A New Term (Force Training)

With Korriban, the ancient home world of the Sith, destroyed, the Sith Order have retreated to the sanctuary of the frozen realm of Zoist.
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Professor Mors
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Re: A New Term (Force Training)

Post by Professor Mors » Fri Jul 23, 2021 11:13 pm

***Mustafar System, Atravis Sector, Grid Coordinates L-19***


It was with great trepidation that Sa’ato discarded his survival suit and stepped out onto the smoldering wastes of the Burning Plains. Mustafar was a hell-sphere of heat and magma no matter where one turned, but the professor had chosen this particular continent for his exercises given the extreme thinness of its igneous crust. The stability of the Plains was constantly in flux, and when its tectonics shifted, plumes of fire, born of trapped gases, blazed hungrily into being. So it was that the Neti stood and waited, his senses trained on the unstable ground below. Finally a minor quake reverberated beneath him, and the first column of crimson energy shot forth.

[Begin Pyrokinesis Application]

Reaching out with his hand, and with the Force, every plant-like fiber of Sa'ato’s body begged him to withdraw his digits to safety. His mental radar pinged rapidly that danger lay ahead- and he had to fight to maintain his resolve. Slowly, he reached out further, gasping with distress as the boundary of his energy field met with the billowing lash of fire. All at once, the two energies repulsed and attacked one another, the professor’s fear quickly enveloping his mind, in turn. A shower of sparks threatened his wrist as the rippling pillar expanded and thrashed angrily at his interference, and the Neti immediately took a step back.

Sa’ato growled and ran a finger along the scarred patch of flesh on his face. It itched with memory, and pain. It itched any time he was reminded of the inferno that destroyed his home, and the woman he had shared it with. And he was afraid, very afraid. But his Sith masters had no use for a coward, and after so many years, the academic refused to live the rest of his days cowering from the elements. His fear gave way to frustration. Frustration that boiled into anger, and then white hot rage: rage at the circumstances that scarred him so, rage at his own powerlessness.

Balling his free hand into a tight fist, the Neti silently bid his body to obey one simple command: forward. Likewise, he worked to sheath his right hand and arm in the Force. Reaching out once more, and fueled by his focused wrath, Sa’ato succeeded in piercing the veil of fire with his limb, only to frown. He was shielding himself, but he was not truly bending the flame to do his bidding. Closing his eyes, he let the field of his essence clash with nature’s own fury once again. Trying to grapple it into submission with his thoughts quickly proved futile. It was like trying to catch smoky fumes with one’s bare hands.

No, if the professor was to claim victory over the smoldering foe, he needed to become inseparable from the fire. Painstakingly, he allowed his defenses of his mental field to weaken, shrink, and crumble away like bits of so much sandstone. Nausea plagued the teacher next. The sheer speed of the energy was immense. Absorbing and redirecting lasers was one thing. All the particles moved more or less in the same direction. To accomplish the same feat here, Sa’ato fought reign in the chaos- to establish that his will, the microscopic elements of his being, were the driving force behind the otherwise inscrutable dance of cinders.

And yet, little by little, he was able to outnumber each flaming speck with one of his own, and claim dominance over the metaphysical herd. With a majority achieved, the Neti’s eyes snapped open, and with a determined growl, he thrust his hand down toward the blackened earth and forcefully slammed the sizable tongue of flame back from whence it came. Chuckling from a wave of like-adrenaline, the professor took no reprieve, and manically crushed his hands together before shutting his eyes once more. He had tasted the momentum that was needed, had become one with the chaos that leveled forests and melted the hardest of metals.

Not bothering to exercise the same caution with his other techniques, the academic let the Force fly free of his palms unchecked, and could sense a murky cloud of raw, unbridled energy condense around his limbs. The air trapped within became his hostage, his fuel, and the tool of his intention. Sa’ato infected the very molecules themselves with his thoughts, his unbroken will to know and master all. And he did not much like to be kept waiting. An annoyed surge of emotion crackled fiercely down his elbows and out through his fingertips, until at last, a new, but familiar heat pressed against his skin.

