Private The Only Path to Power

[Pom Stych Tivé]

She hates the Light.

She hates Coruscant.

She hates Jedi, except one.

She hates her past tied to the Jedi.

Yet…

Luckily for the Nightsister, when Spasa was murdered, with her Doppelgänger went all the specifics surrounding those memories anyway…so technically this Mistress Malcontent hates everything regardless, unknowingly with no exception. Pom had no idea that the death of Spasa could have stripped away so many aspects of the Light nor that Spasa had indiscreetly slipped so much detail into her psyche. All Pom is certain of, is something out of every aspect of her life is now gone missing, and its for the better today. She does not desire to learn what those details are.

Once consumed by conscientiousness, precious chaotic Darkness now fills her deep recesses.

She came here seeking an abducted Sith Darth Miseria which word lead her to the shady underground of Coruscant's lower levels where a Sith emblem was recently raffled off along with patches of woman's armor said to have been originally acquired from a scavenger who recently passed through out of Mandalorian space. The Nightsister's enchanted Talisman of Finding lead her directly to acquire the articles she sought.

The oddity even for her that her Talisman was not finished in its quest, and led her on to a second objective. She walked between worlds in the mists following its tug, coming upon the scene of two Jedi, a Bounty Hunter, and an obviously underdeveloped Force Sensitive. She remembered having read that his kind possess the potential to achieve great things.

"Ew, no, no, no," she cursed immediately, snatching the Devaronian, swallowing him up right out of the place where he stood, the magick closing in around him, tugging him out of the physical realm and into the pitch black of her mists. He would see absolutely nothing, no matter how hard he tried, not even his own hands set right before his eyes, enough to confuse him beyond belief.

He may believe that he no longer exists, or perhaps his body is unresponsive but his mind is still active…

"Why do you speak to Jedi?" she asked him, remaining hidden in the darkness unseen, upholding her illusion. She waited on his reply to learn what ideals he held to regarding the Jedi. Only one answer would be acceptable.




Dixon/Akaan

 

[Dixon/Akaan]

The Darkness had swallowed him. It was so fast he couldn't have possibly reacted...or rather, not in time. His shout of panic didn't sound until he was alone, surrounded by...nothing. He waved his arm in front of his face, seeing nothing still. Did he still have arms, or was it in his head? The voice that spoke next certainly wasn't in his head. It inquired in a booming, yet soft voice, as if there were more than one voice speaking but they were all the same. The question was why he spoke to the jedi.

He certainly wasn't dead, but he didn't feel alive either. He saw nothing, and felt almost nothing but cool, wet air. If he wasn't dead, he could die. Which means his answer needed to be carefully worded, so to not anger the voice that apparently controlled his fate. Indeed, once again his own fate was out of his hands. That was exactly what he was trying to change. How irritating.

He thought for a couple seconds, but not too long, so the voice didn't think he was ignoring it.

"One talked to me first, offered to help me...the other wasn't a jedi, just a ranger unless you mean the mercenary with the stormtrooper armor, in which case I didn't know he was a jedi. Regardless...I approached the second jedi because I had a gut feeling that I should. It was a strong feeling, but it turned out to lead me nowhere...unless I'm here because of my actions...."

This was, without a doubt, the scariest situation he'd been in. Ever. He had not heard of darkness with a voice making everything disappear. Was it a jedi trick? Had Okkeus, Camo, or Derrik deceived him? Perhaps the only option was to comply with the voice.

 

[Pom Stych Tivé]

Oh but his fate is indeed in his own hands. The Talisman of Finding never lied to its Mistress, it reveals what needs to be discovered, always, it's Magick capable and unwavering.

"The truth is not so hard. Do not fret to bear your soul. The Darkside of the Force is not your enemy, and as its personal beholden neither am I. You are safe from Jedi. Remember this eternal, their way is wrought with lies, intent to lure you to their predetermined destiny for you. They judge your footfalls before you even step up to the door. Jedi will limit the stations you shall be offered to hold, segregate you developmentally away from the sacred texts they study. They withhold distinguished titles for their own lineage. Stunt your growth by demanding conformities to your morality, and teach you not about any power beyond that which they can lord their control over you. You must please them to succeed amongst them, and yet so many are never good enough."

