Rage

[Joycelyn Zambrano]

Bastion - Sith Academy

In all honesty, Joycelyn had spent very little time at the academy of Bastion.

Glee Anselm and Coruscant were her academies, in a time now long past. The instructors had not been able to control her so she was transferred to a private tutor under the Ember of Vahl. Her training under Darth Drethi was brutal, and ultimately effective. Out of the knotted material that was a rebellious young Joycelyn, they carved out the rough shape of the Sith she had since become.

Now, the giant of a woman strode through the academy halls as if she owned them. She wore the leave uniform of the Imperial legion, sleek and black, marked to show her rank as a Colonel. From her shoulders trailed a short, black cape, trimmed with gold and fastened with a pin at her shoulder. The shape of the pin displayed her status as part of the royal family: Joycelyn Zambrano - The Emperor's daughter.

She was not just here to see the sights. No, she had been called in to return a favour of sorts and teach another's apprentice one of her secrets. She had given it much thought, and only one skill had sprung to mind: it was the first skill she had learned, and more of a natural gift, but her tutors had since polished to become a powerful weapon in her arsenal.

Rage

Many Sith were full of rage, but it was a skill in its own right to truly harness it. Those who could? They could push beyond their normal limits, physically and in the Force. Of course, it came with a cost.

The vahlacanthix arrived at her designated place of training. It was spacious enough, but hardly the largest space available. From above, light filtered through clouded glass to give a soft, ambient illumination. The walls were dark, sheer and hard, brutal in their simplicity.

Was her student here already?

[member="Curtis Learchin"]

 

[Curtis Learchin]

Curtis had arrived back at the Bastion Academy a few hours previous, and he had spent his time looking in on his former classmates. Sezhedo was nowhere to be seen, and the others didn't seem to know where he had gone. If they did, they were hiding it. Nevertheless, Curtis had at least been assured that he was still seen as the alpha within that class. That wasn't why he was there though, he had come to learn something his master thought might be of use, and for that he'd be taught by a friend of the Dark Lord.

[member="Joycelyn Zambrano"]. Curtis had heard a little about her, a member of the military as well as an accomplished Dark Lady in her own right. Most importantly however, she was the daughter of The Emperor. Whatever she had to teach him, it would be well worth his time. When Curtis entered the training room, Zambrano was already stood there waiting. He bent the knee to her quickly, showing the same respect he would to his master.

"M'lady, it is an honour to meet you." The woman would've towered over him even if he weren't kneeling, maybe he hadn't needed too in the first place.

 

[Joycelyn Zambrano]

Joycelyn had not waited long when she sensed him enter and heard him speak.

Calmly, she folded the fine, black jacket of her uniform and placed it inside her cape, which was splayed out on the floor. Folding the two pieces together, she brushed them to the side of the room with a casual flick of her hand before turning to her student.

"Acolyte Learchin, I presume." "Am I pronouncing that right?"

Her yellow eyes scanned him as she folded up the sleeves of the grey uniform shirt. It was clear to see the strength in her arms and the determination in her chiselled facial features. Yet, she did not quite possess the off-putting presence of some older dark lords. If anything, she almost seemed kind.

With a gesture of her hand, she asked him to stand tall.

"Your master tells me there is much aggression in you. Much anger."

With her sheer size, it could be difficult the weapons fastened to her. A blaster on the right thigh, an officer's weapon. On the opposite was what one could only imagine was a silvery lightsabre hilt with a dull, grey, metal-inlay. Although the inlay was finely crafted, the whole weapon looked strange, incomplete, and with vents coming off at strange angles. It also looked somewhat small for her hands, at least compared to most hilts.

[member="Curtis Learchin"]

 

[Curtis Learchin]

"Yes Ma'am, you may call me Curtis if it suits you better." In truth, he was unsure of how formal this training session would be. Rising to his feet, Curtis looked at the Sith's weapons. Strange to see one with a blaster, but all weapons had their uses, even something so crude. Her lightsaber caught his eye, as it seemed incomplete. Perhaps that was another tactic, make the enemy think they're fighting someone who is a novice. Curtis' own weapon was similar, though he was beginning to wonder if replacing it was a good idea by this point.

