" Call me 'Devil' "

[Slade Xandir]

She led them to a futon, velvet brown and torn on the underside left heap of stuffing, cotton seeming to reach out and try and touch the floor to get away from this mess. It was a  mess of a seating arrangement, but luckily Blood wasn’t a picky sitter. It was also a very close range place for them to whisper sweet nothings to eachother. Well, him, to her. He was more than likely plotting how many ways she could try to flay the skin from his face.

“ I need you to do something for me, Zafina.” he began.

Of course the automatic response from the Zeltronian woman was a firm and immovable “ No.”

Blood gained nothing but irritation from her stubbornness. She was being narrow-minded, not even bothering to find what it was he needed. And more he delved into something he shouldn’t have touched in the first place…
The Dark Side.

“I know it was wicked how I left you, Zaffy, but I had to. I had to leave the Corvo’s. I was framed, and they were going to kill me. If they would have known what we had, they would have used you to get me. So I had to.”

Push away the pain, erase it from your brain,

“ Fake it like you love me, come on baby, touch me.”

Show me where it hurts, this dirty little curse.

She bit her tongue, refusing to finish the song they both knew too well. She pulled her telepathic hand from his unshielded mind, her attempts to find him hiding something proving futile. He was being honest. Atleast as far as what he wanted.

“ What, S?! What do you want!” the Zeltronian shouted at him, tears already threatening their showstop down the runway of supple red cheeks.

Blood leaned forward, scarred hands picking up the both of hers. It was amazing how warm she was, and that was without the passion of lust between them, this time. It was soft how he returned his response to her. “ I want you to mother my children, Zaf. But I don’t want to put you through the agony of raising them inside of you.”

Those pretty eyes of hers widened, and she tried to pull away from his now tightened grasp. Shaking her head, she outright began more denial.

It was then his irritation grew to be too much. The distance between the pair was crossed as he scooted forth with unnatural speed. And it was nothing but a blink for him to lash himself forward and place his lips a hairs breadth away from her own. Time stopped everywhere, it seemed, as her fear and needs brewed in a toxic sludge of the most pungent perfume a man could fall victim to. He was immune to her powers, but Slade, that mortal who cared just a little, just a wee bit, was enough to keep him from snapping her neck.

The lights that were on around them began the torture of losing their own life, dimming as he sucked them dry of their energy. Their breath was near cut off, only just, as he set the stage. Women needed lighting to set their moods, as did directors. Theater required work, and if he were to wanting her to commit as he did to her once, he would need to do so, again.

The scent in her aura was shook with fear as she watched him manipulate her home without moving from his spot. He released his grip on her hands as he teased a series of finger tips up the neck of her soft, unmoving arms. She did not move, something just as powerful as her own ploys returning on her to steal her breath away. Her own medicine of seduction was just as believable when someone turned the tides on her, as he did now.
And her mind wandered to more enjoyable things she could have with him.
The timing was perfect.

His other arm slid to the other side of the couch, holding her captive to where she sat. The electrical current was shared between the two as he cupped the side of her face with oddly gentle hands.

“ Everyone who tells you to move on has not shared what we have. And for trying to, I am disappointed in you. But there is no remedy for memory, and I live every night wanting what we had, Zafina. I want you to be waiting on the other side for me, something magical that we can make happen. The family we were meant to have…”

His voice trailed off, and the Pied Pied sang her a song, deep and far away as he crawled through her ear and into her heart.

[ Illusion Start]

Memories sparked up everything he needed to paint her a picture she couldn’t deny. She had every tool he could ever want. Feelings created the colors, and how she remembered him as a child, as he remembered her those long years ago. He placed her where she had always waited for him after lunch in the ‘Chen, him leaving the Chow Hall and fast trotting to sneak off with her behind the doors of a utility closet. How, in her dreams, every time she closed her eyes, she was wrapped back in the dark paradise of how his lips felt against hers, how far it was till the sun rose the next day and when they could do it again. He would wear her colors in his suit, taking her knit of pretty scarlet and black diamonds to wear as good luck in his Suit, just underneath his coat to warm right over his heart. His good luck charm, her love.

Years passed on the forefront of her eyes, and with what she knew, he gave her a dream, selling her the wonderful end of era where they served others, where things felt good, tasted good, and was all theirs. They were walking gracefully in one of the most beautiful hallways ever crafted in palaces, and she turned to be face to face with her lover, her best friend, her husband. Slade Xandir, a man many lusted for but had nothing to drive him to chase them. Nothing could chase him from his love for Zafina, and their love was what bloomed many wonderful fortunes.
One of those fortunes was a child. A wonderful child, a hybrid of man and Zeltron, beautiful in all of its right, a baby girl. Gorgeous she was with her golden eyes, searing red flushed skin and thick locks of black hair. A whimsical girl she was, always playing and joking with her parents, friends, and anyone else who came across her path.

Zafina hitched high a breath, being taken by surprise at the vivid detail. She radiated majorly her longing to have a dream life this fulfilled. She leaned towards the image he put before her, unable to resist to touch the child who turned to look her dead in her eye.

“Hey Mommy!” little Lilith squeaked out, bell chime tones of innocence ringing deep into the mind of the submitting Zeltronian woman. Tears came to the forefront of her gaze as she watched the bound to the side of the woman in the illusion before her, a happy youthful Zafina who held hands with the very man identical to who she sat beside. She wanted the family that the girl in front of her, had. She wanted it badly, and her emotions were written all over her face. She watched the family walk back deep inside of the palace, door shutting and resounding through the small home of hers as if it were one of her own. The sounds of merry laughing and gay festivities faded from the ears of both listeners as he finished his show for her. He did hold his breath, as it was difficult to summon the images from the intrusive hold he had over her mind, but the creative pieces he had to throw together took even more effort than expected though it was less than the prior strain. He was a thinker, and if there was anything worth him doing, it was coming up with a telling tale that would enrapture the attention of prey. His hold of her doleful mind was easier as she wanted to believe it was more than just a dream, a memory, a desire.

Now for her to see how deep this rabbit hole really goes.

[end of Illusion App] [612/500]

[Slade Xandir]

Blood arrived to a moon who's existence none of peasant nature or lowly born income, would know even the whisper of it's name. Sojourn, or "The Hunter's Moon". Well, what was left of the moon, anyways. Docking off from a wrecked Landing Deck, the Sith Lord was accompanied by 4 Kaminoans, 2 Arkanians, and all 6 Amaran Beast Masters that had worked under him in his illegal dealings of exotic animals. Two of the Amarans were holding a pair of Pylat Birds, white and black speckled plumage a bright controversies against the dark background of the planet.

The planet had undergone a nuclear attack centuries prior to the current date, and though the damage was clearly done through the hubris and debris that lay decaying across the muted horizon, the moon had visibly attempted repairing itself. The temperatures of the moon was equal to what they had been in the past, if not a bit hotter through the trapped warming effects by the intact atmosphere. Heat and added portions of the evaporated moisture kept the planet humid, which aided in the restorative habits of the recuperating moon. The smell of returning plant life hung high in the air, and this gave hopes to the party.

Turning to the Sithian Beast Master, one of the Kaminoans brought back the reality of the situation. "Are you sure this place will be suitable for the efforts, Mr. X? Billions of credits are being invested in this endeavor on all of our behalves in the name of this project."

The Arkanian, a professor of the Arkanian Institute of Biochemical Manipulation, and his protégée both turned to 'Mr.X' who stayed facing the expanse of the blighted planet. It took a few seconds for him to gather his patience for the response that followed. "Mr. Ferdk, this place is not only a wonderful example of natural law and adaptation, but a prestige nest for the rekindling of a base only the worthy of our stature would be allowed access to. Imagine how much fame you would herald if you revived this antique moon, and rebirthed it to be the fortune rich cascade it once was?"

Slade had worked with Kaminoans before, and his current project, the child he was anticipating from Zafina, was being crafted by her tutelage under their race. They were crisp in their affairs, but the privileged aliens were a proud race when it came to their cloning abilities. To only increase their fame through demonstrating the very thing they were known for only elated their worry and egos by lightyears. To imagine it as he told them, it sent wonder and inspiration up and down the tendrils of their minds. Even the Arkanians felt compelled to follow through with the previously discussed plan; to bring Sojourn back to it's regal state. Project Xenful.

Blood turned to the left set of Aramans, his tone taking a more whimsical lilt, as though his next action entertained even himself.

"Roh, Mynxis, release the Pylats. They will show where there homes lie if none of you believe me."

Pylats were primarily domestic birds, so if they explored and found the moon unsuitable for them, they would return to their handlers. If they didn't, then the ruse was a success.

