H2-1B8 whirred some medical equipment, the sound of various sensors whirring and the bubbling from within the bacta tank filling the room as the metallic footsteps of AA-3PO warned of the protocol droid’s approach.
“Is he still not awake? How long has it been, 3 days? Do you figure he’s dead?”
“Negative. Vitals are indicating he is living. If anything, vitals show he is awake, yet he rests. It is like he is clinging to something, refusing reality. Strange.”
“Strange indeed, I have not known our master to be particularly sentimental, especially over a dream.”
Asleep, yet awake, Yarkar floated in the state between reality and dreams. He was finally alone. Nothing for miles, an endless void. No sound, no bothers. He was finally at home. Yet, as his calm set in, the world around him changed. He was in a new world, something was changed. He looked for his saber and found nothing there. He was sat at a desk, surrounded by various medals and awards. Academic excellence, they read. He grabbed them, they felt so real. Perhaps all this time he had just been dreaming, and he had only now woken up. He heard a knock at his door, getting up and walking across carpeted floors, opening a door covered in various decorations. At the door sat someone who looked so familiar, yet so far away.
“Hey silly! What’s up? You too busy studying to talk to me or are you finally willing to have any fun with your life?” She looked so happy, and it seemed she knew him at least. He seemed like he belonged, strangely enough, like he was finally at home. Perhaps that dream was just a delusion of his childhood, dark and metal walls, ringing with the sound of him beating against them. His escape a delusion of wanting to escape something dull, like his studies. Perhaps he did need to clear his head. He’d been daydreaming far too long.
“Sure, why not? What’re you up for?” He replies almost nonchalant before he finally feels a tingle in the back of his neck, putting a hand there and feeling around but he didn’t feel any bunched-up muscle or discomfort as he pressed down. It was something beyond just a knot, perhaps he was mistaken that he had woken up. He had to find a way to tell what reality was. His memory felt so real, yet so did the world in front of his eyes. Clearly there was some bridge that he had to cross, but what was that bridge? Where did truth begin and lies end?
“Are you feeling alright? You look kind of pale, come on, let’s just go grab something to eat alright? You aren’t studying yourself into the ground again, are you? When did you last sleep?”
Again, that feeling, so strange, yet so familiar. “I- You know I can’t remember. It’s been so long.” Yarkar staggered through his words, feeling rested yet also not remembering sleeping in the past few days. Something was wrong, and he had to listen to his senses to find it.
[Begin Sense Level 3 Application]
Yarkar reached for something primal, something that he remembered in one of his dual lives. A little thing to hold himself upon when the world seemed incomprehensible. He slowed his breath, his eyes glazing over as he sought answers. His world faded in his conscious mind as the world vibrated through him, wisps of energy whipping in the air around him. Enough to sense their presence at least, but who could prove anything from that? No, he needed something beyond that, yet he was called out of his focus again by a fanning across his face.
He blinked, looking around, he was on the ground, and this girl was fanning him like a maniac. “Yarkar! Yarkar, wake up! Oh, oh you’re fine. You’re alive.” She looked terrified. Yarkar almost felt sad for her. That he was trying to prove her existence was fake, despite her looking so real. Her sepia skin had a sheen to it from the tears, leaving streaks across her face. He reached up, wiping the tears from her eyes.
“I’m fine, I swear I’m fine. I must just be tired, don’t worry about me.” He had to be more subtle, he had to split his focus, that was something his other self could do. He could focus on one thing while doing another! Sure, it was complex, but memories of throwing flaming logs came to him like a concussive blast through his mind as he lets the girl lift him up. He instinctively remembers her name, now. Listre. That was a girl in his memory too. Dark floods come back to him. Dancing in the moonlight on Yavin IV like he was with her. Could he truly bear to keep his focus when his emotions flared so heavily from the memory of a name?
Emotion. Anger. Hate. This version of him was weak. Pitiable, even. Thoughts from another him, another time, it’s like now both were awake, yet both still felt the other was a dream. Their worlds felt so real, but they were paradoxical. He couldn’t tell truth from fiction, reality from his own mind’s horrid nightmare. His mind was so clouded, two pairs of thoughts rushing through and then, suddenly, “Yarkar, you’re spacing out again. You really have been working yourself to death! Come on, we’re getting a shuttle out of here, you’re coming somewhere I can be sure you’re away from all that work!”
“Listre, I can’t, I’m-“ His thoughts are so muddy, but his senses start to ring again. His mind swims in a stew of thoughts and phrases as the world splits in four. Two worlds, then the world of waves overlayed upon them. He was doing it! He was connecting with the Force! At the very least, it appeared that both versions of him could do that. Yet, that only confused things, his senses were all getting overloaded. Listre’s worried speech mixing with the chatter of something faint. Perhaps droids? Her hand on his own put in tandem with the feeling of a thick gel surrounding his skin. His normal senses were overwhelmed, yet his senses in the Force did not seem bothered. Almost, like they were not facing the same adversity to his other senses. They were somehow more robust, like they took less focus to handle.
