Down the Road

[Asher]

The loading ramp eased down onto the ground with a longing sigh. Exhaust pipes spewed their fumes towards the ground like fog machines attached to a metallic whale’s stomach. Stray gusts blew through the locks of the girl’s hair and for a second she wasn’t sure whether or not it was the ship itself or the girl herself that was groaning at the prospect of having touched down on yet another prospecting academy’s temple grounds. The cloak on her shoulders swung about like a limp flag and a testament of exactly how common this sight in particular had grown to become within just the last few months. The clothing that adorned her lean form batted against her skin with gentle disinterest as her eyes moved in a circular motion at the mere idea of taking her first step towards a ‘new’ future.

There was nothing new about this. There was nothing particularly futuristic about the sales pitch either.

Really, you couldn’t willingly buy into the whole ‘max out your potential’ sales pitch after having gone through as many relocations as Myn had at this point. It was a trip that had started on Coruscant and spread itself out across several months and several planets in between. So here she was on Glee Anselm with little in the way of what the first part of the planet’s name would seem to entail. If anything it would be the opposite.

She carried herself from the ship and to the check-in. She gave the ship behind her a quick look over her shoulder. Much like the last few times it was just her who had gotten off here. Everything was as usual then. Her head shook and her eyes rolled once more as she stepped into what she took to referring to ‘customs’ at this point. That was to say the part where she had to ensure the people who she was by providing the security details passed to her upon entry to the Academy system.

“Papers, ple-” The droid behind the darkened glass window tried to ask before Myn cut him short.

“Myn Eris, Coruscant, no previous master. Stored in your data storage under Section C-one-two-five-five-two-one-three-eight-one-one-zero-six-two.” She took a deep breath before continuing. “Age, twenty-one. Height and weight, one-point-seventy meters and fifty-six kilograms respectively.” The girl then frowned. All things considered, she had been through this before. “Was that all or do you need all the notes on my diet as well?”

A second of silence passed before the droid finished processing all data it had been flooded with.

“Yes.” It eventually responded and the girl groaned.

“Here.” She said, handing the droid her pad much like she had at least five times before in the ten months alone.

The droid looked over the contents of the pad before handing it back to the girl. The doors opened and she was allowed entrance into the academy. A deep sigh burst on through her nose. Here it all went again. How long would this last then? She gave it a month at most.

[member="Darth Pyrrhus"]​

 

[Darth Pyrrhus]

The road to Glee Anselm's Sith Academy had over the years since the fall of One Sith become obscured. A reclusive and hidden institution, its dark and dimly illuminated halls held only the shadow of what it once had been. Yet being one with the shadow was at the core of what it meant to be a Sith. A Sith did not reveal her hand before it was time to strike. Fight too often with one enemy and you will teach him all your art of war.

One man stood waiting at the top of the steps, in front of two tall and wide doors that remained open behind him. He was a large man with a powerful build, the kind of bone structure that might have one question from a distance whether he was the image of strength and muscle, or laziness. The answer was undoubtedly the former. Even with his layer upon layer of dark red and black robes and tunics, it was a poorly kept mystery. He was an intimating figure, with his sharp features like cut from rock, bald head and a yellow stare that never seemed to require to blink. He was the baron, Demid Bakunin, a Sith Lord who had sworn his fealty to Darth Pyrrhus and the academy of Glee Anselm. With the academy's diminished size, he was practically all that was left of its staff. Only the most exceptional had been ordered to stay, the rest had been cut loose to meddle with the affairs of the lesser academies.

A sigh left the baron's mouth as he watched the single shape walk up towards the main entrance. He remembered when batches of fresh students would arrive in groups of no less than five every time, often more. There were of course exceptions, but never had the transfers seemed this insignificant. He caught himself before he let his train of thought run too wild. It was not becoming. Instead he reminded himself of the words this academy's master, Darth Pyrrhus, had imparted upon him. Here they needed not be many, they needed only be excellent. This [member="Myn Eris"] would simply have to prove to be as useful to them as a group of five would have been.

"Myn Eris." the dark and deep voice rung through the wide halls of the underwater cave system. He spoke low, but the baron had been trained well in the arts of using his voice. He did not need to exert himself much, he knew it would carry. "You must follow me" the baron's deep bass voice seemed strangely smooth, an almost kind. It was a poisonous thing, of course, tempting her to become familiar and make a mistake. Without waiting for any objection or question, and with a flutter of his cape the man turned. "Are you here to become a Sith?" The casual question came after leading her through the door and into the darkness.

 

[Asher]

[member="Darth Pyrrhus"]

Dark and damp hallways that reeked of stale and bitter hate. Great, Myn sure hadn’t become familiar with that particular aspect of the Sith at this point.

… That was sarcasm, she most certainly had. Duh.

The sound of her own footsteps echoed before and behind her while the damp air made each breath feel like it took care of the day’s ration of water. Myn dragged a hand through her once wavy hair and found that to no surprise, her fingers were soaked. Yet as the grand gates appeared closer and closer she felt the humidity sink as the temperatures reached a more bearable level. Was that it? The grand test of being a Sith?

