Dromund Kaas, a jungle planet in Sith space. Yarkar had come here after a long search for himself. He wanted to find power as he traveled away from the Sith, but found nothing but stagnation. He longed for the times when it seemed all he would do is learn, yet he could not return after so long having learned nothing. Surely he would eventually find it, the one breakthrough he needed that would make him finally worthy of returning...
[Begin Alteration 2 App]
In the present, Yarkar awoke, a long time away having brought him closer to the Force, but further from power he sought. He had searched for what felt like eons to find more power, but had only found a connection with something greater than himself. However, this morning was different. He felt a spark that he had not had in ages, a vision of a time now long since passed.
A Jedi, oh how time had passed since he had heard the word. The actual man's name further back still, but the memory was still clear. He grabs his saber, feeling the Force call to him once more as he ignites it, the crimson burning in hatred for the green he had seen that day. His rage permeated his body, and he felt the power of the Force in a single moment fill him again. The moment was ephemeral, but sweet. The single taste had brought him back into an age-old mindset. His eyes narrowed in the cave as the red tainted the light from the sunbeams as they grasped through the mouth of the cave, putting him on the edge between the pulsing red glow and the sunlight that woke him.
The memory washes over him while he feels the Force in him again, weaker now, less involved in the rage that he had woken into. Yet, its mere presence makes him aware of the world around him. The memory pulses in his head as he moves through the motions he made that day, every failed movement of his blade filling his head with the scolding voice of a former master. He felt the Force distort in his anger, his rage growing as he thinks of his every failure. Every single one worthy of judgement, and yet none were around to judge him but himself. His judgement was fierce, slashing into the stones of the cave, not doing much damage but its catharsis keeping him at a point where he could still think about what he was doing. This kind of connection felt rare to him, and he was not about to waste it on some raging cascade. He alters the flow of the Force around him, pulling it towards him, but he begins to actually notice where the energy comes from. He could feel it in the stones beneath his feet, in his saber, in his body. He sensed the life force of the local fauna, feeling them run away from the commotion as he reached out to the world and breathed in. It was strange, to feel a connection with everything, it brought with it a peace. It did not quell his anger, but it soothed his mind.
The memories faded, but his anger stayed. His mind able to focus in the moment. Away from the rage, away from his history. He had escaped what he had fallen into as he noticed he was no longer merely altering the Force, but demanding it to kneel. He turns off his saber, returning him to the darkness deeper within the cave, only dim shapes from the scattered sunlight. However, in the sensory deprivation, it felt like he finally knew what he was "looking" at. He reaches out his hands, altering the flow of the Force again, but with his newfound targeted aggression. He knew he wasn't changing something tangible, but it felt like he was moving a great weight, demanding the Force around him to swirl, making intricate patterns that came to mind as he exerted control over the Force again. He felt like he was no longer a passive actor, but filling a cup from the pool he had previously drank from with merely his hands. A peace followed his anger, the two halves of what he had found in his isolation coming together into a symphony as he felt the strong surge of the Force fade. He was left with mere wonder about what it could leave him with, and the knowledge of how not only to bring the Force to him, but how to command it to do as he wished. He felt that this was the springboard into things beyond his current skill, and he was eager once again to learn. He was ready to return to the Sith, this time to fuel more than a string of failures in his wake.
[End Alteration 2 App]
A Returning Passion
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Yarkar Edetar
- Registered Member
- Posts: 90
- Joined: Sat Nov 20, 2021 6:41 pm
Re: A Returning Passion
Yarkar left the cave he was hiding out in, squinting as the sun entered his eyes. His saber swings on his hip as he walks towards his YT-1300. He'd yet to name it during his self-imposed exile of a sort, it had merely been a ship that had been convenient to have as he sought out areas of Sith space that could be significant to his quest for power. His boots clanged across the metal flooring panels as he enters, the electronic chatter of droids commanded to silence without a word as he approaches the pilot droid.
"Set course for Moraband."
"Going home, master?" The droid spun around with a bit of cheer, it seemed to be excited for the destination that its owner had in store.
"Did I ask for idle chit-chat? I'm not in the mood. Set course for Moraband, let me know if we are interrupted, but in any other circumstance keep your silence. I have meditation to attend to, the Force calls."
"Yes master, I shall set course immediately." The droid simply went to work as if nothing had happened.
The acolyte turned on his heel, the sound of his steps echoing as he retreated back to his chamber, his head filled with thoughts of the Force and what was to become of it.
"Set course for Moraband."
"Going home, master?" The droid spun around with a bit of cheer, it seemed to be excited for the destination that its owner had in store.
"Did I ask for idle chit-chat? I'm not in the mood. Set course for Moraband, let me know if we are interrupted, but in any other circumstance keep your silence. I have meditation to attend to, the Force calls."
"Yes master, I shall set course immediately." The droid simply went to work as if nothing had happened.
The acolyte turned on his heel, the sound of his steps echoing as he retreated back to his chamber, his head filled with thoughts of the Force and what was to become of it.
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Kressara Thryn
- Full Member
- Posts: 336
- Joined: Wed Feb 28, 2018 3:28 am
Re: A Returning Passion
Moraband, Sunset Hours.
Kressara Thryn was not living up to the typical expectations of a darksider. Acolytes of the temple, though fewer these days then in times past, trained in their spare time, or chose to meditate until they reached some new understanding of the force to please their masters. They sought to grow darker and darker in their natures every day and worked hard to sharpen their senses of cruelty against the whetstone wheels always turning in their minds. It was all a struggle for power amongst themselves, only to result in fewer rising to the top than a collective group of likeminded learners might have achieved together. It was all incredibly small minded and the games her fellow sith played were just too geared for the short term to hold her interest. It was the long game the masterless apprentice played for, one that would bring her power, funds, resources, and allies outside the reach of the sith. Why compete with pawns for the king, when you could find a lighter and burn the whole chess board, rooks, knights, queens and all? Never again would she play their games, but she would pretend to move the pieces to keep eyes on her works rather than her motives.