Pom snapped a finger and the mists parted to reveal the darkness of the Netherworld she would next lead him through. The eyes of the Nightsister roiled liked Larimar cabochons, her pale skin refracting a gentle glow as if she were goddess of the the night.

"You be glad you do not belong where they would have led you. For their fate shall be to their deaths. Sadly, not today. Sometimes life has far more to render than death," the tiny expectant mother pondered the many options which lay before her this very moment. "You have a gift, and I will lead you to a place where you may evolve as much skill as you desire, and the only thing that will hinder you shall be your own inhibitions."

She looked up at the new potential recruit for the Sith Empire. "Unless you prefer a life of all the disappointment I just mentioned a moment ago. The choice is your's. I could put you right back where you had been…"




Dixon/Akaan

 

[Dixon/Akaan]

The clearing of the mists, and the revelation of the voice's source was an encouragement. He felt at least somewhat in control now. The source was a female indeed, and a rather attractive one...apart from the roiling eyes and the whole mist, kidnapping, thing. Akaan thought hard for a moment, still unsure of what the woman was. He had heard of witches, was she one such being?

Then the offer came.

First she reassured him that jedi were useless, and bound for failure, an opinion he had not revealed to her yet. Then she revealed that he had a..gift? Akaan didn't know what "gift" she spoke of...was it physical, or mental? Was it his desire for power? But how would she know of such a desire? Did she know his thoughts? No, she wouldn't have asked him anything if she could simply read his mind. As she continued to speak, an offer spewed from her lips. An offer of power, a claim that he was his only restraint. Following the offer, a choice to go back.

He was speechless as he thought for several moments. Surprisingly he was uninterrupted. He felt that it was a lie, but why go back? The jedi got him nowhere, Okkeus was going back to Devaron. No. He would accept the offer...he wanted the power that she offered and he would have it.

"How do I start?"

 

[Pom Stych Tivé]

'Good answer,' the Nightsister thought to herself and she smiled, the extent of her darkness entirely concealed behind her beauty. With the recent dissent of the Imperials to the extent of civil war and their plucking planetary systems right out of Sith space, reclaiming them to rule as their own, the Emperor would need true Sith among his ranks.

"I am Mistress Pom Stych Tivé." She peered Akaan in the eye for a moment, before answering, "You start now."

The Nightsister waved her hands and assisted the Acolyte to see what every one of them had been shown in their beginning steps. "This is the energy that Sith fashion and put to work. It exists in, around and throughout everything that seen and unseen, twisting and groaning in chaotic laborings here amidst the Darkside of the Force. It longs for purpose…for grandiose purpose, not for calm basket weaving such as the Jedi fashion out of it. Petting flowers so they grow prettier, and casting healing feelings out over mountaintops to hold fresh fallen snowflakes," she added with a bitter expression.

"This is Force Sight. You tap into this sight with your mind. It helps you see where the enemy is hiding, who is with you, and who is against you. And looking at you through it, it helped me identify that you were definitely in the wrong place back there. You are born to reach for greater heights."

The Darkness stirred wildly, and she pulled them both through it with a ferocious velocity, passing all manner of demons hellbent on attempting on thwarting them from reaching their destination; but the Nightsister ruled over them and out mastered them in their game. The dark abyss suddenly tore apart, leaking through to the dim daybreak on Dromund Kaas.

Ever since she was first invited into the Emperor's keeping, Dromund Kaas had immediately become a rare gem in her heart. Between the Emperor Carnifex himself and the beautiful sensations she felt generated by the planet's Darkside Nexus, she hardly missed the uniqueness of her home planet of Dathomir; and considering the nasty temperament of her god, that she has successfully replaced him, she could not look back for she has upgraded gods! Also, everything she ever found herself to realize she required in creating and up keeping her Magick, she found delightfully brought into her possession by the next morning, some things so delicate that transplantation, or even passage through the Netherworld would be too risky. To this day she has no idea how they are ever presented to her…but if they can make a man like Carnifex, they can recreate her potion ingredients.