Doubtful. Perhaps the Sith were in as much of a disarray as Myn had started to expect.

The doors swept open and a disappointed man set his sights on her, called her name and demanded that she follow him with honeyed words. Of course she followed, he was the one in charge around here. Probably the one to usher her into a temporary room as they held her captive for a few months before sending her away again to the next temple in the cycle. She didn’t say anything either, her mother and father had already drilled that into her. Speak when spoken to. This was not it.

The question that came after was.

“You don’t become Sith.” The girl rolled her eyes, shrugged and shook her head in spite. “You either are, or you’re dead.”

“... Sir.” She added last minute.

“You don’t become a tool. You don’t become the overlord, you either are one or you show yourself more capable than the man who is. There is no middle ground.”

This was also part of her parents’ legacy, the lessons of soldiers who had lived and breathed One Sith until their final breath parted their lips together on Coruscant during the Alliance’s destruction of their homes and lives.

It had been said many times in the past, but from that point of view… The jedi were evil.

It didn’t take much for Myn to believe it.

 

[Darth Pyrrhus]

There was a fine line between silent obedience and insolence.

She met with Baron Bakunin and followed his lead without objection. [member="Myn Eris"] did not take much space. But was her silence something out of respect or lack of interest? Had she lost her spark, the hints of fear, concern or even excitement of what was to become of her?

Their footsteps echoed as they progressed through the damp halls. It was the only sound to be heard. Off in the distance there was a feint hum. Only when they drew closer, after Eris had given her answer to the baron, might she be able to identify it as the clash of lightsabers. They would pass by that room without peeking in.

"Ah" the large man said, the amusement weighing heavy on that single word. She had entertained him. The answer had surprised him. He had been ready to pounce and remind her of her place and the importance of what they were doing here. To her credit she had taken the casual question seriously.

Yet, he found her lacking. On paper it was the perfect response, however, these words were not carried to him on paper. "You speak the words, but I sense you do not believe them. Or perhaps you do. But you do not feel them." he stopped walking now, tilting his head downwards and to the side to look at her. His hands were firmly clasped in a grip behind his back, but that, as she no doubt knew, could change at a moment's notice. "You repeat the truths you've been told, but your body does not know them as such, only as words." Words carry meaning. Words without conviction only occupied air, and deception required emotional investment.

"We shall rectify this, surely" he spoke with a chilling confidence, hinting at a knowledge of the things to come. A knowledge she did not possess, but would be revealed to her when the time was right. Or when she had none left.

"I understand you have travelled a lot. Tell me, what have the other academies taught you? How far along are you?" He had her file, certainly, but words and reports could only convey so much. The baron preferred something more personal. Opinions of lesser lords, words on paper, interested him far less than the level of self-insight of the subject. Baron Bakunin was after all trained in reading all aspects of body language, with impressive speed and accuracy. Reports only interested him insofar that he could measure them up against the living thing.

The pair would take a turn, lead on by the baron. They had walked towards the very end of the academy. What had once been a much more guarded secret back entrance now became another arena for training. That being said, this occasion was indeed an exception. There were three others waiting, students by the looks of them, with one more who would join them in a minute. The area was as close to an open space as they could reach in this underwater cave, stairs moving alongside the cave walls and forming platforms, balconies which had held the living quarters of the academy's living quarters. Separate from the other pathways, at a location higher than all others, was the way to the Overseer's office.

Myn and Demid, however, would stop by the edge of water, an inviting pool. On the other side there were transports that could take them with discretion from the academy to the surface, but they would not be using them this time around.

 

[Asher]

It was a silence stemming from neither respect nor any burning interest in the Sith ideal. Not because she didn’t want to, but it very much seemed as if the Sith didn’t want her to. The sound of sabers clashing brought her attention away from the man, made her head turn in the direction of the fight in the hopes of getting a good look. He spoke again, bringing his being into focus again as they continued to walk down the halls. He spoke of the way she had given her response, yet something about her made it seem as if she both took it seriously but not to heart. There had been many who had claimed that she merely repeated words, but when they hadn’t been shown any kind of weight in themselves it was hard to really apply your own mind behind it.

Perhaps in that regard he was right in that they would be able able to rectify that, but she still held him to it. Until the point in which she had held a lightsaber in her own two hands for the first time she would keep herself at arm’s reach where most masters had wanted her and she in turn wanted them. It hadn’t always been like that, and she hadn’t always been an insolent child, but a lack of any kind of guardian would do that to any promising child with gifts that could be squandered.

It wasn’t her fault and she refused to believe anything else. Weak masters made weaker apprentices.

“Does the Grand Tour of the Galaxy count for anything?” The girl deadpanned against her own better judgment. “I can push things, pull things with effort, but one academy after another has tossed me around with no pause.”

Her eyes rolled again. “My parents taught me inconsequential soldier stuff,” Such as how to throw and take a punch, shoot a gun and throw a grenade as far as she could. “But I don’t think it counts for much around here.”

