritual to perform. He either did it, or he didn’t.

With this in mind, Starlin took a deep breath, exhaled, and geared up to try again. This time, it worked. Stone turned to static against his skin as his arms, torso, and head phased through the slab. But with the other half of his body still to go, Starlin suddenly realized I’m stuck in a rock, and started to panic. He screamed into the void with incorporeal vocal cords (conveniently silent, both for the sake of his dignity and Syd’s eardrums) and tried to push the rest of his body through by leveraging his immaterial palms against the rock, prompting more muted hysteria as his hands merely slipped through it without resistance. His still-solid legs could be seen kicking wildly in the air.

Finally, Starlin flopped out on the other side facedown in a frazzled heap. His cap was knocked off his head, exposing two limp antennapalps amid a mop of messy dark curls, and as he raised his head he looked like he didn’t even know where he was anymore.

“... I don’t like that so much,” he mumbled. Getting up on his hands and knees, he reached for his cap and placed it back on his head before standing up, a little wobbly from all the excitement. With shaking hands, the fourteen year old reached into his pocket and pulled out a clear plastic case of death sticks, put one in the corner of his mouth, and started to fumble with his lighter in an attempt to smoke it and calm his nerves. Then he remembered Syd’s presence and scrambled to put away his drug paraphernalia, letting the stick fall out of his mouth. He grinned awkwardly.

“What’s next, flame lady?”

Syd Celsius

 

[Syd Celsius]

Syd folded her arms, a slight frown.

With telekinesis she fished the death stick box out of his pocket.

"What's next is dealing with these." She said, trying not to smile at being called 'Flame Lady'. But she maintained a stern look for his sake, yet kept her tone even, non-condemning. He was young. He'd been exposed to stresses no normal person should be exposed to. But he wasn't normal. Not anymore. He'd crossed a threshold and he would need his mind and body at their full potential to survive. This had to be nipped in the bud, while it still could be.

"Starlin, these will completely destroy your health, mentally and physically..." Syd explained to him. "For the good of your future, I simply cannot allow this habit to continue. Prolonged use of these ruins your stamina, strength, and concentration...all of which are vital in combat and the use of the Force. If I let this go on, eventually you'd be a wreck, prey for even the most basic Sith apprentice. This is for your own good..."

Syd then handed it back to him and put a hand on his shoulder.

"I'm going to give you the chance to walk away from a bad habit of your own free will." She said, handing him one of her lightsabers. "Part of being a Jedi is learning to control one's weaknesses. Me destroying your habit for you will do nothing. You destroying it will mean much more. Consider it a...test..."

This really was about his survival. He had to want to survive on every level. Death Sticks were a slow suicide.

Starlin Rand

 

[Starlin Rand]

As soon as Starlin felt the telekinetic tugged ng in his pocket, he knew he was SOL.

The scolding came not long after. He winced, then held out his arms beseechingly.

“I’m half Balosar, all right? This stuff doesn’t hurt me as much.” But the other half of him was Human, and very susceptible. He’d watched his mother deteriorate due to drug use, only to be bailed out by a trip to rehab, again and again in a vicious cycle. “Besides, it’s not like I smoke ‘em all the time—only when I get nervous.” Which was often enough nowadays to soon present a problem.

When Syd handed him a lightsaber, he blanched. Death sticks were one of the banes of the galaxy, a highly addictive and destructive substance, but they were also incredibly valuable. Destroying a case of them was like burning hundreds of credits. He didn’t like smoking death sticks and really only did it to appease his gangbanger friends, but he didn’t like the idea of wasting a whole lotta money like that.

“These aren’t even mine!” he persisted, in a last ditch attempt at convincing her. “I’m holding them for a friend!” Ah, but what kind of friend would ask you to hold onto their death sticks for them?

This was his fault. If he hadn’t taken them out in the first place, she would never have known he had them. Now she was asking him to destroy them. Did he have a choice? Well, not really—if he wanted to keep training, that is. If he refused to destroy them, he didn’t think she would abandon him here to die. That wasn’t the Jedi way. It was just the training that was at stake...

Aw, feth it. Training was worth more than a box of death sticks, wasn’t it?

Holding Syd’s lightsaber in one hand and the death sticks in the other, Starlin hesitated, not sure how to go about this. “Do I just… throw it in the air and swing, like a pitcher?”

Shrugging, he turned away from Syd, hefted the box in his hand, and tossed it straight up. The box turned end over end, spinning in midair. It would be a cliche to say that time seemed to slow down, but that’s precisely how it felt. Starlin was suddenly aware of the box’s presence, a thing he could focus on with pinpoint accuracy in the Force. He clasped the lightsaber with both hands, ignited it, and swung.

There was the smell of burning plastic, then a shower of sweet herbal ashes and glowing embers as the sticks were singed. Starlin watched them slowly float to the ground, straightening his stance. When the last ash had fallen, he turned off the saber and held it out to Syd in silence. He kept his eyes downcast, unwilling (or perhaps unable) to look at her.

Syd Celsius

 

[Syd Celsius]

Syd watched him hesitate, protest at first...but in the end he seemed to know what to do.

"Yes, swing like pitcher...or is it like a batter? Sorry, I always get confused on those parts." She replied, having never been a follower of professional sports.

Syd smiled as Starlin Rand turned his back on a weakness, then held the blade back to her. She took it, then laid another hand on his shoulder.

"What you did took a lot of courage, Starlin. It requires great strength to turn one's back on a vice. There are other, more constructive ways to maintain one's ability to deal with the dangers of the environment."

Starlin's success...and difficulty with Force Phase had not gone unnoticed either. She would have to put off his phase training for the time being. This was not the time to try and hone it. The wards she had set up were nearly out of juice, and she had begun to realize that perhaps the claustrophobia hadn't made her think straight in using that as a test of his ability to start with. While she would have been more than able to rescue him, by channeling her own phasing ability to match his molecular frequency, Phasing really 'was' a bit advanced for a noob.

"We'll hold off on pulling any more movie references. I shouldn't have tried to teach you to phase so soon, especially not here. This place is fething with me more than I thought, Starlin. I'm sorry for that. Like I said...I'm still new to this whole 'acting human' bit..." she admitted. "Still...you did it on the first try...even if you fumbled a bit near the end...and we have some idea of your current tolerances. Every Force Power is like a muscle...it gets stronger the more you use it. If worse comes to worse, you'll be able to use it in an emergency. Now, breath deep, steady your emotions, and prepare yourself...the wards I've set up are nearly failing."

Syd stood up, feeling bad that she could not say more to try and ease his mind, given the lethal nature of their predicament. But she had never had an apprentice before. It was a whole new level of interaction she just wasn't used to, having been a weapon for so long, and much worse before that. Phyre had apprentices also. She wondered what had happened to Phyre's first-ever one...he was the one who had betrayed her location to the Resistors. What fate had he found, after her demise?

Syd felt the magic in the wards at last fail, the oppressive feeling of the Nexus all around them again. Syd's flesh wriggled everywhere in a nausea-inducing manner as it reacted to the Nexus for a few seconds. She winced in pain when her flesh went back to normal and she began to lead the way out once Starlin was ready. The passage out was made up of ancient stone blocks, lit by torches in sconces that should have gone out ages ago...

Fifteen minutes later...

The passage seemed to lead into the ruins of an ancient underground aqueduct, crumbling water channels still dripping the run-off of rivers below the soil. The water puddles on the ground steamed slightly as Syd walked through some of them, surveying the landscape, silently signaling him to follow and stay quiet for the time being, sensing danger everywhere.

It wasn't long before she found yet another group of Stalker corpses. Syd (and by extension, The Narrator) could not help but refer to them as Stalkers. It sounded way more intimidating than Armed Scavenger. Her interest peaked when she spotted one with a pair of det charges, as she had spotted their only way out of the ruins was lower, in a partly collapsed passage with debris too thick to cut through with her blades, and too heavy to cast aside with telekinesis, even were she and Starlin to both combine their power. She went over to examine them, frowning as the electronics looked corroded. She supposed she should be greatful for any equipment whatsoever.

Just then the tell tale metal clicks alerted her.

"Starlin..." she whispered. Grab whatever you can find. The constructs. They'll be here soon."

She used the Force to fly down to the partly collapsed drainage tunnel, planting one det charge on the debris before flying back up and giving the other to Starlin. Then, Syd took a knife from her tool belt and cut open her palm, bleeding green blood into a circle around them, chanting something. A hissing, green bubble of energy that arced with green lightning.

"We have a bit of a problem..." she trailed. "I think its me the damn things are more interested in. So here is what I want you to do. There's a ladder, there..." she said pointing to the edges of the ancient platform that led to a service route at the bottom.

"We'll hold the line in this magic bubble for as long as it lasts. But when I tell you to run, you sprint like you're an Anakin who just found him a Dooku to behead for that ladder and make your way to the collapsed tunnel. You shoot the charge with with your pistol after you make sure you are far enough away from the blast radius. When the tunnel is cleared, you go in and immediately plant the second charge right on the inside of the tunnel itself. I'll fly down when I hear the first blast. When I reach you, then we both run after you set off the second charge."

A metallic screeching sounded far off in the distance.

"Stay in the bubble. They won't be able to breach it. For a while anyway."

The Spider like Zeffo constructs came out of the various cracks of the ruins at last, but even Syd felt the sting of mortal fear when she saw just how many were currently bearing down on their position.

It wasn't dozens.

It was hundreds.

(Starship Troopers Theme Plays)

Syd whipped out her shotgun and flip-cocked it one handed after unloading the first shell into the first spider to reach the bubble.

