Sith 101

[Ignatius]

Spoiler

Just a Little Theme Music that I was listening to.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=hxqW1Eq0iP4

Krest started to deal with the newcomers as I moved to the side. Watching and just listening to the being who wanted to taunt me. I could feel my blood boil. Was he proving a point by not drawing his own weapon? He was quite oblivious to usage of my weapon. The Katana. One of the many forms that was utilized, was Iado. The rapid drawing, and usage of the weapon with very simplistic strikes to end the fight. Only to then sheath the weapon as though nothing happened. However, I could feel that this being felt so confident of himself. Was he so blind?

I shook my head as he stated to come at him and prepare for death. All I did was look at him. My eyes started to burn. I knew they were changing color. Likely to reds and oranges. The Vong Biots I had grafted into me began to work. Drawing upon myself in the force, I limited my force signature as small as it could go before smiling and waving with my right hand.

Otho would watch as my body would slowly disappear from his sight. My clothing is not normal. It is not of this Galaxy. In fact, it had been created by people he likely had never heard of. All he would hear would be the drawing of my sword from the sheath, and see the sheath a moment later be thrown over to the side.

The Cloak of Muur would do it's job in keeping me from his sight. My previous training as a Sith assassin would work in my favor to keep my footsteps silent, and my breathing limited to the absolute minimum. An empty voice speaking to him.

"How do you expect to kill that which is death herself?"

[member="Otho Rendoro"], [member="Krest"], [member="Satia"], [member="Lark"], [member="Iron Knight Loarko"],

 

[Otho Rendoro]

The little thing disappeared from his sight – such technology was not a complete secret to him; Otho had heard many strange things, late at night in dive bars of low repute. However, Otho had never seen it demonstrated before. It did change things, but not much. His consciousness flared with the notion of peril but his resolve was firm. Sometimes when your opponent surprised you, doubling down was the best option. Doubt was an insidious weapon and with the otherworldly abilities of the Sith at his disposal, doubt would be his ally. Doubt lead to fear and there was no room for doubt in his heart. Otho heard the draw of sword against sheath, and the sheath was tossed away.

He needed to continue goading his foe. Otho doubled over quickly, a raucous howl of laughter escaping him. His hands solidly planted themselves on his knees, nearly the size of dinner plates.

A deep guffaw followed and Otho made deep, repetitive booming laughs with his powerful lungs. His nostrils flared wildly as he continued to bellow with cruel mirth, his voice drowning out ambient sounds as it reverberated with his vociferous guffaws. A small tear of merriment even formed at the corner of a yellow-brown eye, like a foul bubbling mire on a long-forgotten world.

Humanoids forget many things about “aliens”. Aliens – like they themselves are not from elsewhere. There were no aliens in this galaxy anymore, just different species of people who had climbed the same upward path of evolution along whatever circumstances prevailed locally. But humanoids often forgot how pungent they could be. Small heads made for small noses and even with sonic showers, some of those little things liked to style the hair of their heads. [member="Selene"]’s coiffure was long, as dark as whatever twisted events had been visited upon her. And it was clean – lustrous too.

There.

It was inaccurate at best, but even though she had vanished from his sight he would have some notice of her approach. Her total reach with the blade would be about what his reach was with one arm.

The blade!

It was sight yet not sight. The energy that permeated the room and the beings in it curved asymptotically around a space that was just shorter than one of his long, loping arms. Otho focused on it briefly, emptying his mind of urgency and anxiety. Malevolent potential enveloped the sword in space and a familiar awareness of danger entered his mind.

“You cannot hide from me, little Sith.” His voice was a grim bubble in basso, yet another flippant challenge. The Ithorian set his feet just over shoulder width apart, ersatz hands falling to his sides nonchalantly.

| [member="Krest"] | [member="Satia"] | [member="Iron Knight Loarko"] | [member="Lark"] |​

 

[Lark]

The newcomer turned and faced Lark, drawing his weapon, goading Lark into surrendering. Doing so would be suicide in a training session like this, but he had never intended on forfeiting at all. He had constantly dealt with people like this as a child, more often than not their big words were compensation for their mere average skill. Admittedly, none of them had been Sith Apprentices, so it would be wise to stay on his toes regardless. Show the rest what he could do.