“Look, mister, just be honest with me.” Myn gave him a most annoyed stare down. “If you just plan on throwing me to yet another academy could you just go ahead and do it right away?”

“I am sick and tired of you people and your insistence on throwing me around like this.” Her brow perked in defiance. “Temple on Tython used to have a nice view, but I guess that’s not much of a choice anymore, is it?”

She had been there. Twice.

Got tossed off-world. Twice.

[member="Darth Pyrrhus"]

 

[Darth Pyrrhus]

It was becoming clearer and clearer where [member="Myn Eris"] stood on that line.

Her instructors must have been blind, careless, their focus diverted on other matters and not the betterment of the entire Sith race. And they were a breed of their own, or at least they would have been if everyone did their job.

Seeing as those responsible were not around to answer to the baron's criticism, his disappointment would be taken out on her. There was a valuable lesson in that too, if she cared to take note of it.

At first Lord Bakunin had listened to her. His eyes appeared nearly closed while he tried to form an image of the girl. The man was focusing, listening to not only her words but how she said them, where she put emphasis, waiting for her emotions to betray her. Meanwhile the eyes observed the pace of her steps, position of arms, hands, facial expressions; they scanned for everything.

The baron's brows furrowed in a frown. Combined with an understanding yet unimpressed grunt he let his own emotional state be known. There was something to be said for not only reading her body language, but also how she responded to his.

It would seem they would not reach that secluded oasis within the academy.

He stopped, which meant they stopped, in response to the girl's desire to switch to 'real talk'. Baron Bakunin would be more than happy to introduce her to the real world and attempt to rectify the shortcomings of his predecessors.

"That is 'I am sick and tired of you people, my lord' to you" the honey was gone from his voice, as was the resemblance of warmth from his eyes. He was not the merchant, the peddler of wares which in this case meant students. He became the predator. "I am Baron Demid Bakunin, Sith Lord and instructor at this academy." He took a sharp step in her direction.

There had already been not much distance between them, and now he was clearly invading her personal space. "The appropriate ways to address me are Lord, Baron, Master - take your pick, but do not deviate. We observe protocol here." If only that had been the end of it, but judging by the intensity behind his expression he was merely building up for something more. Her first lesson came quicker than he had anticipated, and took on a more direct form.

Lord Bakunin further escalated his invasion of Eris' personal space. His right arm thrust forwards and his hand gripped for her throat. Its purpose was simple: beyond slamming against her throat to make her body fight to regain sovereignty of its own breathing, he sought to hold a firm grip around her neck, pressing down on her wind pipe. "Nothing is inconsequential." he hissed, clearly thinking she too quickly dismissed the care her parents had taken in preparing her for the war that would be her life.

Now came the push against the wall. If his initial attack had succeeded, it would be a simpler matter. If it had not, he would aid the effort with his left arm as well. "We don't toss anything around. We push it down, down against the depths to see what reaches the surface." If anything "We drown." he put it plainly, in case the metaphor hadn't caught on her mind under threat. "Will you drown? Swim! Breathe!" he practically shouted in her face now, using his strength to hold onto her throat and slowly attempt to lift her off the ground.

Even if she did not take any of this seriously, he very much did. She was a child, unaware that she was training for the battlefield. She had never walked on it, so could he truly blame her for not knowing? Right or not, he did blame her.

This is not Tython, he thought silently to himself. We do things differently here.

 

[Asher]

[member="Darth Pyrrhus"]

A product of insolence wouldn’t show much more than the byproducts of what her environment had made her. Part of her had to wonder why he kept his eyes close when she was talking to him but the answer would unravel itself before she had the chance to ask or even offer him a retort to his moronic rant about is title while he was trying to sell himself on his high horse much like the rest of them had. He was one in a dozen, a stuck up chit in a pretty dress. Her mouth opened to deliver the punchline only for her to find herself at the end of his. Eyes opened wide in surprise as a hand wrapped itself around her throat and neck. A gasp swept from her throat as a thumb began to invade further upon her windpipe.

Fight or flight. Do not flail, conserve the air and energy, fight him on your terms.

It was what her mother and father had shown her, the very same people that the man began talking of. Myn peered into the man’s eyes as her teeth began to grit for him to see. The anger swept through her at the treatment much like it would in any other whelp that was out of its depths. Her hands would move up to wrap around the hand that choked her only for the man to reaffirm the grip that he already had on her in order to use both of his hands to smash her into the wall.

He had tried, but her eyes didn’t falter for a second. Her lips didn’t thin out in surrender, her eyes didn’t close with a feigned attempt at an apology. She wasn’t going to give him one and this was something she wanted him to know. She did not give up, that was not who she had been raised to be.

Instead her legs swept up against the wall to plant her feet along its cold surface. The hands that had now wrapped around his own hands kept her air supply from being quenched in full, yet her feet pressed as hard as she could muster against the wall to push herself towards the man trying to strangle her. This was the gift that had sent her from her family in the first place. The girl had wanted to join the army for as long as she could remember, but it was a future that was stolen from her during aptitude tests. Anger drove her further than it did with the others, pushed her body beyond the boundaries of what most would consider logical for a girl of her stature.