Firey constructs of swords were summoned with a twitch of Syd's eye, stabbing or slicing into the throngs and setting them ablaze, allowing her to soon create tornadoes of flame that burned through whole crowds. But for the dozens she burned, dozens, hundreds followed, like an ant colony.

Syd sensed another threat that put her plan literally up in flames.

They approached quickly. Two witches, clad in white and gray gowns. They were both elderly, bald, with sickly, thin, and veiny looking tan skin, their eyes the moldy yellow of the Dark Side. Syd frowned as the Witch's, whose presence were a rot in the Force, though not as terrible as the Nexus below, moving effortlessly through the mechanical army, their flesh shuddered as Syd's had at previous points as they forced their bodies through the Magical Bubble, activating red lightsabers.

Syd's mouth opened and instead of flame, intense green electricity flooded out. The witches blocked with their sabers, holding out their hands and chanting.

An unnatural pig like squeal erupted from Syd as her flesh wriggled intensely, splitting open explosively and leaking green blood, frozen in place by the magical spell trying to magically mutate her to their ends. Her body waa barely resisting, because her Light Side presence was disrupting their focus, but it was obvious that would not be the case much longer. Syd struggled to move, the skeleton underneath her skin seeming to have more freedom than the actual skin did, the sloughing flesh on her body suspended and bleeding and tearing rapidly now matter how the skeleton underneath tried to move. She managed to shoot one in the chest, but the evil witch was so full of bile and hate it did little but tickle her, and Syd felt her will starting to fail.

No question...she needed Starlin. They likely didn't even rate him a threat based on how utterly they had focused on Syd.

"Aim...for...the...head..." Syd hissed out through deformed lips, face constantly melting, tearing, and reforming as she struggled to resist the magical effects, feeling cold spread through her body, flesh wriggling more violently as the spell began to get past whatever scant resistance her body had...

 

[Starlin Rand]

Starlin had fallen quiet. He still listened to everything Syd said, but during the fifteen minute interval in which they were simply trudging through the underground, he was left alone with his troubled thoughts.

As excited as he had been to start training as soon as the Jedi offered it, he hadn’t thought about how it would change him. Part of the boy was stubbornly resistant to any alterations in his life, determined to keep the status quo. Like most people, he didn’t like things that were different and gravitated toward the safe and the familiar. The problem was, what was familiar to him wasn’t exactly safe. He knew that, and yet it still bothered him to have to give it up.

He didn’t think these were the beginning symptoms of withdrawal—if he did start to crave the devil’s fungus, the itchiness, sweatiness, and nausea wouldn’t start to kick in for another several hours, at the very least. No, his ambivalence and depression stemmed from just plain old resentment towards the forces of fate.

When they reached the caved-in passage and things took a turn for the worse, Starlin pulled himself up by the bootstraps, got his act together, and went to go loot the Stalker corpses. Gingerly, that is—he still wasn’t totally comfortable with the idea of touching corpses, no matter how long they had been dead. Rifling through the pockets of one withered scavenger, he found what looked like a… a disruptor?

“Holy chit,” he murmured, holding the weapon carefully in both hands. These things were supposedly so dangerous, they were banned on all civilized worlds, with some planets even going so far as to issue an immediate death sentence for anyone found to be in possession of one. One shot from them would literally disintegrate a person. Slowly, painfully, atom by atom... It begged the question—what the hell was a random scavenger doing with a disruptor pistol?

But there was little time to theorize. Syd was already floating around him, dripping her blood and generating the magic green bubble. Starlin clutched the disruptor to his chest, his palps twitching under his cap as he heard the telltale scratching on approach.

Things happened quickly from there. Starlin obeyed Syd’s orders and stayed within the protective boundaries, watching as the Jedi rained fiery death upon the Constructs. He was more than a little concerned about the sheer number of them, but they still had yet to breach the bubble…

Then the two witches arrived, and things went from bad to much, much worse. Starlin backed away to the far end of the bubble as the two lightsaber-wielding hags entered it, apparently undeterred by the magic. Thankfully, they seemed only interested in Syd—or not so thankfully, seeing as they were rapidly overwhelming the Jedi.

Starlin froze up, hypnotized by the horrific sight of Syd’s flesh warping and bursting in globs of green blood. He could see her bones underneath, the framework of her skeleton writhing as she struggled to free herself from whatever insane twisted force the witches were imposing on her. At last, he realized she was trying to talk, trying to command him. He could barely understand what she was saying, but he sensed her intentions.

He aimed the disruptor at one of the witches and pulled the trigger, hoping it would still work.

Starlin had no idea how lucky he was—the pistol could have overloaded and blown him to kingdom come, had the circumstances been slightly tweaked. But the Force was with him today, and instead a bright beam of concentrated energy burst from the dusty barrel of the pistol, barreling toward its doomed target.

Lacerations appeared all over the wicked witch’s flesh, as if she had been caught in a burning net. Her skin began to smoke, then boil, then disintegrate. If she were still cognizant enough to scream, it would have been a cry of the utmost agony as the disruptor beam vaporized her at the cellular level.

The other witch’s head swiveled to face Starlin, her toothless mouth snarling at him. He tried to shoot her too, but she whipped the pistol out of his hands with a telekinetic blast. A string of unprintable profanity left Starlin’s mouth as he felt his body being lifted into the air, arms and legs flailing. Even worse, he felt something cold and black reaching for him, reaching into him, trying to find something he didn’t want found…

He looked over at Syd, hoping against hope that she would rescue him. But she was a mess. The damage done by the witches’ dual attack was so extensive, he figured it would take a few minutes for her to recover, at least. And by the end of those few minutes, Starlin would be witch food.

Come on, think! There had to be a way of defending himself. He’d done it before on instinct, back when the giant Construct had attacked them. What had Syd called it? Force Light? Would that even work here?—

Suddenly he heard whispers in his mind, uttering terrible things.

Your mother was a slaver… She sent children to their deaths in the mines… The only reason she didn’t send you there too is because they didn’t want you… You were too weak and sickly to be of use to anyone…

Then came the visions, images of his worst fears. His mother was crying in their dingy apartment. Something had happened to her husband. Something had happened to her son. Jen Rand was alone, totally alone. There was a syringe on the table full of yellowish liquid. She was tying a tourniquet around her arm…

Starlin yelped, shutting his eyes and covering his ears, but he couldn’t block them out. The witch was pushing harder, determined to puncture him and wring him dry.

Force Light had to work, he decided. Because if it didn’t, he was SOL. Done. Finished. Kaputt.

Force Light, Force Light, Force Light… FORCE LIGHT!

It sputtered feebly within him, no more than a candle. The tendrils shrank from it momentarily, then rushed forward, trying to snuff it out.

Where is she now?

The vision changed. His mother rose from her chair as the door to the apartment slid open, and in walked Nimdok. Looking around to make sure they were alone, the pointy-eared bastard slowly approached Jen, then wrapped his arms around her—

Starlin gagged. “No way… No way in hell my mother would ever hook up with him… Not for all the spice of Kessel… Oh Force, I’m gonna puke…”

The ludicrousness of the revolting vision was working in his favor, at least. His mother and his mentor… talk about a conflict of interests! If she knew that Nimdok had sent him here to be broken down by a nasty witch, she’d flay him alive!

At that point he actually started to laugh at the idea. The contents of the vision became comical. Jen angrily pushed Nimdok away and started scolding him. The elfin archaeologist’s ears drooped in disappointment.

Soon Starlin was cracking up. The Light around him was catching fire, fueled by his mirth. The witch roared, turning the sparks into ice with her hatred, but they just kept reigniting, repelling the Dark.

Do you remember the scene in Mary Poppins where they laugh so hard that they float up to the ceiling and just hang out there, twirling end over end in absolute hysterics? That was Starlin by the time Syd recovered. His cap had fallen off and he was curled up in a spinning ball, clutching his sides as he howled and hooted his way to victory.

Syd Celsius

 

[Syd Celsius]

The Witch snarled in frustration and disbelief as her attempts to break his mind and eat his soul were shrugged off. But it was when Starlin Rand started to manifest the light that frustration turned to panic. Her mental attacks had backfired badly.

As Starlin manifested the power of the Light Side, his body, whether he knew it or not, glowed with a magnificent aura, that caused the Witch's skin to boil and bubble as she tried to hold back the intense light display, only to fail, the flesh and clothing being blasted off and burned to ash, exposing sickly yellow muscles and organs that wriggled violently as she screamed, the muscles and organs bursting, leaving only her skeleton, which exploded seconds later (No Fate: 97XP)

That wasn't all that happened.

The Light generated by Starlin supercharged Syd's alchemized cellular structure, allowing the badly bleeding and injured Alkahest Spawn to focus for a moment and call on its own connection, which was made easier by such an intense source of the Light.

She kicked started a high intensity regenerative process, flesh rapidly sealing up and repairing along with the suit, but her flesh shuddered and rippled constantly. She could not shut it off at that point so she made use of it, whipping out the shotgun and blasting a crowd of spider constructs through the bubble. She unloaded it into more crowds, before drawing the shooting star and loading an explosive bolt. She fired and a shockingly large mushroom cloud erupted on impact that took out quite a number of the enemy ranks and shook the whole chamber. She looked in amazement.

"Holy Feth." the alchemized creature whispered.

Syd, flesh still melting and resetting disgustingly due to the way the Light Side worked through her alchemized body to constantly heal it didn't dare get too far from the super charged light Starlin was emitting, as the power was now so incredibly easy it was almost without effort to channel it. Syd took advantage as much as she could while Starlin emitted the field of light, charging outside the bubble and activating both ends of her Split-Saber, the pulsing orange blades spun much slower because Syd'd bodily speed was heavily reduced. It was just enough to be adequate for killing, but it had no hope of deflecting or evading every attack.

