To Touch The Intangible (Force Training)

[Yarkar Edetar]

Yarkar left the temple into the jungle once more, seeing the large trees sweeping the sky. He thought of how often he climbed these trees, and how long it took to do so. However, he thought, if he could get himself out of a tree with only his senses in the Force, perhaps the Force could get him back up one somehow as well. He remembered how in the duel he had felt the Force flow into his muscles on that final swing. Perhaps he could use that same technique to boost himself towards the canopies?

[Begin Force Jump Power Application]
Yarkar sank into his anger again, his mind raced as he pulled as much of the Force as he can handle into himself, feeling it flow through his veins like the blood that already filled it. He knew how to roughly control the flow of it already, but the instance during that duel was more of a fluke than anything. He needed to deconstruct this fluke to produce something a bit more predictable. He wasn’t about to have the ability to boost himself upwards without regard to the actual height he was boosting himself to.

He started to push the Force in his body downwards, feeling the power in his legs intensify as he squatted. He felt the pressure in his muscles right before he released, pushing off the ground. As he leapt, he realized there was nothing of substance, if anything at all, that happened. He hits the ground like usual, having only leapt his usual height.

He thought further back to that lightsaber duel. Clearly, he was missing something about it. There must have been some small detail he was misreading. While having the Force in his legs let him feel the vitality of having the Force within him, there was something different that made actual strength. He remembered as he moved his arms, with every motion the Force followed. Perhaps it was not the presence of the Force, but the movement of it?

He positioned himself again to where he would be able to catch a branch if he was able to jump that high. He steadied himself as he doesn’t store an excess of the Force this time, but rather prepared himself like a conduit for it. He squatted down and at that moment condensed the flow of the Force towards himself, leaping as he pulls the force through his muscles on the extension. He felt the power of the Force flush through his body and into his legs as it settled into his muscles as they moved. He felt the rush of air as he was swiftly flung into the air by the motion. He grabbed the branch and in one smooth motion flipped himself around to land right side up on the top of it. He didn’t hesitate to jump again, the branch underneath him not breaking despite the increased power of his jump as he jumps lower this time, making it to a branch without going for his full potential to prove that he can modulate the amount he needs on both ends of the spectrum, high and low.
[End Force Jump Power Application]

As he climbed out of the tree, he pondered on just what jumping higher could accomplish. Verticality was never considered a detriment, that was for sure, but he wondered what he could do beyond the specifics of the jump itself. Perhaps it would be a fun trick for his next duel, it would be flashy nonetheless.

[Yarkar Edetar]

Yarkar made his way out of the jungle once more, making his way to The Merciful Rogue. As the pilot droid takes off, he smiles, feeling the Dark Side in his chest. Triumph fills his blood, and he starts to pull more and more energy into him as he feels his body work like a conduit. He felt like it was time to not only prove his raw power with the Force, but to prove just how far he had come in the specificity of his power. Large displays of power were impressive, but just as interesting were precise displays. A surgeon droid does not become impressive by making large incisions, but rather many small ones that accomplish just what is necessary.

[Begin Alteration Level 3 Application]
Yarkar gathered various objects, placing them in random places around the room: cups, utensils, a plate, and his lightsaber. He sat on the floor; legs crossed as he looked across the room with sharp eyes. He then breathed in deeply, letting the Force flow through him as his anger swells. He started to push upon the Force in the room, easily lifting one of the cups upwards as he made it dance up and down in the air before locking it into place. Now came the hard part.

He spread his attention, trying to lift another cup. While he does so, his attention on the other cup starts to fade. The second cup began to rise as the first begins to shake, losing the stability that Yarkar was holding it within. He scowls as he feels his attention pried between the two objects, trying to hold both in equilibrium as both start to rise and sink opposite one another as Yarkar’s attention flips from one to the other. The vertical vibrations of the two cups started small, but slowly got larger and larger as Yarkar’s imperfect corrections set them further away from their intended course. The vibrations in the Force that Yarkar was using grew more and more frantic as he tried to save what he had accomplished, to hold on for just a little longer to his victory before he found failure. However, his attention got the better of him, the cups bother clattering to the floor. As he used the Force to pick them up one at a time, placing them both upon the table again. He wondered how it would be possible to have such control over multiple objects. He knew, in all his pride, that he was capable, and yet he could not think of a way to keep both still.

He grabs the cup in the air again, determined to fix his mistake from the last time. Clearly it was not his power that needed to change, but his mindset. He cannot focus on both at once, however if he were to focus on making sure that they both stay in place for the time he would have to spend setting the other right, he would be in good shape. His mastery of the Force this time was beyond mastering the Force itself, he understood the waves and intentions now, but more understanding how to use them correctly. His journey had gone from mastery of the self to mastery of the Force and now it was time to master himself once more. Before he lifted the second cup, he started several waves towards the first cup before doing the same to lift the second. However, he sent too many towards the first, and he starts to see it start to move out of place. Anger filled him as he failed, and he further overcorrected as he once again started falling into the same trappings that he had fallen into prior. This time, however, he realized what was going on. While he did not let his anger go, he did start to calm down the expressions of his power. Adrenaline filled his veins as it felt like time slowed down. He fixed his overcorrection bit by bit, slowly moving the cups both towards equilibrium as their movement travelled less distance with every cycle. Finally, he could see the cups starting to slow down before stopping entirely, two objects suspended through intense control and mastery over the power he now understood.

However, two was not enough for the ambitions of Yarkar. He wanted more, lifting his saber as the imbalances start to return. Yet this time Yarkar does not panic, and the overcorrections are merely aspects of him getting used to the number of objects he has. The oscillations grow smaller and smaller as he finally stabilizes them. This process continues for each item he has in the room, until he is lifting all the small items completely still in the air. He marvels at his success; however, he is not yet finished. There was one last feat to attempt, if only for his own pride. Lifting the pieces individually was one thing but bringing them all up as a group would be another.

He started again with only two cups. However, it was much easier said than done to do multiple at a time. He got out of balance without the ability to control it again, the cups flying in random directions and knocking multiple other objects off in the chaotic process. As Yarkar scowled, he realized that this would not be a simple feat, that was for certain. He put the objects back into place, trying again. This time it was not as chaotic of a start, but it was slow. The cups rattled as they were lifted slowly. Eventually they started to rise, but they again had the issue of major oscillations. Yarkar tries to calm them down, but it was much harder to get them both moving upwards and not going downward as he felt like he was juggling more than he was mastering anything, setting the two objects down as he thought of how to possibly accomplish what he was trying to do. Clearly this took more thought than direct action.

He thought of how he typically lifted objects, with a lot of little pulls towards the point that he wanted them in. Perhaps he could do something a bit more drastic than that for this specific purpose. Something that would not work as a general solution but would be enough to move these small objects quickly to where he needed them. After all he knew how to keep them still once they got to a certain point, he just had to get them to that point to begin with. He could just make a regular pull, but a push to match it, flinging it upwards but matching the force with a downwards one once it reached the point that he wished it to reach. He would just have to stagger the pull so that they would rise at the same time.