"Oh come now," Lark said with a half-hearted laugh, putting on a jovial act, eyes and voice masking the murder that crept into his posture. Lark brought his right arm to the back of his neck, scratching it in an idle manner, while simultaneously slowly moving his other hand to his left hip, where a knife lay hidden in it's sheath. "No matter the outcome, the fight should at least be interesting," Lark spoke slowly. He brought out his hand from behind his head, hoping that it would draw the attention of his opponent. He purposefully indicated exactly where he was reaching, and just before he reached the knife on his right hip, he drew the knife from his opposite hip and threw it directly at the other apprentice in one fluid motion. As the blade quickly twirled towards the young man, Lark unsheathed his final two knives and darted diagonally towards his opponents side, the opposite side the knife was coming towards, running much faster than it looked like he could, ready to kill.

[member="Otho Rendoro"] [member="Selene"] [member="Krest"] [member="Satia"] [member="Iron Knight Loarko"]

 

[Iron Knight Loarko]

[member="Satia"] [member="Krest"] [member="Selene"] [member="Lark"] [member="Otho Rendoro"]

It was not for pride, he wanted to fight as who he truly was. Loarko wasn't a droid, but a Shard. If a duel was to had to train as a Sith, he'd do it as a Shard. No, not an Iron Knight, but a Shard. An immovable crystal with high Force capabilities. Satia stepped forward in front of Loarko. "Now I'm ready." A lightwhip was produced from her robes and ignited. This was something he'd never fought before, but nonetheless, he'd have to. Loarko sat there, exposed in terms of position, but not by skill. Any Force push would send the opposing Sith far away, then he could move his own pike closer to keep distance. Krest may have thought Loarko's action so far were foolish, but Loarko thought the made the fight fair. He readied himself, and prepared to fight. "As you see I cannot move in my current state. Therefore, the first strike is yours. Take when you want, I'm ready." Lowering the pike to block any attacks, Loarko prepared for anything. Sith were known to be full of rage, Satia was no exception.

 

[Darth Ferus]

"Entertaining? You're talking to your death you know!" The Acolyte growled at [member="Lark"] and brought his blade around to catch the throwing dagger. It had caught him off guard, but he was prepared for a fight. As his blade burned through the simple dagger and he saw his opponent run up beside him faster than he could react. Still deflecting the thrown blade, he panicked.

"You! Get away!" He roared with fear as he saw the threatening weapons displayed by Lark, and his hand flew out to send a roaring blast of the Force to knock him away. Fear fueled the young acolyte, and his facade of confidence quickly faded.

 

[Poe]

​Dragging my scarred tongue across my sharpened canine teeth and tasting my own sweet crimson nectar, I slowly waked toward my stationary opponent; the red whip dragging along the floor behind digging deep and leaving scorch marks in it's wake. I knew, as all predators did, that there were no easy prey; even wounded animals could still surprise you if taken for granted, so moving slowly was for observational purposes. Whilst walking closer, I balled my free hand into a fist gathering the Darkside energy around me as it filled my Force reservoirs to the brink of overflowing. With a snarl, I attacked.

​Pulling my right arm up abruptly, the whip itself was elevated and slowly I began to twirl around my head. This of course was for parlor trick effect, as it was meant to draw attention to that rather than my real attack. With the pent up energy, I ripped from the wall behind the Shard several various sizes of training equipment brining them into a collision course with my opponent's back. If that wasn't enough, I flicked my wrist forward, shooting the whip directly at him, or her or whatever gender the Shard was putting it in the middle of two simultaneous attacks.

​Whilst my attack was in process, I began to plan several counterattacks in my head against any counterattacks of the Shards. I learned, like eons ago it now seemed, that the best way to part one's opponent's head from their shoulders was to plan, plan, plan, and plan. And this encounter, whether or not Krest would allow it to go that far; was a game of life and death. A game that I was not just familiar with, but had reinvented on several occasions. The question my opponent should be asking itself was: Am I willing to commit horrific atrocities to ensure victory just as the Monster before me I know will?


[member="Selene"] [member="Otho Rendoro"] [member="Lark"] [member="Iron Knight Loarko"] [member="Krest"]

 

[Ignatius]

It seemed that the Ithorian could still keep track of me and where I was. Facing me as though he knew exactly where I stood. It angered me. However, I kept myself calm. Trying what I could to keep my mouth shut as he spoke about not being able to hide. I smiled brightly as I stood there. Might as well just face him then.