The pair of Armans hefted the captive birds skywards after they unclicked the leashes from their ankles. Both salt and pepper sheathed birds took to the heavens, circled their location and sung their communications to each other.
Blood turned his face from the group and faced where the sun showed it's peek of dawn over the horizon. It was known Pylats preferred the mountains, the mounds of stone and earth that kept heat trapped for them to warm themselves through the nights. It was instinct that drove them to seek this geological scape, but they had no clue where to start.
Luckily for the birds, and unbeknownst to the group, Blood was well acquainted with ways around the natural law.

[Sense lv. 3 App]

His hands clasped behind him as he kept his posture still. With this, he inhaled a breath and reached his mind to a calming solace of quiet, silencing the never ending crescendo of maddening tasks or philosophies the Hunter' s thoughts ranged from. It was a tedious ordeal, sorting all of the sounds and pushing them away, but the element of Control quickened the practice.

The Wolf lifted his head to the pair of circling birds, and his golds focused on the pair. In his chest, the keen feelings of the flaps scored gently against the Force. He could feel the currents of air being raised and lowered through the clawed wings of the pretty avians, and it was then that he chose to close his eyes, as he had all he needed: A direct connection to the birds. Their Force threads were close enough to his owns, and with an easy and mastered snatch, he grabbed the lines of loyalty to the Pylats. Within their connection, a dueled grasp of confusion and scant lostness, Blood coursed through their bond searing needs of homesickness, otherworldly and fierce. The Pylats were aroused in this waterfall of unknown and sudden tide change, but their own understanding came to be as they widened their circle, circuit by circuit, until they no longer hover just over the group.

Next, Blood took his wit and paired the birds in opposite tangents, filling each's heart with urges of belonging, simply to keep them in their places, and holding on tight, he took them to higher and more serious altitudes. Doing this gave him a higher range of land to look upon as they rose. He was straining himself as he operated two different brains at once, but the thing he could rely on relieving him of the majority of the pressure was keeping the committed actions between him and the pets in synchronization. If one chose to act differently than the other and he lost grip on it, it would spook the second, and the plan would foil.

He focused a more decided direction in the birds, and turned both heads to where the sun had woken from it's own slumber. The avians felt hopeful in the ridges that grew near, but celebration was far from here. Blood saw through their own thought processes, as his complex way of understanding melded with the more simple version of the Pylats'. With what they collected through their own retinas, the sights combined from both were fueling the decryption Blood was hashing together. Almost like a map generation made from sonar, Blood felt what they saw in a way, the conviction of what their own minds deemed and deciphered decent and respectable landscapes, possible 'homes' for their nests being enough to paint an image in the Beast Master's own mind. Like a sonar, he collected both sights from the birds, feeling them as his two pairs of eyes soared above the biome.

The terrain, once lush and crisp with greens and verde pastures, some that were harbors for forests, and the edges that decided to rise over the sea level, giving birth to mountains. He could visually feel the scarred dirt, loam that seethed for years in nuclear dust, only for water and lasting minerals to breath that hint of green that preyed on the rays of the rising sun. Little patches of wild returned, minute and fragile, but persevering and apparent. The oxygen released from them gave weight to the minds of the Pylats, the birds whos own inhalations of the fresh and healthy budding air reflected in the relaxed relish of Blood's own lungs. Delicate those paths of foliage were, but they were alive, and that was what satisfied Blood, and in turn the avians he mentally commanded.

Each spreaded meter and mile away from Blood brought an increase of pressure to his skull and more tightness in his chest, each breath a millisecond shorter than the last. He could feel the familiar sting of that vile decadence slithering from his tear ducts, the sweet liquid that was more viscous and wickedly tinted than what a simple tear had to offer. That blood droplet slid down the soft layer of his cheek, motioning inwards as he breathed in its metallic succulence. An overwhelming sensation to cease all communication with the world to just taste the treat, a single lick of the scarlet serpent hit him with a near nauseas wave. His knees shook, but he hid the perception through utter willpower as he summoned his mastery of Control, yet again. The assault of senses let him as he rekindled his mind's eye on the sight of the birds.

They hummed a song of excitement as they neared the mountainous region of the moon. It was here, they sang, that their lives could begin anew. Each raised and lowered pinch of their pitch scaled the spine of Blood, the chills warming to the melody they blessed the skies with. Being nothing else on the planet to make noise or distort the music other than the muted chatting of the watching team he brought, the ornate bliss silenced them once the Pylats spoke. Blood couldn't hear what they were saying, as his concentration was fully invested in the birds. The vibrations behind him had him guess voices were becoming, the observant scientists and other tamers impressed and awed through the choice Mr. X committed to. Bu they all awaited that final song, the one the Pylats, through Blood's manipulation, were going to sing soon.

The air grew tighter in his chest as the Pylats soared ever higher upon reaching the crests of the mountains. This moment would either make or break a 8 billion credit deal, and the competitive businessman sect of him was determined to see it through.
The pair were brought closer when circling the coned girth of the peak, Blood pulling the leashes nearer and nearer to eahother, until the birds flew unified in the other pattern. Wing tips touched, the light wafts dancing across the fingertips of Blood's own hands. The Hunter was so immersed that it felt he too, was flying with these birds. Their hauntingly beautiful music stopped as they were steered to the cleft that was wrenched deeply in the side of the mountain. Their interest peaked and diving, they swooped easy strokes to land.
This was crucial.

Immediately Blood went to work, harder than he was previously. This was the safest haven from the impact of the nuclear explosion so many decades ago, so this harbored no genetically altering radiation. The Sithian took the sights of both animals and used them once more to inspect what lay around them, just for his sake. The cliff held promise for the pair, the marvelous warmth falling deliciously on snowy plumage. The breeze was successful, easy enough to relieve them of any excess heat, but powerful enough to nourish their gaits in the air as they left from such altitudes. Enough greenery was around to sate the appetites any microcosms that fed on them, which in turn would bring forth the revival of a number of imported species who found the environment suitable. On them, the Pylats would dine, with the other variety of things available, like berries and such that were to be imported as well.
Blood pulsed into the minds of the birds, deeper and deeper until he could feel truly what they felt. Those fragile hearts that pumped warm blood through finicky bodies. What did their hearts tell him?
They sat for seconds, minutes as he remained idle in his commands. They felt nothing internally, nothing giving them the confidence they shared before. And turning to each other, Blood felt the two paired birds lay eyes on the other. Both commenced to waddle closer to each other, lavish feathers tickling the others chest plumes. The bosoms felts over the partner's, and the Pylats began their nuzzling. It was primal what they felt, what Blood felt, but he knew they were testing the waters of each other next.

He kept careful hands on each of the bird's minds, his eyes watchful while they did the ritual that would either solidify their trust in each other, or force another search. They were territorial birds, so if one took this as a roost, then who was to say the other would have a place to go?
Blood's nose itched as they brought themselves close and rubbed beaks, contesting the other, teasing and playing. His neck arched as his head was brought back, both birds turning their expressive crowns to the clouds, the clouds of this moon that they chose...
to be their home.

Much weight was released from the mind of Blood as he felt the threads between he and the avians caressed with the vibrations only the lucky would be able to both feel and hear; the song of a happy Pylat Pair. They sealed their courting with the song that brought ecstasy to the entire group, a mind-numbing peace that was garnished with a near magical mint of peace, the feeling all was right in this desolant moon, that this moon had a future. It was sent viciously through the pained cells of Blood, filling him with the blanket of security, that he was on land that was meant to be prized, cherished, for the Pylats had deemed it so. And it was only until the duet closed with a promise of peace and love, that Blood released his grasp on the birds and slaved his mind back to himself.

Returning to his own body was a strange occurrence, as it felt much different than the bodies and minds of the birds. The air had a more industrialized tinge to it, and his body felt heavy, almost bothersome to him. The replays of how free the life of a bird was, they replayed over and over, almost making him wish to reconnect with the birds, just to do it again.
But he held the pleasure off as he turned himself to address the group.

[End of Sense 3 App] [1682/1000 wc]

"Well, it seems the birds have spoken on the potential prosperity of this moon; What say you all?" he silked out while wiping the frayed garnet that dried in his face. The party all turned to him, and while the one spoke, the other Kaminoan put away the recording device he needed for sound replication.

"It has been unanimously agreed upon, Mr. X. This will truly be worth it if the picky Pylats praise this rock. We will begin cloning whatever fauna and flora you and your Arkanian company want to permeate Sojourn."

The Arkanian professor replied, his eager words giving them all a boost in how important this discovery was.

"Any that are not suitable, we will personally take the time to rework their DNA in trials to ensure their survival here."

"Wonderful. Let us get to work, then." He ended with a pleased smile.