He readies himself again to accomplish his task with the two cups, pouring energy into the points it had to be at and getting ready to release it. Yet, staggering the times left him with miscalculating where exactly to push, and it left the two cups at different heights. He tried again, this time changing where he is pushing, the cups both rose to the same spot, but he didn’t have enough time to react and keep them still, as they quickly accelerated downwards to ground, having no upwards momentum to keep them aloft when they hit the equilibrium point. He caught them before they hit the ground, but the damage for this attempt was done. He placed them back where they went and tried again. This time, he prepared himself to quickly switch into holding them. As they hit the equilibrium point his mind raced, he was not about to fail again. He saw them both just barely start to drop as he reacted, lifting them both side by side as they stopped just as soon as they started. They hung in perfect stillness, the previous clamor of shaken and dropped silverware unheard as the air hung as still as his own breath.

He continues as he did prior, adding the objects one at a time until he finally gets up his confidence for the last one. He sits for a good minute or so, feeling the Dark Side flow through him as he pushes energy into the necessary positions. He takes a deep breath as he readies himself for having to keep them upright afterwards. As they all fly upwards, he starts juggling his attention between all the objects. They all snap still as the moment of truth begins. He continues juggling his attention masterfully, holding the room’s worth of objects afloat and stable as he readies himself to lower them all down at once. Bit by bit he applies less and less energy to each of the objects as he sets them down, watching them slowly sink down onto the spots where they came from, not having moved in any direction other than vertical.
[End Alteration 3 Application]

[Yarkar Edetar]

[Note to readers of the thread: This post does contain themes relating to self harm and does do some light description of the internal nature of a wound. Please do skip reading this if it bothers you, I am not out here to make people remember things they don't want to nor to harm anyone. Please take care and take care of yourself too.]

It had been a few days since his last breakthrough, Yarkar had simply been bothered by something in his hand. An itch too deep to scratch deep within the scar. Memories flooded his mind, how in a haze of pure anger from being pinned against a wall with his own sword he had driven it the rest of the way through, wielding the weapon as he lost feeling in his fingers to his successful escape at the hands of a bounty hunter that time had stolen the name of in his mind.

Yet, the itch had grown unbearable these last few days, and he felt weak. Weakness, his father always told him it was the core of his personality. “A house of cards, ready to crumble,” was a favorite metaphor of the cruel man. Yet, the itch felt like more than that. He thought of his father’s words, and the itch. It felt like something was moving in his skin as he moved his hand. He grabbed his vibroblade, but the damage on it had been recently fixed by that Sith equipment manager. He scowls, unable to resolve if there may be a piece of it still stuck inside his hand. However, a thought crossed his mind before he put it down. What if it was possible to both prove his father wrong and figure out for himself? Who needed to get a medical droid? He had a cutting implement in his hand, while not the best for the job, it would be better than a lightsaber. He thought back to his ability with the Force when he first displayed it. How with no training he was able to unleash a wave of energy that he questioned if he could have pulled off until recently. He held the blade in one hand, his other shaking slightly as he realized the cause. He went through so much pain the day he did that and the years prior. Pain must be the key to more power, after all, it was the day that he got the former hole in his hand that he did that feat of pure strength.

It was thus pain that he wrought, as the vibrating metal started to cleave through his hand like before. As quickly as the wound was opened, and Yarkar fished with the blade towards the source of the itch and the movement as his palm twitched despite his attempts to still it. He hears the metal tack against something hard within his hand, quickly flicking with the blade as he hears a small clattering off into the corner of the room as he sets down the blade, holding his hand tightly shut as he picks up the shard of metal. It looked like a piece of the guard, it appears that it may have been weakened by the force of hitting the wall and him running his hand up and over it broke a piece off that decided to stick around. He would take more time to examine it, but his hand was currently an open wound. The pain appeared in full force as his adrenaline started to fade as he drew in air between clenched teeth. He lays the piece on the table next to his lightsaber as a trophy before walking towards his bacta tank. However, before he could bring himself to get in, he feels the calling of the Dark Side. It was like the pain was calling for him to embrace it, he could taste copper as he figured now would be the perfect time to feel his power grow. To match the feats he had performed prior. Perhaps for this wound such a drastic measure may not be necessary.

[Begin Repair Power Application]
He felt the Force in his body coalesce at the site of the wound, like it simply followed the blood that spilled down his arm as his breath shook. The reality of what he just did catching up to him as his mind is wracked with pain. He alters the flow of the Force into himself, however the more that he pulls in, the more he felt leaving him. He can sense almost a river of the Force around him as the Force that leaks out from his wound returns to the wave-like behavior of the Force outside his body before flowing right back into him as he pulled it towards himself. Yet, this was a greatly temporary solution, as he was still a physical being. If he could only return the Force to himself then it would simply be of more use to get into the bacta tank. After all, he is always connected to the Force and could always pull in its power.

Yet, he was not about to give up so easily. He focused his energy, gaining some mental control over the pain that surged through his body. He used his Telekinesis to push the blood back into his body where it hadn’t already solidified. The act of doing so was incredibly painful as it only increased the pressure in his blood vessels, which caused him to lose concentration and release the blood to flow out from the wound once again. The burning sensation through his arm was intense. He simply could not be rid of the words of his father, telling him how he was weak. Yet, he was not about to surrender. He once again used the Force to move the blood, but this time simply connecting the two broken halves of the blood vessels with a stream that didn’t fight the rhythm of his heart, but instead worked with it. He watched as the blood stays contained thanks to his concentration as the pain surges in his body. He at least was keeping himself from bleeding out for now, but this was not going to last forever.

He started small, as he had to hold in the blood to make anything else work. However, he felt like this power was not born of the waves and intentions of his other powers, but rather the control of the power in his very bloodstream. He starts to think of how the vessels work, how they ebb and flow and how they sit in his hand. He starts to try and move the Force in his body outwards as the blood bridges the gap of the wound, acting like the rest of his hand was still there. He started to notice something, small twitches in his hand, almost like growth of the muscle within. His fingers started to move on their own as tendons regained lost tension. It was like the Force demanded that the body be there as it moved around, filling where musculature would be before the muscles themselves act in the name of the Force’s will as they healed.

It was, however, incredibly unpleasant. As the hand repaired, he could still feel the pain of the wound, amplified from the repairing nerves in his hand as while his hand stitched back together, it did not feel like it would last forever. He felt it start to unravel as the pain made his mind wander, having to bring his attention back to keep the wound shut. A wound healed but left behind in its place. Perhaps it would come together on its own in time, but it could be a useful skill to make a fatal wound less so in a pinch. One never could underestimate what stitching a wound could do, even if it was not done in the quality of his medical droid.
[End Repair Power Application]

[Yarkar Edetar]

Yarkar finally grew used to the pain after a few days. He was miserable with not only being able to comfortably use one hand but also in the lack of practice that he was getting with the Force. He closed the hand as the slight twinge of pain ran up his arm, but enough to at least train with as he goes once again to the cargo hold with his lightsaber training droid. He sets its settings higher than usual, wanting a challenge as he turns it on, steadying himself with his lightsaber as the droid finally begins to lunge at him. The blow was swiftly blocked as the fight began. He was ready to prove that not only could he deepen his connection with the Force, but he could master his concentration in the heat of battle.