"My anger gives me power m'lady, as it does for all Sith. Is that not a good thing?"

[member="Joycelyn Zambrano"]

 

[Joycelyn Zambrano]

[member="Curtis Learchin"]

"Peace is a lie, there is only passion."

She nodded in response to his question, one han cupping the fist of the other and pressing it until the joints popped.

"Anger, hate, rage, these are the purest and most powerful of passions."

Anger could even overcome the love some clung to so dearly. In fits of rage, lovers slew each other with imunity. In seething hate, they poisoned each other's hearts.

"Some will tell you to rein them inn, bring it under control." "That one can swim in an ocean, but one can also drown." A half-cocked smile "By that metaphor, I will teach you to drown yourself, and in the process come to command the sea."

She turned, hands clasping behind the back as she walked the first quarter of a cirlce around Curtis and continued to observe him.

"Your rage can become a weapon with which you may smite down someone bigger, stronger, and more experienced than yourself."

With a flick of her head, the doors closed in a hard slam.

"And to transform pain into power." "Do you desire this?"

 

[Curtis Learchin]

"Yes my lady, I wish to learn what you can teach me." Curtis became somewhat weary of his new teacher as she cracked her knuckles, and this feeling intensified as the door slammed shut and she began to circle him. He felt like prey, thrown to a wild beast, maybe that was the point. Fear, anger, hate, passion. They were all connected, one breeding another. Curtis was unsure of how to react to these advancements, whether he was to prepare himself for attack or ready a defence. It was up to her to decide when they began, and he had a feeling that he'd either walk out those doors having learnt something new, or not walk out at all.

[member="Joycelyn Zambrano"]

 

[Joycelyn Zambrano]

[member="Curtis Learchin"]

His willingness was almost irritating.

Perhaps that was what she ought to expect when working with the apprentice of a proper Lord of the Sith. She had some initial experiences with apprentices of her own, but they had not survived the situations she put herself and her apprentices through. Soldiers died, and she expected her apprentices to pull the same weight as they, if not more - As she had done.

"Good."

Her thumb and index finger tensed and began to close as she focused on Curtis' throat. She held her arm low, but her presence in the force had changed. More than observe, she now focused on him intently. The apparent kindness, like the sweet scent of lime at a funeral, faded away to reveal the truth underneath. She was a Sith, a Vahla, a Zambrano.

"Then fear." "Reach." "Struggle."

Her finger and thumb inched closer to a clenched fist, and her arm began to extend as she exerted herself.

The pressure of the force not only constricted, but began to pull up from the ground as she wielded the Force to choke this acolyte into a sense of panic. She needed to wound him, trigger his emotions, bring him over the brink.

 

[Curtis Learchin]

Curtis clutched at his throat as a unnatural grip tightened around it. Trying to keep himself upright became increasingly difficult, and he eventually dropped to his knees. Panic swelled deep within him, his eyes darting around the room in an effort to find something that might help him, but the room was bare. The fear he felt travelled through his body like a poison, making concentrating on anything a painful process. If this was her test, to see him struggle under her power, then she was succeeding.

"M-my lady, please! Let me go!" Curtis pleaded through gasped breaths. Then he saw her blaster, hanging against her left thigh. With what energy he had left, he extended his free hand and gripped the blaster with the force, bringing it to his open palm.

[member="Joycelyn Zambrano"]

 

[Joycelyn Zambrano]

In response to his plea, she only tightened her grasp.

She felt something tug on her belt, pulling toward Curtis. The blaster was fastened with a leather strap, attached to prevent her blaster from being swiped. She had not expected to be using it, but she felt naked without it. Hence its' strap. However, the fastening was meant to prevent a swift hand or sudden influx of gravity from drawing the firearm. It was not meant to hold up against a firm and constant pull.

"Well aren't you cheeky."

As the blaster flew from her hip, Joycelyn's free hand travelled to her hip and lingered near her lightsabre.

Her stance had shifted somewhat; her legs slid apart and her torso leaned slightly forward. Yet, she appeared to have lost none of her cool. Her hand opened and thrust forward. The energy she controlled flashed with heat as she attempted to push him across the room and into the far wall.

