Private Walk It Off [DSE]

[Ashin Cardé Varanin]

THE POMOJEMA
NONPARTISAN, NONDENOMINATIONAL DARK SIDE ACADEMY OF HIGHER LEARNING
DEEP SPACE, DEEP CORE

The crash workshop - in the sense of rapid, intense training - had gone on for three days in one of the Pomojema's largest halls. Its main focus had been to teach these people to take a hit strongly, square up to it, and manage their expectations and consequences. Resilience, resilience, resilience.

Skills they'd covered, varying by participants' aptitudes and experience, had included Force Protection (Ashin's greatest specialty), poison detoxification, controlling their own pain, reducing someone else's pain to help their allies trudge on through one more hit, the demanding Freedon Nadd-era Sith sorcery to (very painfully) heal someone else, and good old-fashioned first aid. They'd trained against gravity hammers and regular hammers, concussion grenades and shockboxing gloves.

Everyone who'd dared to participate, Ashin not excepted, was now covered in bruises and bandages and high-grade kolcta. Three fething days of it. A couple of people had died (and been promptly resurrected into clones or the bodies of captured enemies).

Now a long table had been brought out for a celebratory final dinner, nothing fancy but very good food and drink and plenty of it. Time to come down a bit, maybe be a team in this kind of way, get their bearings, and come to terms with their recent experience. Ashin, for her part, was nursing a sore jaw and eating one of the best soups of her life, heavy meat and flat noodles, small spherical vegetables and thick spiced broth, all sopped up with fresh bread. A nice change after three days of combat rations and electrolytes.


Invitees, optional, all welcome:
Lord Creuat
Ibaris Varanin
Tyro Lok
Wymar
Sahar
Meliant
Talon Draven
Thomas Barran
Prowler II
Voldran Molf

 

[Meliant]

The Pomojema

​

Meliant was present and seated. He had not died, nor could he truly, but his shell had taken a beating which would have proved lethal to anyone else. His armor bore dents - particularly in the head, which had warped the helmet in an unseemly way. There was a large tear stretching from the right shoulder to the middle of his upper-chest, revealing an ominously hollow interior.​

​

His unique constitution had saved him from death, but it also deprived him of the ability to eat. He stared inscrutably at the meal in front of him and seethed in silence.​

 

[Ashin Cardé Varanin]

He stared inscrutably at the meal in front of him and seethed in silence.

Meliant's frequent, low-level Force Drain effect had of course been noted; the Pomojema had a similar effect, exacting an infinitesimal tithe on all aboard. This was all familiar ground in some ways. So in the spirit of good hosting, a plate was brought out and set before him. It contained an artfully disassembled Jedi lightsaber, with its centerpiece being a blue-white kyber crystal of particularly valiant tasty life force. Maybe Meliant had the skill to take sustenance from it, maybe not, but that was his big grown-up responsibility in the same way as Ashin and her very sore teeth were responsible for figuring out her soup.

 

[Tayiji]

|| WALK IT OFF ||

Epiphany - Chapter 1
———
TAG: Ashin Cardé Varanin | Meliant
​

FEED YOUR HEAD
​

THE POMOJEMA

Three days has passed and now to the feast. The workshop has left Tayiji with bruises, open wounds, and a galaxy-worth of new Dark Side knowledge. He survived the gauntlet, barely. Bandaged and kolcta’ed wounds are scattered throughout his body, the future scars it will leave already in line reserving a place to add to the years of cicatrized battle scars that tell a story of a rampaging marauder drunk under the influence of the Dark Side.

The Dark Side Elite covered his body with his Evereni fur coat that covers his shoulders, arms, and abdomen, but leaves his chest open for air circulation. Their host has prepared a celebratory final dinner, Tayiji might be a barbarian but he is a cultured barbarian, he wears his best clothes for such occasions. He went for the most gamey dish, one which his superior smelling sense can still trace the origin from the remaining blood.

He sits and devours his meal silently; observing the host and his fellow Dark Side Elite.

