To Touch The Intangible (Force Training)

[Yarkar Edetar]

The storm fully approaches. Rain crashes down like the rushing of the tides. Yarkar felt his cloak failed to protect him. His hair clumped into damp strands that stuck to his face, his clothing soaked through. Anger clung to him almost as well as the water. Anger that Ishtar would dare to be so stupid. He had so much potential, but he couldn’t have been left alive. Nothing could have saved the poor lout from his own self-destruction. Recklessness was not what the Sith needed, he would have been a waste. To work with a Jedi. The Jedi! He had almost forgotten in the drilling of the rain upon his skull. The rhythm of the drops among the forest and the rumble of the storm like a fog upon his own mind.

He did not have to go far to find the pitiable thing. She was strewn upon the ground, groaning as she held upon the burnt tendrils. She practically hissed at him as he arrived. Odd, how primal for a Jedi. He supposed this is what Jedi were when they were bested, animals in a cage. He lights his saber. “So, what brings a Jedi to Yavin IV? Trying to pick off the Sith one by one with that fancy blaster of yours?” Crimson danced along her face, showing her mushroom cap brow curl in confusion. “Jedi? I’m no Jedi. I’m just a bounty hunter, Ishtar paid me to put in a few shots because he heard about me in a bar on Jakku.” The fungal woman was just as confused as Yarkar was with that information. He could sense the Light in her every breath, like it flowed through her blood. Perhaps she was just sensitive? Even then, why would the Light surround a bounty hunter, one could argue the motivations behind a hunter are not exactly pure. Then he remembered something, an old page in a boring history text his parents used to make him read. Revwiens, they had something to do with a religion based around breathing. He wondered if that could be the case, even still, her grating voice tired him.

[Begin Force Choke Power Application]
The Dark Side came to him as the storm raging around them only grew more potent. Every thought echoed within the yearning of the thunder for more bloodshed. The Force almost seemed to whisper along its strands in the Dark Side into Yarkar’s mind. Hints of crushing, smashing, obliteration. Little dancing thoughts along his mind of turning her body to rubble with the Force alone. To flaunt his newfound strength within the Force with the overwhelming urge to crush her for trying to kill him. It was only fair, after all, that an attempt to kill someone will lead to your own death. She knew what she was getting into in this line of work, it was not something that was unheard of in being a hired gun. It would be an honor to be killed by a Sith with power like his.

Thunder boomed once more as Yarkar’s emotions were stirred, but as he felt the toll of the Dark Side on his mind, he felt himself having to fight becoming a puppet like Ishtar. He knew exactly the influence it wanted to have over him, influence he had tasted so long ago. He wanted it so badly, but to give in to it would only lead to his ruin if he did nothing but be angry. Angry rampaging was for the weak, he was the strong. He was weaponized anger, power with purpose. His mind struggled to keep out the anger as the Revwien merely saw Yarkar staring at her with a snarl. She was at a loss for words as his eyes narrowed, the power of the Force finally releasing from his body as his mind cleared.

Yarkar easily lifted the bounty hunter into the air, that much was familiar to his power, the true difficulty would be in applying constant pressure. Not incredibly difficult of a change, but a change nonetheless because failure to go easy enough would crush her throat much too quickly. This was not a method of instant death, this was torture, and he had to make that much clear. He reached out with his hand, letting the Force coagulate around her throat in a ring. He started to rapidly spin the energy current around, keeping the Force moving and thus affecting the world around it with the rippling and uniform waves pushing it into the tangible world.

As he went to close the ring of power, however, he felt something push back. The Force in the air the Revwien was breathing, it was like it was protecting her. With how little of a hold the Light Side had upon the planet, the Dark was struggling to coalesce. She was either lying about being a Jedi, or this faith of the Revwiens was more than it seemed. He felt like the entire presence of the Light Side upon the planet was fighting to protect the bounty hunter, like every breath only brought a new wave of reinforcements against his dark onslaught. He pushed with greater and greater force to tighten the ring, feeling the pressing battle between her and his strength. He felt her kick and writhe at the first hint of the ring brushing air against her neck, fighting to break free of his grip in the Force. She didn’t stand a chance; she was his prey now. He could feel her breaths getting more and more shaky as she struggled. No longer were they long and stable, but short and stiff. Hyperventilation was simply not sustainable to her continued defense as she tried to keep as much air in her as possible before breathing out. The lack of pulling power in and her panic sealed her fate. As the Force in her body weakened, so did its resistance. The Dark was winning, Yarkar’s anger was winning. The weight upon the Force was oppressive as the ring finally began to tighten around the weakling’s throat.

Finally choking echoed in the air as the ring tightened around her neck, pressing against the xylem and phloem of her neck as her neck visibly deformed as tendrils clawed aimlessly to break the intangible assailant off her as he tightened his grip further as she struggled. “What is your name?” shouted Yarkar with a wicked smile as he tightened his grip as far as it would go, her face beginning to change colors but with silence other than struggle and gagging from her direction in return. He chuckled. “That’s correct. You don’t have one anymore. You are nothing to me.” Fire burned behind his eyes as the Light had abandoned her entirely. Now it didn’t even fight back, merely rolled over and died to his rage. “You lost it the moment you chose to side with Ishtar against the Sith. Our foes no longer have names unless they are worthy of them. You are minor at best, not worthy of being remembered. A cog in the machine. A ship in the armada. A planet in the galaxy. There are too many of you to be bothered with, to forget you is a blessing.” She begins to black out, her last sight is Yarkar’s final words to her. “You made yourself known too well. You should have stayed forgotten.”
[End Force Choke Power Application]

As the Revwien bounty hunter dropped to the ground, there was no satisfaction. It was simply a job that had to be done, but now that it had completed, he questioned its worth. He probably could have gotten more information out of her about if Ishtar had any failsafe for this fight, but his anger had gotten the better of him. It was in the past, but his anger at himself began to boil for letting himself lose control so easily. Even the learning he gained in the action meant nothing in case he may have other hunters after him. Even if he didn’t, he could have confirmed that she was the last and lived a bit more peacefully.