[Slade Xandir]

The sounds that had triggered his awakening were the muted sounds of a hissing airlock release, the landing gear of his Dominator touching down on the Outer Rims territory, one moon whose lavish life was cut short by a nuclear attack many, many years ago. Sojourn, or “The Hunter’s Moon” as it was once referred to, was a place where decadence and the rich came for lofty retreat from the ‘hard’ life they lived. Politicians, investors, successful marketeers, any and all who had the right amount of credits to their name could come and enjoy relaxing on the perfectly elegant planet.

This was Slade’s project, Xenful as he labeled it, though Blood saw how opportunistic this endeavor was. More credits could be brought in through the revival of this moon, and with those, they could be donated to the rightful owner of this Rim; Tormentous, and the Red Cauldron. Increase in production of weapons, more training for recruits and warriors, making of better equipment, any and all were up for grabs with the pull in of this credits mine, and both Blood and Slade were eager to see the finish product. As Blood was for the currency to support the Sith, Slade was interested in bringing the moon to ripening for an entirely different reason. As his family’s home planet was Alderaan, the man never got to experience the birth home he deserved. Instead, he was reared across the crimed streets of Nar Shadaa, both a murderer of his mother, stepfather, and little sister, while being inducted into the crime family The Corviones. It wasn’t something he deserved, he felt, as he was from a planet of beauty, of wisdom, and despite his current state in life, he saw many things from a view that many Sith did not.

After multiple connections, research and meet-ups with other surviving Alderaanians, he pieced together so much of himself into his heritage just from the basics of what he had learned.
Once the door and release ramp bore down across grass and loam patched ground, Slade took the time to remember his findings, as they seemed to bring him the serenity to combat the inner mess of what lurked in both his head, and his heart.

The Wolf walked down the ramp and brought the article of appearance to mind, his tendency to keep his hair worn long, though particular styles were not his forte, was a subtle indication of his culture, unbeknownst to him until he learned of the Alderaanian custom of such for most of the male population. He also found his personal interests finer than those of basics, preferring to teach others, to learn as much as possible, to spread wisdom without the need for bloodshed. To enjoy fruits, wine, to keep a ‘better man’ stature as he passed through every phase of situation that leapt either at his position or his throat. He was humble, but only to who deserved such a gift. Only one had met such a level, and as he was fine with that, there was so much more to such a complicated relationship he shared with the Darth.
Such as why he was still trying to figure why he hadn’t given any let up on his project to that very Darth, just yet.

Slade followed his heart through the newborn greenery, accompanied by Mercy and Fox, both who flanked him today in this early morning. Mercy was silent as she took in the surroundings, her face darkened by the shield of hair she kept parted to show only a single eye on her fair face. That hazel scanned everything, from the newly erected science bases to the trees that were being transported across the far-lands for implantation. Fox took a faster gait to catch up with Slade who was just enjoying the walk as it was.

“ And this is the moon you’re tryin’ ta reface as what planet, again?”

Slade smiled only briefly as the name skipped directly to his tongue, a leap into the air, and rang out with a shimmer of renown regality.

“Alderaan.”

The chestnut pelted man nodded as it stuck with him this time, then responded. It sounded more like it was meant for just himself, but Slade heard it with a pleased contempt.

“It’s well on the green line, damn near hittin’ it. A mint, it’ll be, I bet.”

Slade took them to the pasture that was being saved for building the first park, the land being remodeled for cities not far off. Sounds of machinery being operated was a few miles away, but the tall trucks were visible if one peered into the western edge of the land. A couple more steps towards the mountains, and he picked the spot to call them to camp. Between the two, Slade took a deep breath and chose his words as his mentor had; precisely and without hidden messages.

“Sense, Alteration, and Control will all be influenced in this session. As it has been too long where we have had training other than sparring, I will not let you be insufficient in the 3 most important things that separate us from basic grunts. We are better than them, and under the grace of choice by Tormentous, we will always be. But we must want it, crave it, dominate those teachings. So that is something we will approach with earnest today.”

He moved away a bit from them, then turned to face them. A triangle, the shape they studied in when it came to concentrating.

“Do not close your eyes. Let your senses be the catalyst to channel your powers in the Force. Let the moon be your workplace, full of tools that only need your influence. Find your element today, and harness it in a manner of power. Grow, as the grass you stand on. Be fluid as the water which nourishes it. Be fierce as the sun which gives life to it all.”

For a man who was not one of many words, Slade loved teaching. But something which rubbed off on him was Tormentous’ methods, first presenting the situation, explaining it, and challenging the student to not only excel or fail, but to learn from both outcomes. He was not above learning, himself, so with all unity, he closed his eyes just as the other two had before him.


[Level 8 App]

His focus was scattered, as his senses were bouncing from the scents around him to the sounds that ricocheted across from him, the filtering of light through shut eyelids. His senses, though he reveled in their perception, he knew fully needed to be controlled so he could return to a more precise state of mind. Slade felt deeply within his chest, falling until he felt stability, a base he could ground himself on. Taking hold of his experience within the sector of Control, he contorted his webs of Senses within the Force to be less of a haphazard mess, and straightened several things out. First, his sense of scent was going to trained to hone in on something specific, something he had never tried before. Earlier he had noticed a patch of Starflowers that he had genetically spliced and transported for the moon. The blue blossoms were both beautiful and smelled of something so heavenly, many Alderaanians were sworn to have them not only in their yards, but in their homes. Perfumes were made of this gorgeous bud, and Slade trialed himself to find and stay with the scent.

He expanded his power, sense flooding the expanse of land where they had previously walked, and Slade came across a variety of smells. Plenty of things crossed his pursuit, but before long, the Wolf had found the hint of Starflower that beckoned to any and all who had noses. Once he had found the pungent flora, he made effort to rid his sense of every other scent. The sweet, earthy scent of the dirt which held the flowers, the robust calling of conifers that were meant to bring both oxygen and homes for animals and aliens alike, and the natural linger of other scents were sent away, one by one. Every breath he pulled in was dimmer with what was unwanted, and his mind focused on the blossoms of the flowers he wanted to challenge himself with. The Master Tamer took in air over and over again until all he knew was the flower, over and over again until he could taste that flower on the top of his tongue, the essence of the Starflower running through both of his lungs, courting each molecule of oxygen with that delicate wisp of wonder and pleasure.

After Slade completed his test, he launched into Alteration, though his approach was more subtle as he took a miniscule approach. His mind wandered through the loam beneath them, around them, until he found exactly what it was he was looking for; a single grass seed. With the elements he came to have control over, he took his own lesson he handed to his Apprentices to practice. With the seed, Slade felt how it was still in hibernation. Through the shell that cupped the sleeping seed, he saw it was not awakened as it was too far low from the warmth of the sun, though it had ample reservoirs of underground water to sate any thirst from. Slade took it upon himself to bring the seed up a slight bit, where heat would warm the shell of the seed to the core. Jostling the seed, his forehead scrunched from the effort as he pushed aside each individual speck of dirt that he knew was too hard for the seed to break through. Crushing some and moving others, the concentrating Sith brought airways for both insulation and circulation for the incubation of the seed. The man felt chemical changes seconds later, the seed feeling the difference of environment, something more suitable for it to burst forth with life. It released different pressure both within itself, which gave it a completely different aura within the Force. It would take a day, if not half of time for the seed to commence its complete evolution, but it was now made sure to happen.

Slade released his focus on the seed and was pleased with how far he had some to his mastery over the Force. But with the pleasure came the pain as Blood sought to snatch this moment from him. ’Weak’ Slade heard echo in the folds of his mind. It was clear Blood strove for more than just making grass grow and sniffing out flowers, but he wrestled for the spotlight in this part of time. To return to the duties needed to be done on Moraband, to train physically, to kill anything, anything better than this hippie experience.
Anything to makes Slade lose control.

Too determined to enjoy his day, to relish the comfort this moon had to offer him, the experience of his ‘home away from home’, Slade would not relinquish his power right now. For this, Slade opened his eyes, golds locking on the land beyond his pupils as he felts himself weaving a new web. This web was underneath the skin, deep within the mind. Control. He reinforced the web with his own indignation at Blood’s attempts, his knowing of locking things away mentally forbade Blood from having anything else to torture him with. The beauty of the moon, the evergreen grass that promised a future of unending meals for wildlife, the trees who took their duty of bringing a firm and sturdy notice of how the air was plentiful, healthy, and recovering from the unjust life Sojourn suffered years ago. The Pylats who sung their melody of happiness in this land that gave them hope for a plentiful future not just for themselves, but for the young they had safely tucked within the crags of the mountains skimming the horizon. Slade used all of the harmony this land had to offer, bolstering his Control of the situation that Blood had no place in. It was painful as Blood sneered at the efforts, pushed and fought back. The Wolf summed his efforts with the totality of his knowledge, his understanding of the natural laws that ran strongly through the veins of Sojourn, the Alderaan Slade never was allowed to have. And such force shoved Blood from the forefront of his mind, the tauntings and whisperings disappearing with the final heave Slade had committed to.

