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]