[Yarkar Edetar]

Yarkar felt anger and self-pity rush over him as the rain continued to pour down around him. He just couldn’t let it go. He didn’t know how to let it go; it was too much to bear. He had made two corpses that now lay in the slowly forming mud from the rainfall around him and yet he could not help but seethe in the anger that they caused him. He felt slighted and betrayed, like the world itself had decided to come together for his destruction. He could not comprehend the idea that his anger towards them was meaningless, how they could no longer feel his rage upon them, but he didn’t care. He needed a vector of his emotion. He needed some way to empty the vessel of his anger. Despite all of his rage, it seemed like he had the perfect idea as his head lifted to the sky.

[Begin Force Scream Power Application]
He shouted at the top of his lungs; birds scared from the treetops as his voice shuddered through the jungle. A crying howl of anger, he let himself free. Yet, the Force still clung heavily to his heart, his anger feeling like a weight on his soul that wasn’t escaping with his yelling like it had so many times before. He needed something more. Something that could break the barrier of the physical. He thought back to how he fought with the Force, and how he used it to jump. Screaming itself was just a muscle, and he could use the font of his anger to control it. It was perfect.

He sucked in air, filling his lungs with the thick jungle air before shouting again, letting the Force surge through his diaphragm as he practically collapsed his lungs. His scream becomes a weak whimper as he doubles over in pain. His waist had practically punched him in the ribs as he used his abilities to repair the slight internal damage of the process. He felt the cracks in his ribs painfully realign as he tried his best to stand back up, groaning in the pain of what had just occurred. He took deep, sharp breaths as he stood, propping himself on a nearby tree. The pain only served to fuel his anger as every breath sent a searing jolt of torment through his body as he tried to fix the damage he had done. He groaned, clearly realizing he had vastly underestimated the strength of both his muscles and the Force. He felt it flowing through him as his patchwork bodily repairs finished, finally allowing him to stand up on his own, albeit painfully.

Yarkar stretched out the pain as he started to reformulate a plan, perhaps it may be foolish to try to expel more air, but what if he could make himself louder by simply making his voice carry further? After all, what was being loud than just making sure you were heard, and what was sound but vibration? He steadied himself again, taking a deep breath as he concentrated the flow of the Force through his voice box. He felt it flowing through his veins at a breakneck pace as he started once again to shout, letting his anger ride on the charge of the wind from his lungs. The result was loud, echoing through the forest as it was expelled with pure hatred spilling into its noise through the enhancement of the Force. Several birds began to flee the treetops, thinking that a new apex predator had emerged to take its rule of the jungle.

But Yarkar was not satisfied. This was not enough yet, he wanted to be louder than even that, and he had just the idea as to how. He didn’t just enhance his vocal cords, after all, his control over the Force in his body was absolute, he could do something much more than that. He could wield a lot more power than he could feasibly flow through his neck alone anyways, so it would not hurt to do something different. He not only commanded the Force to flow through his vocal cords, but also to itself vibrate through his throat. He took in a massive breath, taking in as much air as he physically could. He felt his lungs press against his ribs before he let out his bellow. The sound released was ear-splitting. It was as if Yarkar’s voice had been transformed into a burst of pure rage, the bellows of a forge. Rage like magma spilled from his mouth as he fueled the fires within his soul. The rain changed direction for a moment as his shout passed, and trees rustled. Anger was Yarkar’s forte, and he had found a way to harness it. What improvements could be made from here? He felt as if he could make it even more cruel to the listeners, if only given time to work with it. He felt he could fashion even his voice to be a weapon of the Sith if he tried hard enough.
[End Force Scream Power Application]

[Yarkar Edetar]

Yarkar’s mind was clouded. Two opponents, both now dead, and for what? What did Yarkar truly learn from the encounter? He felt as if all he did was apply what he already knew, if in a novel manner. He would have eventually put the abilities he used together; it all felt derivative. He felt his power had not quite waned, but not quite grown either. Stuck in limbo, stagnation. The stagnant pool breeds disease, and thus should not be drank from. Yet, here Yarkar was, tending to his own stagnant pool. Corpses littered it now, sure, but without the river that he once had, the blood merely was a further contamination. Each kill should bring something to him: power, understanding, perfection of an art. He needed to open the floodgates; the dam had backed up too far.

He thought of what could be gleaned from the hapless fools who now lie to rot. How did Yarkar pick them out? Their presence in the Force. They dug deep into the wells of the Force and pulled from it strongly. That was what would reveal Yarkar as well if he was not careful with power. Strength was something to be cultivated but restrained. If he did not chain himself, then he would never be able to get into a position to strike any meaningful opponent, only cowards and those weak in the Force. He needed to hide, as much as that seemed to go against everything he knew. The Sith thrived in unbounded strength and revelry in the Dark Side. Yet, here was the boy Yarkar, here to attempt to temporarily separate himself from that as much as possible. Perhaps then, he may even be able to fool that Jedi from so long ago. Convince him of changed ways and hopeful futures. Speak of worlds where Yarkar was not a destroyer, but a protector. Meaningless talk. Yarkar knew the Sith were more protective of him than the Jedi would ever be, the Dark Side was his shield as much as it was his sword. Yet, that was not the topic. The topic was to cut the Force from him like carving a brand from his skin, once it was gone, he was nobody for a while. The scar would remain, but who was looking that close?

[Begin Force Mask Power Application]
To disappear in the Force would be more difficult that Yarkar imagined. As his senses tasted the waves of the Force, danced along the gravity of his power, he could not help but notice himself in every corner. His anger flashed in hot bursts and ripples, making the Dark Side within it crack like a whip. His fears made it bunch up in thick knots before unfurling into slow waves of anxieties. His ambition rising before crashing down, creating spires and valleys within the Force around him. His presence was loud, screaming if anything. A horrifying mess around him, uncontrollable, in appearance. Yet, each movement was measured, each thought present before fading. The Force was simply accommodating for Yarkar, if Yarkar made himself easier to accommodate, it would in turn irk the Force less to contain him.