[End Level 8 app.  1,020/800 wc]

[Slade Xandir]

He walked through the heavy doors of his refuge on Arkania, heavy wooden doors slamming behind him with a muffled 'creak' and 'whumf' as the frigid enviorment of the Imperial planet was left on the other side of those doors. Once he was through the elongated dining room, Blood intentionally ignored the urge to light the fireplace, keeping the solemn room in its shade and cold temper. The Sith Lord then lowered himself in the gloom, sitting with no proper form, whatsoever. An arm rested atop a folded knee, whole the other was left unmoving on the wintery stone floor. Nothing else moved him, aside from his breathing, as his eyes closed. Almost as if she were summoned from the black behind his eyelids, Krynn snaked across the gloom of his thoughts.

Begin Illusion App 2

His mind was a stolen vessel, a catalyst for the play of someone who dragged him on the leash Slade allowed her to have. Blood gave her no such pleasure, his favor of independence nothing she could manipulate unless it favored him. The vision scaled into something of that deciding night in Tattooine, the sands rushing to meet him as memories were given the mind's eye to take form. Slade, as unintentionally as he had, was beginning to use the pain recieved from that unforgettable night as a visual, an illustration, one not meant to be touched, but experienced. Sense surged forth as the slight of distressful recollection 'solidified' the illusion. Control was mainly hand in hand with Alteration, as the room disappeared from Blood's view, Slade reviving the double-sunned planet in its pajamas. He layed the land in quietude as his Senses reminded him of the stillness he had to contend with, no hush of sound from anything, anywhere. Each individual hill of sandy dunes flickered into perspective as the Wolf scattered through his past life, a life where simplicity was an everday luxury, before his humanity was stolen and replaced with a demon's desires. Slade remembered the night through the peace he shared with it, before it all became the worst he had ever come to know. It was harsh how perfect it was, how real it grew to be, as Slade himself couldn't come to terms with it being something he made; but he had. Alteration in the mental sense controlled the scene, morphing the world before him into the past. A deep breath helped steer his focus, but in totality, the strain was immense on Slade's behalf, as the Force allowed him to brush through the canvas before him.

Through each thread of his capabilies within the Force, Slade pulled together vivid recollection of the moonlight shivering its nocturnal allure across the top of the land. Control of the weaving allowed a smooth pass between reality and rememberance. Blood watched, and though he was impressed to a degree, he ran a hand through the nonexistent heap of crystals to find it did not shift, it did not shuffle, nor move in any way that indicated he touched it. It was nearly holographic, but with the most realistic 4-D effects to date. Silhouettes of avians passed overhead, a detail that was felt more than appreciated as each flap was felt within the web he was tangled in, a Force web that all was felt through craftmanship in his crown. Each breeze that passed both over and under each wing, through each feather, tickled different pieces of his Sense, a sensation nearly akin to what the bird itself mayhap had felt as it patrolled the aerial dome of Tattooine. Turning to his right, Blood had taken notice of a mound of near furless muscle, glowing volcanic orbs who sat deeply set within the skull of a watchful Garral. Volkair, Slade's 'brother in arms', a pet of the Master Tamer, conjured with Alteration to appear perfectly flawless to what he once was. A perfect specimen of hunting, killing, disposing of problems, in Blood's mind, but in Slade's something of longing hit him dead center of his heart. Confined in chains of his own design, bled and molded by despair and guilt. Blood felt such calamity and was immediately disgusted. "Attachement is weakness," he hissed with more than a simple case of displeasure. It was then the somber beat of faux dismay twinkled to him.

"We don't talk anymore," the whimpers scattered through the wrinkles of groves in his mind. "Like we used to." The sands around him danced, but the crisp shuffle of dancing crystals silenced as he remembered well how sound was bled dry that night. Slade filled in the harsh details, the dunes losing their color as if the life that held each shade of tan within was suddenly snuffed dead. With it, a sharp prick came to his head as half of his persona battled for control that Blood refused to give up.

It was a trade of cards, Slade summoning the memory of those exact tones, that exact pitch, those childish words. A voice he both had a hand in making alive, though in its own manner, it took a life all on its own. Krynn still had her hand in Slade, his head, the essence that was once his own distinct life force shattered into a flash of pieces, and reassembled by this girl. She was powerful, yes, but she held Slade captive by her whimsical mannerisms and smoky mirrors. Blood saw nothing in her, other than what he saw in all others; a tool for selfish ascension. So with the night pulling its intimate beauty through his senses, the breeze lightly skittering over chilled skin, calling to him in ways he ignored, he allowed Slade his time to pull this apparition forth. Even at his own cost. Blood needed this done, and with Slade hard at work currently, he saved his strength for his own show; a display of dominance over his own mind.

"We're doing this MY way, girl." It came out in a growl, a flashy slash of irritation cascading through the severe display of emotion. He wasn't bending to the will of this little girl, anymore. Her games did not entertain him, but they had a purpose, and through his self-counseling session, this alternate world he placed himself in had a reason all in itself. Blood expected this little witch, Krynn, or Shadow Pup as Slade called her, to abide or he would simply cut her from his mind, altogether. Slade hadn't gotten the strength to mass such a decision, but Blood fully knew how to commit such an atrocity; to simply not give a damn, anymore.


What Slade lacked through his neutral stance within the Force, Blood took advantage of the more sinister portion of the Unknown. Vicious and greedy urges fed into the sticky and less inviting chances of Life that Slade tended to leave alone. How the hell else was he supposed to succeed a Darth Lord? How could anyone topple Tormentous unless they tapped into the power that only fire could be matched with? To dominate was not to idly twiddle thumbs and take mastery of the Force baby step by baby step. Blood wasn't afraid to get his hands dirty, especially as he felt it his indignation be fueled by perseverance. He would not fail. And digging deeper into the pressure that drove the instinct to be atop all others, that inky tar that Dark Side energy swallowed the willing within, he felt nothing but more powerful. It gave him the strength to surge forth his plan of solitary rule within this catalyst of body. Control was called upon, and with his mastery over it, he began condemning the scene in ways he saw fit.

As he spoke, Blood took it upon himself to return the color to the sands, weakening the influence she held in this instance. Light flared before him as over the bend, the first sun etched a scarce line over the tips of the dunes as he used the energy snatched from the tendrils of Dark Side to become something far more powerful than what Slade could have ever displayed to this little 'Shadow Pup' of his. A highlighted horizon was snatching the treaded sands, her footprints becoming more evident as she could no longer walk within the folds of darkness his memory swore were there, him erasing whatever cover she once used to dance and flee from the mortal senses. You were born sick; I deliver salvation. Blood grit his teeth, his determination to craft his own marks in this illusion costing him reservoirs of his calm temperament. His patience and tactical approach remained however, as she spoke again. Echoes of the lilt spread sickeningly over his ears. "You...you are different. A fool, but all the more fun. Tell me why you selfishly demand anything from someone who could feed you enough lies to kill you dead?" "I know you cast these dreams to him, these little breaks from what really is going on to and for him, however I run this show. And I believe in your best interest, as well as mine," he winced out from the strain it took to rewrite his own psychology. "You would have more purchase on him if you completely broke his spirit, not aiding him with these little trash riddles you just hand him. Just crash the whelp, then you can have those specific fragments of essence and mind he kept from you. But the rest, the body and what I have already claimed, those are mine to keep." Coming to the end of his sentence, another sprung forth to aid in the conviction to the Echani, not only keeping up the exhibition of the illusion, but feeding the apparition something she too could latch to and hold captive. "It not only would make me more powerful, but it would free you of being tethered to this body. It would finally release you the pieces of what you took from him, without having to give them back once he realizes what potential he was too weak to have."

Blood could imagine himself sitting in the darkness of the den room, losing body heat by the degree, just talking to himself. But this was something that needed to get done. He only had so many tools available to him, and with him having the Force and the ability to be consciously strong enough to overwrite his own mental process, he needed all the tools he could grab. Krynn was one of them. Another tool, a stepping stone to a better grip on this body that rightfully belonged to someone who had goals to be better, not someone else's stepping stone.


The shimmer of the illusion dislocated a few things, the dunes and land of sand twisting and warping into something less real, a land of red grounds, splattered by darker hues of a coppery liquid. Not blood, no, but something not too far from it. Metallic rain fell from the sky, drops passing right through him, but plattering across a little girl who stood before him. A pale Echani who held crimson as her gaze and snow as her skull's drape. Weaving over frail-seeming limbs, black tattered dress hung shallow in some places and hefty in others. Mountains rose from where dunes once resided, peaks soaring into black-clouded hellish heavens. The disbelief of such a place was evident on her face as she scrunched her delicate features at the choice of landscape. As if she wasn't home to such a place. Blood held his breath as a savage burn began at the back of his head while he corroded the settings of the illusion, his web of Force ability being extended to such a limit that the ends began to grow too taunt for his body to remain semi-comfortable with. A warm slip of garnet slid from his left ear, trickling down the soft flesh of his neck. His pulse visibly beat through the multiple surfaces they could be witnessed at as he maintained order. His insides felt as though they began to catch fire while being pounded to a mulchy mush. Another row of liquid life drained from the folds of his lips as he opened his blood-stained maw for a breath. "I see." Her simple response evoked something akin to unbridled wrath, and all bets were off as the scene flew from the strange sight it once was to just the enveloping darkness of the room he sat in. The strain was released as his illusion dissipated.