Yarkar tried his best to focus as he staggered to the hanger bay, getting onto a shuttle with Listre. His mind struggled for dominance, and yet, somehow, that raging monster in his head was getting weaker by the second. Yarkar’s will to be in control, it was winning out! It was almost as if the other mind was drifting back to sleep as Yarkar’s will demanded its submission, at least for now. He remembered it now, the Force, it was waves with intention. Perhaps that very intention was how he could keep his own attention. He focused on his senses, letting the Force flow through him like a river. His body was ready to accept the change, and Yarkar put all his focus to drowning out the other version of him. It seemed less helpful.
“Listre, where are you taking me?”
“That’s for me to know and for you to stop worrying about! Now, what are you doing over there? You keep coming in and out like you’re about to die and that’s a lot, even for you.”
“I’m not entirely sure, it’s like I’m trying to see something, but I’m not sure what it is. It’s like I’m seeing it for the first time, yet also it’s so familiar. I can sense it in my spine, but it’s almost like it’s in my veins, in everything.”
“Sounds like you’re being delusional to me. Come on, how about you try to tell me about it while you’re ‘sensing the cosmos’ or whatever you think you’re doing. Give me a play-by-play dude.”
Yarkar had to focus this time. He wanted to see the Force, but not as an action. He realized that he almost never did this. Even his sense of danger in the other world required a little bit of concentration, and he didn’t really have that to spare right now. He needed something involuntary, like all his other senses. It didn’t take thought to hear or see, he just did it. He took a deep breath, and tried his best to see into the Force, even if Listre didn’t believe that was what he was doing.
He saw the waves as they jumped into hyperspace, yet they stood so static. Ripples through the Force, a different kind of sight. He let his mind drift more and more, letting go the same as he had let go of the literal consciousness of the Yarkar in his memory, however real he may be. He let his mind wander, yet he tried to stay aware, to keep clawing to the surface of his memory from the pit that was focus in the Force. He felt like he was dragging himself up with his teeth and nails, slashing into the fabric of the Force as he felt so heavy. It had never been this difficult to let go before, as if something about him was demanding his attention to keep his connection open.
His mind felt hazy, his heart felt slow. Everything was sluggish, not the power he was used to wielding. It almost felt like he was incapable of the feats of his memory, like they were locked away behind some kind of wall within his mind. His mind writhed like a bug pinned to the ground by a pin, a small wound that did not truly harm, but enough to keep him trapped from its consequence. His senses wavered in and out, crashing like waves upon the shores of his conscious mind, his unconscious rejecting adding more to its duties.
Yet Yarkar persisted, he struggled against the current as it only strove to drive him under. He continued to climb from the pit of his anger, remembering now how clear his senses were while he was masking his presence in the Force. Perhaps then it would be light enough for him to at least take the first steps out of his pit of the self.
He struggles to remember how to mask his presence through the haze over his mind, charging through clouds of fog to find the treasures hidden within. His mind kept it hidden, but he kept getting whiffs of the technique, enough to start trying. He started to disperse his energy, letting it linger away from him in small pockets of his energy. Yet, almost as a reward from his mind for seeking out old tricks, muscle memory soon took over, the pockets pulled upon one another. The Force settled and became level between the faint shimmers of energy.
Just then, the Force stood much more still for a moment. He always forgot the imprint he made in the Force until it was gone. What felt like climbing up a cliff face now was like walking up a step, his mind finally clear to see the reality of the Force without him. He gradually let his focus upon it slip, letting his senses unconsciously take it in like one of their own.
Just like that, he felt like he began to wake up. He looked around, they had finally left hyperspace, they were not near any planet, however, simply in the depths of space, floating with reckless abandon with only the stars to keep them company. Yarkar blinked, it was beautiful, surely.
“I suppose you can explain yourself now that you went and passed out again?”
“I was conscious! I just wasn’t expressing it to you, but yes, I can. It’s like waves and patterns, but there’s more to it. It seems to have a mind of its own, like it can travel with an intent stored between the ripples. It’s odd, to say the least. Yet, no matter where we go, it still seems so still. Calm and tranquil, like we haven’t moved at all.”
Then it hit him. He had to be the one dreaming. He had one test to see this, one definitive truth to determine the reality of his reality. He sighed as he looked to Listre, letting his senses search for signs of life. He saw nothing, no change, like the Force didn’t recognize her at all. This brought Yarkar to try further, his mind flaring as it tried to interpret the waves to give him an image of his surroundings. The Force working to surveil reality around him through the falsehoods. Then he saw the truth, his reality. Around him the waves told him of two droids, a tank of bacta, and the cold metallic walls of his medical bay. The angry, venomous Yarkar was the real one, he was just a dream of a peaceful life. Perhaps that’s all Yarkar wanted deep down, some degree of peace.