Yet, weakening his emotions was the path to the Light, to a broken idea of “purity.” Removing what makes him real, what makes him a witness to the world around him and a force of change. Darkness bathed in anger, fear, and ambition, and Yarkar would not shirk that darkness to be witness to a peaceful Force. No, his power was more than that. To disappear in the Force through darkness was something much more volatile. He did not know exactly how he would accomplish it, but that was for trial and error to find.

Thoughts flowed through his mind of the Force crashing along the shores of his power like waves, but a shore can only be so low before it becomes part of the sea itself. In his case, he simply had to invert that ideal. The pit that he was in the Force had to rise, to spread and to become unnoticeable. He thought back to how he did a pull, by separating part of his energy to another point before calling it back. He wondered if he could alter the flow of the Force in another way. He didn’t need a cyclone to fuel his power, he needed to shove it away.

He did not draw from the Force as usual, he did not gather his anger and let it scream through his mind like a wailing ghost of vengeance. Instead, he did something that he had never been desperate enough to do before. He reached into his body, feeling the Force in his veins. He commanded it to heel to his will, but in trying this, his typical methods of flaring ambition started to weight the Force around him. He needed to have an innate control, worrying about the speed of his success would do nothing for him. His anticipation only further drove the Force around him to alert others to his presence.

His heart was not quelled, but that was not the point. He did not want to stifle his anger, for that defined him. His emotion was what forged him, and he was to disappear from the Force, not from his reality. He could not change who he was, and his rage could not be entirely stifled. This was the time to worry about slow and methodical movements. An age of tempered anger, a dagger in the cloak, ready to burst forth at any moment. He once again gripped at the Force within him, letting it disperse as his attention focused on his senses. He did not try to demand the Force leave him, but rather used his passive command over the Force within him. The anger that was always bubbling below the surface was not released, only lightly tapped as he exerted his endless will over the Force within him.

The Force spun like webs from his fingertips, spreading around him in shallow patterns, mimicking the life around him. He spun his webs of lies through the trees, the underbrush, and passing insects. He started feeling the weight in the Force before further spacing out his power. Miniscule points, all pulling on one another as they started to move and spin, making small ripples as Yarkar spent more time in thought. He was splintering the Force within him, but this splintering was itself noisy. He struggled to keep his frustrations in line, pushing his emotions through his body as he draws upon them to practically flick paint along the canvas of the Force. Subtle, hidden in the loud noise of life. Yet he did not want subtle, he wanted less.

As he expelled more of his power, he started to feel the waves form shallower. The pinpricks in the Force started to equalize, their motion slowing down as they started to trap each other in the spiderweb of ability that Yarkar formed around himself, pulling his web tighter with every passing moment and pinprick of power. Mutual tugging in the Force started to turn the shallow waves into light hums, and with more effort even those began to pitter into nothing. Then Yarkar opened his senses and felt nothing. No movement in the Force, no weight of his anger, only the noise of the Force trembling through his own life as well as that around him. His senses had never felt clearer, he felt like he could see everything. The raindrops fell with such clarity to his vision in the Force, he could feel the droplets bringing life to the jungle as he walked through, his focus split between maintaining his silence and witnessing the Force in a new light.

It took a bit of focus to keep his energy spread out as he moved without making waves, it was impossible to do so in theory, the question was cancellation of those small waves made. After all, the entirety of what he was doing was an illusion anyways, an act. A puppet show to those who had the skill to watch a powerful Sith turn into a seemingly helpless whisper. Using his power to hide his own influence felt strange as he put small ripples in the Force as he moved as countermeasures, equal but opposite motion to his own web of slithering power, hidden in the tall grass that is the noise of life. His work with freezing objects in space was a grand help here, the miniscule adjustments in the Force being something his practice had well-prepared him for. Tiny adjustments to hide what he really was. The Dark Side seemed pleased, like he had been following in its footsteps this entire time. Like it had desired Yarkar to hide himself from the very beginning.
[End Force Mask Power Application]

Yarkar drifted to an old memory, with a bounty hunter in an empty cantina. It had recently been cleared out when the boy was threatened with a thermal detonator if he didn’t put down the hefty rock of ore that he was holding. The Force in him had been hiding for so long, and he suffered. Now he could hide the Force just the same, but he was a free man. He was a Sith now, and he could feel the Dark Side cocoon him. Perhaps there is something to the Dark Side that he had not yet seen, faint whispers in the Force that he heard but never understood. Perhaps this could be the key to listening. Perhaps not. Time would tell.

[Yarkar Edetar]

Yet, as Yarkar dropped his focus upon hiding himself, he felt the Dark Side aura of the planet once again crash in. It only got more intense as he grew closer to the temple, even starting to feel the tug of the Dark Side upon him as he hears once again the whispers too faint to make out. Whisps of thought and emotion lost upon his ears as he grew closer, but his mind started to hurt. It was like the Dark Side itself was trying to stop him from going to the temple. Yarkar felt dizzy, groaning as he fell to his knees. He propped himself on a tree, feeling almost sick. Something was deeply wrong here, something more than just the Force. Anger and fear washed over him in waves as he retched, and he felt the Dark surrounding him like a cloak. He tasted blood as the cloak started to feel like it was strangling him while coated in barbs. His senses with the Force collapsed upon themselves as he felt himself fully assailed by what he could only believe to be the Force itself. Yarkar’s fear flared, having to react quickly to the onslaught, fearing if it was the whispers themselves, or worse if it was a danger of which the whispers had tried valiantly to send a warning about.

[Begin Force Shield Power Application]
Yarkar did the only thing that he could manage to do in his panicked state. He rushed the energy in all directions, pushing against the weight of the darkness encroaching upon him as he could feel its hatred in turn. He felt like he had angered something ancient and terrible, though it would not state his transgression nor its name. It felt like it was filling his mind with telepathic urges of violence and bloodshed. To revel in those he had killed, not to mindfully learn from them. To feel pride in his recently blooded blade. While he felt such things, they were smaller victories in his mind. The short term was lost in the sea of time, after all. He did not have time for such things, he could not follow the commands of the dark assault.