With a thunder-crack she brought her initiate out of the Nether and stepped rapidly across the courtyard entrance in front of the citadel. She walked straight up to the Imperial Guard with the Initiate and permitted them their search, as protecting the Emperor and his home is collective duty.






Dixon/Akaan

 

[Dixon/Akaan]

He barely had time to register all that had happened....he learnt her name, he saw the galaxy at once, then he saw demonic creatures trying to kill him, and then, as suddenly as they had stated, they stopped.

The sight was a planet, busy, but not like the city-planet of Coruscant. Akaan had never been here, but somehow he knew where it was. It was Dromund Kaas, the Sith Capital. It must have been the Force sight, but was he truly here, or was it a vision of sorts? As for the woman, she was a Mistress...but what was she a mistress of?

"Dromund Kaas. Is that what you are the Mistress of? Like a Count, or Duke? Are we physically here, or mentally? Did you use the force to get us here?"

A series of questions, hopefully she would not be angered by them. She knew he was confused. It was her idea to start by taking him somewhere he had never been, on the opposite side of the galaxy. If he wasn't so curious and confused, he'd probably be angry that she was whipping him around like a chain. From Coruscant, to darkness, to Dromund Kaas.

One question he kept hidden. Which side was she on? She said he'd see who was there to help and who was there to harm, but with her he felt nothing. She was just...there.

He had many questions, all he needed to do was wait.

 

[Pom Stych Tivé]

The Nightsister smiled when asked what exactly she is a Mistress of. Her station of responsibility had changed recently, due to the grace of the Dark Lord of the Sith, of all people in the entire galaxy, GO FIGURE!! The Nightsister had gone from teaching in the boondocks on Dathomir, climbing the ladder to power on her own accord, reading and learning among the elders, until she surpassed them in her understanding of how energy manipulation works. Then suddenly lured into the focus of the Emperor, not in a bad way either, which not many can say or even want to, she knows. Technically, she has no true idea how she came into his attention, besides the fact that her Emperor sought peace amidst Dathomiri, and he sought assistance which their specific Magick could supply, and she was available to supply him with it, as she vowed to always be in the future. None other in leadership positions came forward to befriend the Nightsisters. Even some who tried to bond like true family fell to the wayside, never to be heard of again. None ever replaced her Sisterhood, but she would face what presented when it did so, and the Emperor presented himself and much of what he had.

Why, some would ask, would she consider involving herself with the battle between the light and the darkness? Why the hell not, she would retort, when Dathomir hung in the balance? Is her freedom not worth dedication and sacrifice? Dathomir is where she belongs, nestled in darkness today because the Sith made sacrifices to obtain her. If her Mistress saw Dathomir exist as anything else, then that is what doesn't belong. Does Pom feel unworthy to be in the presence of where she walks today? No. No, because she is intelligent enough to honor what deserves to be honored. Centuries of dedication to learning and evolving, just as her own people had, that deserves respect.

Her demons were keen to detect Dixon/Akaan 's hesitation, but she cared not to regard him. She figured he has every right to be nervous, certainly another proof to his alignment with the darkside of the Force.

"I am Mistress of the Night, young one. I am a Nightsister. And yes, we are present in the physical realm once again. My Magick is ancient, and long labored to learning, since the cradle I began my lessons. Your kind need too much catching-up by now, that it is best you leave me to my ways, and you dive straight into your own criteria." No question ever bothered the Nightsister. She is a teacher, and her students are from a vast array of factions, although all strictly brought up among Dathomiri ways, with not one student does she have born to any other bloodline.

The Guards came and asked the Initiate to present his papers and his weaponry for inspection. His compliance is vital for his admittance, before he could proceed. It would only take a moment, but Pom would offer to show him around the barracks. "He is in my charge," she said, but still admitted him to comply.