[Begin Force Level 7 Application]
Yarkar felt the next blow hit his saber, but he was surprised as he didn’t see much else, he was tossed to the ground, having to roll out of the way of the next strike as he struggled to get upright. The droid was not going to be easy on him, that much was for sure. He does as he knows, letting the Force flow through him in line with his motion, helping him get upright. He alters the flow of the Force, drawing more and more energy into himself as he feels it flowing through his body with each motion. Clash after clash, he could meet the force of the droid’s mechanically augmented blows with his own strength, forcing the droid to correct away from each block rather than knocking him over again. Flash after flash of light filled the room as Yarkar started to get his rhythm. After all, he just needed to get himself prepared for his true dive into the Force.

He pulls more energy into himself, blocking one more blow before unleashing a push into the droid’s faux torso. Yet, the droid did not budge. It more just slightly leaned and continued its assault, once again catching Yarkar off guard and throwing him to the ground. He fought from this prone position as slash after slash crashed down onto him as his arms shook as they tried to hold out against the onslaught. He was so confused; he was giving it all he had but he couldn’t bring the thing off its feet. He finally manages to get off the ground, and yet another push did nothing. He knew he had to do more than just what he thought he was capable of. Something had to change, and fast, if he was going to accomplish something beyond simply defeating a droid with a lightsaber.

He took this droid’s resilience as a challenge as he started to pull more of the Force into himself, trying to see if that could accomplish what he wanted it to. He feels his limits tested as it felt like he was boiling over with power before he let out another push. He felt energy erupt from his palm as it blasted against the droid. A horrific sound, like a fork scraped on a ceramic plate, could be heard echoing around the cargo hold as the droid slid backwards. Yarkar had to cover his ears as he cried out in pain from the loud noise. He barely got his lightsaber up in time to block the blow from the droid again, keeping his footing by some miracle. It was clear that his pushes alone were not about to move the droid backwards, and that if he kept only using one trick at a time he would easily be crushed.

Yarkar pulled more Force into himself as he continues his defense. The droid never sped up its pace, keeping it with large, powerful slams into Yarkar’s blade despite Yarkar’s constant change of pace to try and make an opening. He could not get the droid to speed up and make a mistake, every thrust into what he thought was a weakness simply ended in his blade being batted away. Yarkar continues onwards, however, he required the droid to get on the backfoot to do what he wanted. Flash after flash as the duel raged onwards. Yarkar managed to hold his ground but was struggling to get the droid to backpedal. Anger and frustration filled him; it was time to improve beyond his previous capacity. He could not handle his weakness any longer, and he was not about to accept the defeat of his power in the Force from a droid. He breathed in, bringing in more power into himself than he can handle. His rage feels like it is unending, the Force forming a cyclone in his chest as he continues. Blow after blow is met with Yarkar’s blade to meet it.

Finally, the Force is his weapon as he starts to blend the Force into how he fights this droid. He leads each blow with a push as he keeps pulling more and more energy into himself. The Force feels like a hurricane around him as it surges into his body, clinging to his anger as its weight forms a depression in the Force like a sinkhole. More and more energy bursting with every push as he finally gets the droid on the backpedal. The droid cannot physically react fast enough with its slow, strong blows to be able to do anything but retreat to Yarkar finally finding the weakness of the droid’s form. A powerful push followed by a swift block of a strike, another push letting out a shriek of metal as the droid’s feet scrape along the metal floor. This pattern repeats as the droid slowly acclimatized, right before Yarkar does the most unexpected thing to the droid. He deactivates his lightsaber, putting it back onto his belt as he flipped backwards. He took a breath inward, taking in more Force energy than he had ever managed before. He finally pushed both his hands forward, unleashing a massive wave of energy to finally send the droid flying into the wall. He cringed as he heard a loud whack followed by a buzz of electrical components. That would be a difficult repair for sure.
[End Force Level 7 Application]

[Yarkar Edetar]

Seeing the droid across the room, he went to go check out the cause of the damages. Yarkar allowed his lightsaber to extinguish as he lifted it with the Force lightly into his belt. His telekinesis felt more and more a part of him now, as much as his bladework had become. The Force, himself, and his blade were becoming a trifecta, like his blade almost had a life of its own. It seemed to know what he wanted before even he did, and the Force flowed through it like it was itself alive. It truly was a work of art, and he had to see what was truly behind the weapon he had forged so long ago someday. Today was not that day. By the time he reached the droid he could already tell that the damages to both the ship and the droid were mainly cosmetic, and some simple repairs when he was planetside could easily deal with the dent in the ship. He didn’t dare work on the thing while in space. However, the droid could still be worked with. He looked inwards and saw most of the issue was plating from the droid bashed inwards into wiring.

Yarkar was not a stranger to mechanical devices. He was not the best at them, but he had jerry rigged enough devices to try and send distress signals back on Sullust such that he knew his way around wires at least. He fished around within the droid, trying to see where the wires and the damages were when his fingers found a stripped, but still live, wire. His fingers just barely touched it before electricity arced through him. He yowled in pain as electricity coursed through his body. He could feel his every muscle cramp as his jaw bit down harder than he thought possible before he collapsed beside the droid. His hair, despite its length, was standing on end somewhat as his fingers still felt hot. He shook them to help them cool as pain shot along his arm. Thankfully he didn’t receive enough of a shock for him to have extreme burns, it more just reddened his fingertips. He hissed at the burns, but he thought something of them. Nothing, it seems, was without the will of the Force demanding his thought upon a subject. A master, of sorts, guiding his study through the various pains that assail him.

He searched through his old things. He seemed to have plenty of random things from his past, things Tormentous had gave him along with things Yarkar had picked up in his absence. Specifically, one of these items happened to be a pair of stun gauntlets. He picked it out of a pile, blowing off the dust as he put it over his hand, testing the voltage a couple times with a few arcs of electricity through the gauntlet. He smiled, it felt weird knowing that this would be part of his test, but at the same time it was exhilarating to wield such a thing. Electricity was a fundamental force of nature, and he could have it in his hands. He had been hit with a stun baton enough times as a child during his escapades for them to not really scare him anymore. It is what best suited him for learning how to work with electrical wires. A low-power stun bat would make his body jolt just like he had shocked himself prior, so he slowly got used to the feeling through the dual exposure. While he wasn’t going to view it as pleasant, it wasn’t a harsh memory like fire.

[Begin Resist Stun Power Application]
Yarkar drew power into himself, rage and the Force coursing through his veins side-by-side. The vigor they brought to him were twofold, he could feel his presence in the Force grow alongside the breath in his chest. His lungs felt full, and his entire body trembled as he put the glove on his arm and activated it. Was it fear? Was it anticipation? He couldn’t tell anymore. The Dark Side was clouding the border between things to fear and things to learn from, like he could stare death in the face and see it as a learning opportunity.

A massive jolt through his body as the pain only further dragged the Force into him, he felt his body viciously fight what he was doing to it, his gloved hand spasmed as he struggled to keep his grip tight. He writhed on the ground in pain, his mind trying to take in information about how the electricity flowed through his body, its presence both in the real world and the Force. Despite his training, this pain was immense, and he was forced to let go before he could get the sharpest idea of what was going on. A pink mark of a hand left behind along with the scent of lightly charred hairs filling the room made it clear what he just did to himself. His mouth tasted like copper, and his body was sore all over. As he laid down into a chair, he groaned. Everything hurt, and he learned practically nothing. The lightning was like it was a blank in the Force, like it didn’t exist beyond the material, or at least he couldn’t sense it.