Rushing forward, The cloak dispersed its ability to hide me. When it did, I was well within striking distance of him. No need to hide anymore. If I was going to fight this man, then I would give it with all that I had. He could see me even while in stealth, And would more than be able to stand to me toe to toe in brute strength. However, He knew little of what I could potentially do.

I was a being of pain. I had felt it my entire life. I had biots grafted into my body. No form of medication to keep the pain sedated. Nor was I put under. The pain from having these put in me, even putting on the cloak hurt. Instead, it was time for me to hurt him. The first swipe of my blade may be easy to avoid, or even block, but I dared him to try and counter me.

I dared him.

[member="Satia"], [member="Krest"], [member="Iron Knight Loarko"], [member="Lark"], [member="Otho Rendoro"],

 

[Otho Rendoro]

Otho caught sight of [member="Selene"] charging forward as she disengaged the device. That would only make fighting the savage little thing easier; while he could extrapolate where her limbs were, he could only imagine what sort of deadly secrets she had concealed that she would let loose if he fell prey to her. The Ithorian narrowed his eyes resolutely as she lashed out with the strike, uncoiling cold fury like some sort of snake; well-trained and instinctual from a life of suffering, yet another product of a flawed machine that keeps churning out dysfunctional people.

Otho sank in his knees and crossed his right leg over his left as the assassin’s strike came for him; beings had tried to strike him with weapons before and he dimly recognized the single edge of the blade. The only rule in staying alive was to not be hit. Even a lumbering mountain of a being like Otho could follow this rule. Anticipate the blade and control it. The Ithorian’s left leg swept behind him and as Selene entered the space where he had been, he chuckled like the crashing of a wave and leapt back on his powerful legs.

“You could cut me a thousand times, but if I catch you just the once I will break you!” His twin mouths smiled in a grim rictus as his voice soared as clear as a baritone clarion call – he needed to continue to challenge and exhaust the little one. Coax out her anger and her hatred, outlast it. Deceive her into thinking maybe if she expended every once of energy within herself that maybe the mountain would fall. Show her that only through conflict would she ever gain strength – inner or outer conflict, didn’t matter. And when every bone in her body was broken, she would know what it meant to be Sith. That was to be Otho's lesson to her.

| [member="Krest"] | [member="Satia"] | [member="Iron Knight Loarko"] | [member="Lark"] |​

 

[Lark]

Lark felt his feet leave the ground, the force push launched him a foot or two in the air. He let his momentum carry him backwards, when he landed he transitioned into a backwards roll, and crouched once he regained composure. He tilted his head tactfully. Well, that didn't take long at all. Not so strong as you'd like us to believe, are you? Lark's gambit had almost paid off, he had caught his opponent off guard, but he couldn't end the fight quickly. But that was the way of things, sometimes plans don't work out. But he had gotten a taste of the Force, and he could further judge his opponent from here.

Lark wasn't especially proficient with the Force, not yet at least. But he could feel some kind of phantasmal sensation emanating out of the other apprentice. Was it hatred? Fear? Anger? Such feelings incite beasts to perform spectacular feats, but it could also break them.

He could charge the apprentice again, but that might lead to a battle of endurance. Lark was confident he could win a prolonged battle, but that wasn't what he wanted. The apprentice would push him back again, and Lark would get up, and the cycle would repeat until the apprentice ran out of energy. That was the fighting style of a mindless brute, and Lark knew the definition of insanity. Instead he stood tall, twin daggers held comfortably in his hands. He couldn't throw another one, so he twirled them around his fingers, he made fluid motions that would allow him to strike from several angles, all while never taking his eyes that were as sharp as his weapons off his opponent.

He couldn't block the strikes and swings, the lightsaber would burn right through the daggers. He'd also have to be careful with his own attacks, careful to swing only when he was sure he could get in a hit. He wasn't worried about dodging, the other man had lost his poise, any attack would likely be undisciplined and heavily telegraphed. He just had to patient and wait for an opening.

"Come on, a weak push like that won't cut it," he taunted gingerly as he approached. "Next time, swing like you want to kill me," Lark commanded, cold gaze trained on the apprentice.