Opening his hands, the Neti could not fight the smile of sheer, malevolent glee that dotted his features, as he gaped in awe at the tiny puff of flame suspended before him, by him. Yes, there was no room for fear, no room at all…

[End Pyrokinesis Application, 693 Words]
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Sa'ato Mors

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Professor Mors
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Re: A New Term (Force Training)

Post by Professor Mors » Sat Jul 24, 2021 8:26 pm

***Centares, Maldrood Sector, Grid Coordinates R-7***


Though once a lush and vibrant world, Sa’ato had been alive long enough to mark the decline of Centares from a premier site of civilization to an overmined, backwater mudhole. He had once visited Rubyflame Lake when it was known by another, forgotten name. Now, its unnaturally acidic waters served as little more than a deterrent for bar fights in the vicinity of Malmuk’s Cantina. The Neti had only returned to the world and this lackluster place of nourishment to meet with a potential Sith informant. Having arrived early, he had little more to do than study his datapad and wait. Wait, and continue to hone his senses in the Force.

[Begin Surveillance Application]

Not looking for any one thing in particular, the professor allowed the curious tendrils of his thoughts to arc out from the crown of his head and permeate the air like the branches of a wroshyr tree. Without too much concentration, the sinuous extensions of his mind quickly honed in on the building’s temperature, humidity, and even the direction of the breezy draft gusting in from an open window. Centering himself to a slightly greater degree, Sa’ato worked to trace more minute energy signatures.

The heat and froth of the drink dispensers, the water pressure of the prep sink, and the dynamic spark of the Force that gave the ceiling lamps their power all rippled noticeably amongst his senses. Likewise, just as Sa’ato could figuratively sniff out the active sources of energy, he could also detect where they were lacking. The metal detector by the door, for example. The radiating light strip at the top of the console gave the illusion of an active unit, but the Neti was able to penetrate the main scanning unit from across the room. He detected not an ounce of energy with his feelings. A bluff to ward off violent patrons, he guessed.

And then there were the patrons themselves. The myriad cloud of emotion was not easy to differentiate at first. Like some aurora out of a frozen landscape, the various thieves, crooks, and bystanders all contributed threads of vibrant color in the Force, constantly mixing and clashing with one another. Without purposeful concentration, separating out each individual strand would be next to impossible. But like some seismic scanner, the flow of the Living Force would arch and flare up when conflict ensued. So it was that the professor instinctively snapped his gaze to a spilled drink and near-altercation at the bar proper.

The heightened swell of energy lingered even after the two disgruntled men ceased with their angry stare-down. Sa’ato shifted about in his seat as a chill went down his spine. The man on the receiving end of the downed drink radiated violent, nigh-murderous energy. Without too much effort, the academic was able to roughly pinpoint the swirl of passionate energy building on the interloper’s body, evenly distributed along what the professor guessed was his dominant arm. Half-seriously returning to his reading, the Neti thought he might try and spiral his thoughts out under the doorstop, when his body stiffened with anticipation.

A gyre of energy was building in the adjacent corner of the watering hole, pulling the Force to its epicenter like a magnet hauls in iron sand. Attuned as he was, even the professor could not ignore the call of the cosmos. Something was happening, and as Sa’ato floated his mind in that direction he smirked as he identified the sight of the prenatal disturbance in the Force. The sabacc table. Obscured by a pair of curious Makurth, the Neti could not look at the table with his eyes, but his thoughts and feelings led him to the player serving as the impetus of what was to come. Even from a distance, the professor could sense the underdog’s fear, anxiety, and desperation.

Like all else, they fed the tumbling whirlpool of chance and fate. Only the professor knew what was to come. In an instant, the blue and red roulette came up- shift. All the collecting momentum of the Living Force then surged directly onto the down-on-their-luck in a single instant. From such a fierce spike over a simple game of cards, Sa’ato knew the outcome before the amazed onlookers called out, “Idiot’s Array!”: the strongest hand possible. The Neti smirked in satisfaction as he felt a tidal wave of fresh and conflicting emotion wash over the players and audience, content in the knowledge that he had gained something from the lone player’s victory, and their opponent’s shared defeat.