Her spin attacks were executed with all the approach of a lawnmower blade, even as her wriggling skin was continually torn open by the arms of Spiders who she failed to evade, some puncturing right through the heart and brain, some ripping the flesh open so bad the skeleton was exposed, all failing to kill her as she regenerated at constant, high speed along with her armor, blades slowly but steadily chopping through ones in the immediate radius of the large protective bubble. Only when she at last felt the power wain did she retreat back inside, a torn up mess that sealed up in seconds, until the power cut off and Syd dropped to her knees, severely winded, but not as much as she would have been without a constant Force Light. It hurt to focus. Hurt to think.

And Starlin was still chortling in mid-air, the effects of his use wearing off. Syd was amazed. The boy had a real gift with it.

She used her greatly severely weakened telekinesis to lower him safely to the ground. The bubble held. Syd staggered over to her dropped shotgun, emptied its last shell into a group outside the bubble.

"I'm beginning to see why Laertia likes these..." Syd mumbled.

Her breath went still. Laertia. The only living creature she regarded as much a weapon as she herself was.

She couldn't explain it. She felt this deep connection to the mysterious killing machine. Syd wanted to save Laertia from herself, help guide her to a life away from being merely an elite slayer, which was all she herself had been, once. Laertia's pain, the pain of having been discarded by The Jedi Order that had made them by choice or by force what they were today resonated so badly with Syd that the Alkahest Spawn, still unfamiliar with most of the nuances of human emotion in this organic state of hers, did not yet understand that strange sensation she was experiencing when she thought of the deadly warrior and her dark gray eyes, so full of pain and horror...yet hiding such a keen mind, a noble mind, behind it. The breath in Syd's throat stilled a little more...

She did not know, even subconsciously, who Laertia Io really was. Simply too little of the dead Darth Phyre underneath remained to coherently tell her. If she had known, she would have broken off all contact, emotionally shattered and guilt ridden.

The split second recall of the Swordmaster from Nar Shaddaa was interrupted by the bubble around them shuddering. Syd reloaded her shotgun, still heavily weakened, She then loaded another explosive bolt into her crossbow pistol. She scavenged the lightsabers of the two slain witches.

"Okay, Kid, I have to admit. That was impressive. Most impressive..." she said. "Slaying two Veteran Witches on your first day. Great job...now don't get too full of yourself...we are not out of this yet. The bubble is on the verge of failing. We 'must' leave soon. Remember the plan..."

Syd fired the explosive bolt into the crowd blocking Starlin's path to the ladder. A massive mushroom cloud erupted.

"Go! Now!" Syd yelled, covering his retreat with the shotgun as she backed out, flip cocking the lever action shotgun repeatedly as she blasted back a crowd at a time with each shel as she retreated through the blast zone she had created. She was too weak to fly, and barely had the strength to fight or run. She barely made it down the ladder after Starlin, the Spider chasing her down it, one managing to nick her painfully in the shoulder, gushing glowing green blood down her body as she descended the ladder. She fell the rest of the way, painfully hitting the floor. But the adrenaline kicked in and she forced herself to stand and retreat to buy Starlin enough time to blast open the debris. She was down to her last three shells. What were they for? The question that always makes Rob Schneider laugh.

Still a good question though. What the hell were the three shells in the bathroom for? They never answer that chit.

Syd expended one shell, too busy to hear any blast. She loaded another explosive bolt into her pistol. She'd have one left after this. Best to save it for when absolutely crucial.

As she fired another shell into a crowd, she also fired the pistol, running for what she saw was a cleared passage, barely clearing the blast, scrambling into the tunnel with Starlin.

"Now! Collapse it!" Syd yelled as she expended her final shotgun shell into the once again advancing hoard before running to try and outrun the blast, deliberately running behind him to shield him from the effects if it caught them...

 

[Starlin Rand]

Starlin had been reduced to giggles by the time Syd started fighting again, still tickled pink by his own little inside joke. His face was red from laughing so hard, he was pretty sure he now had a six pack, and he had one helluva case of the hiccups, but he was still grinning even as the Jedi brought him back down to earth.

“Ooooo weeee, I feel dizzy.” Spinning like a top in midair will do that to you. “Where’s my hat? Oh, there it is.”

He blinked at Syd. “The plan?” His brow furrowed. “...The plan!”

At Syd’s command, he ran to the ladder and slid down like a fireman. Which wasn’t the best idea, as proven by his burning palms. Blowing on his scraped fingers, he scurried to the collapsed tunnel, moved away from the blast radius, aimed his explosive pistol, and fired—

The skinny kid was knocked off his feet as the entire structure shook. Helped by Syd, he narrowly managed to scramble into cover even as flames and smoldering debris were blasted toward him.

As smoking rock pelted the ground around him, Starlin was hunched over behind a pillar, his arms covering his head. Some of the Constructs had been swept away by the explosion, but now he could hear them scratching again.

I gotta go set the second charge, he remembered with disdain. Ah well, it was nice livin’ while it lasted…

He started back toward the superheated tunnel, clutching the other charge in his hand. Perspiration coated his skin, trickling down his face and into his eyes in a vain attempt to cool his body. His curly hair was slicked to his forehead with it.

The effects of his prolonged Force Light usage were more debilitating than he realized. Coupled with everything else that had happened, Starlin was well and truly exhausted. Most of him wanted to lay down on the ground and sleep for three days. But the boy had enough adrenaline and will to live still coursing through his bloodstream that he was determined to keep trudging on. Especially now that they were so close to escape…

Upon reaching the smoke-filled tunnel, he thanked his lucky stars that his Balosar half could handle breathing in the polluted air, and slapped the charge onto the blackened wall, setting it to blow. He then proceeded to jog back (the best he could manage at this point). He was still jogging when the second explosion hit, forcing him to break into a run.

Which eventually ended with him faceplanting on the dirty stone floor, down for the count.

Syd Celsius

 

[Syd Celsius]

They had barely made it out of the blast radius, Syd violently coughing as she dragged Starlin Rand through the drainage tunnel. She found what appeared to be a service hatch and dragged her unconscious padawan inside, finding stale air, but not poisonous.

She laid him on the bare floor of a desolate flow control station, locking all the doors, and lowering a rusted armored shutter that allowed observance of a now non existent water flow down via a hand crank, taking special care to close and lock the bunker like section they themselves were in. It appeared the Stalkers had used this as their last base of operations before the enemy had breached. One had made it as far as the Surface before getting killed. The rest had fallen in the aqueducts. Syd, as she had locked down the entire area, had encountered their corpses, some fallen desperately trying to reach bags of supplies. Some appeared to have killed each other in whatever chaos had ensued...whole areas out side the small area full of decrepit consoles she ended up barricading them in were slathered in blood stains. She gathered everything useful, dragging it back to their temporary sanctum, feeling the darkness everywhere, but too weak to write a ward.

Then she slid against a wall on the far end and collapsed at last in exhaustion,

That...sucked...so bad..." she breathed, the suit purging the injuries to her body slowly but surely. She spotted another dead Stalker, slumped in a corner in the shadows, holding the rusted remains of a double barrel shotgun...and what looked like a large supply bag. She wearily crawled her way to it, prying the old weapon out of the skeleton's hands, clicking the breech load model open and extracting the one remaining shell from it. She searched for more ammo, but found none. Chit.

Then she searched the bag...

A few hours later...

When Starlin awoke, there was a small emergency ration box with a bottle of water next to him on the cot. The inside of the control room was smeared with green blood wards on the ceiling and walls.

Syd had found an intact, non-moldy sleeping bag in the Stalker supplies to lay him down on, and had treated his wounds with the Force. She sat across him in a meditative state on both knees, eyes closed, a scavenged electric lantern between them providing most of the light.

"I suppose congratulations are in order Starlin. You've graduated from 'Noob' to 'Rookie'." Syd joked dryly, though her smile was very faint. "Never met a Padawan who killed two Veteran Witches on their first day, one of them by laughing, which is some new and horrifying chit. That's like being level 5 annd killing a level 80 boss in some messed up dungeon sim...which our present situation disturbingly mirrors, I'm sorry to say. Still, if there were such a thing as Experience Points, you would have leveled up so hard doing that you would have broken the game engine."

Syd opened her eyes. Her bright orange irises narrowed due to the light from the lantern

"We are safe, for the moment. The Stalkers used this ancient flow control station and its adjacent pump and power rooms as a base of operations. The wards I made are much stronger. We could hold down this particular room for a day if we had to. But we cannot stay longer than perhaps two hours...who knows what else could be headed here. This facility was breached in the end. I set magical traps at choke points, but its a stop gap measure. The danger is greater for you now, going forward. The Dark Side will try to tempt you away from the light the closer you get to the Nexus below us. I have much to teach if I am to continue to properly protect you. Unfortunately, what you need to learn would normally take weeks, months of normal instruction. This Nexus we are trying to reach is a fowl, seething thing. Surely now that you have touched the light more you now notice its contrast. And as magnificently as you did, we must both concede it was because they underestimated you. They will not make such a mistake twice. So due to the extreme survival situation, I'm going to cut a lot of corners to give you a fighting chance. However, I will be judicious. I will only give you 007 out of fourteen skills to pick from. Power not fully earned can easily--and usually does--become power abused. The other 007 will be taught to you the normal way at a later date. And the way we are going to do so is this..."

Syd retrieved a pouch next to her, pulling out fourteen worn, faded pieces of parchment with strange symbols on them that moved constantly.