[member="Otho Rendoro"] [member="Selene"] [member="Satia"] [member="Krest"] [member="Iron Knight Loarko"]

 

[Darth Ferus]

"You.. You! You die here! I become Sith! That is my birth right!" He roared again as he lifted his blade, and this time he charged [member="Lark"] . Wildly he swung his dangerous blade, hacking and slashing with no refinement. It was as if the man had no formal training with how he used the blade, as if the dagger was a fluke, luck. He was desperately holding to the fact his weapon could cut through anything Lark had. He expected blocks that would end in cutting through the daggers.

In the background of all of this, Krest continued to watch. Everyone here was being studied for their strength and weaknesses, for that they could master and what they couldn't. What paths they could take.

 

[Iron Knight Loarko]

[member="Satia"] [member="Krest"]

The Shard sensed the incoming debris from his back, and stopped its motion with a Force Wall. He actions needed to be quick as Satia had lashed out with her whip yet again. His pike dropped down to meet her whip, and a loud crash echoed through the hall. It had now occurred to Loarko that Satia used distracted tactics to make her hits land easier. She'd do a little dance to catch your attention, then BANG, she got you. If he had a face, a smirk would be across it. He yelled towards Satia. "HA, you think that'll work against me? A little dance will not affect my accuracy and ability in battle. Now, it's my turn to attack!" Taking the debris from Satia's previous attack, Loarko created a Force Maelstrom and sent it towards his pursuer. Rocks, pipes, spikes, you name it. Everything and anything was in there. It would be tough to dodge, maybe he'd win with this? To make sure, he followed it up with a saber throw. Thrown like a spear, his pike sailed of towards Satia, hoping to bury itself into her chest.

 

[Lark]

The man whose "birth right" it was to become a Sith charged Lark like a rabid dog, swinging his saber like a madman. At first the attacks came quickly and Lark was on the defense, backstepping and ducking underneath a flurry of fast but sloppy swings. But the burst of energy quickly faded, and each progressive attack became slower and weaker. The same darkness that Lark had felt in the man earlier was still there, in fact it might have even become more potent.

Lark sidestepped a vertical swing, dodging quickly to the right. Sensing an opening he released a quick strike, but the other apprentice hopped back, and he only managed to cut the clothing around his wrist. "No shame in conceding defeat," Lark said. "Better to lose and live than to die for the sake of your pride, yes?" His words were soft, but also dripped with venom and menace. Without giving him a chance to answer Lark charged him, closing the short distance between them quickly. The apprentice thrust out his saber, and Lark slid diagonally to the right, the saber was close enough to singe his clothing, Lark could feel the heat of the crimson blade on his skin. Stepping close to the man, Lark thrust both his knives out directly towards his exposed side.

[member="Iron Knight Loarko"] [member="Krest"] [member="Otho Rendoro"] [member="Selene"] @Satia

 

[Poe]

​I was quite impressed with the Shard, but even more so with his ability to talk during the duel. I was a talker myself, but I used my vocals in a manner to disrupt, distract, and more importantly; to strip down my opponent's confidence. The latter would not work. This Shard was well disciplined. However, I didn't have time to spit a reply back, for my opponent had unleashed a torrent of debris at me, then followed that up with a hurling spear. It was time to play defender.

​Using the Force to assist me, I called upon it to bring up my Force Barrier, which encased me in a shimmering, black stasis field. I knew it wouldn't withstand the entire onslaught of debris, but it would serve it's purpose enough. Using the Force again, I reached out to slow down the less damaging debris such as the rocks, pieces of wood, and one fluffy looking stuffed animal. These would hit me, but wouldn't do damage enough to put me out. The rest hit my barrier, falling harmlessly to the ground but the weakened debris caught me on my shoulder and arms; and that karking stuffed animal hit the top of my head. The greatest threat to date, was his hurling pike turned spear.

​People always questioned me why I opted to use a lightwhip rather than the traditional lightsaber. It can't repel blaster bolts or flying objects; gravity and momentum didn't work that way for this exotic weapon. However, after spending hours working with this weapon, I knew that it would need a sister. And a sister she had. Timing the spear properly, I ignited my wrist lightsaber, drawing forth the red shoto sized blade out and up to redirect the spear to the ground.