"You saw the basket weavers. Now I would like to show you what the Sith have to offer you," she said, while the Imperial Guard impeded his passage. The shouts of the practitioners of hand to hand combat echoed in the distance, beyond their position, thousands of strong men training to develop their skills to someday fight for the glory of their Emperor.

 

[Dixon/Akaan]

Nightsisters. Yes, Akaan had heard of them...where had he heard it before? His knowledge of history had brought many names, names of leaders, planets, factions, ships and weapons...so many names. Nightsisters, he had heard it several times but couldn't recall what exactly they were. He knew they were magic, but how powerful, and what had they done to shape the galaxy? He couldn't remember.

She had answered his questions up to this point, and now it appeared to be his turn as guards approached, requesting he turn in any weapons and fill some papers. Simple enough, he had no weapons, in fact, he had nothing now. As for the papers, it looked like the standard stuff, name, species, sex, age, etc.

He quickly filled them out, explaining that he had no weapons thanks to the "Crime-filled filth that the Galactic Alliance calls Courscant".
He didn't feel too guilty for the harshness of his words, though he had no ill-intent toward the jedi, Camo, and Devin. They had been kind enough, though they did little to help him. This Mistress, however, was already helping him in a major way despite the somewhat cold appearance and tone she emitted. The harshness was more against the robber, the overpopulation, and most important, it was in an effort to convince the Sith that he was no friend of the Galactic Alliance.

There, he'd filled it all out. He was a 21-year-old Devaronian Male named Akaan. He was here by the actions of Mistress Pom. Those were the only questions. Now he patiently awaited the mistress or the guards to give him his next command. If he was presented another opportunity, he still had many questions, but the nervousness had begun to fade. He wished to know what his gift was...was it some rare power? Was it simply his mentality, his ability to tell people exactly what he thinks, with no filter? Secondly, he wanted to know if the Mistress would teach him just the early abilities, even if he would never know the full extent of the powers, he wished to have something. Finally, he wondered why she would be involved with the Sith, of all factions...what did they offer that others could not?

All will be answered in time, Akaan. He told himself silently. It looked like he was about to be ordered, all he needed to do was show patience. He'd waited his whole life for an opportunity...what was a few more minutes?

 

[Pom Stych Tivé]

Nightsisters don't want to be in the limelight of anyone. They don't want to be used, but to have their own blood boil within the veins of the most powerful warriors ever known to lead a personal crusade for power across the galaxy. They grant Amulets, Potions, and cast spells and enchantments over the armor and flesh of the most powerful Sith in secret, and are rewarded with whatever they desire as payment. That is how reliable and advanced their expertise has evolved. By nature they as a culture aren't happy just to learn what their teachers reveal, but to surpass their predecessors, learning as far back as the beginning, and reaching beyond imagination.

But Pom hadn't commented on any of that, because the initiate hadn't opened his mouth on the matter, and better he hadn't, because there probably is no way to ask kindly, unless he were perhaps to say he had simply never heard of the Nightsisters, but she would have sensed him in a lie and not comprehend his reason for it.

Pom's eyes narrowed as she paid strict attention while Dixon/Akaan gave a statement to the Imperial Guard how the Galactic Alliance stole his weaponry. Her visage suddenly dropped into a scowl. She stepped between him and the guard and waved her hand over the small podium they used as a tray for weaponry examination. Immediately his stone knife, credits, and model 52 blaster pistol materialized out of thin air.

She gave him a stern look, knowing he wanted very much to examine them. "Be my guest," she said. "They are your belongings."

The Imperial Guard handed the initiate his credits and checked his other items into a small safe box and locked them with a key. Not many visitors come who have never before been inducted into the Imperium, but once they hold an official Identification Card, they are good to pass without confiscation, unless they covet contraband. They passed Akaan a ticket to reclaim his items and set his box down into a larger safe which nobody could get near.