"One of the stalkers got lucky and found Nightsister Chalk. I used it to draw these wards. They are called Learning Wards. You touch the one bearing the skill you wish to learn."

She placed them near him with telekinesis.

"I also found you some useful gear from the scavenger supplies. Take only what you can carry. Some of it might limit your mobility."

Syd placed the supply bag she had found in front of him also.

"When you finish choosing, then we rest a while more before heading out...don't worry, I've made my pick from the Loot Bag..." she joked. "Seriously though Starlin, you've done very well for yourself."

(God of War 2 Main Theme plays for a few seconds.)

(Syd has provided Starlin Rand with Learning Wards. Touching the wards of his choice will grant Starlin immediate novice skill level of whatever skill he chooses)

(Please make your selection now)

(CHOOSE WISELY)

Limit: Only 007 of fourteen skills may be selected.

Skill 1: SINGLE BLADED LIGHTSABER/FORM ONE

Spoiler

Classic Jedi preference of choice due to great all-round balance of offence and defense. As skill grows, stronger duelists can be engaged and more cunning attacks devised. Technically a two for one skill, the basic attacks of the lightsaber all stem from Shii-Cho, so its knowledge grouping is considered essential to learning the single blade at all. WARNING: While it is indeed possible to become incredibly adept solely at Form One and the single blade, it will take many long years of dedication, so it is highly reccomended to pair it up as soon as possible with another style to create a personal hybrid, though this approach too may have weaknesses.

Skill 2: DUAL BLADED (JAR-KAI)/ FORM ONE

Spoiler

Wield two single bladed lightsabers at once, Excellent for all around offense, but suffers significantly at defense, with great difficulty at power blow defense. WARNING: Choosing only this lightsaber skill without any other, will signifcantly impact defense should the character be forced into a combat situation where only a single lightsaber is available for use. As with the single bladed option, Form One is part of the package

Skill 3: MAKASHI

Spoiler

Lightsaber fighting style geared to fighting other lightsaber users. Filled with cunning offence and defense strategies, involving timing, footwork, blade positioning, and speed. Used to enhance already acquired lightsaber methods, as well as help defend better against Force Attacks. WARNING: Makashi is at significant disadvantage at range conflict with blasters. While this weakness can be overcome, it is a long and difficult process of trial and error and there is a steep learning curve in terms of learning to use it truly effectively. It is also highly vulnerable to power attacks and multiple duelists, though this weakness too, can be eventually overcome

Skill 4: SORESU

Spoiler

Primary defensive style of the Jedi, and a select number of Sith. Uses to defend against range or melee, using modified methods borrowed from Makashi. Users become extremely hard to kill if they maintain constant discipline. All around provides the best shot of survival with a lightsaber. WARNING: Soresu facilitates Survival as opposed to Victory. Aggressive tactics are almost a requirement to "win" lightsaber duels. Against truly skilled, determined, numerous, or all three kinds of such enemies, it often merely delays the inevitable.

Skill 5: DRAGON KUNG-FU

Spoiler

Ancient fighting style from Atrisia, encorporating the movements of the mythological Atrisian Dragon God, Kagutsuchi. Uses many claw and complex joint disablers and nerve attacks. Good for singular opponents. WARNING: Vulnerable to faster, more unpredictable melee fighters.

Skill 6: RAPIERS

Spoiler

Gain an aptitude for Vibrorapiers and similar weapons, using precises, deadly cutting and thrusting attacks. Efficiency and power of style is such that it can take on modern swordsman and even lightsaber fighters. WARNING: Don't use in anything but duels.

Skill 007: MAGICAL AUGMENT (Life)

Spoiler

Selecting this will permanently render Starlin's Skeletal system much harder to damage and more absorbant of kinetic impacts, making it more difficult to knock him out or break his neck on the first go. It also allows Starlin to greatly reduce his sense of pain for a short time

Skill 8: TUTAMINIS

Spoiler

Draw energy from non living sources to heal wounds or strengthen the effects of Force powers, such as droids, power generators, and the like.
As skill grows, Greater Healing or Force effects can be observed. WARNING: Requires non living sources of energy and immense focus, though the latter aspect decreases as skill grows.

Skill 9: ELECTRIC JUDGEMENT

Spoiler

Lethal Light Side ability producing a green facsimile of Force Lightning that is lethal only to Dark Adepts and their abominations, stunning everything else. Can fire off only weak bolts at novice level, but number, range, and potency increases as skill advances WARNING: The version of this power taught by Syd will be incredibly taxing to a first time novice, but is another surefire method of killing Dark Adepts.

Skill 10: FORCE REGEN

Spoiler

Highly taxing ability that heals even the most lethal of wounds at high speed for an extremely short time span, at the cost of greatly reduced speed and reflexes as well as strength. WARNING: Highly taxing to use. All Force powers used after will temporarily be greatly weakened for an hour or so, though this will decrease as skill advances.

Skill 11: FORCE FLIGHT

Spoiler

Traversal power, used to literally fly like a superhero at high speed, or float dramatically like one. Useful for combat, making a quick escape, or reaching normally out of reach areas. WARNING: High concentration required, though amount of focus required decreases as skill advances

Skill 12: CLEANSE

Spoiler

Cleanse areas tainted by The Dark Side. Useful for creating areas where the ability of enemy Dark Adepts are severely disrupted or even outright keeping them out if too impure. WARNING: Immense concentration required, requieing a defender if used in hostile territory

Skill 13: TELEKINESIS

Spoiler

Multi-Use, Highly dangerous Force Power, used to create bridges or smash heads. Useful for item manipulation at a distance, such as switches, or catching missiles and grenades. Can also be used to hurl random objects at lethal speeds. WARNING: Objects must be in either line of sight or user must know where they are in a given area

Skill 14: MAGICAL AUGMENT (Force)

Spoiler

Selecting this will permanently magically enhance Starlin's natural Force Reserves, allowing them to recharge quicker. Force 'pool' is made larger, enabling more Force Power usage.

In the supply bag, more choices...difficult ones awaited.

(Starlin Rand has been provided upgrades. Due to the survival situation, Starlin must pack lightly, and must choose between offensive or defensive options.)

Limit of items to pick: 2 out of 4

(CHOOSE WISELY)

Item: SCAVENGED MANDALORIAN COMBAT SUIT

Spoiler

Even the basic attire of the Mandalorians provides the wearer with a considerable defense. Decent for resisting slashing, piercing, or mild energy attacks. As it is more combat oriented, it possesses reserve ammo pouches. Light Armor, great for remaining mobile.

Item: ECHANI HEAVY SUIT

Spoiler

Gold and black medium armor great for soaking up energy damage, and even a glancing blow from a lightsaber. Modified to hold a few extra medpacs.

(Zelda Acquisition Theme plays.)

(New weapon gained!)

Weapon: SCAVENGER PISTOL

Spoiler

Emergency Flare Pistol with barrel modified to withstand greater temperatures and pressures, enabling it to fire both actual flare rounds (which themselves can do damage if used properly) to special, heavy incendiary bullets, grenade rounds and even small rockets the same caliber as the flare rounds. Limitations is the fact only a single round at a time can be loaded.

Ammo: FLARE ROUNDS (Civilian)

Spoiler

Emergency flare rounds that burn hot and bright for long periods, and can be used to injure organics in an emergency. The Stalker team that died in these tunnels appear to favor the EZ Lite Flare Round due to its waterproof nature

Current number: 007

Ammo: FLARE ROUNDS (Military)

Spoiler

The Mandalorian Civil Defense Flare Round has been banned for years in numerous systems. While it indeed performs well in it's official role, burning much hotter and longer and brighter than other military flare rounds, these same qualities have been used to great effect as an emergency option against heavy armors, both of the personnel and vehicle variety, as its primary ingredient in its ammo is White Phosphorus.

Current number of rounds: 4

Ammo: HEAVY INCENDIARY ROUND

Spoiler

This large, heavy bullet, tip filled with volatile incendiary chemicals, is a shortened version of a machine gun round used during the Gulag Plague against the abominations that ran rampant at the time. Can create a flash fire over a wide area on impact.

Current rounds: 2

Ammo: H.E. ROCKET

Spoiler

Wrist mounted rocket converted to fire from a flare pistol. Will destroy light vehicles.

Current number: 1

Weapon: DC-19 STEALTH CARBINE

Spoiler

Silenced blaster carbine once used by imperial special forces. Limited ammo and requires high maintenance.

Syd waited for him to pick.

"Any questions before we practice a bit?" Syd asked once Starlin was done.

 

[Starlin Rand]

Starlin woke up groggy and stiff. Groaning, he wiped the drool from the corner of his mouth and slowly sat up on the sleeping bag, stretching.

The room he was in was full of consoles and machinery, along with the now familiar sight of Syd’s wards. He took immediate notice of the emergency ration box, the sight of the water bottle making his dusty dry throat all the more noticeable. Greedily he opened it and gulped down the contents all at once, like a man who had been wandering in a desert.

Then he realized Syd was sitting cross-legged across from him, having apparently spent the time he was unconscious meditating… and treating his wounds. He felt no pain whatsoever despite the beating he had taken back in the tunnels from flying hot debris.

Then Syd started talking with her eyes closed. Starlin snorted at her jokes, rubbing the back of his neck.

“Yeah, the witch tried to get in my head, so I gave her the comic treatment,” he mumbled, clearly trying to avoid having to explain what he had found so funny back there. He took off his cap and ran his fingers through his curls. Dirt and other debris were combed out of his hair with the motion. No wonder why his scalp itched, blech.