​Placing my foot on the downed spear as it bounced on the floor, I mocked, "And now you are weaponless little prey." ​My opponent only had the Force, unless he or she or whatever gender it was had some other weapon tucked into his shiny behind. Powering down my wrist-lightsaber and extending my hand out in front, a purple crackling energy danced on my fingertips; Sith Lightening. But after using the Force twice already, and still in my infant stages regarding my energy well, there wouldn't be much behind the attack or if I could actually release it. So again, another parlor trick. With my opponent thinking about what my left hand was doing, it was my right hand that did the work. In a sideways arch, I shot the whip out once more at my opponent directing it at it's midsection. However, this time I had a surprise. Since this was only a training whip, I modified it best I could until I created my own. While the whip was cruising toward the Shard, I pressed the other stud on the hilt; and the whip went from one singular line into three forked tongues; all each dancing in different patterns.


[member="Krest"] [member="Lark"] [member="Iron Knight Loarko"] [member="Otho Rendoro"] [member="Selene"]

 

[Iron Knight Loarko]

[member="Satia"] [member="Krest"]

Loarko knew he'd made a moderate mistake when he threw his lightsaber. But he wasn't out of the fight yet. Master Krest was most likely thinking Loarko was a fool for even trying to become a Sith. Satia easily deflected all of the debris and the pike that were thrown at her. The only exception was a small stuffed animal that clocked her in her noggin. Other than that, Satia was back at it again with a counter attack. She lashed out with her whip, aiming at his midsection. This is getting pretty intense he thought to himself as the whip suddenly turned into three. Each head was now moving in a separate direction, making dodging it difficult. What am I saying, he can't even dodge because he's stationary. The true foolishness of Loarko's situation was starting to show now, he was nervous. In an attempt to avoid the attack, Loarko Force Pushed Satia's arms back and shot out Force Lightning. "Do not call me that! You have no idea what I've been through!" The lightning intensified as Loarko got angrier and angrier. He would not lose.

 

[Darth Ferus]

"I.. I.. I can't be defeated! You can't defeat me! I won-" The words caught in his throat as he watched [member="Lark"] evade his thrust. Fear filled him as the daggers came around, threatening, terrifying. He roared in fear before stumbling back, away, to the ground. The blades cut into his body, blood trickling down his side and he screamed. Oh, he screamed, dragging himself away from the other acolyte and forgetting the saber he had held.

"No, no! I can't! You can't! Stop! No!"

That was it for the Zabrak. The Sith stepped out from his watching, his blue eyes fixed on the coward on the ground. He spoke, his voice echoing through the room over the sound of combat.

"Enough."

[member="Satia"] [member="Iron Knight Loarko"] [member="Otho Rendoro"] [member="Selene"]

 

[Poe]

​The push was enough to turn my arm slightly enough, sending the tendrils away from the Shard harmlessly. But he reacted with another attack, sending lightening at me. Again I recalled my wrist blade, absorbing the energy until the Shard could no longer produce no more. ​"Yes, give me your anger. Show me your hatred. Show me your desire to strike me down," I said powering down all my weapons and moving toward my stationary opponent. ​"Do this and I shall make you a complete Sith yet."

​Being freakishly tall has it's advantages. I charged toward my opponent, my long beautiful legs closing the gap in hauntingly fashion. Balling my hands into fists, I was turning this fight into pit style; a scene I spent most of my life surviving in. With my left hand, I swung high whilst my right hand went low. It wasn't the attacks that would do the damage, it was my momentum carrying forth as the force granted me untold speed. I aimed to punish this Shard, not kill him. Humbling now would serve me later; and that was my nature, create favors over absolute killing.


[member="Iron Knight Loarko"]

 

[Lark]

The fool fell to the ground, his pierced skin formed a river of scarlet blood. He dropped his saber, completely defenseless. Lark doubted he had another weapon and was baiting him into a trap, and he raised his knives, ready to deal the fatal blow. But before he could deliver on his intentions, the words of [member="Krest"] stopped him. He shouted for their duel to stop, and as quickly as Lark brought down his arms to cleave through the other apprentice's skin, his downward momentum stopped. He turned to Krest, but his attention wasn't on Lark. His gaze was as cold as the deadliest blizzard, hard eyes promising pain for the trembling coward.

Lark gave one last soft chuckle towards his defeated opponent before turning his back on him, and waited for the other duels to conclude in a position of safety. It was well that he had finished quickly, he now had the opportunity to study the other acolytes, to gauge their strengths and weaknesses. He didn't care what Krest did to the other apprentice, Lark had already nearly forgotten about him. That one wasn't worth his time, unfit to even be considered an easily led sheep.