He then realized what he had done, he was in such a vivid dream, but he was able to cut through the veil of falsehood, to see reality through the false prophet of his senses within a dream. He’d even been able to finally relegate it to his subconscious, to sense without thinking. It was like another sense now; he simply felt it and knew.
[End Sense Level 3 Application 1717(1382 [Trimmed])/1000]
“Yeah, sure, conscious. Now tell me, why now? Why out of nowhere? I’ve heard Jedi train for years for that kind of stuff, and from much younger of an age.”
Yarkar decided that he wasn’t going to mention anything, simply enjoy the dream. A dream of what could have been, if his parents weren’t as cruel and Listre had showed up again. They could have been friends, they could have known each other and grown up together. So many wonderful things, yet here he was, stuck knowing that none of it was real. At least the stars were pretty.
“You know, I couldn’t explain it,” Yarkar started, “it’s just like the world spoke to me today when I passed out. Like I was able to see what I never had before.” He leaned back, him and Listre talking for what felt like hours about a life Yarkar had never lived and will not continue in. It was peaceful, for once, living in a world where he was free of all chains. It was nice to finally get to know Lisre, even if it was just a dream version. It felt like meeting with an old friend, catching up with someone who supposedly saw him a few days ago. What a strange world indeed.
Eventually, Yarkar woke up, leaving his bacta tank rested and smiling. He was now something more, he knew of what could have been, yet he still chose to wake from it. In the end, his destiny is that of Yarkar Edetar, former apprentice of Lord Tormentous. He was destined for nothing less than greatness in perpetuity. He was a weapon as much as he wielded one, and he only got more deadly with time.
To Touch The Intangible (Force Training)
-
Yarkar Edetar
- Registered Member
- Posts: 90
- Joined: Sat Nov 20, 2021 6:41 pm
-
Yarkar Edetar
- Registered Member
- Posts: 90
- Joined: Sat Nov 20, 2021 6:41 pm
Re: To Touch The Intangible (Force Training)
Yarkar was spending more time in the archives than usual. Perhaps Sa’ato had given him some degree of interest in it, perhaps it was that dream of his successes academically, perhaps it was just always there, and he never gave himself the time. So many probabilities, too many uncertainties. He needed to stabilize his reality, to find his way forwards through a universe of branching paths and fluid choices. Degrees of absolution, trillions of possibilities between each distinct choice. The possibilities of the absolution of his resolve, the timescale, too many things to worry about. Seeing the web of the Force’s will was not yet in Yarkar’s vision, nor his thoughts. The future too muddy and clouded to do anything but forge his path through it blindly. An explorer through the jungle of time, forging a path through sheer gumption.
Yet, records from a specific planet kept coming up. Military operations, a battle fought there. Something about them just called to him, like there was something he just couldn’t grasp hiding within those records. The Force quivered around them, almost in fear of some grand power, but trying still to appeal to his newly sharpened senses. Each of the records almost felt like an incredibly minor disturbance, like the very mention of the planet was enough to make the Force quake. Yarkar nodded slightly, answering a silent question that need not specification. The mere presence of the signs pointed to the question and answer simultaneously, but his own pride demanded that he be the one that gave the true response. The Force did not have the will to coil in rejection of the idea being entirely his own, simply continuing in its business as a single nexus of its power rejected its absolution for a moment. How could it be bothered by something like him, after all?
Yarkar boarded his ship, the second his boots hit the metal his voice rang out in a shout. “Droid! Set course for Vjun! We depart immediately!” As the ship prepared to rise, Yarkar stood, simply holding onto a piece of equipment, almost being thrown into a wall by the force of atmospheric exit followed by a jump to hyperspace. His shoulder ached from the motion, but he was on a mission. Yarkar’s face was steeled, there was something about this action, it felt destined. Like his goals blended into an incomprehensible mess as his mind screamed in a thousand tones, yet only one path lay before him. Hate was in his every bone, it felt like his entire body was stiff with anticipation for some event that they did not make clear. Waiting for a miracle or a curse, who could tell?
- -VJUN- -
Yarkar moved to the front of the ship, taking a seat to watch their descent through the clouds. Acidic droplets clung to the hull as it plummeted, bringing him closer to his goal. He pointed wordlessly, guiding the droid towards the true thing that the dark side clung to. A patch of darkness in the middle of nowhere, a corrupted shimmer. He had to know what was there, he felt the Force guiding him to it like a beacon, there had to be something there! As he approached it, he saw nothing, it seemed like he was being guided to nothing. When the ship landed, Yarkar worried that he had been misguided, like it was a trick of the Force, then he saw it. A skeleton of two humanoids, their bones recent but still old. It looked to Yarkar like an old score was settled, but why would the Dark bring him here? Not only that, but why now? Surely it would have been much more useful to come here while they were still breathing.