By the time he looked up, Syd had opened her eyes. The conversation became serious. Their situation was more dire than ever.

“Basically I’m gonna have to download the lessons into my brain, like in the Matrix,” he concluded, nodding his head in agreement. “Cool beans. I wonder why more Jedi Masters don’t use these methods. Or Sith, for that matter…”

Now came the choices. He had a wide array of options, which was both a great boon and a source of anxiety. It would be nice to think that there were no wrong answers here, but he had a feeling that wasn’t the case. Nope, these decisions would make or break him in the hours to come… No pressure!

He rested his chin on his hand as he surveyed the lessons. In his mind he organized and cut down the options to what he considered the indispensable bare essentials—the basics of Form One Single-bladed Lightsaber and Force Telekinesis, which were his first two choices due to their versatility. He touched the papers for both, blinking as the knowledge entered his brain like data being transmitted to a computer.

From there it was more of a matter of personal taste. Knowing he needed another lightsaber form to enhance Form One, he picked Soresu. Remembering his amazement at seeing Syd fly, his next choice was Force Flight. Given his natural talent with Force Light, Cleanse seemed in line with that as something that would come to him almost naturally anyway.

Finally, he was down to the last two of the seven. The decision was twice as difficult. He didn’t want to leave any obvious weaknesses open, but he also knew there was no harm in specializing. His hand moved toward Magical Augment (Life), then hesitated, hovering in the air for a few moments before he changed course and selected Magical Augment (Force). After all, who needed a healing power when your ally was the Force? (And a powerful ally it is.)

The last one was just for kicks. After touching the paper for Dragon Kung-Fu, he glanced at Syd and quoted Neo: “I know kung-fu.”

Now to the gear. Seeing as he had chosen to augment Force over Life, the skinny fourteen year old picked the Echani Heavy Suit in hopes of stocking up on medkits to compensate. Eying Syd with a puckered mouth, he hesitated, then walked out of range of the lantern in order to change into the armor. She could probably still see him, but it gave him emotional security, I guess.

Returning to the bag, he picked up the scavenger pistol, then picked the Heavy Incendiary Rounds out of a desire to watch things burn. Turning to Syd, he bounced on the balls of his feet.

“What are we gonna practice first?”

Syd Celsius

 

[Syd Celsius]

"Well, think about it for a second, Starlin: If the policy was instituted Order-Wide on either side, there would inevitably come instances where such a resource was at severe risk of exploitation and abuse. Imagine if some errant Master left one that had knowledge that was 'really' sensitive out by mistake?" She asked, floating the ones he hadn't taken over to her, the ones whose knowledge he had absorbed crumbling to dust.

She twitched her eye and burned the rest to ash in an instant.

"Interesting build you've chosen..." Syd joked with him after he said he knew Kung Fu.

When he went to change, Syd got up and gave him privacy by phasing through the door of the protected chamber, only entering once more when The Force told her he was in the armor.

Then came the question of what to practice first.

Syd was taken no chances. Better to strengthen his connection to The Light now, make it that much harder for the dark to turn him.

Syd decided to have him actively fight it in a very small amount. She reached into her belt and pulled out the two red synths of the witch lightsabers.

"We shall practice your ability to Cleanse. These crystals were made to be tools of the darkness. You will repurpose them, cleanse them of the remaining traces of evil and replace it with light. One shall be used in the construction of your very own lightsaber. The other you may keep in reserve.

She presented him with hastily drawn but nonetheless concise and clear schematics for how to construct a lightsaber, as well as the parts.

"Take your time. Be patient. Let go of hate, and anger. Find clarity in the Force by trusting it, letting it guide you to what you need to do to drive out the dark. But be wary, as even a small piece of The Dark Side is extraordinarily dangerous. But I believe you can do it. Then...once you have constructed your blade...you test it against me."

Syd waited patiently for Starlin Rand to Cleanse the objects. Once he had done so, Syd began to carefully walk him through what part went where and why. It basically amounted to 'Do this, this, and this, not that, or else it won't work/it'll explode.'

The crystal gave the blade its color and focused the power of the device into the blade. Different crystals, parts, produce different effects, removing certain internals and would convert the blade into a lightwhip but Syd never had an ear for that, try as she might. But she walked him through the construction process.

"The Lightsaber is not just a weapon, it is a symbol. It represents a Jedi's connection to the Force and their dedication to protecting the innocent. Having one also brings the attention and contempt of vicious foes who will think nothing of devouring your soul." Syd explained as he worked. "Ideally, a lightsaber is never drawn unless there is no other choice. Unfortunately in such a violent, lawless era as the one we live in, no other choice has a bad habit of cropping up often. As a bad man I met once put it, 'If you don't draw first, you don't get to draw at all.' A Jedi is supposed to quell conflict and strife most times...its not always about killing the villain. Sometimes the villain gets a second chance if circumstances warrant it...and sometimes that happens whether they actually deserve it or not. Its a difficult life, full of struggle, and the strong risk of a violent death at the end of it. But its worth it, not just because you get to protect the innocent, but you'll probably take some real scumbags down in the process.

When Starlin was ready, Syd stood up, activating one end of her Split-Saber. Its orange blade had pulses running up it, its light, like everything else in the room, including Starlin was reflected on the surface of a once very corrupt suit of armor.

She looked at Starlin, and at last began to truly hope this was a man who could take her knowledge into the future and apply it better than she ever had. She wanted Starlin to grow up to be something Syd knew in her heart she would never be truly worthy of being referred to herself, no matter how much good she did for the Silvers.

She wanted Starlin to be every bit the hero she was not. It was a foolish sentiment, but the sheer weight of Syd's crimes would drag her to the pit, she feared. They were 'that' bad. Starlin was young. Starlin had a soul, whereas she wasn't even sure if what she had counted as such, being so heavily saturated with magic she would simply stop existing if it was removed from her.

Starlin could be normal, talk to others, do a million other things socially it would take Syd years to catch onto, and even then she would suck at it.

Most of all, Starlin was not a weapon, and had never been intended as one. He had everything the Weapon would have sacrificed all her power for without blinking. His will was truly free.

"Let's see how your blade turned out first, then attack when ready..." Syd told him.

 

[Starlin Rand]

“Cleanse… okay,” Starlin said, taking the crystals Syd handed to him.

The moment the red synths made physical contact with his palm, he felt the darkness within them. It was not dissimilar to a familiar taste or smell—he had sensed the witch’s signatures unknowingly when they attacked earlier, but he hadn’t really thought about it on a conscious level. There had been only the need to defend himself from their attacks, to get away from them and burn them to ash.

With a furrowed brow, he looked down at the crystals in his hand, concentrating on them. He had the knowledge of how to cleanse them already in his brain, now he just needed to unlock it and utilize the flash-lesson…

Because of his youthful naivete, he tended to envision the Dark and the Light as separate entities. Most Force sects taught that they were two halves of a whole, and that there needed to be a balance. The crystals were not balanced in any sense of the word—they were corrupted, tainted by evil. In his mind Starlin pictured the darkness leaving the crystal, drawn out like poison is drawn from a wound. The darkness rippled like the black feathers of a crow disturbed by a gale, then was abruptly torn from its perch and scattered to the wind. To his amazement, the color of the crystals faded from a sinister shade of red to transparent, almost like glass. The boy frowned. It seemed too easy.

Sure enough, mere seconds passed before the darkness began to return, attracted to the empty, idle space sitting unfilled. Starlin scrambled to enact the rest of the lesson, replacing the Dark with Light. He was clumsier in that area, stuffing in too much too fast so that it overflowed and was promptly rejected. The Dark crept back in; he ripped it out again, took a deep breath, then carefully purified the crystals, one by one, replacing them with his own innate Light.

When it was done, the crystals each looked and felt curiously like his own family crystal. They bore the same inner warmth and the same slightly opaque white quartz color. Well, one of them was white—the other, which he intended to keep for himself, was still making up its mind as to what color it was going to be. He held out his hand to Syd so that she could take the white one, then accepted the lightsaber parts.

A certain giddiness came over him as he started to assemble the weapon. I’m building a fethin’ lightsaber, holy chit! The folks back home are gonna freak out when they see this! Nobody will ever mess with me again! He tried to keep a lid on his enthusiasm to avoid embarrassing himself, but he was practically vibrating with excitement.

“It’ll explode?” he echoed Syd’s words. “Damn, that would be anticlimactic. Better eyeball these schematics…”

He was vaguely aware of his master’s slightly somber mood, but it did little to dampen his good spirits. Starlin, having grown up with stories about the Jedi, was fully aware of the symbolism of the saber. He knew what having one meant, although he didn’t fully understand the hardship that would come with it. That was something he could only learn through experience.

At last, the lightsaber was completed. Standing up, he watched Syd activate her saber, the orange glow filling the room. Clutching his new saber with both hands, Starlin held it out and ignited it. The blade that emerged from the hilt was solid, unwavering, and as blue as his eyes.

Attack when ready… Starlin adjusted his stance, setting his feet apart, then hesitated as he accessed the lesson in Form I. Now that he was holding the lightsaber in his hands, could feel the weight of the hilt and smell the dust particles in the air burning up as they came into contact with the blade, he was keenly aware of how dangerous it actually was. Even though all the knowledge was already at his disposal, he needed to start slow, take baby steps.

Trying to relax, he raised his saber and swung, aiming for Syd. It wasn’t a limp-wristed, hestating blow—he sorely doubted he could ever actually hit her, so he put an appropriate amount of strength and intent into the swing. When his blade met hers, and he heard the crashing sound every kid recognized from their favorite holofilms, he couldn’t help letting out a whoop of joy.