[member="Satia"] [member="Iron Knight Loarko"] [member="Otho Rendoro"] [member="Selene"]

 

[Darth Ferus]

"Satia, no more. The rest of you, the same." The Sith Lord had walked into the center of the room, and his voice echoed unnaturally around the room to silence the dueling pairs. The Sith always viewed combat as the only truth of the galaxy. Where no one could lie their way through their aggression, or their fear. Their pride, or their hate. [member="Otho Rendoro"] , [member="Lark"] , [member="Satia"] , [member="Iron Knight Loarko"] , [member="Selene"] , and this nameless acolyte had shown enough of their true colors for the Zabrak to know which of them he would like to train himself, and in what he could train them all in now.

All but one.

Behind him the sniveling god gone mortal remained huddled on the ground, taken all most completely by his fear. A deep rumble filled the room and he was lifted from the ground, his cries cut off by an invisible force around his throat. He gasped and tried to plead between his coughs, but his words were lost behind the Zabrak. Krest had remained motionless through this, his eyes staring around the room as he let this settle into those it would.

"Fear is our greatest tool. Our own can become power, our enemies their weakness. Any emotion really can become our tools, fueling our strength and control of the Force. But when you let yourself be overcome by these emotions you stop being Sith, and start being only a tool to be discarded by your betters." As he finished speaking the rumble faded, and the boy was dropped from the choke, hacking as he filled his lungs with the much needed air. Krest walked over to the boy and crouched before him, his red eyes staring without a single hint of mercy or compassion.

"But there is one emotion that cripples a tool when they succumb to them. And a broken tool is of no use. Should any of you ever fail to your fears, you best hope you regain control before you are found. Otherwise." The rumble returned, and instead of choking a single scream filled the room. Krest stared the acolyte in his eyes and with a single raised hand he had begun to contort and crush his body. Bones snapped as his arms and legs curled unnaturally back onto his body. His spine snapped as he was folded in half, and soon enough his screams ended as his chest caved in. Soon enough, all that was left was a bloody mass of flesh, bone, and cloth.

"If you understand that, we will move on to the actual lesson now."

 

[Poe]

​I halted my attack, scoffing at the Shard before changing my focus back to Lord Krest. When he spoke, I listened. When he drew the rumbling of the Darkside energy around the room, I licked my lips with my scarred tongue; tasting it as I tasted flesh. The newcomer had been humbled, yet didn't react to his embarrassing situation dealt to him by the hands of Lord Krest. I suppressed the urge to kill this boy myself, instead listening to the words of my Master.

​My eyes began to grow wide, not out of fear but excitement, when I watched this boy utterly destroyed. The snapping of bones was a musical beat that soothed my heart. When the boy was no more, I found myself wanting to fall upon his carcass and feast. In spite of my hunger, I fought it down. This was not the time to eat. ​"Impressive display of power," ​I acknowledged. It was impressive, and I began to have visions of reflecting this scene on my enemies.



[member="Krest"] [member="Lark"] [member="Iron Knight Loarko"] [member="Otho Rendoro"] [member="Selene"]

 

[Lark]

Lark stood to the outskirts of the group as [member="Krest"] gathered them all together, the man was done observing their brief sparring sessions. Krest spoke words of fear and power, words that Lark had heard plenty of times before, only spoken in different ways. True phrases, to be certain. But Lark had learned this lesson long ago. He listened on as Krest continued to speak, never taking his eyes off the acolyte that Lark had defeated, eyes utterly devoid of any sense of pity for the quivering coward. For all his words of bravado, he had amounted to less than Lark expected, every acolyte in the room could have torn this fool apart.

As expected, their master intended to make an example out of the young man. The screams he let out might have gotten a rise out of some people, but to Lark, they just sounded like nothing. As Lark watched the man's bones snap in unnatural ways, his skin and flesh turn inside out as he pleaded for mercy, Lark felt nothing. Not disgust, not curiosity. He had seen, he had done, far worse than this, even as a young child. Before the man's life ended, he met Lark's eyes. He gave him a serene gaze bereft of any emotion or pity, and he said not a word. Then his chest caved in, his ribs cracked, leaving naught but a bloody red mess behind.

"If you understand that, we will move on to the actual lesson now," Krest said.

I suppose that means I passed the entrance exam, Lark thought. It's time to see what I can learn from these Sith.

[member="Satia"] [member="Iron Knight Loarko"] [member="Otho Rendoro"] [member="Selene"]