[End of Illusion 2 App. WC: 1969/500]

[Slade Xandir]

She was a crafty one, she was. Zafina, the gorgeous Zeltronian he had tricked into making a child for him had upped, and disappeared with his offspring. She was a memory he savored bitterly as he stepped into the empty flat, looking around the building for clues he knew she left none of. Zafina came from the Corviones', same as he; they were quite the hardest to track down. A Corvione who didn't want you to find them wouldn't let you find them.
But a Corvione knew a Corvione. And he would find her.

"Tick, tick tock, the time bomb clock," he gently hummed as he flew his Infiltrator to a planet that was home to smugglers and runaways. Name was confused with so many other titles, as no one knew what it was really called, but in Blood's current state of mind, he didn't care what it was named. He just knew his persona's ex-lover was beeping a signal through an encoded transmission from the populated planet, and his reflexes locked onto the signal within the time period that his brain barely had to consider it to be hers. It was a blink of motion, and the static and strange letters came through, where his placid face lifted into a loving grin.

"Ticks grinning ear to ear here, baby."

His ship broke orbit of the suspected now confirmed planet, and dove through the atmosphere without cloaking. What would he need it for? They were all not-nice or in hiding people, here. Aliens had a habit of trying to be unnoticed just as well as humans, and Zeltronias who were running from a possessive and delusional ex were not excluded from that list. His ship docked and was professionally handled by droids, who locked the matte black and distinctly detailed chic ship into a private hangar, and thus began his march to track Zafina down.

The three suns set on according sides, and Blood found his holowatch vibrating out of a shack who was primarily made of wood.
He could smell that decadent perfume she always wore, just slightly, as he inhaled the heated air around the front of the shack. It was sultry, seductive, and tantalizing. Urges of voracious magnitude began to stamped through his system, corroding any gentlemanly restraint Slade once had to offer.
And with the perfume, mingled the scent of burning wood, as the door he pressed an eased hand against began to blacken, and catch fire.
His urges rampage increased.

"Tick, tick tock, the time bomb clock,"

The air shifted as he felt someone from inside get alarmed through the presence of smellable fire. It only rapidized his intoxication as the fire spread up the shack's door, swiftly ashing and charcoaling the unintentional barricade.
Only when the door fell to blackened soot at his booted feet, did he lower his hand.

"Ticks counting down, Tick tick, stop."

Standing farther back on the shack was Zafina, glowing scarlet skin flushed from the suprise, but with a well trained blaster aimed directly at his heart. She wouldn't miss. Blood knew she wouldn't. And considering how their last experience went between her, he, and guns, she learned asking questions first and shooting later would have a less effective display, so immediately upon seeing him, she pulled the trigger.
Just as he had last time, he raised his hand, and with being already unstable emotionally, his Force cradled the energy bolt that flew directly at him. Enveloping the neon green energy, Blood caressed the length of the ammunated light, feeling each spark, every tingle of potential sitting in his hands palm until with a flexed muscle, he dissipated the bolt.
The Sithian then grew irritated, as he could feel she was tensing to send next a volley of energy bolts. He wasn't having that.

~Begin Telekinesis App~


Blood kept his hand out from the original deflection of attack, but with his swiftly changed mood, his pleasure soon became volatile and dangerous. With the change came a new sense of power, as his light sing-songy voice was substituted with a more sinister snarl. The vibrations unfurled something animalistic form the depths of his Force as his golden irises set upon the primed weapon. His Senses were flung out, Blood being able to feel the serpentine tendril of 'feeling' lash out and wrap against his current goal. His eyes narrowed as his determination took a more solid feel, his Senses delivering the news to his mind. It was the gun he grabbed mentally, and he had managed such a keen grip on it, that he could smell the freshly lit plasma that had previously left it, feel the warmed barrel as it help more heat than the rest of the weapon, itself. His chest tightened as dug mental claws, Control taking effect of the situation and giving his skill of Alteration a more stable base to become known. His memory lapsed him to another lesson he shared with Tormentous, where the god had taught him how to properly alter flow of an object, and in the end of the lesson, he had ripped the pack of energy ammunition from the hilt of a blaster pistol. But today, he wanted to cause so much more pain to this pistol, pain, so much more pain, pain to Zafina.

Alteration snaked out as he released his inner stew of wicked intent, and claws of more physical, though invisible, proportions dug deep into the throat of the pistol. His heart raced as he felt how far down he had managed control over her weapon, orbs watching as she wrestled the pistol like some ghost of an assailant held it captive, when it was in fact, he. But he felt the pulse of the gun, its' heart, its soul, still breathing. Still hers. And something ravaged through his chest, as it released the tightening through him snatching his gloved hand away from her direction. And from her direction, they both watched as the blaster pistol went careening across the shack, smacking into the wall, and shattering into a bent and broken husk of metal and wasted energy packs.

The Zeltronian was obviously stunned, but he was too focused, too intensely focused on her. on her disobedience. And she had to be delivered unto punishment. His gaze returned to her, locking golden brights to cloudy silvers and as softly as a baby's breath, he murmured to her,

"Come to me, Zafina."

Shaken visibly by his disarming, she was frozen to the spot, and thus refused to move. She was in shock, first from him finding her, along with him destroying her weapon. And he damn sure wouldn't go to her; you do not treat the weak. So she would come to him, whether she intended to, or not.

His heartbeat calmed as he steadied himself in his newest endeavor; making her come to him. It was then he slowly brought his aim around, away from the dented wall, and back to her frozen form. A hungry heave of energy speared directly to Zafina, first the taste of her presence, the heat of her warmth, the fragrance she omitted, and the variety of her curves. Deeper he delved into her, passing the skin, the swell of slender and capable muscles quivered under grips of unknown. Slithering around underneath her surface, Blood made himself memorize the several important places of her frame he would need to influence. Like a murderous hound, he preyed on the weak spots, pressure points calling to him from each twitch and covering that her muscles provided like a beacon. Control poured and dried the concrete of his grips within these points, and Alteration manipulation lunged in for the kill. Blood had knotted his weavings to each particular pressure point, her quads, and lower back, hems of tendon just above the ankles. All were tethered to strings according to his fingertips, and with his outstretched hand, he began to truly begin his work; being a physical puppeteer.

Each finger that twitched caused a limb of hers to dance for him, and with problem solving skills, the Master Tamer began working each thread he pulled closer and closer in an efficient and corresponding manner. Jolting and struggling, the Zeltronian began to squirm, trying to fight back against his power, and each yank she did made things intensify for him. Yet as he brought forth his index, next his thumb, it had become clear his power was controlling the very composition of vessel she could not regain control of mentally; her body. Zafina struggled, but it was in vain, as her forceful pleading with her body's lower half mentally knocked on numb and deaf doors.

Blood curled a ring finger, her left leg taking a sludging step forward, dragging but hurried with the speed of his fingers. Blood had to concentrate. This was his first time making another being physically act on his whims. It was taxing with her rigorous movement, but with another heave of emotional response, the remaining disbelief and indignation of her attempting to his spawn from him, provided him additional reserve in which to draw from. Soon the fiesty alien lay less than a foot from him, and it was then that she had stopped struggling. The fight was over, as she knew she was combatively inadequate against him. It was over, and any man that could enrapture her body and force them to be pulled to them was not a force to be reckoned with, despite her tries.


[End Telekenisis App] [952/500 wc]

[Slade Xandir]

When she was before him, Blood used his still outstretched hand to rub a light stroke against her cheek, dark glove a sharp contrast against her heated flesh. She flinched away from him, but he was already disturbed enough by her refusal to work with him.
Time stopped for no one but the worthy, and in these vital seconds, it definitely slowed to a halt for him.
Blood could have simply zoned out of reality, stepping outside the binds of what was really transpiring, but if he was, he didn't realize it.

All he knew was they were right there.

Zafina turned her head to see what it was his own view was locked on behind her, but her heart already knew what he stared at. The two pairs of eyes, one set gold and belonging to a petite and slender girl, and the other silver and framing a lean boy's face. Both seemed to be human, though scent dwindled in the air that belonged to neither he nor Zafina, new sets of perfume that radiated teasingly from the two children. Something delicious in his mind, something he wanted a piece of for himself.
Both children had dark and thick headfulls of inky midnight locks. The two stared back at him, the girl seeming more interested than perturbed, whereas the boy too seemed curious.