This pride, this defiance, it only served to fuel Yarkar’s heart as the Force pressing upon him felt lighter. He had no master until Tormentous claimed him once more, he was not about to cave to the first power that came along. No, his loyalty to his master stayed true, to have another would be the greatest shame upon his power. He could feel the dark force’s confusion. It felt unfamiliar to such things, as if it was used to pure rejection or pure acceptance. To toe the line was alien to the raging force of the moon. The Dark Side felt almost curious as it stopped only pressing in on the young Sith. It started to envelop his defenses, finding crack after crack in waves of energy hastily produced in a panic.

Yarkar felt the energy sneaking around him, yet still was racked with pain from the initial strike. His eyes burned too much to open, his knees felt weak. He had no other option than to shrink the area he was defending, to keep a better eye upon it and to have more control over it. He felt the Force enter his blood once more as he poured it towards the outer layer of his skin, propelled by fear and desperation as the dark force began to entirely envelop him. Yarkar felt shocks of pain with every attempted push against his defenses as that pain only allowed him to channel more energy to defend himself. It was as if his very presence in the Force was under attack, as he felt no physical wounds. Only weariness and pain, as if one were ripping his spirit to shreds, only to leave the hollow shell behind.

This made Yarkar furious, after all, it was so cowardly to steal his eyesight and rack him with pain only to not harm him. His anger flared up; his barrier hardened. The creeping dark felt itself blockaded as Yarkar remembered a skill from fighting the late Ishtar. He smirked as he began to feed on the dark energy that surrounded him like it was a foe in its own right. He stood, propping himself against a tree. As the darkness tried to pierce his defenses, it only left itself vulnerable to Yarkar himself drawing that same energy as part of his own defense. It didn’t take long before Yarkar’s force energy was filled with dark rage as he could once again stand upright. He was not about to go down easily to what he could only imagine was a portion of the Force incarnate.
[End Force Shield Power Application]

[Yarkar Edetar]

[Start Control Level 3 Application]
With the crash of tidal waves of darkness, Yarkar stood alone in a sea of suffering. Vague whispers graced his ears as he fought against the roaring tide. He stole energy from it, like drinking from a tap, but even that was only enough to get his bearings. Every few moments his knees buckled. His body ached, and the Force in him grew tired, he needed to master himself, to be able to let the Force flow freely, not be trapped flowing as he thought of it. He needed the Force as an instinct, to be one with its flow if he were to continue with this.

Yarkar felt himself surrounded by anger and hate, yet as he opened his eyes, he saw nothing of the inner turmoil he felt. It felt like the planet itself was assaulting him, for the Force was not kind to those that defied it. Putrid and vile, the ichor of distilled rage seared across Yarkar’s body, both giving him pain and fueling his power. A funnel and a flood, and Yarkar had to find a way to contain what he was given, to use it to his advantage. He could not fight off such a mighty force, only hold the line. Hold he shall. He let the Force surge through him, his confidence fueling it as he propped himself up on a nearby tree. He had to let some of the energy out, it was too much, he couldn’t control it. He felt sick, his abdomen cramped up as the Dark Side practically poisoned him as he took in more than he could bear. So much to think of, so much to torture him with. Yarkar felt there was only one way to get it all out.

His throat rumbled in remembrance of the strength that it could wield with the Force to demand its potency, and that was all he could think of. He opened his mouth to the sky, both empowering his vocal cords and vibrating the air within his lungs with the force. A mighty gale is released as the planet’s corruption surrounding him shuddered and backed off for just a moment before smashing upon the shores of his protection again. His stomach settled and his muscles relaxed before once again balling up in pain as he just couldn’t get rid of the energy fast enough. He had to control it better, just letting it out like when he had tested his skills in the past was meaningless, he should be able to harness the energy he has, letting it escape only served to weaken him.

Yarkar let his rage and hate grow, to flourish, to thrive. He felt it in his every vein as he demanded that his body obey. A swift flow of the Force and Yarkar rocketed upwards, clambering into the treetops. While he could still feel the weight of the Force chasing him without fail, he wanted to take steps towards mastering his ability. Small steps were the key to success, trying things all at once only led to overloading himself. He had learned to control himself better; with every motion of the Force within him, he learned. He learned uses for the energy that he was feeding upon rather than letting it simmer and stagnate within his self.

His mind sharpened as he let the Force fill his mind and strengthen his reflexes. He felt his entire mind enter a trance of fury, with only his goal of shattering this crushing weight upon him visible like the sky through a single pinprick in the clouds above him, the storm starting to fade away. His cloak still lies soaked upon his body as his anger focused in on that little hole in the clouds, thinking of the same with the Force around him. A mighty storm in both respects yet not eternal.

Yarkar brought himself to focus on his shield, holding back the onslaught of Yavin IV with his anger mixing with that of his omnipresent assailant. Swirling stripes of rage patterned over his skin as he started to use the energy that he was gaining from it. It was doing more than sitting within him, it was dancing from his pores, swirling in storms across his skin and drawing back into himself as assaults upon it were only further absorbed into himself.

That was the key, it was not only stealing energy from the Force assaulting him, but it was also making himself a conduit. He was not a pool of the Force; he was a river. Through him power ebbed and flowed, and every river had its floods, but that power eventually went to sea. Yarkar focused on the energy outside his protection. He felt it hammer against him, but his increased concentration helped him get his bearings. He felt like energy was soaking through his fingertips, grazing the power surrounding him and letting it in. Yet he was not storing it. He was purifying it, making it his. Taking the rage of the planet against unknown sins and turning it into Yarkar’s own purified anger. His mind was on every foe he ever fought or will fight. His mind flashed through stories of Kressara besting him, his parents scolding him for only wishing to live a life outside a set of walls, that Jedi leaving him in that cavern. Yarkar had so many clear reasons to be angry, he took the vague anger and hate from Yavin IV and made it his own, scattering it from his soles into the tree below him.

The Force shuddered and shook, almost startled by this as it cried out in small, echoed disturbances that wavered through Yarkar’s head, like it was crying in pain. Yarkar felt like this was victory, bringing up more energy to unleash another storm of voice. The tree groaned as it bent, leaves fluttered into nothing, and wildlife fled as a rumbling turned into more. His body was like a tempest now, and he drew in more power as he released it. His war-cry of anger, pain, and self-pity smashed along the treetops as the Force backed away. He felt his vision of the Force clear, his senses returning as he became aware of just how synchronized the Force within him had become.