That said, Kressara was hard at work in her private chambers going over orders, lanes, tracking shipments worth intercepting, and sending correspondence to various “business partners”, all the while bobbing her head to music playing loudly in the walls of her room. Lyrics repeated, “I’m so ter-la-la-lalafied, terrified of the silence. I get so sa-la-la-la-, la-la-lasick of the silence, that I have to, I have to just scream! I don’t want to hear what’s deep inside of me.” to an upbeat riff. Traditional sith robes were nowhere to be found. Instead the humming glitbiter was dressed in a black, bohemian, gossamer gown with a necklace of crow feathers and golden coins laced around her throat by tanned leather straps. Similar lovelies wrapped once, twice, thrice around her wrists and ankles over sandaled feet. Her platinum blonde hair was getting a bit too long with tiny braids bound in brass clasps with yet more ink black feathers scattered about her tresses. A blood red gem earring dangled from her left ear, contrasting the golden citrine and peridot green flecks of her glitterstim tainted, shimmer coated eyes.
Stretching in her seat, Kress grew tired of her solitary singalongs and set her work aside. She needed to move before her muscles cramped up on her, so the dainty little assassin scooted back her chair and meandered to the door. She left the music playing behind her, maring the silence of the temple for several turns in every direction. If the nearby residing sith had an issue, they could always bring it up to her. Of course, not many wanted the accompanying uneasiness that came with criticizing Kressara’s habits unless she took a shine to them, and even then you had to wonder if the woman would slip a wire around your neck just to prove she still could.
She never did follow through with a retaliation on the lower acolytes and operatives in the temple, but the thrill of giving them all a good reason to fear her was too good despite the drop in status from “apprentice of the dark lord of the sith” to “failed, masterless, washed up addict that the new dark lords somehow find amusing and useful enough to keep.”
Like a golden little sprite in flowing black prancing through the halls of the wicked temple, Kressara skipped down a flight of stairs into the central foyer and through the massive arches leading to the flight deck where the sun shone brightest. Warmth pooled over her chilled flesh and flushed her cheeks, collar bones, and shoulders, chasing away the cold of the thick stoney walls that once held her. Her ship, a skipray blastboat titled The Shyyyo sat along the strip among many other metal beasts reflecting the orange glare of a setting sun. She hoisted herself up the landing gear of her own vessel and climbed to the top where the heat of the suncooked metal could warm her back as she sprawled out to bask in the day’s last light.
Kressara Thryn was not living up to the typical expectations of a darksider. Acolytes of the temple, though fewer these days then in times past, trained in their spare time, or chose to meditate until they reached some new understanding of the force to please their masters. They sought to grow darker and darker in their natures every day and worked hard to sharpen their senses of cruelty against the whetstone wheels always turning in their minds. It was all a struggle for power amongst themselves, only to result in fewer rising to the top than a collective group of likeminded learners might have achieved together. It was all incredibly small minded and the games her fellow sith played were just too geared for the short term to hold her interest. It was the long game the masterless apprentice played for, one that would bring her power, funds, resources, and allies outside the reach of the sith. Why compete with pawns for the king, when you could find a lighter and burn the whole chess board, rooks, knights, queens and all? Never again would she play their games, but she would pretend to move the pieces to keep eyes on her works rather than her motives.
That said, Kressara was hard at work in her private chambers going over orders, lanes, tracking shipments worth intercepting, and sending correspondence to various “business partners”, all the while bobbing her head to music playing loudly in the walls of her room. Lyrics repeated, “I’m so ter-la-la-lalafied, terrified of the silence. I get so sa-la-la-la-, la-la-lasick of the silence, that I have to, I have to just scream! I don’t want to hear what’s deep inside of me.” to an upbeat riff. Traditional sith robes were nowhere to be found. Instead the humming glitbiter was dressed in a black, bohemian, gossamer gown with a necklace of crow feathers and golden coins laced around her throat by tanned leather straps. Similar lovelies wrapped once, twice, thrice around her wrists and ankles over sandaled feet. Her platinum blonde hair was getting a bit too long with tiny braids bound in brass clasps with yet more ink black feathers scattered about her tresses. A blood red gem earring dangled from her left ear, contrasting the golden citrine and peridot green flecks of her glitterstim tainted, shimmer coated eyes.
Stretching in her seat, Kress grew tired of her solitary singalongs and set her work aside. She needed to move before her muscles cramped up on her, so the dainty little assassin scooted back her chair and meandered to the door. She left the music playing behind her, maring the silence of the temple for several turns in every direction. If the nearby residing sith had an issue, they could always bring it up to her. Of course, not many wanted the accompanying uneasiness that came with criticizing Kressara’s habits unless she took a shine to them, and even then you had to wonder if the woman would slip a wire around your neck just to prove she still could.
She never did follow through with a retaliation on the lower acolytes and operatives in the temple, but the thrill of giving them all a good reason to fear her was too good despite the drop in status from “apprentice of the dark lord of the sith” to “failed, masterless, washed up addict that the new dark lords somehow find amusing and useful enough to keep.”
Like a golden little sprite in flowing black prancing through the halls of the wicked temple, Kressara skipped down a flight of stairs into the central foyer and through the massive arches leading to the flight deck where the sun shone brightest. Warmth pooled over her chilled flesh and flushed her cheeks, collar bones, and shoulders, chasing away the cold of the thick stoney walls that once held her. Her ship, a skipray blastboat titled The Shyyyo sat along the strip among many other metal beasts reflecting the orange glare of a setting sun. She hoisted herself up the landing gear of her own vessel and climbed to the top where the heat of the suncooked metal could warm her back as she sprawled out to bask in the day’s last light.
