The Acolyte - for that was what she went by, these days - was never very good with pain. It wasn't so much that she felt pain that was the problem - discomfort, after all, could be used to empower oneself in the Force, and the Sithling was never one to limit herself.
The only catch, of course, was that one needed to be able to focus that pain, to control it, instead of letting it control the Sith - which was the Apprentice's problem. In her life before her apprenticeship to Darth Vitium, the young woman had rarely been exposed to much in the way of discomfort or pain, and so had not learned how to properly channel it like she could rage, or envy, or fear. It was a weakness of hers, and if there was one thing that she truly detested, it was weakness, her own especially.
Which led to the...interesting scenario that the Sithling found herself in.
Sat cross legged in the middle of a Felucian Jungle (a bit of risk was essential to training a successful Sith), the young Acolyte had a seemingly simple task - lift the small Durasteel ball before her into the air, and keep it there for four minutes. Whilst she had only the most basic grasp of telekinesis, even she could manage something as rudimentary as that - under normal circumstances. These were not, however, normal circumstances. The Sithling was, save for a few bandages wrapped about her breasts to preserve her modesty, completely topless - and covered in cuts on her arms and torso. Six small cuts on each arm, and six long, shallow slices across her stomach. It was a self imposed torture, but one she took quite seriously - she would sit there and focus until she completed her task.
It had been three hours, and she'd managed 30 seconds at most. Disheartening, to say the least - but she would eventually prevail.
Unless, of course, one of the various natives of the planet (or even a Silver Jedi, as distressing as that thought was) saw fit to interrupt her.
[member="Ryn'Dhal"]
The only catch, of course, was that one needed to be able to focus that pain, to control it, instead of letting it control the Sith - which was the Apprentice's problem. In her life before her apprenticeship to Darth Vitium, the young woman had rarely been exposed to much in the way of discomfort or pain, and so had not learned how to properly channel it like she could rage, or envy, or fear. It was a weakness of hers, and if there was one thing that she truly detested, it was weakness, her own especially.
Which led to the...interesting scenario that the Sithling found herself in.
Sat cross legged in the middle of a Felucian Jungle (a bit of risk was essential to training a successful Sith), the young Acolyte had a seemingly simple task - lift the small Durasteel ball before her into the air, and keep it there for four minutes. Whilst she had only the most basic grasp of telekinesis, even she could manage something as rudimentary as that - under normal circumstances. These were not, however, normal circumstances. The Sithling was, save for a few bandages wrapped about her breasts to preserve her modesty, completely topless - and covered in cuts on her arms and torso. Six small cuts on each arm, and six long, shallow slices across her stomach. It was a self imposed torture, but one she took quite seriously - she would sit there and focus until she completed her task.
It had been three hours, and she'd managed 30 seconds at most. Disheartening, to say the least - but she would eventually prevail.
Unless, of course, one of the various natives of the planet (or even a Silver Jedi, as distressing as that thought was) saw fit to interrupt her.
[member="Ryn'Dhal"]