[member="Curtis Learchin"]

 

[Curtis Learchin]

Curtis gripped the blaster firmly in his hand, raising it to aim at the Dark Lady's shoulder. Before he could pull the trigger though, he was sent sliding backwards on his knees, colliding into the far wall with a grunt. The blaster slipped from his grasp from the impact, clattering to the floor beside him. At least he could breath again for the moment. Stumbling to his feet, Curtis grabbed the blaster and held it towards his new 'teacher'.

"What lesson am I supposed to learn from being chocked half to death?" He questioned, quickly studying the blaster.

[member="Joycelyn Zambrano"]

 

[Joycelyn Zambrano]

In the face of the blaster, she did not show any fear. Instead, there was a dread excitement on her face.

The blaster was a fine piece of engineering: The SIF-7 Minos was standard issue for officers of the Imperial Legion. it was compact and somewhat weighty. Yet not so heavy it became cumbersome. In the grip there was a panel that could be depressed to activate its' special feature.

"Fear. Hate. Anger."

She straightened up as Curtis spoke, but kept a hand slightly behind her sabre. She was ready to draw if she needed, but she did not draw first. It could be a sign that she looked down at him. It could be a tactical choice.

"I said I would teach you to harness your anger, but to do that I need to push you to the edge."

She stepped towards him. The hand she had formerly used to control the Force with now turned as if she was offering him an invisible gift. Yet, her eyes did not wander away from him.

"This is not something you can read in a book and know." "You must feel it"

In the end, she had been told by a Lord of the Sith that she would give this lesson. Asking the Acolyte to be willing was nothing more than a courtesy, in her mind. [member="Darth Pyrrhus"] was an overseer of the Academies. Of all, he should know and sympathise with her methods. This was how she had been taught, and she had no doubt her father did the same to his apprentice, when Pyrrhus was young and went by another name.

"If you are going to shoot me, you best do it now." "Before I lose my patience."

[member="Curtis Learchin"]

 

[Curtis Learchin]

Curtis' grip on the blaster loosened, before he tossed it at her feet. If pain and suffering would awaken a power within him, then he would submit to it. His back straightened, and he stood facing the Dark Lady directly. He would not run from her any longer, not if he could become a better Sith from whatever torture she wished to put him through.

"Do what you must then, I am ready." His voice still trembled slightly from the lack of oxygen he'd been given a few moments before, and his back hurt badly from the impact with the wall. No one ever thought Sith training would be easy, but this, this was a whole new level.

[member="Joycelyn Zambrano"]

 

[Joycelyn Zambrano]

Her entire body huffed in a single, derisive chuckle. With a swipe of her free hand, she made the blaster skitter over to the side of the room, near her jacket and cape. Both hands came to her sides, curling half-way into fists.

"You drew a weapon on a member of the royal family, and a superior Sith." "I ought to have you shipped off to a Zygerrian market."

In truth, she did not have too many strings to pull that would not backfire in the future, but if he was too willing it would corrupt the experience. So, she was bluffing in order to bring him back to the edge. She carried the bluff with the utmost confidence of a woman raised to nobility.

"Unless you show me what you are good for"

As she approached Curtis with long, aggressive steps, her curling fingers caught fire. The flames licked up along her knuckles and even her forearm. While the fire did not seem to hurt her, it exuded real heat and made the air around her flicker and distort.

"Remember: Fear leads to anger."

She moved her hands forward, the flames rearing with the motion before leaping forward to Curtis' arms.

If he wanted to fight back, she would let him, but the gloves were off.

[member="Curtis Learchin"]

 

[Curtis Learchin]

((Really sorry for the absence, haven't been able to post for a week.))

"How are your hands on fire?" Curtis questioned, as the strike at his arms came flying in. Curtis charged towards her as the came, attempting to tackle the woman. He knew that she was royalty, but right now she was attacking him at full force, something that couldn't be left to chance. If he had his weapon, maybe the fight would've been fair, but as of now, he was stripped of his equipment and forced to adapt to this new situation as best he could.