“Aw yeah!”

Syd Celsius

 

[Syd Celsius]

Syd observed him as he constructed the blade, going a bit into the history of the Saber.

"The crystal you are using in your blade is synthetic. Synthetic Blades typically have a greater power output and can potentially break a natural-crystal lightsaber blade with great rarity...but also have a very, extremely rare chance of temporarily shorting out themselves. One in ten billion chance, I think, but the possibility is never completely gone normally. In fact, I've only encountered a few blades said to be unbreakable. Still, these days, many on both sides swear by synthetic crystals. Synthetics were primarily a Sith invention but after Palpatine decided to trash the Order's holdings, the order relied on Synthetics heavily after getting re-established."

Syd had not gotten distressed at his initial lack of success. The first attempts are always stumbling blocks.

But Syd did smile when he finally succeeded, activating it for the first time. A blue saber. Blue like his eyes. He had made those crystals match his spirit more than he currently realized.

"That weapon is now your life." She said, blocking the first blow with a Shii-Cho Defense. "Improving your technique is improving your life. The basic movements of form one were adapted from solid metal sword techniques. All the stuff you will find in typical swordfighting you will find in Form One, as it is the most ancient style of fighting. All Jedi learn Form One to some extant to retain some measure of combat effectiveness. They often move away because while it is relatively easy to learn, it is hard to master. But one who is a master of Form One is nearly as unpredictable as a master of Form 007.

She mildly used her blade to push him back, giving herself enough time to block in case he chose to attack again. She backed away in a Fool's Guard, blade dipped low to try and bait him into striking, ready to swing it upward to catch it.

"It is best used against multiple foes due to its wide attacks and sweeps. I've found over the course of a long and difficult career (They're going to take you: 90XP) that Sith Warriors often find a lot of affinity with it, so watch it if you face a Sith using this style: they'll likely be better with it than you expect. But while it suffers against lone duelists, it can still be used. In fact, I've actually been meaning to brush up on it myself. Way I see it, you have to be able to win on basics alone at times, otherwise, you'll flounder on the more advanced stuff in the long run. Every little step leads to the top, Starlin."

Syd chose on a whim to put Starlin on the defensive and struck out with both hands on her saber, pulsing orange blade crackling against his blue one. He could strike. That much he had established. How was he on defense? She had to know which he was better at, so she could understand how best to train him down the road and what to improve.

"A Jedi in a saber duel must be as calm as one cleansing crystals...to release fear and anger's hold on you, and to trust only in the Force during combat. It will be a difficult lesson at first...the Order, in the ancient times of The Clone Wars, took babies exclusively to train, due to the fact a Jedi who grows up learning the Force every day of his life will know vastly more about the Force than a Jedi who has trained only ten to fifteen years from a teen or adult...in theory. Now, too be fair...there was something to this argument...it 'did' produce technically proficient Jedi, who, on paper, at least, were proof-of-concept for what the Jedi Council touted..." she said, inbetween attacking him at the arms and legs repeatedly, trying to see if he could work into a counter attack flurry...

"It 'did' produce Jedi who were very effective against most foes, even as watered down as their training had become...just take Clone Wars survivor Cal Kestis for example. Out of action for years, rusty, basic Force skills. What happens when the Inquisitors find him on a junkyard planet? He murders his way through whole squads of storm troopers. There was something to be said for the Order's approach at the time..." she explained, not attacking too quickly, wanting him to get a feel for the blade at defense.

Syd had her blade on a low setting to avoid truly hurting him, so if any of her attacks did make it, he would suffer a mild welt at worst.

"But in the end, this method had deep, fundamental flaws. Anakin Skywalker was a product of all those flaws breaking someone all at the same time. In retrospect, while Skywalker's actions are completely reprehensible, he is proof positive of the ultimate failure of insulating people from the Galaxy they are supposed to protect. It's...I suppose its rather like the difference between being street smart and being book smart. Y'know what I have come to theorize, Starlin?" Syd asked as she started telegraphing her stab attacks to get Starlin used to parrying. There was a point to working in a scholarly lecture on Anakin during a practice duel with a newly minted padawan. It was impossible to train a padawan without mentioning him.

"I believe Anakin Skywalker was the 'Chosen One' in another sense...he was chosen to show the Order why their policy was flawed. And he was given so much personal power by the Force so that they couldn't steamroll him like they had practically every other opponent in the last thousand years. I think he was placed as a literal roadblock by The Force. One that they could not get past until they rethought their actions and their approach to training. These days, a Padawan is from all walks of life...but the battle that Anakin, in many ways, still ultimately lost has only just begun for yourself. He may have averted destiny entirely...had he not kept listening to that seed of darkness within himself. A seed that grew into a mighty tree which could only be chopped down by his own son in the end. You cannot let even the tiniest amount of darkness win...that is the eternal war you wage within you, Starlin. The war every Jedi wages within them. Including me."

Especially me, she thought as she steadily increased the strength of her attacks, but not enough to overwhelm. She then deliberately dropped her guard, waiting to see how he would react.

 

[Starlin Rand]

As he began training, Starlin’s brain flooded with what felt like the digitized pages of a textbook on fencing flashing before his eyes. He had definitely absorbed the flash-lesson from the strip of paper on Shii-Cho, but he was becoming overloaded and distracted by the imparted information. Part of him wanted to follow the manual to the letter, while the other knew that if he didn’t stay alert and stay in touch with what his gut told him to do—

He saw her go into the Fool’s Guard position, baiting him to strike. Being that this was training, he went for it and was promptly caught by her blade.

“I thought the Sith way was to… strike first, strike hard… and with no mercy,” he said, shortly before Syd launched into her offense, forcing him to defend himself. It wasn’t long before he was jammed into a box, unable to do much more than block her blows, his blade meeting hers but unable to strike back.

The next part of her lecture, about staying calm during combat, made perfect sense given the circumstances. Starlin had become frustrated and impatient, wanting to lash out and push her back, but his master’s assault was as ruthless as it was finessed. She switched to attacking his limbs; he recognized it as an attempt at pushing him into a counterattack. He answered with the flurry she expected.

As one of her blows singed his arm, Starlin became painfully aware of his weaknesses. They were pretty common for a beginner—weak defense, sloppy footwork, too much focus on technique. He didn’t have a crappy attitude about it, but the teen was easily frustrated by his shortcomings. His anger and annoyance was always directed at himself, never his teacher.

Stay calm. These lightsabers were not toys; if he didn’t stay focused, he’d get burned again. Syd was talking about someone named Cal Kestis. The name sounded familiar—wasn’t he a character in a hologame?

And Anakin Skywalker. Everyone knew Anakin Skywalker. Or rather, most people knew Darth Vader, the Sith he became. Starlin’s brain dredged up a humorous recollection of arguing with his friend Duane, a consummate nerd, over whether or not Vader could be classified as a Sith Lord. Duane was adamant that the answer was yes, because he was the Chosen One and a being conceived with the Force itself as his father had to be more powerful than most Sith Lords anyway.

“Vader was just some nerf herder in a robot suit,” Starlin had retorted. “Chosen One or not, he never got promoted to the rank of master as a Jedi, and even after he turned to the Dark Side the Emperor kept him on a short leash. When he finally overthrew Sidious, the effort killed him. Sure, he fulfilled an old prophecy and all, but he wasn’t half as powerful as that. Or even really all that evil, now that I think about it… All it took was his son crying in pain to push him back to the Light.”

“But… it… he was a badass! And he looked cool!” was all Duane could muster up in defense.

Though he grinned at the flashback, Starlin was listening and understood what Syd was trying to impress upon him. Bringing balance to the Force didn’t just mean destroying the Sith. It meant reevaluating what it meant to be a Jedi, confronting the flaws in their doctrine and teachings, and moving forward to build a new Order that would function better than the old.

He’d heard that the Force was supposed to have almost a consciousness, a will of its own. The Sith (and to be honest, most Jedi as well) saw it as simply a tool they could use, a power they had been granted through random chance. They were the lucky ones, and they sought to remind the rest of the galaxy of their good fortune by using it to impose their will on others. A dwindling few saw the Force as a gift they were blessed with, and sought to give back to it by relying on it for guidance. And still more allowed themselves to become lost in it, their “crude matter” becoming little more than a conduit for the incomprehensible will of the Force. Of course, those folks usually didn’t stay sane.

Weirdly, thinking about this stuff while he fought was helping to keep him focused. He was parrying her stabs on instinct, taking the lessons to heart. Syd was still on the offense, but her attacks were slower, building up in speed. Again he met each strike, defending himself adequately, but something seemed to be missing. Something a duelist either had or didn’t have: creativity.

Then she let her guard down. This was his chance to think outside the box. He’d never been a particularly good dancer (at least, not in public—alone in his room with his headphones on, he could cut a rug) but the same mentality was there. A good dancer stands out because they bring something new to the dance. A good fighter brings something fresh to the fight.

He honed in on his blade, almost telling it what to do before he did it. It responded, both guiding him and moving with him, a partner in sync. Once they were harmonized, the weapon became an extension of him.

Together with his new saber, he launched into the air, the blade of his saber leaving an illusory trail of light as it cut through the air over his head. Momentum carried him forward, adding strength to the swing he now aimed at the unguarded Syd from above.

Was it showy and sort of impractical? Oh yeah. He’d seen it in a hologame once, where it was called a “leaping Flourish”. Still, if done right, it would literally give him the drop on his opponent. Or get him impaled right through the middle.