No one spoke.
And Blood liked it that way.

[Slade Xandir]

The children, both were beautiful in his eyes. Such a cornucopia of opportunity. Ripe for plucking from this temptress. She had served her purpose, and now she was no longer useful to him.
His gaze returned to Zafina.

Blood stroked her cheek again, bringing her attention back to him.

"I won't make you beg, so just get down on your knees...Tell me you need me, and that you're dying to please. Hell is real, Zafina, so we don't have much time left."

Her eyes widened, then narrowed, silver orbs glaring defiance directly in his act of mercy. For once, he had gone and given someone a chance. And now, they had denied him.

"Never." she spat indignantly in his face.

Never again.

~Begin Force Choke App~


Blood had released his control over her legs only just for him to trail his invisible touch up her leather-clad body. He sensed his influence flowing near liquidly over navel, abdomen, chest, collar, and to a new melodic beacon. A light gleamed to him from the dim galaxy of her body, the star he sought, her neck. A beautiful nova he just danced upon with light fingers.

His Sense accurately settled on the glimmering pinpoint, and with it came his unification with her. He tasted the berry flavored breath she whisked angrily across his skin. Maybe her last meal? Drink? The rising tempo of a pulse thrummed under his fingers as he felt her heartbeat increase while she waited for his reaction to her martyr behavior. She didn't know what was coming, but she did know 'Slade' wasn't going to simply walk away and leave her be.

"Then we will have to drain this disease from all the veins of your neck."

Control whirled around her delicate neck, infusing and strengthening the Sense's applicability. It tightened, a constrictor whos head reared back, tightening more and more in preparation of its ultimate energy needs. The Control he imposed was completely contained in this single outreach, his focus clear. It was reckless what she did and he wouldn't forgive her for it. Zafina only had herself to blame.

With these thoughts sparked memories, primarily from Slade's past. How they shared meals together, discussed missions in secret, where she would come to his room in the middle of his off times to talk to him about any problems she encountered, any coincidences she traced. The scarlet skinned girl who was the head of the Songbirds, and who made the mistake of falling for the Godfather's favorite. How he in turn made the mistake of having feelings for her, as well.
Even at this moment, he could hear Slade howling his fury within the echoes of his mind, because the Wolf knew very well what Blood was about to do. What he didn't know, was that the unleashed rage and passion he was releasing to Blood was only fueling him, further.

The memories poured out, and with them spilled the passion Slade had felt so long ago. Blood contorted this into his legacy, the power of the emotion fueling the act Alteration need only the spark of life to enact upon. With the action, Zafina reached her hands to her throat, her airways closing and oxygen being depleted through natural body uses. Her beautiful face crunched into agony as the constrictor squeezed even tighter. She clawed black-painted nails at nothingness, nails digging into her own skin as she sought purchase she could not find.
Through seeing what was happening, Slade grew infuriated, an inferno being born in a cold heart. Wrath grew, unbridled rage coursing through his veins, and most importantly through his mind. Blood felt this toxic soup searing him, and rejoiced in the emotion Slade submitted his way. His outstretched hand began to clench, and Zafina started to collapse. To her knees she fell, still scraping at an unseeable garrote. Blood took the anger and anguish, the desperation from Slade, and rewrote the energy into something he could work with. Alteration was fed the emotions, the lust he had to rid the world of this girl, the desire to be entirely freed of her from his conscious, the need to be done with this entire situation, the pleasure of the after effects, and his command increased in its vivacity and tenacity.

Alteration became one with Sense and Control, and soon the snake was made very real. His current and successful attempt at Telekinesis caused him to stand on familiar ground with manipulation objects, as she was now just that to him; an object. And with what he gained experience in, he lifted his arm, his reach being mimicked by the Zeltronian as she began to rise with his heightening arm. It was as though he was physically lifting her, the strain making his movement slow, almost dramatically so. Slade watched through golden eyes as his first and last love was being tortured, and being so helpless, completely unable to stop himself from this horrific act. He didn't want this, and his desperation climaxed. With it, conniving Blood hexed the energy and stole it for himself, turning weakness Slade threw at the buffet into absolute power he channeled fully for himself. His Alteration peaked, and his arm ascended, her squirming body in tow. Slade's emotion bolstered Blood's strength, giving him the ability to lift her from her knees, past her feet, and to dangle in the air.

Blood kept his pose, him staring dead into the fold where her eyes would be, extreme concentration on her. His position was locked into place, even after her eyes snapped open and began to roll to the back of her head. Even after her grip grew feeble, dropping away from her neck, his own increased as hers weakened. She hung in the air, limp and no longer trying to breathe, unconscious, when he finally blinked.
Just as if he held the beauty's neck in his own hand, he shut it just as sudden as his blink. And with it, a squelch of noise was muted by a gurgle, and he knew not what he had crushed, but something was smashed beneath his grasp. Forward her head slumped, and a stream of blood slid into a puddle at the both of their feet.


[end Force Choke App] [917/500 wc]

[Slade Xandir]

It was around a midnightish hour by the time he brought the children back home with him. Well, what he would consider home, though he had only gotten so far on the progress of rehabilitating the moon.

Sojourn, the little piece of coal that was undergoing constant pressure by the Sith Lord what wanted to restore it to the diamond it deserved to be. A moon that revolved around a planet no one took the time to name, nor care about. The moon he wanted to breathe life into.
It had undergone a nuclear attack several years prior, before Alderaan was even blown to smithereens, but Slade nor Blood got to experience the fancy living of refined tastes. Slade cared for it more than Blood for its elegance, whereas Blood sought monetary gains from the hopeful establishing. Time would tell if his efforts had gone to waste or not.

Though it was located in the Imperial side of space, it was further in the fringes, the shadows where no one sought nor flew past. It was distanced from everything, lofty in Wild Space and being free from influence. No one had touched this moon since the attack, no one but Slade, Blood and the team he had bargained to invest into it. The Splicers, the Farmers, the Engineers, and the Ani-Ali Headsmen were who he sectored the force into, with Technicians helping where they could. Plant life imported to the planet months prior had taken well to the land, giving the once dry moon a radiant atmosphere. Weather varied to humid from temperate, irrigation keeping up what occasional rainfalls could not. Animal processing came through grandly, bantha herders bringing forth a meat supply, farmers tending to large pastures of different kales, grasses and vegetables. Botanists and florists worked together to ensure each varied flora kept well in the sun, shade and spills, reporting any strange happenings or mutations to the shippers who brought these plants either through genetic experimentation or from other core worlds.

It was becoming a place worth recognizing, splendor and natural grace flourishing through. The calls of different bird species and small reptiles, mammals and other organisms gave the land something more festive to hear, despite the churning of sound the architects and builders made as they worked to flattened land and craft buildings, block by block.

Through the noisy orchestra, Blood strode forward, accompanied by Lilith and Raphael, his 13 cycled daughter and son who were hybridly born of human and zeltronian dna between he and his ex-lover. Behind the two angelic children flanked Mercy and Fox, his two packmates. The five made their way to one of the buildings that was recently erected, a modern and suave rectangular and tall, modest but powerful with pillars that extended to greet them as they walked through the entryway. Semi-furnished, this was to be the beginnings of a welcoming dock where guests would check their belongings in for the resorts that too were soon to be. Hotels and a conventional center were also planned to be on this moon, with a forest that would hold zoos and parks for the mass to enjoy. A separate fashion on the other helm of the planet, game and hunting would be hosted at separate times of the year, and different things such as the like. An arena for racing, courts for sports, plenty for the lavish to enjoy.

Through the wide hall, the pack strode into an open room, which was to be designed to fit the organization of guest items. It was empty, but that was perfect for Blood to have the children in.

"Here," he murmured to Fox and Mercy who stopped to give a brief glance around. "This will be their training room for Force and light martial arts. Nothing heavy; I don't want anything broken or smashed. Keep it simple and basic."

Fox grinned, excited to be working with the pups, and despite Mercy being so stoic, Blood could sense something in her too was a bit brighter than the usual hellstorm she kept burning inside of her. Affirmative nods from both of them, Fox even going so far as the Corvione Salute with a right fist flattened over a left shoulder and a light bow. "Light as a flight," he added, while Mercy rolled hazels at his words. Blood, once the deed was confirmed, turned and walked out of the room to begin his own training.