At this point her push was little more than a dare for the man to squeeze just a little harder and show her exactly what none of the others had granted her. There was no discipline, no motivation, no purpose, just hollow threats from coddling teachers. She wasn’t beyond being aware of who she was and what she did, but at this point it was to see what she got away with. This entire situation was no different.

“Weak-” She gasped. “Grip.”

“... Lord.”

“Baku-”

“-nin.”

 

[Darth Pyrrhus]

There was anger within her. And surprisingly the absence of stupidity, at least on some level. But suppose she would not have been sent to Glee Anselm were that not the case. It was a satisfying sight, although that did not remove the need to teach her a lesson, which was the reason why she was up against the wall to begin with.

The grip grew harder, more sinister, as fingers pressed down tighter around her neck, seeming to signal they were never letting go. But then they did. Yet the manner of which he did it might have had her wishing he had not. With power and purpose he pulled backwards, stepping sideways. As she passed by him it was his aim to keep her momentum up and fling her face first against the wall on the other side. Her legs had been pushing against the wall on her back and rearing to go. As any good teacher, he simply wanted to help her along.

"The point is not that I am a lord or that I am a baron. It is that you are not. You have nothing, you are nothing." No power, no wealth, no authority or really anything going for her. She was an untested, unproved neophyte, and oceans away from receiving any sort of reward. Every title he had earned. He may have been born into being a baron, but even that he had to claim against rivals. Yet it was insignificant next to the title of Sith Lord.

"I kill you and no one bats an eye. I am under no scrutiny, I answer to no one but the Sith Code. You also answer to me." He felt like the point had come across and so his facial features softened, and that deep, honeyed voice returned as he gestured with a long arm down the path they had been headed before.

"Shall we proceed?"

[member="Myn Eris"]

 

[Asher]

[member="Darth Pyrrhus"]

An eye started to twitch as the grip on her throat tightened, though the cause of it was up for debate. She had asked for it and he had delivered to the extent she had both wished and anticipated. Feet continued to push against the wall to get further into the grip the man had on her, but much to her disappointment she felt the grip loosen. The locks of her hair brushed against her temple and forehead. Eyes opened to investigate only for Myn to find herself face with yet another hard surface. Her cheek caught the brunt of the impact, her arms had tried to move up and catch it but it was too late. The air that had remained in her lungs was knocked from her lungs and she slumped to the floor with a grunt.

For all the things she had anticipated with her move she had not predicted that one. Her lungs heaved for air in between coughs as eyes glared at the man who had tossed her from across the room. It didn’t last. Eyes set for the ground once more as a set of shaky arms caught each heave that forced her towards the ground. She held back, she was not going to grant this Lord the satisfaction of watching her pity herself. An unstable knee shivered under the weight of her body yet pushed her off the ground regardless.

The man went back to speaking in softer words again.

Myn did not.

Her mind carried only the thought of watching him suffer, to watch him choke under the sole of her boot. If the only one scrutinizing her was him, then the only viable solution was to cut him out of the equation. That day was not today, she was evidently not strong enough, but when the day came she would make him regret not having killed her this day.

It wasn’t a very substantial goal, but the cornerstone to greatness was to split the ambition into smaller ones. This was merely one of many steps.

“Of course, Lord Bakunin.” She hissed at her ‘master’ and followed him along the corridors of the academy. “Anything you wish, Lord Bakunin.”

She wanted him to know that she was not broken yet. She was going to be his master before he knew any better. She had done this tango before. He was going to live for her command one day, and when the day come that Myn was bored of him she would bring him before her. He was going to kiss the feet that would crush him before he met a degrading end.

He was going to regret this day.

 

[Darth Pyrrhus]

He chuckled a rich, heavy laughter. There was bitter hate in her, desire for vengeance. He had hurt her. It was natural she wanted him to pay for it. He hoped she would hold onto that. That was more or less the whole purpose of this. And in the end, perhaps then she would see. Or perhaps she would come for him later. He would be ready, or he would relinquish his title as Sith. In this Lord Bakunin's philosophy aligned with that of Darth Pyrrhus.

"That is better, my little worm. That is better" he said, laughing still as he added a touch of insult to injury by referring to her as his little worm. It was probably all kinds of wrong and insulting. But he was sure she had heard worse. "Despite how much you dislike this interaction, dislike me, you are not strong enough to do anything about it. That is all that matters." the pair rounded a corner, reaching that open clearing near the end of the academy. "Get stronger, little worm. Find your voice. Then we will talk." though he doubted conversation was at the forefront of her young mind.

There was poorly hidden disdain behind her words. There was no doubt she did not take them very seriously. Yet she had said them. She had had to say them, and she had obliged him. That would do for now. If her paths ever came across Pyrrhus, he might degrade her further. But for now she was but a student, one of many, and not someone deserving such private attention.