Syd Celsius

 

[Syd Celsius]

Impractical. Heavily so. Syd punished it as he leapt, directing a nick at his ribs. He might block it if he was fast enough. But his previous flurries were acceptable. Sloppy footwork though. No way he'd get better in just one training session. There were certain to be more witches. He would not last very long employing such a strategy. Still, he had done a damn good job blocking many of her attacks...more than she would have thought the Padawan could manage so soon. Perhaps his strength was best reserved for defense for now. But he still needed to be able to grasp a few fundamentals if/when he did have to attack.

"If I had been truly your enemy, you would be very dead right now from just such a tactic. The flashy stuff may look cool in the movies, but in truth you will often have to rely on cold, pragmatic tactics that don't waste energy needlessly when starting out in saber training. My stuff might look flashy, but that is only because it is a combination of efficiency and long practice that has allowed me to utilize creativity when able. Creativity is the true weapon of a real duelist. It is not just me, or my saber, or my Force Powers to consider. When you are ready, attack me again."

Syd guarded, waiting for him to strike.

She almost envied Starlin Rand . She was relieved, actually. Life as a Jedi in the Silvers was much different as opposed to life in the Resistors. It was at times cruel, and there was an edge of ruthlessness to it. It had been a ruthless time. It still was, to a degree...

The Audience Chamber was a vast rectangular space of obsidian tiles. The Resistors of Darkness had called representatives of their top allies to the chamber, Mandalorians, Baran Do, Matukai, and Zeison Sha sitting in one row, in addition to actual Resistors sitting in the opposite row while The Man in White sat at the front of the row. He was, as always, dressed in White. An Atrisian Nehru Suit this time, his face concealed by a sterile white mask with a purple pentacle bearing the symbol of The Jedi covering the whole front of the mask. He was reclined in a curved seat, petting a snake like Amphistaff, also white in color.

"You will now present your reports on our ongoing efforts against the Dark Cults for the past 007 months." He said curtly, beginning the meeting. He turned to the Baran Do nearest to him. "Your region. What have you done about The Uptick in Bladeborn chapters on your homeworld, Volib?"

"Restructured all local chapters to start using psychometry to narrow down possible hiding spots. Largest local chapter yet discovered yielded a wealth of intel about their operations."

The MIW turned to a Twi'lek Zeison Sha man with orange skin. "Evacuation of The Siland Valley?"

"The Forest is thick, with extremely low levels of light and is proving difficult to navigate..." The Twi'lek man answered.

The MIW turned to one of his own Resistors. "Progress on flushing out the Sith Spy Ring on Alderaan?"

"We've started to lose assets in the area. Capture and Processing of enemy combatants is down thirty five percent."

"Can you explain the sudden, unexpected change in our fortunes there, Colin?" The MIW asked calmly.

"The Spy Ring has had time to set up excessive connections in the local authorities as well as the civilian populace. They have been pressing on us from all sides--"

"That is only because someone is feeding them information. We have a penetration. This traitor is present in this very room, in fact." The MIW replied sternly, his baritone dry but taking an edge of death to it. The continued losses on Alderaan and the horrifying ways their operatives had been murdered weighed heavily on him.

The business-like demeanor of the council changed instantly. They all started looking at each other with suspicion.

The Man leaned forward in his seat, still petting that Amphistaff.

"Fifty-007 of my Resistors. Twelve Baran Do. Twenty-Two Mandalorians of Clan Hades. Sixty Matukai. Eleven Zeison Sha. Butchered. Their souls absorbed. One of you has been tempted by power. You have successfully hidden your treachery up to this point. But I have discovered you all the same. I now deal to you the fate you dealt to many, many, many others."

The Man hit a button on the armrest of his chair.

When she floated in, that was when the Council knew for certain someone was not walking out alive. The creature the Man in White had created with forbidden magic would not allow it.

The MIW's Pet Amphistaff slithered off of him, a streak of white sidewinding across the black tiled floor.

"Master, I swear! I swear I'm not the traitor! You have the wrong man!" Colin pleaded, though he was terrified to move with The Flame Geist's gold-chromium covered hands on his shoulders. Death by fire or death by poison. The Man in White may have genuinely done good most of the time--most times he even let many treacheries commited against him slide, to the shock of many--but he had an 'infamously' low tolerance for betrayal that aided the Sith in 'any' way.

"I do 'not' have the wrong man..." The MIW replied curtly.

Colin's grip went knuckle white as the Amphistaff reared its head, hissing.

"You were told once that I do not forgive treachery that aides the Dark Side. It was explained to you very explicitly." The Man in White said quietly, sitting back in his seat.

"I do not have the resources to waste on a prisoner long term. And I refuse to saddle other governments with the burden of caring for you either..." he added, just before The Amphistaff struck...

...but not at Colin...

It instead sank its fangs into the surprised Resistor next to him, a man named Larz. He stiffened, turned to the MIW in shock.

"Oh, I'm sorry, did you assume he was speaking of Colin? Colin's fine. True blue. But 'you' Larz, are a fething rat." The Flame Geist spoke with clear contempt.

Larz was clearly in pain as he contorted violent, blood leaking out in various spots of the mask.

"All...hail...The Sith..." Larz whispered before he dropped dead moments later. Everyone else had gone dead still, transfixed at the sight.

The Amphistaff slithered back to the MIW's chair.

"Twelve seconds..." The Man in White sighed, petting his weapon. "One of these days I really 'must' create an Amphistaff with a faster working Venom."

He glanced at Colin.

"Apologies for scaring you, Colin. I had to make him think he had escaped. I know you are no traitor."

Colin nodded nervously, finally sighing in relief when the Geist took her hands off him.

She stretched out her hand, and Larz's body burned up into ash in seconds.

"Treachery that aides the Dark Side will 'not' be tolerated." He emphasized to the entire council which was on the verge of chitting itself while The Flame Geist telekinetically got a broom and pan to sweep up the ash, dumping it into a nearby bin and floating into Larz's seat to sit down.

'Now'...The Man in White spoke, slightly more enthusiastic now that the mole was dead. "Onto other businesses. First I would like to discuss what is being done to resolve the Crisis on Deneb..."


Thank the heavens Starlin didn't have to operate in such an order, under such a troubled man. She still hated him, but it was becoming complicated to maintain that hatred.

Syd snapped out of the half second recall and refocused on defending against Starlin.

 

[Starlin Rand]

Starlin just barely managed to land on his feet after being nicked in the ribs by Syd’s lightsaber. He stood there clutching his side as she scolded him for his impracticality. His face was ruddy from strain and humiliation.

He took a few moments to catch his breath, fell back into a fighting stance, and prepared to strike. But something about the odd faraway look in Syd’s eyes made him hesitate, squinting. Was she… was she having a flashback?...

Luckily she snapped out of it quickly, once again focusing on Starlin. The teen raised his blade, then brought it down again. The sound of lightsabers clashing was beginning to lose its novelty now that he had been exposed to the hard work of fighting. By the time he got into actual combat, the magic would disappear completely… well, maybe not completely. It was always going to be awesome.

“Hey, uh, Syd,” he began. “I know people don’t talk during a real fight and all, but… um… why exactly did you come here? To Zeffo I mean...”

He dodged her attack and blocked her next blow before continuing, “I mean, I told you why I was here… cause of Nimdok and all that…” He ducked as she swung over his head. “So are you on a super secret mission? Or are you just visiting?...”

Syd Celsius

 

[Syd Celsius]

"Consider the environment, distance, and whether you are looking to kill or capture. Not all duels end lethally." Syd explained, parrying his strike and following up with a slash immediately directed at his thigh. He had to anticipate counter-attacks at any given point in time. It was a crash course lightsaber duel that wasn't anywhere close to fully preparing him, so she was trying to compensate by exposing him to the aggression of a real duelist who could and would attack at any given opportunity.

"Don't sweat talking...conversations happen in these situations more often then you might think. At times its creepy as hell, but we are just training. As to why I was here..."

Syd paused, hesitant a bit before deciding to answer.

"I was here mostly on an archeology study. The relics you saw in the chamber we first occupied are being sent to the order. But I did have a side motive. You see, I'm only organic when I'm wearing this particular suit. In any other gear I still look like me, but the body is merely a psyonic shell covering living flame. I have very little emotion in my natural state. I'm tired of that. Tired of that...numbness..." Syd explained, her blade hissing and spitting against his.

"You've seen the constructs we've battled. They were originally created by The Zeffo. By studying small samples of them, I hope to use their knowledge to create a body where I can be organic all the time. Where I can be more than a weapon, finally..." Syd answered, the last words betraying her weariness.

"In my natural state, even the pride I felt when you destroyed the death sticks would be a muted, dull feeling. You could barely classify it as pride. There are other, much more unpleasant aspects to this. Imagine it: You cannot appreciate flowers up close, since they burn. You cannot taste. Cannot smell. Your only food is fire. Your existence is fire. You perceive others mostly as heat signatures--"

(Cutaway of The Predator staring at Dutch and Billy through the trees)

"You have only the endless objective to Fight the Dark Side, except you have no real choice over it...its hardwired into you in that state of being. You cannot disobey forever. Only delay. Eventually you need to fight the Dark Side. You need to torch Sith, and you need to obey a Jedi Order. If you were turned into such a creature, instead of being made into it as I was, Force forbid, you would go mad. I'm certain of it. Being organic, even in the short time I am able to be while wearing this armor, has vastly altered my outlook on life and what I actually want out of it. I decided I wished to stay in The Order, guide others, and fight The Dark Side by my own decision while organic. Hopefully, someday I will be able to fight for the Order of my own free will forever, instead of just part-time. What about you? What's it like having had actual life experiences that were not surrounded by the edge of violence like mine has always been?" Syd asked as she went into a series of slow power attacks from all sides--then dodged backward, thought about warning him, realized his enemies would not, opened her mouth and released her own version of Force Light from it, an extremely bright light that temporarily blinded targets for a few seconds. It would only slightly affect him since he had picked up a slight Light Side aura, but it would hopefully distract him as she rushed forward, seperating her saber into two ends and activating, both, one swiping at his leg, the other swiping at one of his arms.