However, he knew one thing. Electricity had power, and he had power. The Force was power, and perhaps he was foolish to hold more power inside of him alongside the electricity that would arc through him upon the next grasp of the gauntlet. Perhaps, like a lightning rod, it was a good idea to make a tunnel. Since he knew where the gauntlet would be, he could perhaps make a path in the Force, like he would with his pushes, but internally. To part the sea of his strength in the Force and make lightning fill the gaps as he pulled it along like it were an object. The time for theory was done, it was time to test such power. To dominate something that, while familiar, was still debilitating. How humiliated a Sith must be to be taken down by a simple stun baton.

He readied himself again. He pulled in enough energy to be able to manipulate the Force within himself, but also dispersing some of his own into the environment around him. Trails in all direction from his boots, twisting through the air like roots made into limbs, stretched throughout the room to every corner as he felt his power in the Force leak into every crevice as he prepared himself. A grasp. A flash of lightning. Nothing. He still felt the pain of the shock, but it was like it was burning and at least not the writhing. The lesser of two evils. He could feel the Force grasping at the lightning, like he was controlling it. It fired itself through the ground, following the winding paths that dispersed it into the area around him. The pain only served to strengthen his resolve in the Force, making the action easier.

He started to do it in flashes, starting and stopping as random as he could with his own body’s motion as he prepared for it each time, routing it differently depending on where he grabbed to make sure the burning electricity didn’t spread throughout his body and command his muscles to defy him. It felt like conquest, how little that mattered in this respect. He even tried a couple times with knowing the location, but he closed his eyes. He relied on his Danger Sense and wondered how far he could refine the sense as he practiced timing his sense of Danger perfectly with the creation of the lightning-roads through his body. After all, if he could tell where the danger was coming from without looking at it, this power could be a lot more than what he currently imagined it was capable of now.
[End Resist Stun Power Application]

Pain was one thing, pain was inevitable, and pain was strength, but muscle spasms may be the death of him in a key moment. He was not about to find himself at the wrong end of a stun baton any time soon, he believed as he finished up with one long shock while blinded, letting go as the stench of fried hair becomes clear again, his body covered in temporary marks of burns. It would heal in time, he wasn’t explicitly scarring himself so pitifully, after all.

[Yarkar Edetar]

Yet pain is not everything. Pain can bring power, but it in and of itself is not powerful. He can be powerful without it, and with his gauntlet still in hand he smiles. Perhaps, he can direct the power with enough channeling and force of will. Perhaps, he was wrong when he thought he could not turn power into power. After all, if the Force was in all things, perhaps he was just in too much pain to notice the last time he was shocked. Perhaps he could analyze the situation more now with a level head, and perhaps generalizations could be in order. After all, perhaps it could work for something more dangerous than a stun gauntlet. Only time and testing could tell, and he was ready to begin his experiments once again.

[Begin Absorb/Scatter Energy Power Application]
Yarkar set upon making the dispersion channel through his body to stop him from once again writhing on the ground as he set upon his goals to master the defense versus such a weapon could prove itself useful someday. One never knows what the future will bring. As he grasped his arm again, he felt the connection form as he resisted the stunning power of the electricity flowing through him, the Force tugged upon the electricity to keep it from moving through his muscles as it had before as he studied how the Force acted around it.

It’s almost as if the Force sticks to the lightning but doesn’t follow it. Like it was reaching out small hands into the pathway of the powerful shocks, but the electricity refuted the existence of the Force trying to become one with it. Like it was moving too fast for the Force to keep track of. His own mind had trouble keeping track of it as it arced through his body. However, with his focus upon it, he was starting to lose his focus. His mind wandered for a moment, and he almost immediately lost his grip with the stun glove as his body spasmed and he collapsed in a heap, his ability to ground himself broken with the lack of concentration upon it along with his lack of experience using it.

Still, his focus turned to the glove. The energy was still within it after all. Looking deep into the machinery he could feel the Force arcing around it like before, trying hopelessly to get a connection to the voids which he assumed was the current. He felt the snaking power of the Force, the Dark Side within it trying to control all that moves and all that hungers. He smiled as he grasped upon the Force in the glove, giving it more and more power as it seeped into the electric current. As it did so, however, there was a burst of Force in all directions. Like the electricity had itself exploded, the Force rippling out in strangling vines. The sheer power from it nearly choked him as it went across, his breath being taken from his lungs at the immenseness of the power released. It wasn’t anything like meeting Tormentous for the first time, but significant compared to what he expected. He surely would not be able to truly neutralize the energy released by even this gauntlet the way he was going.

He tried nonetheless, once again placing his hand around his arm, feeling the electricity arc along its path through him and the pain once again return, but he is still able to withstand the current moving into the ground as he resists the jerking effects of electrified muscles through his mastery of the current within him moments ago. He smiles as he starts to close his pathway inwards, feeling the Force finally begin to start gripping at the energy flowing through him as it attempts to consume the pretender to the might of the Force’s will combined with the condensed power of his own will to bolster it. Suddenly the Force overtakes the flow of electricity and Yarkar feels a surge of power within him as he takes in as much as possible, but it feels like the Force itself is quaking out of him as he disperses what he can into the environment around him. The Force in the room quivered at the action, but the pain slowly sank away as the electricity was made into naught but power in the Force. From energy to energy, all shall bend to the will of the Force or become one with it. Power is power, and Yarkar was determined to wield it.
[End Absorb/Scatter Energy Power Application]

[Yarkar Edetar]

Yarkar was stuck in the past again. No matter how fast he ran, no matter how fast the ship, he was still stuck. So little could be done about it, as no matter where he went, his past followed. Like shadows of the mind, a window into the soul behind the grim perception he tried to adhere to. While he was not as intimidating as he had hoped to be, both Kressara and Silas had proven that when he had his introduction back to the Sith, it was the shadow of the past in his way. He had fought so hard to go from the intangible to the tangible, he had forgotten where it all started. Ever since he had started to change the world with the Force, his memories had arrived to fight against every push. Trying to pull himself into the intangible again, to give up on changing the world around him to wallow in the pitiable darkness that was his own mind.

Even to change himself was too much it seemed, the very Force within him felt like it rebelled as memory after memory flooded into his head. It was like he was living his entire life over again. Flashes of time in between vivid memories where he could remember the words spoken and the faces, but he was the same as he was. He wasn’t a scared little boy, and yet he acted like it. Cowering from every raised hand, running out into the lava-scape of Sullust only to be burned again with no payoff as his father and some employees found him again, holding him at blaster point, forcing him to return by any means. Broken bottles from his mother’s anguish at the thought of losing him again. He knew it wasn’t about him. He knew it was about what he was. An heir. That was all he ever was, someone to get meaningless things passed down to him so that his parents could die in peace with the thought that their money wasn’t gone. They wanted it to live forever, credits flowing along the rivers of time, stamped with the name Edetar until the end of days. It’s why he mocked crowns, who needs to care about such matters?

He wanted to be himself, not an icon. It wasn’t his destiny to take on a mantle only to find a wife that loves money more than him like his father before him. To lose the love of his son in the pursuit of meaningless numbers like his father before him. He was Yarkar Edetar, the last of a line. He shall not do as his father before him. The end of a legacy of meaningless tycoons crowned by a Sith with real power rather than the power of credits. He was the end because none could surpass him, what would be the point in meaninglessly extending the line of Edetar when he was clearly the best the family could ever conceive?