The tall bald man opened high, wide doors. Their little episode on the way had them trail behind the rest, and thus they were the last ones to arrive. There was a group before them, a class of perhaps fifteen. They had paired off, doing sequences and practising with training sabers. One moving forwards, taking the role of the aggressor, the other moving backwards. When they reached the end of the length of a drawn off squared, their roles would reverse, and the duos moved back to the other side. The whole affair was overseen been a Zabrak, much more slender than Lord Bakunin, faded red skin and yellow-hued eyes that gave him a near sickly look.

"Another for your exercise, Kregan. I trust you will find room?" Bakunin's voice boomed over the hollowed out cave, drawing the attention of nearly everyone. Some managed to stay focused on their opponents, others turned their heads. Some got a jolt of pain up their arms thanks to it. "Of course, my Lord." The Zabrak referred to as Kregan replied with a respectful nod. The difference in rank became apparent. What Bakunin said had only been phrased in a question as a courtesy. Turning him down had never really been on the table.

As if to make the difference all the more clearer, Kregan shot with a venomous tongue at Myn "You! Form up. Wiiith..." he looked around for a moment. Yet, there was one who had been forced to practice on his own. "Bashar here." he gestured for the two of them to pair up. "Well? Now! Now! Don't just stand there and stare. Go go, do not delay" he hissed at her.

[member="Myn Eris"]​

 

[Asher]

[member="Darth Pyrrhus"]

Worm. It was tough talk from a man who prided himself on little else than his title. A baron wasn’t a man of any substantial power, a barony was a platitude granted those who posed a threat at some point in order to bring someone into submission and contentment. If there was anyone who was a worm out of the two it was him. He was the one who groveled beneath the feet of the man at his neck and held onto the grounds that were granted to him. He grasped for apprentices because they were the only ones that would listen to a joke such as himself, but not Myn. She saw through him like the rotten vine he was. It was a lot to assume out of just a single sentence, but it didn’t take a genius to know that the Sith were monsters of pride and wrath. The fact that he had even brought up ‘Baron’ amongst the few titles that she was to use when addressing him meant that he held it in as high regard as that of Sith Lord when the mere title of Lord was something that was to trump anything else. If anything it meant that Lord Bakunin had revealed a way in which Myn could attacking him without directly engaging the Sith within.

If he was a true baron he held land, and land was something that could be destroyed even by the lowest of commoners. If he held no land he was not Baron and prided himself on a title that wasn’t rightfully his. Regardless of which was the reality of the situation Myn had found herself with a plan of attack, and that was as good of a first step as any.

The two approached a group of people. They seemed to be sparring and once again it didn’t take a genius to figure out what the man had planned for her next. Was he this predictable or was Myn just looking for a reason to call him an idiot? She filed this one under the latter. It was reasonable for anyone to want to see what a prospecting student could do. The only real question was how much she wanted to show him. A disgusted wince set on her as she stared at the teacher referring to the man as ‘Lord.’

Weak.

A scoff burst from her nose and mouth as she stepped up to her assigned partner. A rodian, twice her size with the musculature that made the coming fight weigh against her from all directions. She held her hand out for the saber that was provided to her, took a few steps back and grasped it by both hands. With the flick of a switch she heard the iconic snap-hiss from the holovids. A deep breath filled her lungs with air as she pointed the saber down towards the ground with a stance that kept her hands hovering in front of her by her pelvis.

A fool went head first into a fight, a smarter fool stayed their ground and looked for openings. Oh sure, she could have done this by the book and attacked when instructed but she refused. They had already handed her a saber, she held the means that she needed to become something in her hands already. With enough power applied it would matter very little if a weapon was bladed or blunt, whoever was on the other end would feel it.

“They just threw chit on your rainy parade, brother.” Myn chuckled ever so softly in the face of her opponent. “I ain’t doing anything until you hit me first.”

 

[Darth Pyrrhus]

From the distance it seemed like an easy match for the Rodian. But looks were deceiving and there were factors weighing in heavier than mere muscle mass in matters such as these. However, it was not a fight to the death, but a simple sparring match.

"So you're a talker" he had grunted back. Happily, he obliged her and raised his saber in an overhead swing coming in at her. She would defend, he would press the attack. Unless she broke the norm, which was something Baron Bakunin had experienced on the way here. She wasn't quite like the rest. It remained to be seen whether or not that was a good thing.

They were late, the others had already warmed up. Unless anything out of the ordinary occurred, the back and forth sparring would take its course until Kregan Fash called it all to a halt. It would be the end of this class, the last of the day. Traditionally, a sparring session such as this was a moment left open for challenges and proper duels. One uppity acolyte would call out another, all vying for the position that Kregan himself once had held; as top student of the academy. There was prestige to be gained, prestige to be lost.

A few curious eyes no doubt leaned towards the new girl. Would someone challenge her? Would she challenge someone? It was hard to tell with new people, where on the pecking order they belonged.