There is a place that hurts the most, but will I go there? I cannot climb, it's far below. I have to fall there.
Just another anarchist sith assassin wishing she'd grown crops instead.
Just another anarchist sith assassin wishing she'd grown crops instead.
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Yarkar Edetar
- Registered Member
- Posts: 90
- Joined: Sat Nov 20, 2021 6:41 pm
Re: A Returning Passion
Yarkar felt the ship slow down before beginning its descent. If there was one thing he trusted it was his droid pilot. He didn't know why, and he would never tell it, but he did trust it. During the descent he put on clothes more worthy of being possibly witnessed, rather than the practical wraps that he wore to train. He clothed himself in a long robe, cinching it tight around his waist and making sure with a few stretches that he was mobile within the clothes as he puts on a cloak. While the planet was clearly not cold, it hid him from the sun, and with how pale he was from a life indoors, protection from the sun was paramount to body temperature. It also helped to pull the hood over his head, while he was looking to get noticed, he never was keen on people seeing his scars. Marks of failure from before he was even a Sith, it was a source of shame despite the fact that no one could ever possibly know what they are from.
As he finished dressing, he sat down on his bed, staring at the mirror on the wall like he could wrestle it into submission with a glare. This battle of wits continued until he felt the ship land, in which he finally got up. He stands up, his boots clanging along the metal flooring as he opened his door. As the ship's exit lowers, he waits with little patience, tapping his foot before he can make his way down. The second that the exit touches the ground and is steadied, he practically marches out.
However, as his haste brought him out into the setting sun, he realized just how stupid this felt. He had been missing for quite a sizeable amount of time, what had changed? As the orange streaked across the sky, his soul was filled with hopeless thoughts. He wondered if he would even be allowed back. Where did he even have left to go if they didn't welcome him back? He gulped as he tried to physically swallow a younger Yarkar's thoughts deeper into his soul, but his thoughts just didn't fade. He simply takes a deep breath and continues, a bit slower now since he didn't even know what he planned to say. One cannot simply join the Sith with a "How do you do? Long time no see!"
He looks around, starting on his way towards the temple. He'd forgotten it's splendor, it was quite impressive, especially for growing up on a mining planet. The small wonders of the galaxy truly did fill a void in him that he never thought he had. However, it all ended when he saw her. Of all people to see first, it was Kressara. He glares her down before realizing that it is probably not the best idea to try and start fights this early. His mind was swimming with things, he was not even sure if anyone else he knew was even with the Sith anymore. Perhaps Kressara was his only way in, as much as he regretted the admission.
He reluctantly makes his way up to her as his mind struggles to think of a sentence to end ages of silence. However, he just couldn't find the words as he merely states, "Of all people to see first, any chance you remember me?"
As he finished dressing, he sat down on his bed, staring at the mirror on the wall like he could wrestle it into submission with a glare. This battle of wits continued until he felt the ship land, in which he finally got up. He stands up, his boots clanging along the metal flooring as he opened his door. As the ship's exit lowers, he waits with little patience, tapping his foot before he can make his way down. The second that the exit touches the ground and is steadied, he practically marches out.
However, as his haste brought him out into the setting sun, he realized just how stupid this felt. He had been missing for quite a sizeable amount of time, what had changed? As the orange streaked across the sky, his soul was filled with hopeless thoughts. He wondered if he would even be allowed back. Where did he even have left to go if they didn't welcome him back? He gulped as he tried to physically swallow a younger Yarkar's thoughts deeper into his soul, but his thoughts just didn't fade. He simply takes a deep breath and continues, a bit slower now since he didn't even know what he planned to say. One cannot simply join the Sith with a "How do you do? Long time no see!"
He looks around, starting on his way towards the temple. He'd forgotten it's splendor, it was quite impressive, especially for growing up on a mining planet. The small wonders of the galaxy truly did fill a void in him that he never thought he had. However, it all ended when he saw her. Of all people to see first, it was Kressara. He glares her down before realizing that it is probably not the best idea to try and start fights this early. His mind was swimming with things, he was not even sure if anyone else he knew was even with the Sith anymore. Perhaps Kressara was his only way in, as much as he regretted the admission.
He reluctantly makes his way up to her as his mind struggles to think of a sentence to end ages of silence. However, he just couldn't find the words as he merely states, "Of all people to see first, any chance you remember me?"
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Kressara Thryn
- Full Member
- Posts: 336
- Joined: Wed Feb 28, 2018 3:28 am
Re: A Returning Passion
The same coppery glow that colored Yarkar's pale skin bathed the flaxen sith atop her vessel, stretched out with all the relaxation of a vacationer on some resort moon. When footsteps climbing the Skipray Blastboat vibrated against her back, only to stop by her side, Kressara peaked out at the returning sith with one sunlit hazel open. The familiar shimmer of a glitbiter's tainted eyes sparkled in her vision. Her eyes had not yet turned the unnatural reddish yellow of a seasoned Darksider, but instead her extended use of glitterstim over the years had changed them in its own way. Kressara wouldn't actually know it yet, but she'd gone ever so slightly color blind and bright light looked all shimmery and warm through her eyes. Made the world a prettier place, really.
Recognize him? Kressara considered the man for a brief moment and answered with a leisurely hum.
"Hmmm... can't say that I do. Sorry."
That said, he WAS an unfamiliar face landing on the airstrip. She should probably do something about that, but the blackbird of the sith had never really been one for violence without due cause. Her slender frame bent upwards to sit on the palms of her hands, feathered cuffs rattling in the breeze that carried the scent of rose and incense off her skin. If ever there was a less sith like sith, she'd be impressed. Golden orbs looked the newcomer over before posing a question. "So then, who are you and should I be drawing a weapon, or showing you around?"