Pom led the way along the footbridge overlooking the combat training camps below. Thousands of young aspiring Sith practiced time tested fighting moves, in fluid motion, breathing in unison as they continued. In another arena, others gathered, practicing the art of the fighting staff. As they progressed along the path, the studies and weaponry evolved more and more advanced. Inside the court yard arena, there would be gruesome one on one challenges fought. Even deeper still, somewhere deep within the citadel, in places she did not dare trespass even Astrally, there were practices that even the Nightsister mentally shed her spiritual awareness of. She refused to be touched by any spirit or demon she did not specifically permit.

 

[Dixon/Akaan]

Akaan followed the Mistress, silently. He didn't question how she had summoned his weapons. He knew by now that her ways were out of his league completely. He assumed it was something that Nightsisters knew to do, and that's all he needed to know. She had promised him power, and he was going to follow her until he got it. As they walked, they passed Sith troops training. They moved and breathed in unison, and the Devaronian wondered why they would train that way. It made them predictable. Wouldn't it be better to encourage individual development?

He considered asking, but determined again that he should hold his tongue. No need to piss off the people that, apparently, would be his path to power. What he was going to ask, was what this gift was.

"So, Mistress. What gift is it that you refer to?"

He kept it short, no need to look any more foolish or stupid than he already did. They probably thought he was incompetent...he didn't have his weapons with him, he didn't know who the Nightsisters were, so on and so forth.

 

[Pom Stych Tivé]

The Nightsister stopped to face at the Initiate Dixon/Akaan as he asked her to define something he should be telling her. "You do know you're Force Sensitive; don't you? You're far stronger than those guys you were asking help from back there where I found you."

She understood that not everyone came from a family where there was support or even understanding, passing down of knowledge. She could only imagine the hell these young people go through, how terrifying the galaxy must have felt all along growing up without a worthy mentor. The Sith can help make up for that absence. "Some recognize it, as many would call it, luck. Some, an innate focus that would just give them or a situation, a push in a successful outcome, whether on a small or magnanimous scale. Like stumbling, dropping a plate of food, but nothing fell off your plate. Such things were never an accident. You made these events happen in your past, whatever they were. You can be taught to control them and produce results at will."

The Nightsister looked over the Barracks and the Initiate and said, "This is not my place to continue. Your teachers are here. I cannot take you any further. I only brought you here to show you what is possible and where you can discover it. To learn all there is, and creatively evolve into everything you can become. It's hard work, dedication and focus."

Its a strange place to call home, the Sith, and the sacrifices of the underground one would think might satiate bloodlusts for five minutes, but no. No there is always reason for more; its the very spirit that lives here. At least this Nightsister has her escape to Dathomir.

 

[Dixon/Akaan]

"No, wait...you can't leave, we just met! I have questions, you saved me...you know me, not these people! Look at them, if you beat one, you can beat them all! I won't rely on them to teach me to be powerful. You took this task, shouldn't you be the one to teach me? You speak of some luck. I have never had it....I had to sit and watch as My Parents WERE KILLED IN FRONT OF ME!"

He didn't watch his tongue, he was too shocked by her news, and too afraid of her departure. Adrenaline sent a shock up his spine. He didn't know this place, and she was just going to leave him? How could he be more powerful than the jedi? He never noticed being lucky, his whole life was a series of being thrown around by other forces. He never had control. He shook with a rush of emotions. Fear of being left to fend for himself again. Sadness and anger at the loss of his parents. Anger toward the mystery around the woman.

The Devaronian didn't know the truth of that tragic day. His mind had been affected by the tragedy. His memory was altered..warped..the truth would crush him. He had killed his parents...and the guards that, in his warped memory, had killed them. He had channeled his hatred towards the guards for what they were about to do, he had done something extremely rare. He had used deadly sight. It had incinerated the guards, and his parents. However, he didn't know that. His mind had been changed, and for so many years he hadn't known the truth...perhaps he'll never know it.

What he did know, was that he was about to be thrown into a situation again, with no control.