[member="Myn Eris"]

 

[Asher]

[member="Darth Pyrrhus"]

Boy was she ever a talker. The man raised his saber and swung it for her head and she raised the saber of her own from the ground to block him. The rodian recoiled as if he had hit a brick wall. Myn’s back leg pushed her back a step in preparation of the man’s second attack. This time he went for a horizontal attack, a sweep at her midriff, but it got nowhere. Once again he would recoil at the protection she brought up with the blade in her hands. It further infuriated him and with a final blow you would feel the frustration reek off of him as he began to question his own strength. So far Myn had played along, she had in secret practiced this on her own enough times to know the mere basics of it, the fact that her guard even held up was more attributed to the sheer fury that pumped through her veins and brought her a strength few would think possible of someone as small as herself.

The rodian man’s final attack went for an attack from her shoulder to waist. His anger was near palpable. From the fury in his tightened grip to the way he seemed to apply just a little bit more speed and force to his hit. He was met with the same kind of resistance and once again Myn took a step back seemingly unphased by his attack. Begrudgingly he raised his own saber in defense through gritted teeth exposed at the newly arrived girl before him. She had gotten practice in this, but her technique was still sloppy. Her feet shuffled in the wrong way, her grip was imperfect, but the spark was there.

She gave the man no quarter. Her blade swept from the side to swat at his saber and bring it out of the way. Their blades connected and she didn’t quite deliver. She had learned long ago that the fury she used to make herself excel was only to be used in controlled measure. Expending it all in a swift go was moronic, and while she lacked the means to truly control it she still managed to hold back somewhat. Her second attack thrust for his chest and he swatted it aside with ease. She went for a jab at his leg and that too was easily blocked before the training as a whole was called off.

The girl backed off and looked her opponent in the eyes. He was still fuming by the time her saber switched off. She lowered her hand and turned back towards Lord Bakunin, but before she could make much of a step in his direction she heard the Rodian’s voice call out for her.

“You!” It roared. “We are not done.”

She had expected it. Her saber flicked on and a grin spread on her lips. The man raised his arms for another attack but so would Myn. He held his saber above his head and as such she went for his legs to stress him out. His arms lowered frantically to block her blow but it was not enough. The rage within her amplified her strength, swatted the lightsaber in his hands out of his grasp. He was left unarmed and she exploited the fact, first striking at his shoulder to throw him off-balance. He staggered back and she swept at his leg to throw him to the ground. Falling cheek first into the dust she sought to impale the blunt blade through his back and ribs.

Of course, she didn’t manage, but the attack was a message for him more than anything else.

Hearing him groan on the ground meant that she had won. The saber in her hand was extinguished and tossed aside as she returned to Lord Bakunin’s side. A stare peered into his eyes, reaching for his very soul to let him know the future he would soon know. To establish that she was going to end him, make him fear her and know that she was not afraid of him or his to break.

She wouldn’t let someone as weak as him shape her in his image. It had to be someone worthy of her attention and he was far from it, a pale shadow that would never compare.

“Give me five years and that will be you.” She growled. “I will see you dead, Lord Bakunin. I will destroy you and everything that you treasure, worm.”

“Now take me to someone that is worthy of teaching me.” Her eyes wanted to burn a hole through the back of his head. “Because it sure as chit won’t be you.”

 

[Darth Pyrrhus]

The first challenge became fairly obvious. Rodian man vs new girl. It was a brief affair, which meant it was a humiliating affair. For him. Myn, on the other hand, earned herself some newbie points. She had come out of nowhere with something of a disinterested and lazy attitude, but clearly well versed in the basic sequences. Had she been holding back? Toying with him? Had she manipulated him into challenging her while hot with rage? These and more were questions racing around within the minds of the other students, who watched with varied measures of envy and awe.

The group fell silent. The little engagement was still being processed, and no one had had the time to think of issuing their own challenge. The tension between her and Bakunin was nearly palpable. What words were exchanged may not have been audible to the rest, but for the good baron they were impossible to escape.

He could laugh it off, or he could turn to anger. In the case of the latter, would it be perceived as a minor victory for her in the eyes of the other students? She beat her opponent, then threw a Sith Lord into rage. He couldn't very well beat her to death in front of everyone there... Or could he?

"Good, good. You have found your fire, little worm" Bakunin finally replied with a merry chuckle and a hand on her shoulder. "Hold onto that. Let it motivate you." he seemed to encourage her, although that hand on her shoulder was forming into a mighty strong grip. She probably wished he had cut his nails prior to this. "But next time, do not be so obvious. If you offer the cup and say it is poison, do not be surprised if no one drinks." he chuckled again, but there was a darker tone to his laughter now. It seemed only appropriate to fuel the flames he had apparently set up. Final word would be his, now and forever.

Through his hand coursed a sudden surge of electricity. Now it cared less for shooting out from fingertips at a distance. The flash of blue would seek to scorch on touch, provided he still maintained that grip on her shoulder. Had she stepped aside before this, or not let him put his hand there in the first place, then it would however shoot from a distance. "Not everyone will welcome the challenge such as I!" he said with a loud, booming voice followed by a near maniacal laugh that seemed to enjoy all this a little too much.

She would be coming for him. He would be ready. She would grow stronger in order to be able to defeat him. But he would too have to grow, in order to stay ahead. And thus the promise of vengeance made them both stronger. It was the way of the Sith. Myn had promise. Without knowing it, she had pushed forward the Sith agenda by lighting many a flame in her wake.