So as to not be prone should the new face decide to pounce for whatever reason, Kress hopped to her feet with a jingle of jewelry and a flurry of black fabric and dropped both ringed hands onto her hips in a passive stance. She was small for a sith warrior, only standing at about 5'2 and thin, but lithe, as if she'd been terribly unwell at one point in the not so distant past and began to slowly recover herself through better care. She waited calmly for his response and offered a disarmingly warm smile from her red stained lips.
Recognize him? Kressara considered the man for a brief moment and answered with a leisurely hum.
"Hmmm... can't say that I do. Sorry."
That said, he WAS an unfamiliar face landing on the airstrip. She should probably do something about that, but the blackbird of the sith had never really been one for violence without due cause. Her slender frame bent upwards to sit on the palms of her hands, feathered cuffs rattling in the breeze that carried the scent of rose and incense off her skin. If ever there was a less sith like sith, she'd be impressed. Golden orbs looked the newcomer over before posing a question. "So then, who are you and should I be drawing a weapon, or showing you around?"
So as to not be prone should the new face decide to pounce for whatever reason, Kress hopped to her feet with a jingle of jewelry and a flurry of black fabric and dropped both ringed hands onto her hips in a passive stance. She was small for a sith warrior, only standing at about 5'2 and thin, but lithe, as if she'd been terribly unwell at one point in the not so distant past and began to slowly recover herself through better care. She waited calmly for his response and offered a disarmingly warm smile from her red stained lips.
There is a place that hurts the most, but will I go there? I cannot climb, it's far below. I have to fall there.
Just another anarchist sith assassin wishing she'd grown crops instead.
Just another anarchist sith assassin wishing she'd grown crops instead.
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Yarkar Edetar
- Registered Member
- Posts: 90
- Joined: Sat Nov 20, 2021 6:41 pm
Re: A Returning Passion
"Honestly, I almost expected that of you. I'm Yarkar Edetar, a Sith formerly under the wing of Tormentous. I may have... slightly disappeared for a while, I honestly don't know how long. I do suppose you could draw a weapon if you would prefer it, but I would not be so ready to do so. After all, I do aim to return to the Order. I would much prefer the latter option."
He has a small smirk under his hood, the setting sun streaking the sky. He noticed the eyes, while he wasn't aware exactly the cause of those eyes, it was clear it wasn't the Force. That was good, she hopefully didn't surpass him by far in the meantime while he investigated the Force upon his own terms. The smile, though, the smile was unexpected. She seemed to honestly not know him, rather than merely having forgotten him. Surely that couldn't be it? Surely she would remember all of the times she had shown him up, all of the times that she had seemingly gloated at his failure. Could he possibly be that forgettable? He hid his true emotions as much as he could, burying them deep within his mind to bring forth that pitiable thought up when he needed to work with the Force again. After all, one could not simply pass up the opportunity to bottle anger and self-pity if it brings power.
There was, however, always a bright side to standing next to Kressara, she was shorter than him by a good margin. He got to look down upon her, like it was his true inheritance from his parents. After all, standing over her made her seem a lot less dangerous than he knew she was. He couldn't be bested time and time again by some pushover, after all. If he was going to be bested, it better be by the best acolyte out there.
He has a small smirk under his hood, the setting sun streaking the sky. He noticed the eyes, while he wasn't aware exactly the cause of those eyes, it was clear it wasn't the Force. That was good, she hopefully didn't surpass him by far in the meantime while he investigated the Force upon his own terms. The smile, though, the smile was unexpected. She seemed to honestly not know him, rather than merely having forgotten him. Surely that couldn't be it? Surely she would remember all of the times she had shown him up, all of the times that she had seemingly gloated at his failure. Could he possibly be that forgettable? He hid his true emotions as much as he could, burying them deep within his mind to bring forth that pitiable thought up when he needed to work with the Force again. After all, one could not simply pass up the opportunity to bottle anger and self-pity if it brings power.
There was, however, always a bright side to standing next to Kressara, she was shorter than him by a good margin. He got to look down upon her, like it was his true inheritance from his parents. After all, standing over her made her seem a lot less dangerous than he knew she was. He couldn't be bested time and time again by some pushover, after all. If he was going to be bested, it better be by the best acolyte out there.
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Kressara Thryn
- Full Member
- Posts: 336
- Joined: Wed Feb 28, 2018 3:28 am
Re: A Returning Passion
Judging by his response, the stranger now known to her as Yarkar Edetar seemed to be somewhat dissatisfied with her inability to recognize him. Try as she may, he continued to elude her memory. A wistful smirk cracked to one side of her pale cheeks, disrupting her doll-like appearance for something a tad more snarky.
"Yeah, you'd be right to. If we met last year, you saw me during a bender. I wouldn't remember you now if I tried. Anyways, it's a pleasure to be reacquainted. Kressara Thryn!" Though he stood high above her, enjoying it too, the compact little blonde stood with a lazy confidence that spoke without speaking, I don't need to be taller than you. Kress wiped the ship's dirt from her palm with a twinkle of bangles before jutting out her jeweled hand in greeting. Should he choose to shake her hand, she would do so graciously and without malice. "You must have been gone A WHILE, Yarkar. If you're Torm's apprentice, that is. I've known him for a couple years now...maybe three? Possibly four. I lost track myself."
Stepping around the taller sith, the bohemian dressed acolyte bounded down the side of her vessel with all the grace and leisure of a bird, landing in an effortless stance below.