Yet, just as he tried to fight off the pain of old wounds, his memory marched forwards. Sith. Failure. Hopelessness. He felt it all. The stare of his master when he lost yet another duel to a clearly superior opponent. It all marched on like a blur of disappointment. His master staring until his thoughts froze. His vision once again clouded as he can feel the Dark Side on his mind just as he had with Kressara. Visions of what could have been, corruptions of the mind. His memory filled with hate, breeding only more visions that grew darker and darker. Colors were drained from them, and they deviated from the truth more and more. He saw Tormentous try to strike him down repeatedly, the pain and suffering of it all rising to the sky as more and more false strikes disappeared before they hit him. Then, it all stopped. He saw the blackened shadow of Kressara that he saw in the room with Silas, and he stood. He didn’t have much room to move in his sleeping quarters, it could barely fit both him and his vision with the bed and shelf holding his saber.

He didn’t have enough time to reach said saber before this apparition drew its own. It swung high, and Yarkar was forced to duck, the onslaught beginning as the pitch-black blade of shadow danced towards him, forcing him to dodge again and again. It was clear he had to change what he was doing, and fast, if he was going to continue this battle.

[Begin Battlemind Power Application]
Focus. That was the name of the game. He had to not only dodge the sweeping slashes of the blade but to get to his own without witnessing how real this memory truly is. He could hear the blade in his ears, humming its dangerous melody. Yarkar pulled as much of the Force into him as he could handle out of pure habit. He didn’t know what to do as the onslaught intensified. It was ferocious, just as he remembered Kressara. Each strike felt different, and yet the force behind them was constant. It was like it was fully changing styles in between attacks, as easily as one would discard a sidearm for another weapon. Yarkar ducked weaved, but he didn’t have enough time to move. He would have to be perfect, and his danger sense just wasn’t good enough. He needed more.

Into the Force, his eyes delved. There was more to be had here. More at hand about how it fought. While it was entirely in memory, it’s not like he had defeated her before to know how to get around what it was doing. Even now he was struggling, but there had to be something more to how it moved. He looked upon the Force, seeing it swirling as the Force’s flow was altered around him, yet he couldn’t really see the shade that stood before him’s presence. How strange. Still, his senses were heightened, nonetheless. His danger sense felt more on cue, and as his eyes tracked the blade, his danger sense was giving him some sense of if the attack coming at him was a faint. Ducking, weaving, jumping, he was doing it all, but something else was missing. He was only dodging. He could never win like this, only be stuck perpetually in a state of infinite war.

But he just couldn’t focus. The shadow of Kress was just too fast and strong; it was like he was weaving his way through a swelling stormfront of his own demise. He kept losing his focus repeatedly as a new form of attack would be created, as the apparition grabbed blades from thin air to throw. He tried to grab at them, but they turned into nothing but shadow as they flew past. It was followed by it thrusting its blade only to hide a kick that forced him basically to the ground as then the blade came rushing towards his head. It was in that moment, time slowed down.

It was like he was processing time so much slower than before, and as he rolled into the shadow’s legs, knocking it over as Yarkar was finally able to reach his saber. It was like he was also moving in slow motion, not sped up by this new flow of time, merely able to react faster. Yet as soon as he grabbed the saber, he snapped out of the trance keeping him focused. He had to find a way to do that again, clearly it was working and would grant him time against such a skilled opponent.

Ignition. Crimson lights up the room as finally Yarkar is confident in standing against Kressara again. Yet, as soon as the saber ignites, it changes again. It pulled out more and more of the disappearing knives, leaving Yarkar to once again be put on the back foot. He focuses on each knife, how it sails by, but his focus is too slow at shifting between them. He starts having to deflect some of them with his telekinesis, seeing no other way to avoid them and fearing what happens if he were to be struck with one. He wasn’t about to find out how real this shadow in the Force was. He tried his best to recreate what he had a flash of before. His mind raced to think of a way to take in more information, for his senses to tell him more.

Finally, his thoughts start to coalesce. His mind came to the memory of when that wretched blade came after him, it was like the Force had come together into his head trying to protect it in some way. He once again let the Force in him surge up high, watching the world slow down as information started to pour into his mind from all directions. The daggers slowed down, and he could make out exactly which was coming first and where from. However, it didn’t take long for the shade to take note of this. It took out its saber again, making a charge towards Yarkar. Yarkar steadies himself towards the onslaught, able to plant his feet in defense through the blades coming towards him due to his enhanced senses. The blade came crashing down, stopping as the darkness could not pass the burning light of his own blade. Yet, he felt something terrible flow through his body from the clash. It was like the Dark Side was seeping through his blade, dark and powerful. Hatred seeped into his arms, making them feel like they were weary within a single instant of fighting as the Dark Side once again attempts to win dominance over the young Yarkar.

Yarkar refuted this. Like how he had learned to Force Jump, he lets the Force flow through him as he keeps his temperament. His blade stayed strong as crashing blow after crashing blow came from the grim shadow. Yet, as the Force tried to fight off the infection that the Dark Side tried to swallow him, his focus started to slip. It was the opposite of the feeling the Dark Side usually brought him. A feeling of accepting arms, wrapping around his own and giving him a strength beyond his own, was not present. Instead, it was a horrible sinking, the domination of the Dark Side, the embodiment of what happens when he gives in to its will rather than taking hold of it like his own weapon. He had to choose to either fight the infection or to continue his formidable trance. His blade clashes with the faux Kressara’s time and time again as Yarkar had to keep it busy so it couldn’t so quickly overtake him with a change in style.

Yarkar felt like the Force was rowing through his body, rushing to his mind to get some idea of the situation at hand and then bolstering his resolve as it then danced back to his arms to bolster them against the pure onslaught of the Force. Yet, that resolve felt powerful, different. It was not just the resolve to keep fighting. It was actively more power in his limbs. His sheer focus letting him feel every single part of his muscle twitch and optimize every movement ergonomically in slower-than-real time. He could take in his movement and the shade’s response and then respond to the response before time started to speed up slightly as the Force bolstered his arms before slowing down for the next strike.

The struggle continued, but the shade was making mistake after mistake, unable to keep up with just how fast Yarkar responded to every action. One wrong block is all it took. A sideways strike became an upwards thrust, and his blade pierced the shadow’s chin and out the back of its head. The shadow tried one last trick, pulling out a knife to try and stab him in the stomach. Yet Yarkar’s new senses let him see it coming, smiling as he unleashed a force push into its center mass. The shade flew backwards, hitting a wall and exploding into nothing but the shadows of the room as it was finally over.
[End Battlemind Power Application]

[Yarkar Edetar]

Yarkar gathered his senses, the cramped quarters he had just fought within gripping at his heart with anxious whispers as his eyes darted from side to side. Hatred stewed in his heart, but it swelled with every breath. How else could he possibly feel? He had just met with an object of frustration that he could not bear to think of incarnate. He thought he buried the hatchet, so why did the rain uncover it? Was it buried too shallow? She was not something to hate anymore, there were too many drugs in her system for that. Instead, it was like a far-off memory of a different person. Goading, facetious, and simply better than him. Someone built to do everything he could and more. It was like he was climbing a mountain to have defeated even a distant thought of her, like he had climbed up to a star and diminished its brightness.