That was something he wouldn't allow. He would pick his teacher. The Mistress is who he desired. She was the only one that had helped him, and she seemed to understand him.

 

[Pom Stych Tivé]

Pom watched the initiate explode in a tempest of fear, interpersonal demands, arrogance, and displaced attachment. "First off," she began sternly, her brow furrowed to reveal her distaste, "It is you who doesn't know me. Secondly," she continued, stepping closer to him, "you have not earned any right to judge those Acolytes and Knights until you can lick everyone of them in the ring."

She did not want his attachment. She did not appreciate his attachment. She had no idea he would react this way! All she knew is that she had to cut that down immediately. "I told you from the beginning you are no Nightbrother. You must be born into my craft. And I did not offer you my hand to become your mother, boy. From the start I offered you no more than to lead you to rightful teachers and that is exactly what I have done, asking nothing from you in return. If you want to walk out, you are free to go. They are free to go." The Nightsister waved a hand across the horizon, where field after field was filled with men of all ages training kata and sparring, which spoke profoundly in support for the glory of the Sith Empire.

She could not believe Dixon/Akaan would be such the fool or a coward to turn around and walk away after coming so far; but if he would, then so be it. There are other young men who would kill and even die for the Empire. The Matriarch stepped to the side and away from the boy, waving her hand through the air in a manner suggesting that she is finished with him. Someone else among the Imperials watching, would need step in to deal with him from here on out.

 

[Dixon/Akaan]

Pom Stych Tivé

"You are damn right I don't know you, yet you seem to know me, be it by some sorcery, or perhaps you've watched me. I still don't know what this "power" is that I have. I told you, there's been no luck in my life. I know nothing of the Sith apart from that they are no better than the jedi. They are harsh, cruel, and relentless. How can they possibly teach me?"

His rage boiled as he began to give up on his wishes. It was true, the Sith were supposedly evil...but that was jedi propaganda. Still, he wanted the Mistress to teach him, not a sith. If she couldn't, the so be it. Once again, Akaan would be forced in a direction, outside of his control. It was outrageous. He had lost his parents. He had landed on Coruscant, instantly getting robbed. He had found a teacher, only for her to spit him out like a rotten piece of meat. Every time, he had no control.

His rage overflowed. His face got darker, blood flowing through it. His eyes slowly turned a dark orange. He looked The Mistress in the eye, unaware of what forces he was about to unleash. "You have forced me into the very situation I followed you to avoid! You're no better than that jedi that was going to take me back to Devaron! I HATE YOU!"

The last words echoed for a moment, and then a beam of invisible power was shot at the mistress. Akaan didn't recognize what was happening, as a wave of tiredness fell upon him. It was a feeling he hadn't felt in many years. Still, he recognized where he had felt it before. His parents' death. What was it? Was it just his anger exhausting him? No, it was draining...it was too rapid to be normal. He broke his gaze, looking down as the world seemed to move around him. He fell to a knee, gasping for breath as he again looked up, expecting to see the witch using some sorcery against him.

 

[Pom Stych Tivé]

The Nightsister's eyes locked on this one. Her scowl grew as the male youth's little tantrum increased in intensity, a display she has come to expect from untrained men, which only played out more deadly the more trained and unsophisticated they were. And while this Nightsister never wavered for even greater displays of rage, such as Kyrel Ren tipping his lightsaber mere inches from her throat in his most memorable of loving displays, likewise in the current moment she ignored the youth's prodding that she join him with a retort laced with ire of her own. She will feel what she wants to feel, by her own choice any given moment. Not a thing about her being does she relinquish to be controlled by just any man!

Her outward appearance always replicated patience, but the degree of disdain she hid beneath the surface would have escalated his mouth for sure, and she is in no mood to be lectured by anyone beneath her. The new boy just insulted an age old Empire and berated one who possesses skills beyond his feebled imagination, in front of the shadowing Imperial Guard who gathered near. She raised a finger in their direction, letting them know that she is in control, no harm would befall the Emperor's offspring, even with Dixon/Akaan only feet from her now. Her instincts never failed her before, to watch for those subtle cues that telegraph one’s movements. His began with the flush of his face, then blatant focused blazing eyes. Her own grew darker while slowly, her fingertips gently caressed a crystal which dangled from the chain of a bracelet she wore. His commanding of the Force will follow, she knew.