[End Surveillance Application, 640 Words]
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Sa'ato Mors

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Professor Mors
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Re: A New Term (Force Training)

Post by Professor Mors » Sat Jul 24, 2021 10:06 pm

***Yavin 4, Gordian Reach, Grid Coordinates P-6***


Sa’ato hollered and retched with reckless abandon as he wobbled feebly on the stone floor, his body stiff and all but devoid of momentum as several cc’s of pelko toxin coursed through this chlorophyll-clogged arteries. Of course, the professor might have taken a more sane recourse and lowered the dose, but he knew even as he had injected himself that there was only one way to achieve results. The stakes had to be high, much higher than a simple field test. So it was that he began to fight for his life in a private chamber, forbidding any assistance from the temple attendants. And in truth, the academic did not expect any offer of help anyways. It was not the Sith way.

[Begin Detoxify Poison Application]

First things first, Sa’ato had to get a grip on the Force itself. The boundary of his essence shuddered and grew slippery as the poison ravaged his system; and as he fought to keep his field of energy intact, there were moments where the Neti thought that it, and his body, would literally burst and wither away. The Neti felt fear, not of death itself, but the slow, paralyzing agony the pelko tincture would inflict upon him. But he was not dead yet, and while he drew breath, the retired teacher was determined to best this internal foe. That ambition fueled his passion, offering him fleeting moments of clarity with which to slowly construct his Force Shield.

Like a laurel wreath, the Neti devoted all his mental might to winding uncorrupted coils of the Living Force around the top of his head. From there, it was as if the weakened professor was patching up a worn synthcotton doll. Stitching the purer yarn of the cosmos through his throbbing, oaken skin, Sa’ato worked to strengthen each and every nerve in his body to the wellspring of natural energy that existed just outside it. And while he could not completely dispel the pain, he could lower the physical sensation just enough to think straight.

Indeed, the lingering, burning discomfort only drove the wandering teacher to greater determination as he closed his eyes in meditation. Tracking the toxin coursing through his system was like trying to spot a needle in a Rylothian firestorm, yet little by little, the sickly purple hue of Sa’ato’s microscopic invader blinked in and out of his mind's eye while he scanned his body up and down. This was a violent thing, an unthinking existence whose sole drive to kill and destroy registered clearly against the Neti’s more objective presence in the Force.

And thus like stars against an otherwise dark sky, the professor steadily came to recognize the energy trace of the toxin. He could not give names or values to the elements he sensed, but he could feel the potency of his would-be killer, the density of its fluid mass wriggling through his own, and the speed with which it traveled. Gathering each lethal speck with his feelings, Sa’ato growled hoarsely as he attempted to stop the particles in their tracks. To his minor disappointment, the atomic material of the poison would not halt entirely, but for all its efforts it had clearly slowed down. A good method to slow the progression of his intoxication, though hardly a permanent solution.

No, for that, the Neti would have to physically vaporize the toxin entirely. Using the Force like a radioactive therapy, he would disintegrate the invisible bonds that held each droplet of toxic liquid intact. It would be brief, and intense, perhaps even painful at first, but it had to be down. Using want strength remained in his limbs, Sa’ato balled two tight fists and sent steady puffs of CO2 out of his various pores as he absorbed the Living Force around him like a sponge. Gorging himself on it's incorrigible energy, the Neti labored to inflict his will upon the essence of his surroundings with the host of his thoughts: seek, destroy, banish.

One by one, infinitesimal tentacles born of the Force lashed out at the virulent beads of poison searing through the professor’s interior. Sa’ato winced and curled his lips inward as each bubble of toxin was diffused from existence with its own microcosmic disturbance to boot. The act of unmaking this lethal entity took a physical toll, and plagued the professor with a different sort of soreness flecked with patches of numbed muscle. And yet, when he opened his eyes, weary as he was, the Neti could sense that the threat had passed. The Force had guarded him from a grisly end, and Sa’ato hoped that with practice, it would feel free to do so with greater brevity.

[End Detoxify Poison Application, 653 Words]
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Sa'ato Mors

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