It was time to land again. He needed to get out. He needed space to roam and space to hide in. These were not emotions to be had when he could be pushed into a corner by some vague memory. He was not about to take such risks. As his ship landed onto Yavin IV, he practically rushed out into the jungle. He was not wasting any time getting into a location where he felt safe from the corruption that tainted his thoughts. His heart slowed, its pace coming back to ease as he coughed. It was like he had been holding his breath throughout the entire landing. Surrounded by life, he felt much safer. It was like a protective coat around him, the aura of the planet shielding him with the darkness that lie within the Force. He did not have to duel with the Force out here. Here only one thing prevailed, the Sith and its power. He felt a comfort, and with comfort was weakness. He would not be subject to being surprised again, that much was for sure. He got to work with a plan that had long since been in the making. His senses were great to tell him about danger, but he wanted more. He wanted to be able to fight without his eyes.

Yarkar goes throughout the jungle canopies, slashing at some branches with his vibroblade as he sharpens them into spear-like darts. He doesn’t bother making them pretty, it wasn’t something to be seen anyways. The grit on them gave them character. He could almost feel the darkness in them, like these trees had grown with rage in their roots and blood in their xylem. They grew through hardship and pain, like he did, and so often he conquered them for his needs. They stood still, they changed slowly. He was swift, and they would die, should he desire it. As he gathered the short darts, he brought himself to a nearby clearing. He laid them in a random assortment around him as he sat in the middle of the clearing. As his eyes closed, he felt the Force coming to him.

[Begin Combat Sense Power Application]
There was still whisps of life in the darts, Yarkar could sense them in the ring around him. He picked each of them up with the Force, trying his best to swap them around and move them in every which way so that they all pointed towards him from different angles and directions, but also being sure to not pay attention as to the exact location they were in. As the life faded out of them, his senses went dark. He was solely in the hands of new territory now.

He pulled his focus inwards, allowing for a few of the sticks to be launched in random directions as he made blind Force pulls, hoping there was a spear in that direction. His senses flared up. A spear was approaching, danger flared in his mind, but from where? He didn’t want to duck, he wanted to see just how well he could pinpoint the danger. Time slowed down as he used the same tactic to slow down his mind and sharpen his focus as he did against the shade. Danger itched along his mind. It felt more and more urgent as paranoia rose in him. His senses screamed out for him to get out of the way but would not specify which way as Yarkar tried his best to reach into the area in the Force around him, grasping for something when it could see nothing.

Yet something he received. A sharpened stick flicked its way past him, leaving a cut along his jaw as he wailed. He roared in pain as he used the Force to heal the wound, opening his eyes as he ran his hand across it, slowly watching the blood red results of which slowly turn pale before entirely clean as the wound closed. His heart rate rocketed upwards, and his body rejected the inhuman healing with intense pain as the nerves were left exposed for mere moments before the flesh around them was reborn.

Yarkar repeated the process, lifting and scrambling the location of the spears in hopes of once again trying to see what was coming after him without his eyes. Danger once again swelled in his chest, burning through his body and rampaging through his mind. Yet, Yarkar had an idea. He completely shut off his sense of danger, actively avoiding it as he watched the world around him more than he worried about the danger of it. The Force and his senses were what he had forgotten, the connection of all things to the Force. It refused to let something live or die without gripping at it in some manner. He felt the Force gripping upon every object, and a specific wrinkle in the Force coming towards him. He flicked his hand up, and as he grasped, he felt it. Wood, ungentle and unrefined, graced his palm as he opened his eyes, realizing that the spear was seconds from piercing his trachea.

Merely one spear was not enough for the burgeoning Sith. He wanted to cement his power, not simply have it. If he was not its master, then the Force would not bow to him as it often does. He would, once again, prove his mastery and unto that prove his will to the Force. As he once again lifted the spears into place, all in a sphere around him before he moved them around such that they would not all arrive at once. Aiming them all at his head, he pushed as much of his energy as he could into a sphere around him. He then pulled all the energy back towards himself, unleashing a hailstorm of spears unto the young Sith.

The sense of danger came and went as it was swallowed by Yarkar’s focus; it was a distraction to him. A simple understanding that the attack was coming, now he needed to react to it. His thoughts once again were filled with the Force, looking at how it clung to each object even after the life had left it. It was faint, but he could feel in his bones where the next approaching spear was, as if his mind were scanning the area in bubbles around himself until it found something of note, stopping to focus as it did. His mind locked in onto it and determined how to get out of the way. The first he grabbed and tossed aside but as he noticed how quickly the second was approaching, he had to move his head backwards to avoid it. Unluckily this was towards the next spear, but he was able to maneuver his head back far enough before the spear flew overhead.

It got more serious now, movements alone were not going to be sufficient. He started to pinpoint spears within the Force and deflect them off their path with small pushes of telekinesis as he searched his senses for the next incoming strike. “Flick left, flick right, move your head back, forwards!” played through his head as he was almost conversing between himself, his thoughts, his instincts, and the Force. Dozens of carved spears fell around the Sith before he finally managed to stop all of them, or so he thought. As he went to stand his danger sense, however suppressed it was, flared up. On instinct he reached in front of him, soon holding a carved spear with the point just barely touching the bridge of his nose in between his eyes. He felt a single dribble of blood move down his face as he tossed the spear aside, looking at the chaos he had brought order to. Spears from random directions pointed towards his head, ready to kill him should he fail too spectacularly, and yet there they were. Piled around his feet like the meaningless twigs they were.
[End Combat Sense Power Application]

Yet, as he stood there, he heard a faint rustle of leaves, and a creaking branch. Something, for certain, was following him.

[Yarkar Edetar]

Yarkar did not turn towards the noise. He was above his worries now, and fully convinced he could sense an oncoming attack if need be. He did, however, wish to train his senses. He knew that the key to his ability to sense the direction of an attack was his ability to know where it came from, so if his senses weren’t sharp, it’s more likely to be stabbed in the back. To this end, he didn’t want to have to actively look, but rather to passively see the world around him through the Force. To open his mind to the Force as a whole, always. The prospect intrigued him. It seemed more than to master the senses, but to use them as he used his other senses. The Force working as a sixth sense that could do much more than his other senses. To be present and listening in the Force even without trying sounded itself like a prospect worth going about.

[Begin Surveillance Power Application]
Explicitly, Yarkar did not reach into the Force. His mind simmered within it as he could not particularly be separated from the Force, but he rarely paid attention to the Force without tugging upon it. His mind wandered to how it could be possible to see what he had heard as he casually walks along. He wanted to goad them into making more noise while making it seem like he hadn’t heard them.

Yet, there was so much life in this jungle. He could sense how the Force clung to every bit of foliage, writhing, grasping at the spirit of life still growing within them. The Force almost felt like it was waiting in anticipation, grasping onto as much life as possible like it may lose it. The Dark Side roared through the jungle on gusts of wind as a storm rolled in the distance. Lightning crackled along the horizon and the energy gripping upon it was astounding in the split second it existed. Yarkar’s mind was clouded with endless stimuli. The Force was everywhere, and grasping at everything, how could he possibly pick out a pursuer?

As his concentration slipped, he caught a glimpse of something moving in the Force. A sinkhole, like the darkness was being drawn into a single point. Yarkar realized something, he had not noticed the presence before simply because he was focused in too much, not because he had not focused enough. He would be overwhelmed by the small changes if he sat there and dwelled on how the Force clung to every fragment of life, how it grasped the lightning as the storm drew nearer. He had to stop focusing in on the details. He needed to sense the bigger picture, to release a bit of control and trust his own senses.