The Matriarch saw the Force blast from his being straight for her, and she extended her palm immediately to receive the energy and channel it into her green Crystal. The Imperial Guard flinched, hastily charging their weapons. When the initiate fell to his knees, they stood down.

She approached him, tearing the crystal from her chain. Her eyes cold and angry, she reached for his hand and placed the hot, smoking stone into his palm and closed his fingers around it. "You killed them," she hissed.

With the assistance of the Force the Nightsister Levitated the initiate from the stone paved walkway and tossed him over the ledge to the training pit below. He would roll down the concrete wall at a 45 degree angle, and be met by the Drill Instructor who would know exactly what lesson this young man needs!

 

[Dixon/Akaan]

He fell.

It was almost like falling into a black hole. A black jump to hyperspace. Everything was blurry, dark, and slow..yet so fast. Suddenly he hit the ground, jolting his senses to life as he gasped for air. He didn't know what'd happened, his energy was still at rock bottom, and his head was killing him. He stood up, dizzily falling back down to a knee.

He looked up, as everything spun around. It was like walking on water, but tripping on every ripple. As soon as he cleared his vision, the dizziness returned. He nearly vomited, exhausted, in pain, and confused.

What had he done? His head was bombarded with thoughts. Anger toward everyone around him. Anger toward his situation. Anger that his parents had died. Sadness about their memory. Anger that he was powerless. Confusion as to where he was. Confusion about what she'd said. It sounded like "You killed them", but that couldn't be right. Slowly the tidal wave of truth hit him, covering him with the waters of guild, sadness, pain. He felt sick.

He broke down, shaking, his vision turning black and then white again. He looked up, only to be met with a fist to his face.

Everything went black.

Then he woke up again. A blurred man stood over him, fist raised again.

"Stop!"

Akaan shouted through blood, snot, and possibly vomit.

The effort was pointless, the man struck him again.

Akaan couldn't think. He could barely breath. He was going to die. He was in shock, he was exhausted, and he was confused. Of every time he'd been helpless, this was the closest he had been to the day his parents died. The day he killed them.

 

[Pom Stych Tivé]

Pom stood overhead and watched the initiate in the training pit. The Acolytes even fight him fairly, one on one, and he can hardly stand upon his own two feet. With how he had boasted and attacked her, she would have thought him able to at least fist fight a single Acolyte who as he believes cannot teach him anything.

He dug up anger enough to attack a pregnant woman, but he couldn't muster up enough willpower to block one punch thrown by another his own age. The Matriarch only scowled down at the scene. She cursed her own poor judgement. She thought to rip him right out of there and plant him right back in Ashla space, before he could understand what was happening!

"Well, I've never been so embarrassed," she admitted aloud. What else could she do? Everyone standing near her, heard the whole scene unfold. There aren't many who turn down becoming part of something so grand in such a conceited manner as he had, and he wouldn't be the first one to ask this Nightsister to train him without having one cue what it takes to do what she does, or even have an inkling what it is she does!

The Acolyte from what she could determine had gotten in her best hopeful's face and began shouting at Dixon/Akaan to internalize the anger and let it become his encouragement to react. That in all of it he would learn to find his connection to the Force. At his last words, the Acolyte sent a Force Push straight into the Initiate and proceeded to continue to bombard him, to try and send him into a frenzy, so he might finally come into understanding his power.

 

[Dixon/Akaan]

Akaan fell back. He was growing numb. By some miracle or unknown power, he hadn't passed out or died yet. This was torture. He was weak and everything was meaningless. He looked dead ahead, as his head was forced in a direction by a fist, or as he hunched over from a kick.