[Slade Xandir]

Blood sat on the westward meadow of the moon, the faraway glints of sunlight hitting the majorly revived rock that was known as Sojourn, but as Slade wanted to name it, "New Alderaan". Blood didn't care what it was named, as long as it was useful to him, which he knew it would be once he established a worthy enough presence of businesses on it. However, he wasn't here for that; not now, atleast. He was here to train for now, and to enhance skills he hadn't yet mastered. Pyromancy was well under his control, and he had no problem with fire. It was as easy as air to him, and even that, he could manipulate well enough to form various shapes and reasons for his fires. However, Darkness was something he wanted to master, being a puppeteer of the mind with tricks and trades as he was. But how can you be a proper illusionist without having mastery over the elements, along with its counterpart; the lack of?

With this thought, Blood also knew he wanted to touch up on his comfortability in the pair of powers, along with the efficiency in which he did them. This, he surmised, would make him not only a better nightmare to those who deserved such a side of him, and a better teacher to his pupils. Once he mastered this combination, they too would be taught how to manipulate darkness, and to tame it like the masterless beast that it was, in his eyes.

Begin Force App 9

Blood knew well enough he would have to tap into all 3 sects of the Force to better himself in this study and advance. On this afternoon, as crosslegged as he was, the handsome Hunter did not close his eyes, utilizing every ounce of sight he could to better control what he needed. Sitting under the tree proved useful, as the shade was given to where he was currently sitting, but almost instinctively, he knew he needed more than that. His golden gaze was directed to each of the fragmented slips of light that jostled through the leaf patterns of the oak he was sitting under. These posed as problems to his situation, and it was needed to be fixed. Blood's gaze intensified as he settled into the Force, a deep breath that was not only held, but focused on as he reached his senses out. Up and above, Blood came just to the top of the tree, the very stem of the problem, and past that, to the top of it's bush. The foliage was lively, robust, and heartily swaying in the gentle breeze that graced Sojourn. But through this greenery, light was cast through, and Blood didn't need that, right now. So what he knew would assist him, he called upon. The Force.

Blood knew how altering the flow of the light rays would prove useful, if not solve the problem, so he retreated to the back of his mind and retrieved the knowledge he knew on the ability. Through the webs of the Force, he caressed each one, feeling out the refractory properties of the light until he knew which threads he needed to hit, and which were useless. Heat was unnecessary, so that piece of the energy he left alone, whereas the light he dwelled on. Collecting each thread, he observed how the energy put forth by the light was either bounced from the leaves, or cast through their spaces, and he decided to alter the flow of the rays that came through. The rays which came through were singularly headed in the same direction, which was towards the earth, and with a release of the held breath, Blood relaxed enough to take in another and focus on the next step. The direction needed to be reversed, so carefully and attentively, the Sith Lord took the threads he had collected which were the individual rays of light, and decided to curb them into the heft of foliage, making them bounce away, or atleast dimming their influence to a degree. Each thread he had collected was attached to the threads the plumage of the tree, and tilted at an angle, changing the vector of the light rays to hit the leaves at a constant angle, and cutting the amount of light hitting himself underneath the tree to near none. He could feel the lack of heat now, both the ground beneath him cooling from its respite from the rays, and the air around him cooling off from the lack of partial energy.

Now, he committed himself to enriching the darkness around him, most especially under him. He also wanted to make a specified portal through which he would emerge. With this, Control and Alteration were needed. He decided to use the other base of the tree a few meters down as a prime target. It appeared dark enough to need less work on his end, and the less work, the better. His
core tensed as he began the nullification of his senses in order to detach himself. The Control he had invested in himself, the dense and tight wires he danced on with mastered motions, he began to unwind. Already the warning signals chimed inside f him, his Danger Sense warning him of his losses in feeling. He continued to gently pull apart the pieces he had worked so precariously to keep bound, placing them in an organized heap near where he could easily rewire them in the Force web of his. Piece by piece he unwound himself with care, his sense of feeling disappearing as his body relaxed limb by limb. Loose hands moved to land on the darkness drenched meadow underneath him, and to his pleasure, he felt nothing. It was then his body began to sink, almost melting though his form didn't lose it's shape. He was slowly falling into the Nothingness of the Void, the Shadow World.

This time, he kept breathing as he assisted his body take up a new reality, a different dimension. Alterational skills kicked in as he pulled away any resistance that was holding him from fully being invested into the Shadow Walk, the anxiety of redoing a barely familiar skill being squelched under the calm that consumed him. His shameless power scoured through the resistance, the futile abrasion smoothed down by confidence that bolstered him on an everyday basis. His loss of Control in the real dimension transmitted to the Abyss he was slipping into. Not too long after, he felt nothing under him, and his legs unfolded. He began to slip further into the Void, his torso sliding into the immersion with more ease the more he relinquished Control of each piece of his Web. None too soon was he fully into the darkness of the Shadow World, the devoid place where the real world hung above him in a pool of filtered light.

Remembering where the tree trunk was that he goaled to be his reentry point, Blood turned in what he perceived to be the direction, relief slitting through his chest as he saw the exact shape of the pool of light he recalled the trunk to have. He calmly made his way to the flood of brightness, and the few meters seemed almost endless, but with his perception of distance cut down to shreds from lack of visible markers, he could only expect it to be so. No breeze rustled skin nor hairs as he made his way to the destination, and sooner than later he was just below the shimmering portal.

Alteration assisted him again as he began gripping the fringes of the gateway. He noted the tingling sensation as he made his slow and deliberate reemergence, and as he began heaving himself up, he made a fully focused effort into redirecting his effort at reestablishing Control within his mortal self. Each piece that was forced through the portal, he rewove the thread that was set specifically for it. Sense felt out the missing strands and accordingly he put himself back together. Feeling returned to his arms as they fought to pull him from the darkness of the Shadow World. It took less of a toll on his mind, sickness not being brought forth as he kept even and deep breaths through the event. In fact, he felt more confident through this conscious effort he out fort as he began rewiring his inner self. It made it an easier transmutation from nonexistence back to reality, and his Force Web was being put back together with much more ease than prior efforts.

Hefting his upper half through, his breaths came easier, refilling his oxygen intake with less strain. The air tasted different, more filled, much more vivid than what was in the Shadow realm. It was clear contrast between the two places, and Blood found something more stable to grasp on as he brought his lower half from the reach of the portal. Crouched, his full form was released from the Abyss, and Blood felt more accomplished, knowing he would feel more comfortable with transmitting himself from shadow to shadow. As it did with any new skill however, it would take skill and repetition to grow his efficiency, but one thing could be agreed upon as he settled down into the floor which he could feel hardening beneath him as he released his intensity on the Force and finished replacing the last strand within his Web in his Force; it was much easier than the first time he came across the ability. His insides were spewing out and he had a more firm hold on his Control and Senses as he transported himself between dimensions. Though he had already mastered the three pinnacle sects of the Force, he personally felt more connected with them as he grew comfortable in his training.

And that in itself, was that much more dangerous for the rest of the world.


[End Force Lv. 9 App]---[WC: 1,402/ 900]

[Slade Xandir]

After his first attempt of Waves of Darkness on Arkania, Blood felt damaged. He felt his own Force wounded, stretched too far and cords snapped and frayed. Like an open wound, the cuts threads of his web bled, sored, festered, and brought actual pain to him, his mind, his body, his essence. It was in desperate need to be restored, and in the graceful moonlight of Sojourn, he did just that.

-- Begin Force App 10--

Sitting in the grasses of this moon's meadowy expanse, Blood inverted his focus to what lay within him. His Force was a mangled shred of webs, torn and unforgivingly sharp in any pressure he place his influence upon. His Control was unkempt, writhing around and snatching away from his grasp. His Alteration refused his hand, denying him worthy to wield it, shaming him, taunting him with 'Weak' over and over again. His Senses trusted him not, lying to him, dancing around in trepidation as it avoided his 5 requests. He was in agony on the Force, but not numb. There was still a chance to save his power, and to do so, he had to repair it, himself.