As he let his grasp go, his thoughts drifted, and his senses dulled to a point where the noise was disappearing into the background. He saw the larger trend, specifically that of two beings where the Force clung to them more so than the rest. Yet, oddly enough, they themselves felt at odds. The darkness surrounding one was expected enough, but there was something it had been a long time since he had sensed upon the other. Something that should not be so easily found within the jungle of Yavin IV. He sensed the light. Blindingly bland upon his mind, it struck him. He had to know more. What was a being surrounded by the light-side doing on this dark moon? He kept letting his mind wander, searching the Force for any hint of what was happening, tracking the movements of the two beings within the Force. He saw them diverge from one another, and each took a different side to the clearing, but always behind him.

He decided to speed up his pace a little, nothing one wouldn’t expect, but enough to get to the edge of the clearing faster. He wanted to see what they did when he reached it. His senses, still mildly attuned to the two, tracked them as they made their way through the treetops. He was not letting the Force through the leaves and branches of the trees distract him and make him lose the trends of what was coming after him.

As he reached the end of the clearing, he noticed the two forces come together. What confirmed his suspicions was the lack of his normal senses noticing something about the still surroundings as the two approached one another. After all, he would hear something for sure if the two were truly foes as the Force around them seemed to suggest. Most of the time Force users of opposite inclinations don’t tend to move in tandem silently creeping behind a common target.

He stopped, feeling the presences grow closer and closer to him. They were stealthy, that much was for sure, he didn’t even hear rustling of trees or the pitter of footsteps. He smiled as he felt the presence in the Dark Side leave the treetops. His vision in the Force was much clearer now. It was more than just any Sith. This was his rival, Ishtar, come to take revenge. He could see it in the contours of the man’s face as his saber felt like the Force around it was crystallizing, burning red-hot with hatred. As soon as the cowardly backstabber’s hands touched the weapon, the voice of his target spoke with impunity. His voice boomed in the beginnings of a word before the hair on Yarkar’s neck stood. His senses were not so acutely focused such that he forgot the being in the treetops. Yarkar didn’t waste a breath as he twirled out of the way just as the blaster bolt zipped by his head. His sense of danger may have warned him about the attack, but his observations truly saved him. Without them, he would have been expecting a lightsaber and would have likely been dead moments later.
[End Surveillance Power Application]

Yarkar turned to face the Sith with a wicked smile. “A blaster bolt is not enough to kill me, coward. Bringing a Jedi with you has only cemented your downfall.”
“A Jedi? What are you talking about? She’s merely a bounty hunter!”
Yarkar paused for a moment before igniting his saber to bat away a second blaster bolt from the sniper. A thrum of sound and a hiss rose through the sounds of the jungle floor as the blade is up at the perfect moment to deflect the bolt into the sky. It burned a small hole towards the canopy as Yarkar stares down his opponent. He was both not ready to believe him and ready to finish off such a disgrace that would dare attempt to down the mighty Yarkar Edetar, former apprentice of Tormentous. He heard whispers of the Force, the Dark Side calling upon his will. It took all he had in him to not become a whirl of death and rage in that moment, to keep the composure of a warrior so that his mind was still clear enough to demand the Force obey him.

[Yarkar Edetar]

Somedays, it felt like Tormentous was still with him, watching his moments. Perhaps he had some pride left in the boy. Perhaps not. Either way, the duel seemed inevitable, and it was like the Force waited with bated breath, like even it wasn’t as sure as Yarkar to the outcome. Hums filled the wilderness as wildlife fled. The occasional bolt from the interloper was not yet an issue as Yarkar could sense them moving and sense the bolt before it even arrived. It was a waiting game.

“You know this isn’t your victory, correct? There is certainly no way you could outdo me at this point, and to try is futile. Put down your weapon and die with the pride of a Sith who knew he was beaten, rather than a humiliated acolyte laying upon the ground.” Yarkar spoke with a grandiosity he didn’t know he even had in him, his words dripping with hate. To dare challenge him here, after such repeated humiliations? Would this even be a challenge worth his time?

Yet, Yarkar knew not of what was in store for him. With the goading, Ishtar responds in turn, “Oh if you only knew! The Dark Side has gifted me something for all my pain and rage, something to give me the final edge I needed! I have denied it for too long, but now it is one in the same as I!” Yarkar then noticed it. Ishtar’s eyes were a bright yellow, stained with red splotches as dark as his saber. His pupils were like holes of darkness, where light could not escape, consumed it as it entered. Those hateful eyes refused to allow any of their sights to be seen by others. Light went there to be claimed and subsequently die in imprisonment.

[Begin Skilled Lightsaber Combat Power Application]
Yarkar’s eyes go wide seconds before the first strike lands. It’s almost too fast for him to react to. His foe moved with speed he could barely comprehend with the sheer focus he was able to maintain with his trance. He had to pull in more and more Force just to keep up with the sheer flowing of power required to keep up even the most basic of parries against the monster he fought.

Another blaster bolt, another deflection, but each deflection was costly. Each time he had to guard against a bolt, he was open to the onslaught of the swift saber movements that chased after his every movement. Leaps, sprints, parries, he could sense the very fabric of the warrior’s movements being augmented by the Dark Side. It was like facing up against an avatar of its nature. Yarkar was having to use complete focus as well as augmentation of his movements within the Force to keep up with even possibly to the two assailants, trying to position the raging madman between him and the sniper as much as possible. It was his mind that would come out on top here, his bladework needed to compliment his thoughts and he would be much more suited to anything more than a simple duel. His concentration was in the way, he was too clean. His bladework moving like machinery, but he was not a Jedi where such things were considered strengths. He was not a machine. His focus and his rage should be one. He is Sith, he is rage. To deny it was to fade into his own demise.

He opened his mind to intrusions, he gave up on his focus, he gave into his rage as he refused to let himself stand idly by and get driven to exhaustion. He knew his opponent was too fast for him to punish a small mistake in bladework, this wasn’t the last time he had dueled with him. Yarkar looked upon the Sith in front of him and pulled upon the Force. His face full of vitriol as he fed upon the darkness overflowing from Ishtar’s very being. However, he was not going to simply contain it like usual, he built it up as the animal that called itself Sith charged at him. A moment before Yarkar would have been dead, a massive push extends through the Force, launching the Sith into a tree. It didn’t incapacitate him, it was clear that Ishtar was using the power of the Dark Side to enhance his physical traits to an extreme, but he had no defense against the Force if Yarkar was able to keep up with his saber play enough to employ it alongside his lightsaber prowess.

That was the issue. To keep up with the saber combat, he had to keep his focus, but to reach with the Force he had to lose it. Rhythm would be difficult to find, but that didn’t stop him before. He had power, he just had to figure out how to apply what he had to a real situation rather than one in his own head. Another blaster bolt shot, and another deflected as the raging brute once again stood and charged at Yarkar. He sidestepped him, letting the acolyte run past him. The acolyte swiftly makes it to a tree, using the Force to leap off it in a backflip towards Yarkar, landing upon his blade with his entire weight. Yarkar nearly crumbled. His focus shattered and his connection to the Force wavered as he was brought nearly to the ground with a single blow.