[Begin Force Level 9 Application]
The curls of the Force lapped upon the waves of Yarkar, leaping into his arms, embracing his rage coming to light old fires once more. The Dark tried to drink from the well of Yarkar’s rage, but it was unsuccessful. Yarkar held the Force against his skin like he did on Yavin IV, keeping the dark out as his anger and hatred simply kept the Force dancing along his defenses, hungry and ambitious. It felt almost like twin souls, crashing waves upon him like they were themselves conscious beyond the will of the Force. How odd, it was almost bunching around them like it would a living being. He sensed these slithering waves of the Force crawl upon him for too long. It was time that he showed the crumpled Force what true power looks like.
Yarkar reaches into the Force around him, feeding upon the darkness around him as his gaze sharpened. Something was not right, something just felt wrong. The darkness in the Force here felt shallow, its intensity high but its reality lackluster. There was power here, but the hate was meaningless. It had no drive, no direction. The Force didn’t taste anywhere near as sharp as it did on Yavin IV, and it was even less hateful than the latent Dark upon the planet. He went to the bodies, there had to be something about them, something about them just felt wrong. Their bodies almost felt confused, like the Dark wanted to cling to it but was repulsed.
The closer he drew, the more angry the Force around him got, like it finally took offense to his presence. Every step made his footfalls feel heavy, the Force growing around him as his senses were now so honed, he felt like he could sense the Force around him like second nature. So much time spent sharpening the knife, his senses almost made him feel vulnerable. Vulnerable to angers he would have never sensed, disturbing ripples erupted through his senses as the Force around him started to try and crush him under its weight. It demanded he look no further, that he should let the dead lie. But the Force had dragged him this far, he was not about to let it waste his time. He was Yarkar Edetar, and his will should be demanded! His rage exploded into the Force around him, shoving it away from him, pushing in as much weight as he could upon it.
The Force felt like a sinkhole around him, sinking deeper and deeper as his ambition and agony rushed forward like a tidal wave. Memories of pain and torment did nothing but flood his head as his anger overflowed like the cup of a greedy drunk. He shouted in anger as tears rolled down his face, drawing upon the anger of his surroundings only made him vulnerable to stealing all the emotion around him. He shook as he hated the Force around him for bringing this burden upon him, yet his hatred only made him feel more as he started to spiral out of control. His hatred flipped back and forth, pushing towards the Force and then turning upon an idea of “himself” that was not truly him. He couldn’t quite pinpoint what it was, he just hated it with everything in his being for split seconds before his anger whiplashed back to the Force and vis versa. The pit in the Force started to wildly oscillate, sending massive waves of the Force outwards in all directions, echoing his agony.
Rocky terrain began to crack, ancient structures of stone and dust coming to bear under his power. He wasn’t even sure what was him and what was an expression of the Force anymore, rocks began to tumble from the spires, tumbling around him as his senses began to alert him of the dangers. He suddenly turns around, he threw up his hands to deflect a boulder that was on its way straight for him, using a massive push at an angle to knock it off course. He was out of control, his push only barely changing the direction enough that he still felt the wind rush past. His own waves were interfering, echoing from every spire, calling for more destruction as his own expressions were being swallowed by the massive swinging current as his mood swings from sadness to anger in rapid succession.
Yarkar gripped his head, trying to focus as the very concept of focus shimmered, ephemeral, he had to put less and less thought into deflecting the boulders with each passing moment. So many thoughts were swimming in his head as he finally let out a screeching wail, turning a rock the size of his body into rubble as Yarkar tried to release the pressure in his head. He clenched his teeth as spittle dribbled between them as trying to get a hold of himself was like trying to physically lift the boulders around him. Blood vessels in his head popped out, his eyes grew bloodshot from the pressure. The weight of the world was on his emotional shoulders, but finally his mind started to wrap around the force of his unrestrained anger like a serpent with its prey. He spit out blood, apparently having bitten his tongue as he repaired it with the Force, feeling the brief shock of pain of such an action leaving his nerves exposed to the air for the briefest of moments.
The rumbling tide gave up, but the trial was not over yet. A giant boulder finally fell through the clouds, hurtling towards his ship. Terror struck his eyes as the fear drove him to action. His hands flew up as he grasped at the boulder with the Force. He struggled with it, feeling its weight in his head, pressurizing his thoughts as they all condensed under the heft of the mighty stone. The rock was slowing down, but he had to do something if he was going to stop it in time. Yet unleashing his rage in full would only lead to more problems, same as drawing in too much energy from this dark place. His eyes bloodshot from the earlier strain, the slight sting of their frustration with him motivating his resolve.