His body responded to every thought he had; his focus so pure upon his goal that the Force listened by default. Such a strong will to guide it led the Force to have a mind of its own, fixing Yarkar’s vocal cords as he hurt them, protecting him with his shield, keeping his focus sharp, and scattering the energy he had demanded that the Force yield to him. It all felt like a blur, but it was coming to him naturally now.

Suffering and pain only further drove his will to survive, the very will allowing his body and the Force to move as one. The invisible Force dancing along the very physical tendons, ligaments, bones, and muscle. His body was one with the Force, demanding that it play along as he played his own body like a marionette. He was both controlling himself to pull along the Force, and the Force to pull along himself. Every motion was a partner dance, letting himself move like he was truly just one being existing in two states, one seen and one unseen.
[End Control Level 3 Application]

[Yarkar Edetar]

Yarkar sat perched among the trees, looking at the vast expanse as he still felt the adrenaline and the Force rushing as one over him looking over the expansive horizon. It looked like it went on forever, and Yarkar felt the urge to try out the potency he had been granted by the Force, an ability that itself could be seen as something that he physically fought the Force over. While he still had the adrenaline in his system, he took a deep breath. Perhaps it was time to take in some fresh air.

[Begin Force Speed Power Application]
Yarkar leapt from treetop to treetop, letting his instincts guide him towards whatever direction in which he was dashing. Every leap augmented by the Force as he felt freedom dance along his face. Wind blew through his hair as it flowed backwards along with his cloak, billowing with the velocity at which he moved. Dark thoughts simmered in his mind as he used himself as a conduit of his own command over the Force.

However, with each leap, momentum continued to grow. More speed filled Yarkar’s face with more wind, and he felt himself almost pressed back against it. His legs conducted more of the Force to extend the rate at which he catapulted himself forwards, but he was just losing too much momentum in between his leaps. His desire for this freeing sensation, for this consequence of speed to brush against his skin, to feel the humid air moisturize him unlike the ashy, dry winds of Sullust. He wanted it all. He was free now; it was how it should have been from the start. He used his sense of danger to navigate himself from the treetops to the jungle floor, his senses telling him when it’s a good idea to jump down, gaining momentum with each layer of brush zipped through as he moved his way towards the jungle floor.

As Yarkar crashed through the brush he felt himself darting through it. As the smells of the jungle wafted into his nose, he heard the wind wailing in his ears, deafening him to anything else. He sharpened his focus in the Force, holding himself in a trance just to keep up with the visual inputs and not crash as he ran. Each footfall was followed by a small Force push downwards, shoving himself through the world as he hurdled himself in between the trees, dodging crashes by mere moments. Leaps were made over balls of roots and brambles, the world itself forming a barrier to his progress, but one had to consider nature to move anywhere near this fast for this long. His footfalls continued to grace the planet they struck, making loud rustles of dead brush as it exploded into the air with each stomping stride.

Yarkar would like to say that he tasted freedom in the air as he moved, but even the air was starting to get too fast for him to really comprehend what he was sensing on it as he moved forwards. Always forwards, that was his goal. He could never stop running, never stop his freedom. He had to go faster, to improve, and to become what the galaxy needed. He was a Sith! He could change whatever he pleased; he could go wherever he wanted! With enough training, perhaps he could even have his revenge on that Jedi! The sky was the limit, and he has a ship now! The stars were as open as the ground! If he could cross any boundary, he would, there was no line to Yarkar that was sacred in this moment, only the Force and what it could bring him.

As Yarkar let go, he entered further into his trance, everything focusing in on the second-to-second motions of his speed as he felt like he became a blur moving through the forest. Every strike of his feet was both a small application of his telekinesis, an application of his newfound control over his body, and the Force bursting through his muscles like a flash flood. Each step echoed through the jungle, letting him gain speed as he felt what he believed to be a maximum, but he was not yet satisfied. From an outside perspective he would have been like a sprinting animal, rushing through the woods. He had to do something beyond small pushes and rushing of energy. He needed more power, more energy.

He started to draw in more power, his rage flaring up in bursts as he continued to dodge the multiple obstacles in the underbrush and roots. Every aspect of his body was being funneled through his legs, Yarkar felt his legs hiss with pain as he continued his flashing forward. There was no peace in his mind, only his passions. His passions gave him strength within the Force. His strength gave him power over nature. Through his power, he felt his victory over the laws of anyone or anything that dared to hold him back. Through his victories, he felt the chains of reality losing its grasp upon him. He finally did it, he felt free.

His mind flashed forwards, his consciousness speeding in front of himself as he surveilled the area in front of him. Without the foresight from the Force, he would surely have hit something important. He saw dangers seconds ahead, treating the obstacles like he did the wooden spears he had learned how to dodge, branches and brush flying by at ever-increasing speeds as some degree of precognition was required to even begin to avoid taking paths dangerous both in physical sense and the mental fear of him slowing down. His focus and his instinct guided him through the jungle with heightened acuity as he thought of nothing but where he was going and what he had to do to get there. The world became a blur, his eyes helpless but as a slight guide to reason through what his senses were telling him as he approached the true maximum that the Force granted him, a blur enough to confuse even the power of eyesight. A flash of a dark clothed figure followed by explosions of leaves and underbrush pelting anything that bothered to stay put as the Sith came by like a speeding blaster bolt.
[End Force Speed Power Application]

[Yarkar Edetar]

As the storm of foliage fluttered to a stop, there stood Yarkar, confident in his body, almost struggling to see the separation between him and his command over the Force anymore, it moved where he moved, and he could feel it move and shape itself within him as he did. It was in his breath; every exhale left the faintest of shimmers in the Force. But what if there was more? He had spent so much time focusing on using the Force to augment singular movements, mastering them one at a time. What if he could master the art he had already been using? What if he could just simply improve anything that he could think of improving with the Force? These thoughts led the young Sith once again to dark experimentation, to hone the claws of darkness against the stone of toil.