Peering back over her bare shoulder, Kressara Thryn called, "I won't draw a weapon on you...the only sharp thing I'm armed with right now is a sense of humor. Come on then! I'll see about finding you a room and filling you in on recent happenings. You're not going to like the present state of things if you were loyal to Tormentous…"
Just like that? Really, Kress didn't even intend to bring him to Silas who acted in Torm's stead through pure thievery of the throne. However should the apprentice of Tormentous choose to seek out the current reigning sith lord, she'd accompany just to ensure their combined safety.
"Mind if we stop by my room first though? I would like to grab a few things I have to drop off at the armory."
"Yeah, you'd be right to. If we met last year, you saw me during a bender. I wouldn't remember you now if I tried. Anyways, it's a pleasure to be reacquainted. Kressara Thryn!" Though he stood high above her, enjoying it too, the compact little blonde stood with a lazy confidence that spoke without speaking, I don't need to be taller than you. Kress wiped the ship's dirt from her palm with a twinkle of bangles before jutting out her jeweled hand in greeting. Should he choose to shake her hand, she would do so graciously and without malice. "You must have been gone A WHILE, Yarkar. If you're Torm's apprentice, that is. I've known him for a couple years now...maybe three? Possibly four. I lost track myself."
Stepping around the taller sith, the bohemian dressed acolyte bounded down the side of her vessel with all the grace and leisure of a bird, landing in an effortless stance below.
Peering back over her bare shoulder, Kressara Thryn called, "I won't draw a weapon on you...the only sharp thing I'm armed with right now is a sense of humor. Come on then! I'll see about finding you a room and filling you in on recent happenings. You're not going to like the present state of things if you were loyal to Tormentous…"
Just like that? Really, Kress didn't even intend to bring him to Silas who acted in Torm's stead through pure thievery of the throne. However should the apprentice of Tormentous choose to seek out the current reigning sith lord, she'd accompany just to ensure their combined safety.
"Mind if we stop by my room first though? I would like to grab a few things I have to drop off at the armory."
There is a place that hurts the most, but will I go there? I cannot climb, it's far below. I have to fall there.
Just another anarchist sith assassin wishing she'd grown crops instead.
Just another anarchist sith assassin wishing she'd grown crops instead.
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Yarkar Edetar
- Registered Member
- Posts: 90
- Joined: Sat Nov 20, 2021 6:41 pm
Re: A Returning Passion
He decided to shake her hand. It was only the right thing to do when one greets another. If he had learned anything from his childhood it was etiquette, and it was interesting to be on good terms with her. She clearly did not remember him at all, but if she went on a bender for that long and apparently lost all of her memory, it was not out of particular malice. He almost felt sorry for her, his memories are exactly what calls the Force to him, he wondered if Kressara is having a trouble connecting with it after losing a period of time. He then realized he'd been lost in thought for a little bit too long, responding while trying to make it seem like he had been waxing philosophical in his mind rather than thinking about old times.
"Loyalties are difficult to decide, but I figured that a good number that I had known would be gone. I'm surprised you're still here Kressara, it's been awhile to say the least. I am curious about what you mean about being angry with the place, though. Did something happen to Tormentous while I was gone? In terms of our destination, I really am not in a position to be in a hurry now, am I? After all, what else am I supposed to do, wait like a lost puppy dog?"
Since she mentioned she was armed with her humor, he did warm up a little to her. She may have forgotten him, but at the very least she had information for him about happenings within the order and that was invaluable. Strength may win battles, but information wins wars. While he desired to have both, to try and bother displaying dominance and lose the other merely proves a lack of mental strength.
"Loyalties are difficult to decide, but I figured that a good number that I had known would be gone. I'm surprised you're still here Kressara, it's been awhile to say the least. I am curious about what you mean about being angry with the place, though. Did something happen to Tormentous while I was gone? In terms of our destination, I really am not in a position to be in a hurry now, am I? After all, what else am I supposed to do, wait like a lost puppy dog?"
Since she mentioned she was armed with her humor, he did warm up a little to her. She may have forgotten him, but at the very least she had information for him about happenings within the order and that was invaluable. Strength may win battles, but information wins wars. While he desired to have both, to try and bother displaying dominance and lose the other merely proves a lack of mental strength.
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Yarkar Edetar
- Registered Member
- Posts: 90
- Joined: Sat Nov 20, 2021 6:41 pm
Re: A Returning Passion
To Any Readers of this thread: This is a rewrite of the alt 2 application at the top, not a new post. Just putting that information here because this is temporally not supposed to be at this point in the thread
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Dromund Kaas, a jungle planet in Sith space. Yarkar had come here after a long search for himself. He wanted to find power as he traveled away from the Sith but found nothing but stagnation. He longed for the times when it seemed all he would do is learn, yet he could not return after so long having learned nothing. Surely, he would eventually find it, the one breakthrough he needed that would make him finally worthy of returning...
[Begin Control 2 App]
In the present, Yarkar awoke, a long time away having brought him closer to the Force, but further from power he sought. He had searched for what felt like eons to find more power but had only found a connection with something greater than himself. However, this morning was different. He felt a spark that he had not had in ages, a vision of a time now long since passed.
A Jedi, oh how time had passed since he had heard the word. The actual man's name further back still, but the memory was still clear. He grabs his saber, feeling the Force call to him once more as he ignites it, the crimson burning in hatred for the green he had seen that day. His rage permeated his body, and he felt the power of the Force in a single moment fill him again. The moment was ephemeral, but sweet. The single taste had brought him back into an age-old mindset. His eyes narrowed in the cave as the red tainted the light from the sunbeams as they grasped through the mouth of the cave, putting him on the edge between the pulsing red glow and the sunlight that woke him.