Centering his mind around the very center of his web, the Dragon Master sat in the heart of his personal web, mind not yet branching out as he first recognized his presence in the Force. It was a rag tag aura, something that was once growing, now stunted. Though the damage wasn't permanent, first he marked where each point of his tri-plated web once was. Senses, delicate as the petals of a spring bloomed lily, shied away from him, and each step it took left him feeling less attune to the world around him. The grass began to lose its texture, the air, its scent, the breeze, its feel. Even as night was, he could not tell whether it was hot, nor cold, tonight. But with reassurance not only to himself, but to the mind personally, Blood told himself what his Senses were, commanding the world to be as he knew it was. The air was moderately warm if not slightly muggy as a storm was soon to brew. He could imagine himself within the clouds that were brought nearer, the tingles of electricity that ran across the puffs of thick condensation. The petrichor which would heavily seep his nares once it came, unending sounds of not only rainfall, but thunder. He would see the lightning, he would feel one with the world. Ultimately, this was the glory of the Senses, and with the confidence that came so close with it, so too did his Senses. Blood knew he didn't want to go through the struggle of reforging weak Senses, so in response to returning them to their rightful status, he built upon the Senses. He established a foundation over their regular weavings, and around him he grasped the threads of his surrounding, inhaling deeply. With each individual thread, he brought them into a single wiring of thick and established cord, and addressed each strand. The sense of smell was come across, and immediately he engulfed the moon's perfume. He focused heavily on the muggy air, and the intensified smell of humidity. He interwove himself within the powers and Force expressed by each of the smells, branching out to appreciate the moon for what it was. He felt the different organisms that walked, crawled and flew over the planet, each having their own lives as they were. Each he grew better acquainted with, the birds, the bantha, the bugs, the bipeds- everything he felt and relished. In each and every thing he sensed life within, he dwelled deeper and associated with their own forms and life essence. The nervous systems, chitins, fur, respiratory happenings. All he felt life pour from, and it was almost incredible the magnitude he had to focus in on each individual piece of this moon. Ears heard what they crunched upon, whether it was grass, meat, sand particulates, each breath that left their bodies was almost direct in his ears. The Sith Lord began connecting the sounds and smells to each organic being, and he matched them as he felt them out. It was something new, basking his Force to the outter rimmings of this moon, but he only stretched as far as he could, identifying each piece of Sojourn as his mind could handle. The new aspects he picked up were much more detailed than what he had initially felt, and the longer he stayed within the Force, the longer he was capable of ticking the seconds down until the storm that was miles away could be narrowed down to seconds of being upon him. This trait would be useful to him as he expanded himself past restored boundaries and trained his Sense to be so much more. Only after getting past the touch of his influence upon the side of another mountain, did he pull himself back into another working in the Force; Control.

Control was much harder, as it would buck away and smart with every passing lash. The reservoir of his Control stemmed from personal control, and that was blindly denied the day he tried to cast Waves of Darkness. He was inexperienced, and as close as he had gotten to achieving the power, he was too shortsighted to accomplish it properly, then. His Control was shredded that day as he pushed himself beyond limits he did not understand, and if anything, he was surprised the Dark Side did not consume him through such a foolish practice. But since that day, it loomed closer and closer to taking over his mind, whispering wicked intent in his ears until he found himself whispering those very same words, to himself. His lack of Control was a gateway, and tonight, he was to seal it, until he deemed himself worthy to dip within the harem of Dark Side influence. Instead of allowing the whips of self pity scold him longer, the cords of that single point within his Force he snatched up, pulling the bucking point of power to a stop. As much as the action stunk, akin to prodding an uncovered and vulnerable nerve, he grit his teeth and displayed his dominance over the matter. This was his mind! His body, his soul, his Energy! And this, most of all, was his Force. Be damned anything that stood in his way, and that included reckless behaviors. Pulling the cords of his Control into a fine spindle, he wound the threads back to his own web, wincing with ever fiber as he recounted his sinful and failed trials and errors. His first attempt at Waves of Darkness, his first attempt at Illusion, his first attempt at Control Mind; all of them were his brash attempts to try new things. As much as he needed a Master to show him how to properly do these powers, he understood that he was alone in this fight. And the only person who had his own back indefinitely, was himself. And for that, he needed Control over his Force. Like clockwork, he continued threading his resolution together as he tackled his Force demons head on, and as each thread were put in its right place, it smarted just a little bit less. A proper Master needed to better contain himself to limitless degree, and as a Master of Control, no less was expected of him. With the repeated revelation, the Wicked Messiah returned his burden of standards back to his mind, and with it, returned Control. After he got his Control back, he raveled the twine into a taunt and tight line within each individual finger of his within his mind. With it came his heavy hand to test it. He tested it with his emotions, attempting to rile himself back up almost without his permission. But who needed permission when it came to faults? Who needed permission when it came to arrogance? Deep in thought, he summoned all of the failures he had just regained his control from, and pushed them aggressively against his Control in the Force. Each weighed heavily against the cord, and more he forced upon the tightrope. The string bent, heated up, and Blood only piled more upon it. Trials he had failed, spars and battles he had lost- but despite the strain, the Control only continued it's concave composure, and remained unbroken. And with all of the burden, Blood felt the Control within the constricted fists of his stubborn mind, and eased himself into more relaxed state of mind...With it, the troubles and failures slid from the thickly coiled band of Control as water would from a duck's back. It was then he knew he would he had bettered his hold over himself, and his level of Control was something he would never lose hold over.

Finally, Alteration. With both other pinnacles under his command, Alteration had no rescue, no respite from his incoming. So the only bit left was it rearing an ugly head, and fighting. Blood wrestled with not only his skills in gaining Sense prior, but his Ability of Control, as well. And with both combined peaks, he grasped the very fabric of reality itself, and tugged on its hem, shamelessly. Senses granted him the sight, the touch, the smell, the sound, and the taste of everything around him, and Control relinquished him ability to take power over these things. Alteration was the blend of the pair, but with more power behind it. This power was passion in the mind of the Sith, and his dire determination to see to himself as whole again within the Force was the driving point of this very emotion. Full on he recounted how many wonderful things he had accomplished with the Force, each power bolstering his craving to resume such legacy. Pyromancy, enhanced power, even something as simple as wielding a saber, let alone two of them! Levitation a being, and even choking them to death with that very same awe-inducing power. Walking through shadows, and crafting the portals in which to do it successfully. Being the Master Tamer that he was to this day- All of it was the beauty in the Force, the power of it, and from the passion he stemmed from, he felt that very life force return to him. It began as a straggle, a thin vein, until he recounted more. His Illusion mastery, his ability to roam any world and bring it's most fearsome predators to heel- All of these magics were his to fling from his mind, and Alteration was the most blessedly cursed key to doing it. The little river washed itself over into a wave of power as his Alteration release it's fold upon itself, and hurriedly he grabbed the strands and wove the tri based web back to it's original state. Simply as a testament to his power, he worked on his Alteration, pushing the limits of his powers. Beneath him, the ground began to heat up as he used his internal body temperature to contrasts heavily with the ground itself. The chilled touch of only just warmed grass began to change as he began his test. Under folded legs, smoke wafted all around his sitting lowered half. The grass soon caught fire around him, just under him, and with the strain of not only creating fire, he pulled his entire web into focus. With it came the ideal touch of gravity's harness, which held him and everything else on this moon, to ground. He pushed against it, all while keeping focus on his fires, and the Master Illusionist began to feel the world around him much heavier than he had initially felt it to be. Blood felt the restraint of gravity, he felt the heat of the flames underneath him, as he could imagine his own arms picking him up from the grass, from the ground itself. But alas it was not his arms- his mind was at play, working in tandem with the Force to levitate him on this edenous moon. Multitasking was hard for the Sith, and his focus desired to splits, wear away, but with his Senses attuned to the current situation and his Control freshly and permanently bound to his will alone, there was no way he would fail this test. He rose from a few inches in his sitting position, and with more determination to see this through, he pushed harder against the hold of gravity until he was a full foot from the meadows base. The flicker of the flames rose under him, tickling the underside of his bottom, but his Senses alerted him to this, and in response his Control prevented both the flames from going out, and prevented them from being out of his hand and searing him in their inferno. Alteration was stretched, but his multitasking was rewarded as he felt the growth bloom from this exercise. Almost like the burn from a fresh and heated workout, his mind began to warn him of the danger point and his nose began to trickle that familiar drip of blood. This warning he understood and chose not to push himself past this. He was learning to listen to his body, and in return, it would take him further the more he trained on a continuous basis. The Dragon Master lowered himself down into the grass, and around him the flames welcomed him home as he brought himself back down. Seconds later, he pulled the emanating energy from them back within himself, and the fires were snuffed out, leaving only gently charred grass as an indication that they ever existed.

In his mind, plans began to be plotted, as he hashed out what was needed to be done for the future. He would need to ensure with every new power he tried to do, there was a test trial. And even within the test trial, these newborn powers would not be strained against his web where it would break it's holding capacity, but only just stretched to where the fibers could elongate just a bit. These plans, this confidence, this psychological binding coated his web, and would see the Sith Lord through to the end of his days if he kept up with the taxing job. It was clear there were going to be scars from this experience, but as all warriors knew, scars told tales of what made that specific piece stronger and more worthy than what it was, before.


----End Level 10 App---WC: 2,344/1000

Opening his eyes, Blood felt the world around him as if he had just woken up from a coma. The sun was beginning to rise, and the storm clouds were just above his head. Almost synonymous with his thoughts, the Dragon Master felt a single land in the back of his scalp, hair almost fluffing from the heave of electricity in the air. A chuckle left him as he decided to stay outside, choosing to enjoy the nature of this planet rather than run inside and hide from the rain and thunder. He had fought hard for his Senses back- why not enjoy them?