Whatever the outcome of Bakunin's attack, it would not be allowed to last long. "That's enough." A new voice emerged on the scene. Not a student, not an instructor. It didn't even come from the group of people she had been with. Instead, high up on the stairs but coming down, was a tall, broad-shouldered Togruta draped in the long, dark robes of the Sith. "You have made your point." the pathway to the Overseer's office lay behind him. The way the baron immediately seized his attack and bowed his head in respect, the way he immediately drew the attention of all the students was a painfully obvious clue as to his standing in the academy's pecking order.

Only the Zabrak, Kregan, was a little lax in showing respect to the man, but he too bowed his head in recognition. His attitude was born not out of disrespect, but rather a greater familiarity than anyone else present. "You" his attention now turned to Myn. Neither the weight of his voice nor the intensity of his dark, glaring eyes revealed whether or not this was a good thing.

Take me to someone worthy of teaching me. "What makes you worthy of being taught?" while giving her room to answer, it was clear that this situation would not do. He could take her back to his office, or away to a training facility deeper into the academy. But why? This was already the perfect location. And he owned the damned place. "Leave us." Kregan immediately bowed and began ushering the students out from the way Myn and Bakunin had come. Bakunin hesitated for a moment, as if perplexed at what was happening. It lasted but for the briefest of moments, before he too nodded with a honeyed smile, and formed the rear guard of the group of students heading out.

Now the two of them were alone. Now her real tests could begin.

[member="Myn Eris"]

 

[Asher]

[member="Darth Pyrrhus"]

He couldn’t beat her, but he could try.

A hand reached for her shoulder and she visibly brushed it off of her for everyone to see and stepped away from the man’s grasp. The hostility lingered between the two in an almost palpable state that threatened to smother any and all air that remained between them. Lord Bakunin having his honor and name insulted, Myn refusing to back down from the challenge he posed. His hand raised towards her and she prepared for whatever he planned on sending her way. One after another the crackling sound of electricity began to envelop her. Myn’s fists tied up into knots as her arms hooked by her sides in tensed up hatred. Her leg pushed her forward towards the man as heavy breathing pushed in and out through her teeth between the occasional pained grunt.

She refused to scream from the pain as he had wanted her to. She refused to bow to his will. Not until the attack was called off by a voice that was not his own would she allow herself to fall to the floor. She couldn’t look up as her name was being called, the weight of her own push against her better senses kept her on her hands and knees to heave for air.

The others left and not until she saw the pitiful shape of Lord Bakunin slip from the room would she allow herself to look up from the floor to look at whoever was speaking to her. Eyes wandered from the bottom up, from the way his legs moved when he walked to the way his shoulders swayed of confidence to the coldness in his eyes. He was a Sith, he was perfect.

… He was the man she wanted to be mentored by.

“M-my-” Her body shook as she forced one of her knees before her to kneel. “Lord.”

“I am worthy because I know what it means to support the Sith cause even without a title.” The girl felt her strength return to her, somewhat. All things considered her rage-driven endurance was exhausting. “I would refuse to live in contentment for what I already have like a worm in rich soil.” Yes, it was a perhaps too subtle glib at Lord Bakunin. “My blood would be yours to spill until I can prove otherwise, my strength yours to command until I can prove otherwise.”

“There are those who forgot what made the One Sith the greatest achievement the galaxy has ever seen.” Myn said with utmost proud in her parents and herself. “I would not rest until the galaxy got itself the reminder it deserves.”

 

[Darth Pyrrhus]

[member="Myn Eris"] was a tough cookie, one that did not bend or break easily. Even this early into their encounter that much was clear to see. Just in this she showed great promise. Of course, for him to truly shape her into something great she would have to both bend and break. But she would benefit from it, and be built up to withstand even more, as well as gain an increased level of self insight as to where exactly her breaking point lay.

She would grow to hate him. Only when their training was concluded, if they ever got that far, could she perhaps grow to not only understanding but appreciation.

Myn started on her knees, showing obedience, and an understanding of their hierarchy through a willingness to submit. The Sith Lord listened to her words, weighing them against her emotions and surface thoughts. Her words spoke to him, enough so that he was interested in keeping her in his company, seeing how far he could push her. Support the Sith. Refuse to live in contentment. Yours to command until I can prove otherwise. If only she could live up to her own words, then surely she would be the one.

The second part of her answer appealed to his nostalgia and pride, and for those very same reasons he discarded them. "The greatest achievement, yet where are they now? What lasting legacy did they leave behind? Power is nothing if it is temporary." Yet by nature, all things, even power, was temporary. The Sith therefore sought to break the laws of nature and transcend it. "However..." cold eyes examined her closely, before taking a deep breath.