The memory washes over him while he feels the Force in him again, weaker now, less involved in the rage that he had woken into. Yet, its mere presence makes him aware of the world around him. The memory pulses in his head as he moves through the motions he made that day, every failed movement of his blade filling his head with the scolding voice of a former master. He felt the Force distort in his anger, his rage growing as he thinks of his every failure. Every single one worthy of judgement, and yet none were around to judge him but himself. His judgement was fierce, slashing into the stones of the cave, not doing much damage but its catharsis keeping him at a point where he could still think about what he was doing. This kind of connection felt rare to him, and he was not about to waste it on some raging cascade. He alters the flow of the Force around him, pulling it towards him. He grips the Force within him, feeling it slowly bend to his will as he contains it within himself.
He was a force to be reckoned with commanding the Force within him as he practically choked on the anger he commanded. Memories filling his mind with rage at everything except himself, and yet he still felt no pride. He had nothing to show for what he had done, but he had people to blame for what he failed in. He needed something to show for this, something worth what he had gone through. He quelled the sea of the Force within him, slowly jailing it in a cage made of his anger. He felt it in his every vein, every muscle twitching as it attempts to contain the power. He could feel his grip slipping as he attempted to command the heartbeat of the galaxy itself. His breaths felt short, his heart could not decide if it wanted to race or stop beating, his body buckled. He knew he could not contain the full power around him, and yet he still tried. His anger knew no bound, his disappointment in himself larger than what anyone could think of him. Finally, he caved, the Force disseminating into his surroundings from which he was pulling it. He coughs and retches as he feels his body reject what he just attempted to do. He knew it was foolish of him to try that, he was no master yet. Yet, he wanted so bad to have something worthwhile.
He once again pulled the Force towards him, much slower and much less this time, his anger simmering rather than boiling over. He flinched a little as he felt the power come to him, but it was not the overwhelming waves that it was prior. He focused in, instead of merely caging the Force in him, he worked to integrate it into his very self. He felt it come in with each breath, and even felt some leave with each exhale. He did not bother himself with power he could not handle, learning to control the Force not by collecting as much as he can, but controlling the power as it moves through him. Making it take less time to leave, forcing it to take long convoluted routes through his body as he felt a connection like he never had before start to grow within him.
[End Control 2 App]
[Begin Alteration 2 App]
Yet, when his focus was finally able to shift from the once tumultuous storm within, he notices where the energy comes from. He could feel it in the stones beneath his feet, in his saber, in his body. He sensed the life force of the local fauna, feeling them run away from the commotion as he reached out to the world and breathed in. It was strange, to feel a connection with everything, it brought with it a peace. It did not quell his anger, but it soothed his mind.
The memories faded, but his anger stayed. His mind able to focus in the moment. He had power through his rage, but he existed beyond it. He had escaped the pit he had fallen into, rising as he noticed he was no longer merely altering the Force but demanding it to kneel. He turns off his saber, returning him to the darkness deeper within the cave, only dim shapes from the scattered sunlight. However, in the sensory deprivation, it felt like he finally knew what he was "looking" at. He reaches out his hands, altering the flow of the Force again, but with his newfound targeted aggression. He knew he wasn't changing something tangible, but it felt like he was moving a great weight, demanding the Force around him to swirl, making intricate patterns that came to mind as he exerted control over the Force again. He felt like he was no longer a passive actor but a weight within the Force. The Force felt his influence and stretched, beyond simply forcing the energy to condense to himself. He smiled as he felt like he was making the Force buckle as much as it buckled him prior. Power bending to his whim. Suddenly there was something deeper at play than simple mastery.
He stretches further, trying to alter a large swath of the Force as he tries to push his luck. He senses the Force, then pushes with his anger. However, he could feel his anger fading, the taste of success poisoning his rage and letting his confidence overtake him. He tried harder and harder, the winding down of his mind leading only to more intrusive thoughts. The teachings of the Sith coming back to him, taught with an iron fist rather than with a gentle hand, he shrank down. In the face of the world, he caved. He could not reconcile with his lack of perfection, his self-hatred and self-pity mixing into a horrific stew in himself as he had to stop trying to push against the Force, barely keeping his composure. It felt like he was being watched, even though he was alone.
Yet, he was not broken yet, his tears streamed down his face as he took in a deep breath. He had a job to do, and he knew it was imperative to succeed. He stood up, cleaned off his face, and tried again. He focused all that negative emotion, all those thoughts, and for the first time thrust them from his mind. He impressed their weight among a large swath of the cave, making the Force shift slightly. He pressed onwards, determined to get more of a reaction out of the Force. He dredged more from beneath the surface, mining within his own mind for painful memories. The escape attempts from his parents that only ended in scars, the isolation within the plain walls of his room, the isolation he felt that his every attempt to succeed in the name of the Sith only worked when others aided him. Finally, he felt a measurable difference in what he was doing. He felt the Force buckle under the weight of the anger he placed upon it. After all, enough weight on any surface would eventually mold it to one’s will. While he could not be intricate with it, he figured that he could only improve in his ability as he practiced with it. He moved smaller areas and started to find exactly where his middle ground lies. He begins to find that he can only truly control much smaller areas, but in a middle ground he could push and pull the Force around, making it move to and from him. It only made him wonder what could be done with moving the Force, surely it could have a meaning beyond merely moving the intangible. Surely, he too could wield the Force like a weapon as that Jedi did against him all that time ago.
[End Alteration 2 App]
Finally, he was ready to return to the Sith, having won a victory over the Force and over himself, a vast achievement in his eyes, and something that would make them allow him back.
---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Dromund Kaas, a jungle planet in Sith space. Yarkar had come here after a long search for himself. He wanted to find power as he traveled away from the Sith but found nothing but stagnation. He longed for the times when it seemed all he would do is learn, yet he could not return after so long having learned nothing. Surely, he would eventually find it, the one breakthrough he needed that would make him finally worthy of returning...