Conversation was probably good for him at this point. Took their mind off the lethal situation they were only temporarily protected from.

Starlin Rand

 

[Starlin Rand]

“Don't sweat talking… conversations happen in these situations more often then you might think.”

“They do?” Starlin's eyebrows rose. He had seen duelists yakking during fight scenes in movies, but he had always assumed it was just for dramatic effect. Well, now that he thought about it, fighting like this was mostly stalking around each other waiting for an opportunity to attack, or for your opponent to strike… it probably got kind of boring after a while. Might as well have a chat to make the affair pass more quickly.

As Syd answered his question, going into detail about what she was and the horrors she had endured as a Flame Geist, he started to realize that he hadn’t really thought about what she’d told him earlier. The fact that she wasn’t Human hadn’t really registered for him, because he and most of the people he knew weren’t Human either. All of his friends were aliens, and he was half Balosar himself. But Syd… well, clearly she was a nerf of a different color. He couldn’t really picture what she must look like outside of her organic suit, much less what it must feel like. No senses, no emotions, no family or connections to other people, only sheer willpower and intent to kill Sith... His throat went dry just thinking about it.

He swallowed his horror and pity as Syd launched into the power attacks, forcing him to defend himself on all sides. What happened next threw him for a loop—without warning, Syd used a form of Force Light on him.

Centuries before Starlin was born, Luke Skywalker had stood in the Millennium Falcon wearing a helmet with the blast shield down, trying to block the attacks of a flying robot shooting mild blaster bolts at him. He screwed it up at first and got burned, but his master encouraged him to keep trying, to feel the Force around him, until he got it right.

Starlin, temporarily blinded by the light, heard Syd separating her weapon into two blades. That meant she was going to attack him in two places. But he couldn’t see, and he had only one single-bladed lightsaber—how could he block them both?

It was with a strange stiffness that Starlin stood locked in place, clutching his weapon with both hands. He felt rather than saw the first swipe aiming for his leg by an infinitesimal millisecond before the next was supposed to hit his arm. And somehow, he reacted in time, deflecting both strikes in rapid succession.

Apparently, the kid did well under pressure rather than cracking under it.

As he blinked, his vision slowly returning, he realized that Syd had asked him a question. Kind of a weird one, or at least weirdly phrased—it came across as almost standoffish, but her tone wasn’t one of anger or offense. She did say she wasn’t very experienced when it came to conversations…

“What's it like having had actual life experiences that were not surrounded by the edge of violence like mine has always been?”

“Uh, well…” He bit his lip. “My life probably hasn’t been as crazy as yours, but I wouldn’t say it was all sunshine and roses either. I saw violence happening around me when I was a kid, or I at the very least heard about it. My parents were smugglers—my dad had criminal underworld connections, and my momma used to work for the Black Sun. She was a mercenary back then, and she did some pretty bad stuff.” Things that she only spoke of when she was high or drunk. Murder, assassinations, trafficking, child slavery… “One time when I was probably about five, two guys who were part of the crew on our smuggling ship got into an argument. One of them pulled a gun on the other, and things snowballed from there. Dad pulled me out of the way before I could get hurt, but I saw most of what happened next. Fuzz, guts, and eyeballs.”

He parried her blade, then added, “My dad went missing when I was nine. His body never turned up, but Momma was convinced he had been offed in a drug smuggling deal gone south. Typical criminal rivalry bullshit. She had wanted to give it all up for a while, but then she had no choice. And when we moved to Coruscant, things were comparatively worse. We lived in a bad neighborhood full of roving street gangs that would rob a little kid like me at gunpoint without blinking. I mean, it wasn’t like I was carrying much—lunch money and pocket lint, yeah, I was the richest kid in the city. But they didn't want to risk losing any chance at getting something that came their way… Stuff like that went on right up until I joined a gang and came under their protection.

“This is gonna sound stupid, but I used to have this harmonica. I don’t even remember how I got it, probably scavenged it up somewhere. But it was a real, genuine musical instrument, not a kid's toy, and it was kinda nice. My momma hated it and said it was worse than bagpipes, but I liked it. I even rigged up this contraption so I could play it and the guitar simultaneously… um, anyway, I was dumb and I forgot I had it in my pocket when I went out. I was going to r—I mean, go to a convenience store just around the corner to buy some junk food or whatever. The next thing I know there's an ugly schutta jamming his blaster in my face, while another one picks through my pockets and finds the harmonica, all before I can throw up my gang’s sign and scare them off.” His voice took on a hard edge as he relived the moment. “It’s an old instrument, but not worthless, right? Yet the uncultured bastard can’t see value in anything that isn’t credits, and because he’s pissed that I’m in a gang and therefore protected, he throws my harmonica on the ground and stomps on it until it breaks—big Gamorrean dude, it didn’t take long. I was more pissed off about him breaking that harmonica than I was about being mugged or threatened with a gun. I was pissed about it for a whole year. I’m still kinda pissed about it now.”

And his fighting was improving as he basked in the latent rage over the destruction of an object that, while he would never admit it, had been almost sacred to him. For a lower-class teenage boy on Coruscant, musicians were considered cool, but only if they played cool music on cool instruments. A harmonica was not a cool instrument. No one, save Starlin’s mother, had known about his learning to play it by ear. In fact no one knew that Starlin, alone in his room, had begun to compose music of his own, writing lyrics to the melodies he heard inside his head. Street-smart kids didn’t write poetry and set it to the mournful pairing of a guitar and a harmonica—and if they did, they didn't tell anyone about it.

Syd Celsius

 

[Syd Celsius]

Apparently she had to work on her conversational skills...even as Starlin Rand deflected her attacks with his eyes closed, she could feel the anger building as he described the moment some of his innocence had been crushed. Even so, as miserable as much of it had been, it seemed, he still had it better than she ever had.

"I can feel your anger...the moment left its mark upon you. Starlin..." she put aside her blades for a moment.

"You don't want to feed that emotion. I hate the Man in White for sticking me in nullification resin. I have never forgiven him for it. I may never fully forgive him. There are limits to what can be forgiven in this galaxy, even for the Jedi Code. It would have been preferable to be discorporated as opposed to three centuries in a featureless amber void with nothing but yourself. Even today, if I ran into him, I still don't know what I would say or do. I understand the blood curdling anger you feel...but I am doing my best, little, by little every day, to try and move past that anger...because as difficult as it is, I'm starting to understand his reasoning."

Syd's face took on an expression of sympathy.

"Don't let that emotion take hold in you because you lost an object, even one as precious as that harmonica was to you...think of it instead, as a learning experience. If you were the street trash you first described yourself as, you'd have laughed off the loss of an object that was ultimately disposable. But because it was yours, because there was music in you the street could not silence, losing the harmonica instead made you acutely aware that the street was not where you belonged. It was one step among many that ultimately led you here, to my instruction."

Syd stood back, giving him more breathing room.

"That light you have shown...the light you used to defeat the witches. You could not have done it if you had focused on that incident. Instead, you refused to be held back by it, even if the refusal was subconscious. Part of being a Jedi is learning how to not be controlled by emotions, to find peace and clarity. You should pity the ones who broke your instrument...they are the ones who cannot escape their own inner darkness. You can. You can do it better than I. You just have to want to."

Syd guarded again.

"Gather your emotions. Let go of it, that anger. That hate. Find only the clarity of The Force within. Dwell on the feeling of the light as you summoned it. When you are ready, attack."

Syd waited for him to process her advice, hoping her words were helping at least 'some' kind of way.

 

[Starlin Rand]

When Syd lowered her blades and stepped back, Starlin was confused. Hadn’t he been doing well? He certainly felt better about fighting than he had since they began training.

The harmonica story had touched her. Starlin bit his lip. He knew he shouldn’t have brought it up—it was stupid and made him look sentimental. Now that he was working for Nimdok, he could save up to buy a brand new, much nicer harmonica. But that didn’t make the loss of the first one sting any less…

“Yeah, a learning experience,” he muttered glumly. “I sure won’t forget to take anything I care about out of my pockets before I go out ever again.”

Did anyone really belong on the street? He supposed if the schuttas wanted to be hood rats, they must belong there. Eh… he was still just a kid. If anything, he belonged with his momma, at least until he was grown. Whenever he started to feel the urge to run away from his problems (Sith Adepts craving his family crystal notwithstanding; when it came to those people, he bounced before they could so much as ask “Have you heard of Meetra Surik?”), he always came back around to his family in the end. If his family just so happened to live in a bad neighborhood, so be it.

With resolve and determination, if not exactly optimism, Starlin tried to do as Syd asked. Closing his eyes, he recalled the Light, that strange thing he barely understood yet which seemed to come naturally to him. It flowed through him easily, cracks and dents and all.

“Aha—am I glowing yet?” he joked. A giddy lightheartedness seemed to fill him whenever he called upon the Light. It was almost like a really nice high, but without the lack of control that came with handing the reins of one's body over to the drug.

With his eyes still shut, he raised his blade, centered himself, and swung. His fighting style lacked the aggression of earlier, when it was fueled by his anger, but it was no less strong. Heavy on the defense, but his offense wasn’t too shabby anymore.

After pulling off a successful feint, he laughed.

“Look Ma, I’m learning!”

Syd Celsius