Yarkar sought to reorganize his mind, to put a touch of the Force into his thoughts, in a different way than his work with guiding his focus with the Force. He drew in a trickle from the Force around him, letting that small amount move throughout his blood before pumping it towards his mind. He put the Force in his mind in waves, envisioning a physical spherical cage around his thoughts, holding his mind in place as his intent was made manifest. He expanded the cage, feeling his rage bash against the walls in which it was contained, however the Force was far more effective at keeping a size than his own focus was. The chains of the Dark Side held his mind in place as he suddenly made a massive Force push. The push canceled out the momentum of the boulder mere seconds before it crushed his ship, the Merciful Rogue lived one more day. Yarkar launched yet another push to launch the boulder a short way away, letting it land with a massive crash and a few more small boulders raining around to no avail in the planet’s apparent goal to kill or strand him there.
[End Force Level 9 Application 1239/900]
Yarkar was left on the ground, he groaned as he spat up the last dregs of blood from his mouth. His body shook and his mind wavered, everything seemed to spin. That experience was one of the most intense he had ever experienced, and he had done so much in so little time, almost like the Force itself was giving him guidance in some strange manner. Like the Dark on the planet knew what he was capable of even before he did. Predictions, predictions, predictions. Why was the future so complicated? Why could simplicity not be obtained?
Yet, records from a specific planet kept coming up. Military operations, a battle fought there. Something about them just called to him, like there was something he just couldn’t grasp hiding within those records. The Force quivered around them, almost in fear of some grand power, but trying still to appeal to his newly sharpened senses. Each of the records almost felt like an incredibly minor disturbance, like the very mention of the planet was enough to make the Force quake. Yarkar nodded slightly, answering a silent question that need not specification. The mere presence of the signs pointed to the question and answer simultaneously, but his own pride demanded that he be the one that gave the true response. The Force did not have the will to coil in rejection of the idea being entirely his own, simply continuing in its business as a single nexus of its power rejected its absolution for a moment. How could it be bothered by something like him, after all?
Yarkar boarded his ship, the second his boots hit the metal his voice rang out in a shout. “Droid! Set course for Vjun! We depart immediately!” As the ship prepared to rise, Yarkar stood, simply holding onto a piece of equipment, almost being thrown into a wall by the force of atmospheric exit followed by a jump to hyperspace. His shoulder ached from the motion, but he was on a mission. Yarkar’s face was steeled, there was something about this action, it felt destined. Like his goals blended into an incomprehensible mess as his mind screamed in a thousand tones, yet only one path lay before him. Hate was in his every bone, it felt like his entire body was stiff with anticipation for some event that they did not make clear. Waiting for a miracle or a curse, who could tell?
- -VJUN- -
Yarkar moved to the front of the ship, taking a seat to watch their descent through the clouds. Acidic droplets clung to the hull as it plummeted, bringing him closer to his goal. He pointed wordlessly, guiding the droid towards the true thing that the dark side clung to. A patch of darkness in the middle of nowhere, a corrupted shimmer. He had to know what was there, he felt the Force guiding him to it like a beacon, there had to be something there! As he approached it, he saw nothing, it seemed like he was being guided to nothing. When the ship landed, Yarkar worried that he had been misguided, like it was a trick of the Force, then he saw it. A skeleton of two humanoids, their bones recent but still old. It looked to Yarkar like an old score was settled, but why would the Dark bring him here? Not only that, but why now? Surely it would have been much more useful to come here while they were still breathing.
[Begin Force Level 9 Application]
The curls of the Force lapped upon the waves of Yarkar, leaping into his arms, embracing his rage coming to light old fires once more. The Dark tried to drink from the well of Yarkar’s rage, but it was unsuccessful. Yarkar held the Force against his skin like he did on Yavin IV, keeping the dark out as his anger and hatred simply kept the Force dancing along his defenses, hungry and ambitious. It felt almost like twin souls, crashing waves upon him like they were themselves conscious beyond the will of the Force. How odd, it was almost bunching around them like it would a living being. He sensed these slithering waves of the Force crawl upon him for too long. It was time that he showed the crumpled Force what true power looks like.
Yarkar reaches into the Force around him, feeding upon the darkness around him as his gaze sharpened. Something was not right, something just felt wrong. The darkness in the Force here felt shallow, its intensity high but its reality lackluster. There was power here, but the hate was meaningless. It had no drive, no direction. The Force didn’t taste anywhere near as sharp as it did on Yavin IV, and it was even less hateful than the latent Dark upon the planet. He went to the bodies, there had to be something about them, something about them just felt wrong. Their bodies almost felt confused, like the Dark wanted to cling to it but was repulsed.
The closer he drew, the more angry the Force around him got, like it finally took offense to his presence. Every step made his footfalls feel heavy, the Force growing around him as his senses were now so honed, he felt like he could sense the Force around him like second nature. So much time spent sharpening the knife, his senses almost made him feel vulnerable. Vulnerable to angers he would have never sensed, disturbing ripples erupted through his senses as the Force around him started to try and crush him under its weight. It demanded he look no further, that he should let the dead lie. But the Force had dragged him this far, he was not about to let it waste his time. He was Yarkar Edetar, and his will should be demanded! His rage exploded into the Force around him, shoving it away from him, pushing in as much weight as he could upon it.