[Begin Control 2 App]
In the present, Yarkar awoke, a long time away having brought him closer to the Force, but further from power he sought. He had searched for what felt like eons to find more power but had only found a connection with something greater than himself. However, this morning was different. He felt a spark that he had not had in ages, a vision of a time now long since passed.
A Jedi, oh how time had passed since he had heard the word. The actual man's name further back still, but the memory was still clear. He grabs his saber, feeling the Force call to him once more as he ignites it, the crimson burning in hatred for the green he had seen that day. His rage permeated his body, and he felt the power of the Force in a single moment fill him again. The moment was ephemeral, but sweet. The single taste had brought him back into an age-old mindset. His eyes narrowed in the cave as the red tainted the light from the sunbeams as they grasped through the mouth of the cave, putting him on the edge between the pulsing red glow and the sunlight that woke him.
The memory washes over him while he feels the Force in him again, weaker now, less involved in the rage that he had woken into. Yet, its mere presence makes him aware of the world around him. The memory pulses in his head as he moves through the motions he made that day, every failed movement of his blade filling his head with the scolding voice of a former master. He felt the Force distort in his anger, his rage growing as he thinks of his every failure. Every single one worthy of judgement, and yet none were around to judge him but himself. His judgement was fierce, slashing into the stones of the cave, not doing much damage but its catharsis keeping him at a point where he could still think about what he was doing. This kind of connection felt rare to him, and he was not about to waste it on some raging cascade. He alters the flow of the Force around him, pulling it towards him. He grips the Force within him, feeling it slowly bend to his will as he contains it within himself.
He was a force to be reckoned with commanding the Force within him as he practically choked on the anger he commanded. Memories filling his mind with rage at everything except himself, and yet he still felt no pride. He had nothing to show for what he had done, but he had people to blame for what he failed in. He needed something to show for this, something worth what he had gone through. He quelled the sea of the Force within him, slowly jailing it in a cage made of his anger. He felt it in his every vein, every muscle twitching as it attempts to contain the power. He could feel his grip slipping as he attempted to command the heartbeat of the galaxy itself. His breaths felt short, his heart could not decide if it wanted to race or stop beating, his body buckled. He knew he could not contain the full power around him, and yet he still tried. His anger knew no bound, his disappointment in himself larger than what anyone could think of him. Finally, he caved, the Force disseminating into his surroundings from which he was pulling it. He coughs and retches as he feels his body reject what he just attempted to do. He knew it was foolish of him to try that, he was no master yet. Yet, he wanted so bad to have something worthwhile.
He once again pulled the Force towards him, much slower and much less this time, his anger simmering rather than boiling over. He flinched a little as he felt the power come to him, but it was not the overwhelming waves that it was prior. He focused in, instead of merely caging the Force in him, he worked to integrate it into his very self. He felt it come in with each breath, and even felt some leave with each exhale. He did not bother himself with power he could not handle, learning to control the Force not by collecting as much as he can, but controlling the power as it moves through him. Making it take less time to leave, forcing it to take long convoluted routes through his body as he felt a connection like he never had before start to grow within him.
[End Control 2 App]
[Begin Alteration 2 App]
Yet, when his focus was finally able to shift from the once tumultuous storm within, he notices where the energy comes from. He could feel it in the stones beneath his feet, in his saber, in his body. He sensed the life force of the local fauna, feeling them run away from the commotion as he reached out to the world and breathed in. It was strange, to feel a connection with everything, it brought with it a peace. It did not quell his anger, but it soothed his mind.
The memories faded, but his anger stayed. His mind able to focus in the moment. He had power through his rage, but he existed beyond it. He had escaped the pit he had fallen into, rising as he noticed he was no longer merely altering the Force but demanding it to kneel. He turns off his saber, returning him to the darkness deeper within the cave, only dim shapes from the scattered sunlight. However, in the sensory deprivation, it felt like he finally knew what he was "looking" at. He reaches out his hands, altering the flow of the Force again, but with his newfound targeted aggression. He knew he wasn't changing something tangible, but it felt like he was moving a great weight, demanding the Force around him to swirl, making intricate patterns that came to mind as he exerted control over the Force again. He felt like he was no longer a passive actor but a weight within the Force. The Force felt his influence and stretched, beyond simply forcing the energy to condense to himself. He smiled as he felt like he was making the Force buckle as much as it buckled him prior. Power bending to his whim. Suddenly there was something deeper at play than simple mastery.
He stretches further, trying to alter a large swath of the Force as he tries to push his luck. He senses the Force, then pushes with his anger. However, he could feel his anger fading, the taste of success poisoning his rage and letting his confidence overtake him. He tried harder and harder, the winding down of his mind leading only to more intrusive thoughts. The teachings of the Sith coming back to him, taught with an iron fist rather than with a gentle hand, he shrank down. In the face of the world, he caved. He could not reconcile with his lack of perfection, his self-hatred and self-pity mixing into a horrific stew in himself as he had to stop trying to push against the Force, barely keeping his composure. It felt like he was being watched, even though he was alone.
Yet, he was not broken yet, his tears streamed down his face as he took in a deep breath. He had a job to do, and he knew it was imperative to succeed. He stood up, cleaned off his face, and tried again. He focused all that negative emotion, all those thoughts, and for the first time thrust them from his mind. He impressed their weight among a large swath of the cave, making the Force shift slightly. He pressed onwards, determined to get more of a reaction out of the Force. He dredged more from beneath the surface, mining within his own mind for painful memories. The escape attempts from his parents that only ended in scars, the isolation within the plain walls of his room, the isolation he felt that his every attempt to succeed in the name of the Sith only worked when others aided him. Finally, he felt a measurable difference in what he was doing. He felt the Force buckle under the weight of the anger he placed upon it. After all, enough weight on any surface would eventually mold it to one’s will. While he could not be intricate with it, he figured that he could only improve in his ability as he practiced with it. He moved smaller areas and started to find exactly where his middle ground lies. He begins to find that he can only truly control much smaller areas, but in a middle ground he could push and pull the Force around, making it move to and from him. It only made him wonder what could be done with moving the Force, surely it could have a meaning beyond merely moving the intangible. Surely, he too could wield the Force like a weapon as that Jedi did against him all that time ago.