[member="Joycelyn Zambrano"]

 

[Joycelyn Zambrano]

[member="Curtis Learchin"]

Her burning hands were part of her signature. Ever since she had acquired the fire, it reacted to her every whim, and was easily summoned by passions and emotions. Sometimes she willed it to effect, other times the fire simply curled around her. This time, it was biting, gnashing and gnawing on all that it could touch.

"One lesson at a time."

She would give him fire one day, if he was worthy. But fire of her kind required rage and pain to truly grow.

As he came in for a tackle, the fire brushed out to the sides to allow him to close. Joycelyn's legs parted and rooted themselves as she seemingly readied herself to meet his tackle head on. Her arms came around, seeking to grab him by the clothes and then she suddenly turned. Her aim: to use Curtis' momentum against him and throw him to the floor.

"Feel every stab of pain"

Pain fed anger.

"Every humiliation."

Humiliation and desperation fed anger.

 

[Curtis Learchin]

Curtis' tackle came close, but the counter sent him sprawling across the ground with a grunt. As he picked himself up, he felt rage build in his stomach. He was being toyed with, thrown around like a child's plaything, and for what? To learn how to use his anger? He would show her rage, fury so fiery it would compare to the flames that licked at her knuckles.

"Does making me do this fill you with joy?" Curtis asked sternly, picking himself off the ground with a pained groan. He dug deep into his past, remembering how his adoptive family was killed infront of him for daring to train him without the Sith knowing. The terrified eyes of his brothers and sisters flashed before his mind's eye, and a spark of lightning leapt from his armoured fingers to the floor.

[member="Joycelyn Zambrano"]

 

[Joycelyn Zambrano]

[member="Curtis Learchin"]

There, that was it; the first ember of a flame she could stoke into an inferno.

"Oh you have no idea how much I enjoy this."

After the spark had touched the floor, she took off towards him, feinting a step to the right before going left. Her long strides carried her quickly over the floor as she sought to close the distance her throw had put between them.

"Feel the pain." "It's the only thing that will keep you alive."

Her leg shot out, the heel of her boot thrusting forward in a vicious kick for Curtis' chest. Joycelyn was remarkably quick for her size; motions of violence came to her like second nature, borne from a life of seeking to hurt and be hurt.

 

[Curtis Learchin]

"I have never felt rage like this before."

Finally they were getting somewhere with this. As the boot flew towards his chest, Curtis twisted his body out of the way before locking his arm around the outstretched leg. This training was similar to what he had learnt with the Nightbrothers; the one on one combat, the hatred that flowed through them. With his left arm firmly locked around the leg of his teacher, Curtis drove his right elbow down towards her knee joint, electricity still sparking from the metal gauntlet.

[member="Joycelyn Zambrano"]

 

[Joycelyn Zambrano]

[member="Curtis Learchin"]

He was taking to it, that was true, but there were still ways to go.

The elbow connected with her knee, numbing the muscle in her leg. However, it did less damage to the massive joint than one might have expected as, just in the last second, she turned her hip and twisted her leg to take the hit on her muscle rather than the joint. It numbed her muscle, but the pain fed her anger.

"You have seen nothing yet."

Curling her knee and planting herself in the ground, she swung her leg up, attempting to pull Curtis with it. The pain and rage that flooded her senses from his counterattack only fuelled her considerable strength, and once the leg was at its full height, it came swinging back down like an axe.

As with her hands before, flames licked her calf and curled around her heel, bringing further threat to the kick.

 

[Curtis Learchin]

Curtis was lifted and slammed into the ground like a ragdoll, the fire catching the fur on his armour as he rolled further away. With the feeling of pride from his counter gone, Curtis picked himself up from the now cracked floor. Had he really caused that? Something had to be broken after that. More lightning coursed through his gauntlet and his time he let it flow, the sparks arching and crackling. He was surprised by how much more powerful the electricity felt. With a quick flick of his arm, his hand outstretched, and a thin bolt leapt from his finger tips.

"Woah!" He couldn't help but smile, seeing that and knowing it came from him.

[member="Joycelyn Zambrano"]