In this moment, nothing was real. It had hurt, but now he felt nothing. He was tired, but now, furious, he again found energy and strength. He knew that this was the power Pom had referred to. He did not know, however, how to control it. He had attacked her, but he didn't mean to. He had killed his parents, but he didn't mean to. Now...He needed the power.

He heard laughs, jeers, the mistress spoke though he heard not her words. He heard one thing: Use your anger.

It was almost internal. He was pushed back again. This time, he somehow rose to his feet. His broken ribs, busted lips, black and swollen eyes, and battered body seemed non existent. He saw a blurry figure approach, hesitating for a moment when Akaan rose. It only stopped for a moment, then took a swing.

Akaan ducked. The figure quickly took a swing with the opposite hand. Akaan blocked, the blow hitting his right forearm. He felt nothing. The feeling of nothing allowed him to focus. He kicked as hard as he could. The blur fell back several feet. Akaan, towering over him, roared, as he brought his fist down on the blur...around where the throat would be. It landed, like hitting a pillow with crunchy food in it. He had murdered the blur.

He felt no remorse, no pain, nothing...

Now several blurs ran toward him. He punched the closest one as the other two rammed into him. Even with his lack of feeling, he couldn't beat another blur. The exhaustion creeped in again. Once more he was on the ground, facing an onslaught of blows.

The pain was still muted, the only feeling he had was rage.

He did not care if he died. He had tasted power. He would pursue it, if he lived. Nothing mattered now.

 

[Pom Stych Tivé]

'He gets it, yet he doesn't get it.'

Another Acolyte curled Dixon/Akaan 's shoulders up off the ground and they forced him to stand up on his feet. While he reacted to their attempt to confine him, a Sith Master who had gained his attention approached and standing behind Dixon firmly grabbed hold of one of his wrists.

"You want them off you?!" he instructed, "Then push them off you! CONCENTRATE!"

The Master caused the Force to flow through himself and from the Initiate, to show him what it feels like to move the Force, knowing there had to have been instances in his past where he would remember the powerful feeling. Suddenly those who clawed for him were sent spiraling backward away from him. They moved on with their sparring of one another. The injured had already been removed from the grounds.

Pom watched, unsure whether or not she had made a good call in bringing him here. That he has gained the attention of the Masters, then he has a chance he might do fine. Only he can determine his outcome. She whistled from her place upon the platform overlooking the pit and caught the Master's attention. The Nightsister chucked a Potion down to be used on the Initiate's wounds, which the Master reached up and caught, before she turned and walked off. She would see him again, another time.

 

[Dixon/Akaan]

How was he still awake? He felt dead. It was as if he had been submerged in ice water. He was numb, yet he was awake.

The command that had been yelled to him was impossible. He had been beaten, and his energy was gone. How could he possibly push them away? There was the Force, which he had no control over. There was brute strength, which he had exhausted much earlier. What more could he do?

Another blow hit his face, forcing his head to the right.

He reared back, looking at the blurred figure. He focused, looking at the horde of troops ready to kill him. He reached out, looking for The Force. It wasn't there. It was never there. It didn't appear when he wanted it. It was a cruel energy, it had taken his parents, and it was keeping him alive to bear this torment.

With one last burst of energy, Akaan released a shout, not of words, but of pure rage. He was angry at The Force. He was speaking to it in his mind. He wanted it. He needed it. He commanded it. It will do his bidding.

The air seemed to be sucked away, toward the crowd. They were all one blur to Akaan, but the blur moved. It moved away, in an unnatural way. Sudden, like a great cat in battle. Like a man that was suddenly frightened, and jumped away. The blur moved further, very quickly, and then dropped close to the ground.

The air returned after a quick, thunder-like rumble.

Again, he nearly fell with exhaustion.

Had he done it?

He tried again, commanding The Force...wherever it was...to help him. Give him energy, strength, something, anything. Perhaps there was a slight change in his posture. Maybe he had felt better, or maybe it was in his head. He was too beaten for it to make a difference, and one last time, he fell to his knees.