[End Alteration 2 App]
Finally, he was ready to return to the Sith, having won a victory over the Force and over himself, a vast achievement in his eyes, and something that would make them allow him back.
-
Kressara Thryn
- Full Member
- Posts: 336
- Joined: Wed Feb 28, 2018 3:28 am
Re: A Returning Passion
When her handshake was met with like intent, a slight widening of Kressara’s already permanent smile warmed her features. For someone who came on so strong, he was starting to act a little less like a scorned rival and a little more like a sensible young man. It better suited him, though Kressara could very easily return gall for venom, she preferred to laze about and converse calmly these days rather than pick fun at the younger acolytes. Even so, she did have a reputation to uphold lest the whole temple think it wise to jump at her back. Occasionally, Kressara did have to show some teeth and remind the lot that while she was technically on their level or even below standard in her force training, her experience as an assassin and a budding cartel leader far surpassed the majority. The girl was a killer, even if she better liked naps in the sun and showing a returning student the ropes.
Their footsteps echoed through the great stone halls of the temple and Kress answered with a bright tone, “Don’t worry, I won’t be long. I just need to pick up a few weapons to hand off for repair. The last couple missions weren’t gentle on my gear. If you have anything you need worked on yourself, might as well turn it in with mine. The blacksmith can be a bit touchy with new recruits and he’s likely to assume you’re fresh off the line.” He also happened to have a particular dislike for Kressara due to her addictions and social standing among the sith, but he knew better than to give her too much trouble.
“So, for starters something DID happen to Tormentous while you were gone...well, you and I both. While I was away, Tormentous apparently up and vanished without a trace, leaving behind his other apprentice and an empty throne. Silas Karn took the throne in his absence without contest and now he’s leading the sith in a revised direction.” Kressara looked back at Yarkar sympathetically and noted, “So you see, your appearance now could provoke either Silas, Kita, or anyone following Silas that might feel disdain towards those who trained under the missing lord. It happened to me when my former-” there was a noticeable pause as Kressara attempted to discern the right term to describe her relation to the late lord Blood. “-lord. My former lord, Blood, was dethroned and cast into the nothingness of space.”
Anger heated her blood at the mention of the man. She could not call him a master, for she learned nothing of value under his tutelage. Kressara was nothing more than a trophy to the presumably dead lord and for all the adoration she felt back then, she hated him bitterly now.
“If it were not for Tormentous, I might have been cast out from the Sith and hunted myself. So, in the tradition of his kindness, I’ll just have to make sure you’re not rejected.”
The pair came to a door like all the others, but inside of the room music played loudly, some items of comfort decorated the furniture, and varieties of bioluminescent plant life that didn’t need sunlight to thrive hung in jars from the ceiling. The room smelled of rose incense and something earthy. On her bed sat an open crate stacked full of broken and dulled vibroblades, razor sharp disks, and damaged pieces of plate armor. It looked like more than just a few things that needed mending, but more like a small armory in disrepair. Surprisingly enough, she could lift the box on her own and carry it out of the room without help.
“Alright, onward! So then, any questions? Anything you need?”
Their footsteps echoed through the great stone halls of the temple and Kress answered with a bright tone, “Don’t worry, I won’t be long. I just need to pick up a few weapons to hand off for repair. The last couple missions weren’t gentle on my gear. If you have anything you need worked on yourself, might as well turn it in with mine. The blacksmith can be a bit touchy with new recruits and he’s likely to assume you’re fresh off the line.” He also happened to have a particular dislike for Kressara due to her addictions and social standing among the sith, but he knew better than to give her too much trouble.
“So, for starters something DID happen to Tormentous while you were gone...well, you and I both. While I was away, Tormentous apparently up and vanished without a trace, leaving behind his other apprentice and an empty throne. Silas Karn took the throne in his absence without contest and now he’s leading the sith in a revised direction.” Kressara looked back at Yarkar sympathetically and noted, “So you see, your appearance now could provoke either Silas, Kita, or anyone following Silas that might feel disdain towards those who trained under the missing lord. It happened to me when my former-” there was a noticeable pause as Kressara attempted to discern the right term to describe her relation to the late lord Blood. “-lord. My former lord, Blood, was dethroned and cast into the nothingness of space.”
Anger heated her blood at the mention of the man. She could not call him a master, for she learned nothing of value under his tutelage. Kressara was nothing more than a trophy to the presumably dead lord and for all the adoration she felt back then, she hated him bitterly now.
“If it were not for Tormentous, I might have been cast out from the Sith and hunted myself. So, in the tradition of his kindness, I’ll just have to make sure you’re not rejected.”
The pair came to a door like all the others, but inside of the room music played loudly, some items of comfort decorated the furniture, and varieties of bioluminescent plant life that didn’t need sunlight to thrive hung in jars from the ceiling. The room smelled of rose incense and something earthy. On her bed sat an open crate stacked full of broken and dulled vibroblades, razor sharp disks, and damaged pieces of plate armor. It looked like more than just a few things that needed mending, but more like a small armory in disrepair. Surprisingly enough, she could lift the box on her own and carry it out of the room without help.
“Alright, onward! So then, any questions? Anything you need?”
There is a place that hurts the most, but will I go there? I cannot climb, it's far below. I have to fall there.
Just another anarchist sith assassin wishing she'd grown crops instead.
Just another anarchist sith assassin wishing she'd grown crops instead.