 

[Tyro Lok]

Tyro Lok
The Dark Side Elite
Ashin Cardé Varanin | Meliant | Tayiji

​

Tyro Lok sat apart from the others at the edge of the long table, still dressed in his sleeveless attire, knee plates scorched and gauntlets singed from the recent trials. His helmet rested beside his bowl, the ever-watchful gaze of its dark visage glaring outward. One arm was wrapped tightly in synth-bandage, faintly leaking blood from where a blow had shattered bone and torn sinew. The pain had dulled, he'd made sure of that, but he wore it like a badge, a sign of passage through fire.

Steam curled from the soup before him, but he hadn't touched it.

His cold eyes slid across the room to Ashin, observing her with the sharpness of a blade still unsheathed. Her quiet authority had not gone unnoticed. She had tutored them, him included, and made them stronger. For that, there was a measure of respect.

He lifted his gaze fully, voice deep and rasping as he finally spoke, words laced with the gravity of stone grinding against stone.

"You teach pain like it's a weapon. Sharpened. Honed. Most dull it, run from it. You… force it into the bloodstream, make it part of the body. I recognize that."

He leaned forward slightly, resting a gauntleted hand on the edge of the table.

"You honor the blade you forge, Lord Varanin. That much, I can respect."

He picked up a chunk of bread, dunked it once in the broth, and took a bite, slow, and deliberate. The next trial would not be training. It would be of battle.

 

[Meliant]

So in the spirit of good hosting, a plate was brought out and set before him. It contained an artfully disassembled Jedi lightsaber, with its centerpiece being a blue-white kyber crystal of particularly valiant tasty life force.

Tayiji Ashin Cardé Varanin Tyro Lok

Meliant almost thought they were mocking him, but his gaze quickly settled on the crystal. He straightened slowly and took it into his palm, cradling it there. Some time ago Meliant had been instructed to only keep what he took, what he stole, what he looted - not what was granted by charity. That was stupid. Power was power. Didn't matter where it came from or why. Cracks sprouted along the faces of the kyber crystal and its light faded.​

​

Energy flowed into Meliant in a steady stream, then terminated when the crystal finally greyed and crumbled into a fine powder. It would have been nice to say Meliant was now steeped in some kind of apoplectic power, but he wasn't. It was just gone. Consumed entirely. He did personally feel great, as a matter of course. So great, in fact, that he now finds the energy to chit-chat.​

​

He looked to his right and found Tayiji sitting there, devouring his own dish. "Don't forget to chew, Tayiji," he turned his palm and dumped the spent kyber powder into the untouched dish that had been earlier presented to him, ruining both. "You might even try it with your mouth closed."​

 

[Olorion Fossk]

The teaching from others much more learned in the force was an opportunity I could not forego. Even more so, being trained and shown how to use pain as a weapon. Converting it into a source of power in which one could draw from. Protecting one self from pain, or even making it worse for an individual. The wounds suffered today would be leaving scars that taught a lesson for me, and the others who had shown themselves here. It was with this that now, a feast was prepared.

Food placed in front of us. While others had discontent, and showed some form of displeasure, others scarfed it down as if they had never seen such delicacies before. While it was much more flavorful than rations and electrolyte drinks, and replacements, it was not a fancy meal. In times like these, it was the warmth of a hearty soup, and fresh bread to mop up whatever may be left of the broth. It was good. Each spoon full filled my nearly empty stomach. Taking my fill till I felt satisfied. However, I did not gorge myself upon it. Dining too much would only make one sick to the stomach. As there may still be yet another series of tests ahead of us.

One of the other individuals who came armored, spoke clearly to Master Varanin. Commending the teaching for what it was. I followed that sentiment with my own words.

"Not just a weapon. A tool. Pain comes in many forms. A conversion of that pain, lessened, deepened, or used as a power can make or break even the strongest of Wielders of the Dark."

The last little bit of broth was mopped up on the bread. Taking a bite from it and chewing for a moment. Swallowing before speaking again.

"That lesson of the Force itself, can be applied anywhere if you know when, and how to apply it."

| Meliant | Tyro Lok | Tayiji | Ashin Cardé Varanin |