The heat of the two blades nearing his face grew as he realized that his robotic blocks were the thing in the way. He was the problem, using old techniques that Tormentous had taught him and treating them like law. He didn’t realize before that they were meant to be malleable, to change and to be reforged for the situation. A block was nothing if it didn’t adapt to what was happening around it. The blade may have been coming from above, but a bit more positioning and Yarkar would have been able to block it much more easily from the side. Nevermind how much easier it would be to continue into something from such an advantageous position

Flashes of how his old master dueled with him came to the forefront of his mind. How every strike was not a clear copy of a pure form, but a small variation upon it to make up for small differences. Distance, timing, what block he was currently using, what block he was likely to use next. Predictions upon predictions upon predictions, layering them into a single strike and forcing Yarkar to react with his body where his mind would have been much faster.

That was what he was doing this entire duel so far, sensing danger and reacting to it. He was not being proactive, not goading specific attacks that would give him room for error, room to possibly end the fight. Instead, he took what was coming at him and suffered from it. The art of blocking was an art for a reason. He was not an artist in this moment; he was a sloppy restoration of an old masterpiece made by an amateur to everything but technique. The brushstrokes were there, but the heart wasn’t. Yarkar felt a burning in his spirit, a rage and anger came to him once more. He wasn’t unable to feel his emotion while the Force augmented his focus, he just wasn’t letting himself feel it. He existed only in this moment, rather than using his augmented focus as an extension to his already busy mind in combat. He was using his focus as something beyond, an addition rather than a continuation.

His folly realized; his blade seemed to sing to life. He finally felt what he had been subtly noticing this entire time, his blade was alive within the Force. It cried with the same suffering that he did, crimson burning hatred pouring from its soul to defend its master and destroy his foes. It was not an extension of himself, it was its own being. A being that wished only for the world to burn if its master willed it so. Yarkar’s entire mentality changed. He stopped wielding his blade like a tool. He stopped ignoring his anger and fleeting passions. He felt impenetrable, unable to be defeated as the world took its toll upon his foes.

Another push from the Force sent Ishtar flying, crashing into the underbrush again. Another blaster bolt fired, but this time Yarkar didn’t mindlessly defend. He put up his defenses to exhaust and enrage his opponents in melee, but he never thought to punish mistakes from afar. He leapt with the Force, feeling it flow through him so easily as he goaded another shot from the sniper while he was supposedly helpless in the air, unable to maneuver out of the way. Yet, this was exactly the plan, he just needed a good angle. He senses the blaster bolt incoming and reacts before the bolt is even fired, feeling the bolt bounce against his blade and back through several appendages of the Revwien as they fell to the floor with a soft thud. Spores flew in a thick cloud as they fell and Yarkar descended, now with only one opponent remaining that had finally managed to untangle his robes from the undergrowth.

Yarkar took a deep breath as his opponent came at him, his focus returning, now as a great boon. His focus razer-sharp, but his emotions still underneath the surface stoking the fires of his internal kiln of rage. The spirit of combat flowed through his veins as his physical senses took in his environment while his senses within the Force told him where to block while his natural focus was on his skills within the Force. It was like his saber drove itself to the beat of his instincts. His fighting was much less formulaic than before, adapting to every strike with ease as the physical superiorities of his opponent started to become meaningless. His power in the Force was great, but no one can give their all forever. The rage was still boiling over in those harsh yellow eyes, but the body did not listen. It slowed down, still invigorated but unable to go as quickly as before as Yarkar stayed upright, feeding upon the darkness within his opponent like it was a wellspring of hatred to pull from. Ishtar was not thinking of that, simply fading as his rage slowly failed him.

Yarkar found his opening. Ishtar went to clash blades, but it was misguided. A downwards blow was sidestepped, and in a desperate attempt to make up for the blunder, Ishtar slashes upwards towards Yarkar’s waist. Yarkar easily blocks the blow with only one hand upon his saber, Ishtar was getting tired. He could even sense how the Force was letting its tension go. It knew who had won as Yarkar raised a hand to the foe’s face, creating a burst of light into them to disorient Ishtar as Yarkar subsequently leaped back, using telekinesis as Ishtar was reaching up towards his face. The saber was removed from the undeserving’s hands. Yarkar had won, again, despite the odds.

Ishtar just couldn’t find it in him to defeat Yarkar. No matter how slim the odds seemed, Yarkar grew as he fought, while Ishtar shriveled. Yarkar was willing to grow and change, Ishtar simply wanted power and became content once it appeared more than Yarkar’s. That was the thing with power, the more you wanted it, the more it came. Yarkar let the light leave both blades, smiling as he looked at his opponent writing on the ground as he stood in triumph over him.
[End Skilled Lightsaber Combat Power Application]

Yarkar turned and walked away, he did not have anything more to prove, and he wanted to see the other assassin. He wanted to make sure that he wasn’t leaving a Jedi alive on Sith soil where he could help it, especially since one would have to be a fledgling to not even have a lightsaber. Perhaps he could save them from their teachings, let them embrace the power of their own will, to dominate the Force as was the destiny of those who wielded the Force.

Yet, as he approached the edge of the woods, he felt danger from behind. He side-stepped to avoid it, seeing Ishtar once again stumbling past him. Yarkar sighed, what a sad way to live. “Why bother?” Yarkar spoke, his voice filled with pity more than rage. “Why bother when you’ve already lost? Accept your defeat and learn something from it. That is the way of the Sith, more than victory shall ever be.”

Ishtar spoke, his voice wavering and weak, “I shall not be bested by the likes of you. I am better than you! I know you know that! I was going to kill you and then you kept on pushing me away! I’m better, you’re just cheap!”

“Is that truly how you feel, that using the Force to my advantage makes me weak, and that keeping up makes you strong for maintaining a close duel? Choose wisely, I will not accept another answer.”

“Yes! Yes, it does, coward! You are weak. Everything you do is cheap and cowardly! You hide behind your blade like a rat in a cage! You step out of the way because you can’t take a hit! You are the epitome of weakness and relying on the Force rather than your strength is the greatest example of that!” Ishtar grew more and more enflamed with every word, punctuating each sentence with a growing hatred that filled the Force as his voice grew louder and louder. He raised his fist again, invigorated by his pure hatred of the man that stood before him.

And that’s when Yarkar ignited his blade again. As Ishtar dared to throw another punch, Yarkar ignited his blade, quite simply severing the Sith’s arm at the elbow. The acolyte called out in rage and pain, very quickly throwing a second strike only to have another limb severed. The pain brought the acolyte to his knees. Yarkar spoke again, his pity gone and his rage high in his mind.

“I told you to rue the name Yarkar, Ishtar. That was not a joke. I hope this is a lesson to those who will challenge me in the future, although sadly none will hear of it. No one will speak of your name, you will disappear, as many others have. Erased from history, erased from memory. No one will find you out here before you are naught but bone, and I hope you have enjoyed your tirade. I was going to let you live as an example, but you have forced my hand. Time to die, Ishtar. May the sound of your name be poison to the ears that hear it.”

With that a swift downwards stroke from Yarkar decapitated the Sith, his head rolling as the sizzling appendages cradled the former director of the body upon the ground. Yarkar unceremoniously continued towards his sense of the Light Side within the woods where he felled that Revwien. It was time to see what was going on with them at last.