[Begin Enhance Skills Power Application]
Yarkar let the Force in him flow about his body like rivers, seeking beyond what he had empowered in the past. Speed, leaps, his mind, all of it was for show if he could generalize. Yarkar studies how the Force moves in him as he enters his war-trance, anger focusing his mind as he takes note of how the Force flows through every vein. How it felt as it coursed through his mind as it suddenly changes when he does not dally in the details of studying what he already knew. The Force flashed through his throat, and he could feel it once more in his vocal cords. He noticed how they vibrated as he hummed lightly, how the Force went with them as they sang an old lullaby.

His lightsaber lifted with the Force, almost of its own accord. He did not remember lifting it, it was itself an action easily done, rather than thought about. His dance moves onwards as with a large dip and a flourish it lands into his hand and sweeps downwards in an arc, turning on at the lowest point as Yarkar finally lets the Force flash through his body, his buildup at its peak. He lightly fell as the dance went, seconds before reaching the ground digging the tips of his toes into the dirt. Typically, this move would be done with specific shoes and a specific flooring, but Yarkar found this would be much more graceful. He rushes every ounce of his raging Force through his legs and stomach, feeling his abs and legs scream at the sudden massive strain placed upon them to keep him mere inches from the ground. He almost fainted at the final beat as the lullaby shifted into the continuation.

A song to put the children to bed suddenly met a crescendo as the party truly began. As Yarkar rose from his near laying position, his hair scraping a small bit of dirt up on his way up, he tosses his saber to the sky, letting it turn off as he leaps to a small tree. He uses it to support himself as he wraps his legs around it, leaning back as he once again rushes the Force through himself. This time to give him the strength to stretch his back and outstretched arm just enough to catch his saber before it fell through his fingertips. As he grabbed it, he made his own section of the dance, slinging himself forward with the momentum of his strengthened core to turn the blade on as he cleaved the weak tree in twain. It was not much thicker than the average man, it was no great feat, but Yarkar’s speed as it fell towards him was.

This impressive swiftness led him to twirl around the trunk’s now stump with his leg-grip before leaping onto the falling tree. He ran along it, finally leaping into the treetops as the song rose to its climax, rising to the sunset as flashes of red and orange of the sky clashed with crimson of his blade and green of the foliage as Yarkar danced his way up the flora into to canopy. Thin and wide, the canopy stretched, with Yarkar at the peak as he punched the Force into his lungs to help him hold his breath as he tipped himself forwards. He plummeted through the treetops, energizing his arms to let him swing from branch to branch and along vines. His plummet was slowed by his multiple swings upwards as his arms squealed for the Force to support them, sacrificing momentum into rotation, height, and horizontal distance as he made his way up and down through the canopy, with a slight trend towards the ground.

He still had to finish his dance, after all. Not like he was following any of the rules. He was in fact taking every rule into account, as its opposite. He was riding the high of freedom, crushing the barrier of the Force as every motion stressed a different group of muscles and the Force had to chase to keep up with all that Yarkar was putting it through. His body was not celebrating a victory in this moment as he was, but more of a long strenuous struggle to keep up with everything that was demanded of it.

Yarkar’s voice grew louder and louder, his hums minorly augmented by screams in the Force, the melody that he danced to laden with the weight of rage and darkness. As the jungle floor turned pitch black, the sun had finished its descent below the horizon. Its dance was over, and soon would Yarkar’s be. He hit the ground with a skid, taking the time to use the Force to drum up more of a powerful crash-landing with foliage and soil exploding outwards in a shockwave through the Force released through his feet. One last move to make, Yarkar ran towards where he started, spinning his saber in fancy, but not much more than that, kata. He holds down the button with the Force as he throws it into the air in a large sweeping arc as he plants his feet upon the ground to leap up and grab it with a flourish, twirling like a top. He used the Force to stabilize his sense of balance, letting him land without aid from someone to catch him.
[End Enhance Skills Power Application]

Someone. To catch him. His mind snarled and snapped at that thought. No, no way that he could remember that, right? The one time he went to a ball, he was quite young then. But he had to, that was where he learned what he just did, with less superhuman flourish to it. His mind scourged itself with flames as tears rolled down Yarkar’s face, blank and unfeeling for the first time in so long. It was like he could see her, yes it was the girl intended to be his betrothed, but he enjoyed her company regardless of parents’ plans to earn more wealth. He had only met her once, at that party. It was brief, but it came with a promise to see each other again. He worried for a moment, when would that even be? He didn’t even truly remember who she was, or how long ago that was. Yarkar struggled to even hold onto who he was now, depressing waves pulling him into his helpless youth as tears rolled down his face.

[Yarkar Edetar]

Yarkar had to get a grip on himself, he wasn’t meant to be that weak and helpless thing that he was back then. His destiny was not to have been a rat let out of its cage for a taste of reality. His destiny was to be free like the beast he is, to refuse all chains. As the waves of depression only grew, his anger and self-pity began to meld into one overwhelming emotion. Yet, Yarkar knew how to work with emotion, that was his specialty. Power comes from emotion, he needed only to release that energy from himself. He had mastered techniques, now it was time to show his emotions that no matter how strong they were, they only made him stronger in turn.

[Begin Force Level 8 Application]
Yarkar felt the Force flow through him, gripping around his heart as he remembered what he had lost. He had finally gained enough to know what he missed out upon within those metal walls for all that time. His heart beat with more and more fury as the Force was wrapped around his heart like a snake, constricting itself tighter and tighter as it went.

Yet for all its power, the Force had forgotten that within his body, Yarkar reigns supreme. He focused in on the emotions twisting the Force into its pattern as his vision gained dark spots from the lack of circulation. He guided himself without his eyes, looking into his own body with his senses as he asserted his will over the gripping Force, forming it into a shield and pushing it outwards, letting it become thin whisps that easily fell to his swirling rage.

As he tamed his own emotion, his vision came back as he started to weave the Force into his favor. He noticed now as his senses returned to him that he had been leaning on a tree and clutching at his heart, and he immediately recoiled at the show of weakness. Yet, in this split second of uncertainty let the Force within him move once again. It was wild, free. This time not assailing him, but not listening either as it simply acted how it wished. Yarkar stopped himself for a moment, bringing his focus inwards. The Force was drawn to his anger, yes, but without a command over that anger he could only do so much. He curated his memories again, picking as many that he could be certain of his response to, drumming up his anger as he tamed the Force within him like he had done so many times before.