The Force felt like a sinkhole around him, sinking deeper and deeper as his ambition and agony rushed forward like a tidal wave. Memories of pain and torment did nothing but flood his head as his anger overflowed like the cup of a greedy drunk. He shouted in anger as tears rolled down his face, drawing upon the anger of his surroundings only made him vulnerable to stealing all the emotion around him. He shook as he hated the Force around him for bringing this burden upon him, yet his hatred only made him feel more as he started to spiral out of control. His hatred flipped back and forth, pushing towards the Force and then turning upon an idea of “himself” that was not truly him. He couldn’t quite pinpoint what it was, he just hated it with everything in his being for split seconds before his anger whiplashed back to the Force and vis versa. The pit in the Force started to wildly oscillate, sending massive waves of the Force outwards in all directions, echoing his agony.
Rocky terrain began to crack, ancient structures of stone and dust coming to bear under his power. He wasn’t even sure what was him and what was an expression of the Force anymore, rocks began to tumble from the spires, tumbling around him as his senses began to alert him of the dangers. He suddenly turns around, he threw up his hands to deflect a boulder that was on its way straight for him, using a massive push at an angle to knock it off course. He was out of control, his push only barely changing the direction enough that he still felt the wind rush past. His own waves were interfering, echoing from every spire, calling for more destruction as his own expressions were being swallowed by the massive swinging current as his mood swings from sadness to anger in rapid succession.
Yarkar gripped his head, trying to focus as the very concept of focus shimmered, ephemeral, he had to put less and less thought into deflecting the boulders with each passing moment. So many thoughts were swimming in his head as he finally let out a screeching wail, turning a rock the size of his body into rubble as Yarkar tried to release the pressure in his head. He clenched his teeth as spittle dribbled between them as trying to get a hold of himself was like trying to physically lift the boulders around him. Blood vessels in his head popped out, his eyes grew bloodshot from the pressure. The weight of the world was on his emotional shoulders, but finally his mind started to wrap around the force of his unrestrained anger like a serpent with its prey. He spit out blood, apparently having bitten his tongue as he repaired it with the Force, feeling the brief shock of pain of such an action leaving his nerves exposed to the air for the briefest of moments.
The rumbling tide gave up, but the trial was not over yet. A giant boulder finally fell through the clouds, hurtling towards his ship. Terror struck his eyes as the fear drove him to action. His hands flew up as he grasped at the boulder with the Force. He struggled with it, feeling its weight in his head, pressurizing his thoughts as they all condensed under the heft of the mighty stone. The rock was slowing down, but he had to do something if he was going to stop it in time. Yet unleashing his rage in full would only lead to more problems, same as drawing in too much energy from this dark place. His eyes bloodshot from the earlier strain, the slight sting of their frustration with him motivating his resolve.
Yarkar sought to reorganize his mind, to put a touch of the Force into his thoughts, in a different way than his work with guiding his focus with the Force. He drew in a trickle from the Force around him, letting that small amount move throughout his blood before pumping it towards his mind. He put the Force in his mind in waves, envisioning a physical spherical cage around his thoughts, holding his mind in place as his intent was made manifest. He expanded the cage, feeling his rage bash against the walls in which it was contained, however the Force was far more effective at keeping a size than his own focus was. The chains of the Dark Side held his mind in place as he suddenly made a massive Force push. The push canceled out the momentum of the boulder mere seconds before it crushed his ship, the Merciful Rogue lived one more day. Yarkar launched yet another push to launch the boulder a short way away, letting it land with a massive crash and a few more small boulders raining around to no avail in the planet’s apparent goal to kill or strand him there.
[End Force Level 9 Application 1239/900]
Yarkar was left on the ground, he groaned as he spat up the last dregs of blood from his mouth. His body shook and his mind wavered, everything seemed to spin. That experience was one of the most intense he had ever experienced, and he had done so much in so little time, almost like the Force itself was giving him guidance in some strange manner. Like the Dark on the planet knew what he was capable of even before he did. Predictions, predictions, predictions. Why was the future so complicated? Why could simplicity not be obtained?
-
Yarkar Edetar
- Registered Member
- Posts: 90
- Joined: Sat Nov 20, 2021 6:41 pm
Re: To Touch The Intangible (Force Training)
Yarkar sat in his contemplation, hissing as he spat up blood in a puddle on the ground below him. His mouth burned, his muscles ached, and his mind was completely blank. He couldn’t fathom thinking of anything, like he was trapped in a veil of no feeling. His face was red hot and sweat dripped down his brow. He felt as if he almost defeated himself more than anything. He was his own worst enemy, and in his arrogance, he was almost trapped planetside. What an awful moment for the rising Lord. Yet, his mind finally began to clear through his own haze of self-pity. He stood, ready to claim the prize which he made the Force submit to him for, the right to investigate the dead where and how he pleased.