"If your words carry over into action, I will oversee your training. Personally. Outside of the academies." to someone like her, this likely would be a moment of dreams coming through. It would not be easy, but she would know this in advance. She knew what she wished for, what it would take. But to him she felt ready. "The One Sith was the greatest achievement the Galaxy had ever seen. They revelled in that. Celebrated it. Grew... Content. And thus their demise was all but guaranteed." words she may already know or understand, but it felt an important point to make. "Refuse to live in contentment. Always hunger for more. And we will make a Sith out of you yet" he didn't know why, but something about her left a mark. Even though he had seen her at a low point, she had left a good first impression.

But, as the young girl would soon enough learn, even as one lesson seemed to have ended, the next was just around the corner.

"Lord Bakunin." he spoke the name softly, pausing, as if to emphasise the start of a new topic. "You think yourself better than him." if he was to train her, he would ensure that at every misstep there would be a lesson for her to learn from. If she did not grow she would fall behind and perish. His desire was to accelerate her progress, not have her peak. "Yet he bested you." Pyrrhus continued "His strength proved that you are not better. This is unwarranted arrogance, and it will only serve to create more obstacles than take them down for you."

"He will see you coming now. He will expect it, and likely, he will watch your progress. Not only will it be harder to catch him off guard, but he will be stronger in your final encounter than what he would have been if you had kept your intentions to yourself." But because of that, she too would have to become even stronger. It was a wonderful cycle that. Though it was not necessarily a fatal flaw, or even a large misstep, it was a process it was important she became aware of.

"Every action comes with a consequence. Always be calculated with your actions as well as words. Use your emotions, do not let them use you" Man. The one good thing about all that talking was that it probably gave her time to heal up.

 

[Asher]

[member="Darth Pyrrhus"]

What legacy had the One Sith left? Perhaps a small part of Pyrrhus would feel the way the temper within Myn flared up at the mention of their irrelevance and the insult it had been for the cause both her parents had given their life for. The idea that they had died for a temporary cause was an insult to everything she had grown up with, but she swallowed her pride and kept herself kneeling to the ground in reverence for the man that would lecture her on what it meant to be Sith. He would take her in, if she kept her promise of action and due diligence. Which she would.

The subject moved on to Bakunin. The mention of whom once more made her flare up.

Every action had consequences.

“If he knows that I am coming he will also spend great measures to avoid letting it happen.” She said and rose from the floor. “I could very well choose not to attack him as well, leave him with the illusion that I would attack him at some point. Once he drops his guard, I strike.”

“Barring that, I could just as well attack that which is around him in order to spread him thin. Droids can be deactivated, people can be seduced, and I have the means to do both.” Myn returned the lecture. “A good soldier has more than one way to move on his target.”

“I could poison the water he drinks, play a coward.”

“I could outright duel him too with a fool’s notion of honor.”

“I want him to know that I am coming. I want him to spread himself thin trying to cover as many holes as possible, because no matter how many holes he plug I will find a way to create a new one of my own until he lies dead before my boot. Indirect or not is of little consequence, all that matters is that I get to fulfill this.”

 

[Darth Pyrrhus]

[member="Myn Eris"]

"Good, good." Much promise indeed. Her mind had been drilled to think like a Sith, or perhaps it came natural. In either case, Pyrrhus approved of how her mind was approaching the issue of Lord Bakunin. He even believed she could take him, in time. Baron Bakunin was all that she promised not to be. Complacent. He would never amount to much higher than this, and that was precisely why even as a Lord he served. It was why he served Pyrrhus, and not the other way around. And Darth Pyrrhus would have died before serving Lord Bakunin.

"You understand our ways well. All the methods you mentioned are tools available to you. It is good you are not held back by foolish notions of pride or honour, and think yourself above them. Lies and deceit, misdirection, all are ways of the Sith and the Dark Side. If it achieves the desired result, it is the right way. If your victims did not see it coming or manage to counter-act it, they were too weak and deserved to meet their end in whichever way you fashioned it."

He had not expected to speak with approval so soon. But credit where credit was due. "We will continue with your training. Focus on that. Know that now you are beneath him, an insect compared to his power. Let it motivate you, fuel your passions and push you to your limits in training. In time, you will have your revenge. Then he will become the insect."

Pyrrhus had no qualms of sacrificing Bakunin if what he got was an excellent apprentice in return. Men like Bakunin were far easier to come by.

"So... Time to see what we've got to work with" Pyrrhus remarked, before preparing for the initial examination. He was sure he could pull up information on her in their archives, and he would. But right now he wanted to do some basic assessments, both hear from her and do tests on his own to see where she was at where she was lacking.

 

[Asher]

[member="Darth Pyrrhus"]

The mindset was there, the attitude was not. At least not where it mattered. The praise that Pyrrhus gave her put a smile on her lips. A smiling Sith? Sure thing. He knew that she was sincere, and she could vaguely read that he was generally approving of her. He would come to regret it, but it was there. Her newfound master made way towards another chamber to see what she could do and she would do all that she could to prove to him what that was. Had she regained her strength from before? Hardly, but she would still show him what she could do even if it meant fainting from exhaustion.

Which she did too, eventually.

But that was a story for another time. For now, Myn had a master and all was right in the world.

For a future Sith anyway.