He felt it return to him, to saturate his lungs with the Force as it flowed freely towards him in a cyclone, the Force in his senses dipping down like a pit in the Force. Yes, this was the strength that was the reward of his suffering. There was no point in wondering what could have been when this is what he was now. A Sith with a chance to change the world, with a chance for revenge. Worlds will tremble at the whisper of his name. He smirked, making his way through the underbrush. He knew what he wanted to do.

He found a particularly thick bunch of foliage: vines, bramble, young trees. They were all bunched up in this one spot. Clearly something large had died there and not be scavenged, what a shame that such plants and fertile soil would soon feel Yarkar’s wrath. He let the Force swell in his lungs before letting out a wail towards them, rustling the foliage but not doing much else than scaring the wildlife in the area into running away. He needed more, he wanted there to be nothing left but scraps of the once-thick brush. He would need more than a single breath to do that much damage, but he was not about to sacrifice his time in shouting in distinct bursts. If he was to make someone suffer with this, he was going to have to keep it sustained, waves of torment upon one’s ears as they crash down.

He saw the dust he kicked up with the first yell floating in the air, dancing along to the music of what controlled them. He had a thought, letting his demand to move be known through the Force, scattering the will of his grip out among the dust as he pushed his arms in opposite directions, sweeping all the dust out of the way as he tried something different. He started to focus in on something less perfectly tangible, the air itself. After all, the way to hold a scream was to make sure he never ran out of air, and the best way to do that was to find a way to move the air. His mind focused in, letting every bit of information he could gather about it enter his mind. The wind direction, how the dust moved and danced as tiny currents flowed over them and clashed for dominance.

He then attempted to pull upon the air towards himself as he breathed in, suddenly overwhelming himself and causing him to pathetically cough and gag seconds after the vain attempt. He realized he would need to slow down the air to avoid punching himself in the lungs, devising that perhaps a spiral would slow down his will enough for it to be useful. After all, the air was very light and Yarkar had lifted entire sections of log with the Force. The level of command over his rage to keep something as nigh weightless as air from moving quickly would likely be beyond even the greatest of Sith, as their power only grew with their mastery. Instead, he was left to breath inwards from this vortex, feeling it fill his lungs much slower this time.

As his lungs began to fill, he began his bellow, his mouth stretched wide so that the vortex entered around the outside while the scream exploded like a concentrated bolt out the center, pushed into shape by the force of the vortex around it as it exploded outwards, forming both the vortex and the shout into a rapidly expanding cone from Yarkar’s mouth. The brambles stood stalwart as the rumbling waves crashed over them, but some of the weaker young trees had already submitted to his strength, limbs snapping and flying off into the distance as the brambles began to lose some of their spines. His scream continued, a long bellow of anger and dominance as even the pliable wood of a young tree was nothing to his might. It snapped, flying off to spear itself into another tree as sap dribbled around the wound. The brambles finally began to give way, exploding from writhing masses to shards of thick, woody stems and sharp spines spreading throughout the jungle floor. Yarkar continued, only stopping when the plants had been taken down to the layer of dirt beneath them.
[End Force Level 8 Application]

He gasped for air, but he had done it. Once again, he had outdone himself with the power that he wielded, able to conquer his emotion and then use that power to obliterate something with only the Force. A powerful tactic indeed.

[Yarkar Edetar]

Gasping. Suddenly the weight of his feats crashed upon the shores of his existence. His eyes fluttered, his anger turned to sudden and nigh immediate incapacitation. The night sky shimmered above him and he felt himself struggle to stay awake. His very fabric of existence was ripped apart from his exertions, and every muscle in his body cried for relief. Yet, Yarkar could not give into temptations now. He was on the cusp of something, pain was his power, and he could feel it shock through his body like electricity. He felt beyond prepared to make history in this moment yet was just too far away to reach it. It was just within his grasp, he just had to stay awake. Stay breathing. Gasping for the essence of life.

[Begin Remain Conscious Power Application]
Pain was his power, and it rushed through him, he tried to regain the focus that let him ignore his body caving in around him. The Force rushed through his head like a roaring tide as the world around him swirled in intricate patterns. Gasps of air caused his body to shiver, sending in more waves of excruciating pain that dared to bring him closer to unconsciousness. He felt his vision blacken as the Force could only sustain his focus so much. Now that the strain was upon him, he needed more than forgetting that it happened to reverse its effects.

It was not damage, at least not the kind that could be healed, it was a slow loss of energy and rending of his spirit. Energy. He had figured out previously how to take energy and scatter it into the Force, why could he not do the reverse? What was stopping him from taking the Force and compressing it into energy? He clenched his fists as the pain itself was enough to have already been compressing the flow of the Force around him, starting the cyclone of power towards him. He needed every last drop to experiment before he lost all of the resolve that he had in his crumbling body.

He took the Force in his veins, feeling it pulse through him as his heart rate decreased, trying to avoid the effects of exhaustion crashing into his mind and body as it wailed in rebellion. His body felt weak, his eyelids fluttered, and he could not bear to stand. Yet he continued, using more of the Force energy in his body to augment his muscles and harden them against crumpling. They screamed out to fill his body with their suffering and tried to strike him low, but the pain only brought him more strength. Yarkar’s resolve sharpened as he steadied himself. He took the energy flowing in his legs to keep them upright, impressing his will upon them. Remembering how he had created lights in the past, he used a similar compression, pushing into the Force the intention and will to convert it into something else. Something grander.

Hatred of his weakness fueled him as the Force begin to collapse into his legs, filling them with the energy to continue despite his expressions of his command over the Force taking more than he thought he could bear. The energy just barely sustained him to keep his balance, but his focus was wearing thin. Heartless, spirit crying, he could barely sustain what he was doing. He needed more, he needed more to continue in his conquest. The Force was to bend to his will, not watch himself bend to the will of the mere vessel carrying his greatness! His countenance could not be denied!