He smiled as he approached the two skeletal remains. It was morbid, yes, but he started to make out details he couldn’t see from afar. Blasters buried in dust by years, yet supernaturally clean skeletons. It was almost like someone, or something, was upkeeping this scene like a shrine, but leaving elements to be forgotten to history. A history, perhaps one being intentionally altered. An interesting goal for certain. Yarkar thought back to his worries about the future, deciding it may indeed be cathartic to escape them in the past. After all, something about the Force was calling him here. There was something that he needed to find, or that the Force needed him to find. Whichever way, the will of the Force was questionable at best, but drifting along it had never done him wrong. After all, he was curious about the pair regardless.
He approached the remains, unburying the blaster pistols from the dust surrounding them. He pointed them to a nearby segment of the ground, pulling the trigger on them both and seeing that they both still functioned. They left small scorch marks in the dust, nothing powerful, but still what would be expected of a blaster of their stature. At the very least time had not taken them. He didn’t recognize the model though; he never did study weapons that often. What a shame that he didn’t, that would help him quite a bit. He wondered what he could even glean from this scene, there was so little to see, the only thing he could really understand about there was a strong emotion, rippling through the Force from each of the skeletons. Hate and distrust. The skeletons were those of the betrayed, certainly. Perhaps that could be an avenue for progress. After all, if the Force brought him here, perhaps it knows what happened.
[Begin Psychometry Power Application]
Yarkar reached into the Force, his senses sharp as they stared into the vastness that is the Force. He felt the hatred and distrust grow, almost like he was feeling the emotions of a living being. He didn’t know such things could even stick around after death. When he killed Ishtar, the hate and anger was gone almost instantly. It’s almost like there was a footprint of the emotions, suspended in the Force like fruit in gelatin. Yarkar’s senses cut through the Force, carefully dissecting it to get a better look at the emotions trapped within.
Yarkar felt these emotions, yet also something deeper within. Hate spewed from the Force like a fountain. The river of emotion never changed, constant, like something was producing it. He focused his mind on not only the emotion, but that something he sensed under the surface. Glimpses of something greater within the Force as he continued carefully searching. He started to focus beyond his senses, pouring energy in and out of the Force. His power snaked around the suspended emotions; he started to vibrate the Force more and more in the area, taking pockets of energy and stretching them out over large waves of power as he investigated their roots. Eventually, his senses caught a glimpse of what he was looking for. His mind caught a glimpse at the center of these pockets of suspending emotion, something darker imprinted upon the Force itself. It wasn’t energy, more like a tattoo on the fabric flesh of the Force’s will.
He reached out, attempting to get a better idea of what the source could possibly be, but when he finally connected with it, his eyes rolled back into his head. He felt a stinging in his chest which immediately made him lurch over. It felt like he had just been shot with a blaster, but as he regains his focus, he finds no wound. He had to know more, it was like there were experiences so formative that they made the Force itself quiver at their existence, an echo through the eons. He reaches out in the Force, reaching to the core of each of the spheres of energy within the Force trying desperately to commune with them all at once.
They reached into his head, leaving him once again stunned as he saw another glimpse. A man in a dark cloak, clearly Sith, stood before him. He looked at his own body, not recognizing it as he saw only a blaster pistol in his hand and the hand of the woman beside him. He pointed the blaster at the Sith, almost instinctively, as if it was required of him. Yet, in trying to pull the trigger he only served to have the blaster pulled out of his hands and thrown across the ground. He cried out, but no sound escaped as he felt himself choked, unable to do anything but scrape at his neck. A blaster bolt rang out, a shot hitting the Sith in the shoulder. He screamed in rage, pulling the blaster out of the woman’s hand who shot him, but instead of tossing this blaster, he simply fired towards Yarkar’s point of view. He once again lurched back to reality with the same pain in his chest. It was a lot more information, but not enough. He couldn’t just get that information, there had to be more! Secrets were hiding, he wasn’t about to leave everything unfinished.
He wracked his mind for what little he understood of what just happened, searching the Force for pockets of energy that he hadn’t noticed, trying to find the final pieces of history like he was scrambling through an ancient tomb to find hidden relics. His eyes were hungry with curiosity as he struggled to find them. Yet, he realized something. It was likely there would be different emotions associated with the parts after the death of his previous point of view. Perhaps, maybe, she would be sad about the man’s passing. He searched deeper, looking for the somber waves of depressing hate. He looked for only the most bitter and cruel of the memories stamped upon the Force in this place as he scoured them. There, finally, it was there. He reached out to it, and his vision changed once more. As the Force flowed through him, he saw from a different set of eyes.