This surge, this power. It was Yavin IV, Yarkar could feel it. Like he had somehow, in fighting off the wrath of its onslaught upon him, earned its respect. Faint whispers in his ears, darkness creeping in. There was more to the Dark than what he originally believed. It felt entirely different from the Force as a whole as it gave him the last little push to condense energy throughout his body. A taste of what he could have if he gave into it entirely. A temptation. Yet, Yarkar had more at stake! Nothing could possibly hold him back from his goal, his targets. His parents came before the will of the Force, his vengeance stronger than petty squabbles of ancient powers. With his newfound power, Yarkar shielded himself against the tendrils of the Dark Side burrowing into his mind, thrusting them out of himself with a shield as he was invigorated in the Force. The Dark surrendered, almost like it knew there would be another chance. Yarkar stood, ready and in fear for a few minutes, before his breath once again returned to him.
[End Remain Conscious Power Application 650/400 Words]

Shortly after, the realization of consciousness keeping him in pain caught up to him though, and he felt himself crumple to the ground like a stone dropped from a cliff face, smashing to the ground unceremoniously as every single muscle in his body ached with overexertion and lack of rest.

[Yarkar Edetar]

The pain was astounding as Yarkar lied in the dirt flung by his recent howl. The area around him turned to dust and now he reveled in his destruction despite his own peril. His every nerve screamed in unison, making his mind swim with the cacophony up his spine. He squirmed and writhed, but every motion only furthered the shocks of pain up his body. He had to do something, he cried out for the Force to help him, to do anything. His intention wailed through the Force, he had to make it listen.

[Start Control Pain Power Application]
Yet, his call to the Force was answered. He indeed called the Force into himself, giving it the demand to improve his pain. It did so promptly, and explosively, by increasing the effectiveness of his nerves. Suddenly his body was racked with not same pain, but rather multiplied. He screamed, involuntarily twisting and turning on the ground as he struggled to gain the focus to pull the Force back under his control. His pain was overloading his mind, he felt like his first days with the Force, unable to see the forest through the trees. Yet here he was again, unable to grasp his hold on the Force due to the pain coursing through his whimpering, pathetic husk. His pain only served to intensify his problem, commanding the Force to come to him in a vortex of crushing pain and hate.

He was not to be trifled with, however, and he did not let his circumstances destroy him so easily. He took a moment to center himself in the maelstrom, to consider the Force flowing in his veins not a massive entity, but millions of small units. He focused on one at a time, grasping them under his net, commanding them to stop. Under the weight of his will and his pain, they caved and surrendered. He continued, piece by piece through his body. Yet, this had granted Yarkar something. The horrifying intensity of what he had just witnessed was itself a boon, as it made what remained as the Force settled feel almost like a dull ache. The extra control gave him something to work with as he lied still as to not drum up unintended consequences from his overstressed muscles.

He was not yet finished. Used to the pain was one thing, to reduce it entirely was another. He felt as if that would be a feat of which he was capable. Yarkar pushed more attention into himself, into his core, almost sapping the Force from his extremities. After all, if the Force improved them, the lack of it would do the inverse. Yet, as the pain dulled away, the change was not yet great enough. Yarkar knew he could do better, to act like it was not even there. He felt in the back of his mind that his absolution was not yet at hand. What good was dull pain? No, he needed to turn his pain into pure focus. Now he knew his path. It was not in making his body work less, it was taking his emotion and making it into a raw aspect of the Force.

He let the Force return to his body, letting it seep from his heart as he started to stand. He felt the pain shock through his body, but this time he thought of it like when he was testing his resistance to stun weapons. It was itself a shooting pain, the same as the stun gauntlet, but there was something more behind it. As he felt it rush through his body like lightning through the clouds, he focused on what made up its existence. It was sharp and jagged; a fiery will that was hot and angry. He felt it clench its hand around his heart as it tried to turn his work to nothing. He spent time in contemplation of pain itself, its meaning and its heart. He found the core of its essence, almost like a hound at the edge of its leash, burrowing into his spirit.

It was, after all, a warning. A trifle to some, to the fearless. Yet to be fearless was to not be ready for whatever was coming your way. Yarkar was as prepared as ever in every moment for an attack. Yet, his senses were different than his pain. His senses felt involuntary, but that is simply because he spent so much time honing them. His pain, however, was ground into his humanity. It was put into him to strike him down when he did what was forbidden. But the Dark Side was about denying that anything is forbidden! The Dark has accepted him, and his emotions swelled at the thought of crushing a weaker one. Pain was the motivator of the weak, for to feel it was to itself display a lack of fortitude. It was now his job to remove it like a curse upon his biology. To take it from him and rend it moot, to live a life without mortal warnings. Yes, that was his purpose. To remove all pain from all things may be impossible, but he knew enough now to try a more temporary solution.

He felt the pain in his legs, the fire licking its way up him in punishment for his power. He felt like a predator, stalking his prey within himself. Soon after his reflexes caught the licks of pain up his body, sensing their presence and launching his assault. The Force grasped the emotion like a pack of rabid, hungry wolves. As it descended, pain screamed from all his nerves. It was not going to give up that easily. Yet he would not either. He would conquer his basic weaknesses, to prove his own might if anything. More and more of the Force was demanded to his aid as his anger and pride left a practical storm within the Force as it grew aggressive and base. Its desire to command, to control, it was helping him dominate his own person. It felt like the Force was acting simply within its nature as it attacked his pain, fueling its own power from the corpses of its prey. It was gorging itself on Yarkar’s pain as he finally stood upright. His pain was being mitigated, but at what cost?

His energy. He grew so tired, like he was literally burning himself up from the inside in the furnace that was the Force. He needed rest, he could simply not continue. Yet, as he walked, he felt none of his pains, as he was consuming them to fuel the Force in his limbs to keep them going before he collapsed into his ship, falling asleep right as the entry door closed shut. His body fell to the metallic flooring with a thud of dead weight; the pain finally given back to his system as it tried to heal.
[End Control Pain Power Application 1055/700]

It was not long before his medical droid finally responded to the thud, lifting him up and putting him into his bacta tank. He needed to heal, no matter how much he demanded that it was unnecessary to do so.