He stood up, getting ready to throw a punch, yet there it was that he saw the face of the assailant. The Sith had a distinctive scar across his forehead, it looked like tangles of roots of vines wrapping around and grasping at his eyes. His face was pale, almost as if it were painted with chalk. Yet, that was all he could get out of it before he felt it. Pure agony. Lightning burst from the fingertips of the Sith, pouring into “his” eyes, mouth, and body as he convulsed. He falls, both in the memory and in reality, hitting his head on the ground and coughing up another few drops of blood. He looked at the ground around him, like he had been kicking and flailing as in the memory.
[End Psychometry Power Application 862/300]
A vague whisper in the Force of what he assumed to be failed apprentices. Not even having a saber. What could possibly warrant such a brutal execution? And in the middle of nowhere? Surely an execution would be a public affair. Something was afoot, and Yarkar made note to check on it. Perhaps the Force was looking to have him bring vengeance for fallen comrades, or perhaps just to put them in the record books. Time would tell. There it is again, the future coming to corrupt the past. Why couldn’t it just stay on its side of time?
He smiled as he approached the two skeletal remains. It was morbid, yes, but he started to make out details he couldn’t see from afar. Blasters buried in dust by years, yet supernaturally clean skeletons. It was almost like someone, or something, was upkeeping this scene like a shrine, but leaving elements to be forgotten to history. A history, perhaps one being intentionally altered. An interesting goal for certain. Yarkar thought back to his worries about the future, deciding it may indeed be cathartic to escape them in the past. After all, something about the Force was calling him here. There was something that he needed to find, or that the Force needed him to find. Whichever way, the will of the Force was questionable at best, but drifting along it had never done him wrong. After all, he was curious about the pair regardless.
He approached the remains, unburying the blaster pistols from the dust surrounding them. He pointed them to a nearby segment of the ground, pulling the trigger on them both and seeing that they both still functioned. They left small scorch marks in the dust, nothing powerful, but still what would be expected of a blaster of their stature. At the very least time had not taken them. He didn’t recognize the model though; he never did study weapons that often. What a shame that he didn’t, that would help him quite a bit. He wondered what he could even glean from this scene, there was so little to see, the only thing he could really understand about there was a strong emotion, rippling through the Force from each of the skeletons. Hate and distrust. The skeletons were those of the betrayed, certainly. Perhaps that could be an avenue for progress. After all, if the Force brought him here, perhaps it knows what happened.
[Begin Psychometry Power Application]
Yarkar reached into the Force, his senses sharp as they stared into the vastness that is the Force. He felt the hatred and distrust grow, almost like he was feeling the emotions of a living being. He didn’t know such things could even stick around after death. When he killed Ishtar, the hate and anger was gone almost instantly. It’s almost like there was a footprint of the emotions, suspended in the Force like fruit in gelatin. Yarkar’s senses cut through the Force, carefully dissecting it to get a better look at the emotions trapped within.
Yarkar felt these emotions, yet also something deeper within. Hate spewed from the Force like a fountain. The river of emotion never changed, constant, like something was producing it. He focused his mind on not only the emotion, but that something he sensed under the surface. Glimpses of something greater within the Force as he continued carefully searching. He started to focus beyond his senses, pouring energy in and out of the Force. His power snaked around the suspended emotions; he started to vibrate the Force more and more in the area, taking pockets of energy and stretching them out over large waves of power as he investigated their roots. Eventually, his senses caught a glimpse of what he was looking for. His mind caught a glimpse at the center of these pockets of suspending emotion, something darker imprinted upon the Force itself. It wasn’t energy, more like a tattoo on the fabric flesh of the Force’s will.
He reached out, attempting to get a better idea of what the source could possibly be, but when he finally connected with it, his eyes rolled back into his head. He felt a stinging in his chest which immediately made him lurch over. It felt like he had just been shot with a blaster, but as he regains his focus, he finds no wound. He had to know more, it was like there were experiences so formative that they made the Force itself quiver at their existence, an echo through the eons. He reaches out in the Force, reaching to the core of each of the spheres of energy within the Force trying desperately to commune with them all at once.
They reached into his head, leaving him once again stunned as he saw another glimpse. A man in a dark cloak, clearly Sith, stood before him. He looked at his own body, not recognizing it as he saw only a blaster pistol in his hand and the hand of the woman beside him. He pointed the blaster at the Sith, almost instinctively, as if it was required of him. Yet, in trying to pull the trigger he only served to have the blaster pulled out of his hands and thrown across the ground. He cried out, but no sound escaped as he felt himself choked, unable to do anything but scrape at his neck. A blaster bolt rang out, a shot hitting the Sith in the shoulder. He screamed in rage, pulling the blaster out of the woman’s hand who shot him, but instead of tossing this blaster, he simply fired towards Yarkar’s point of view. He once again lurched back to reality with the same pain in his chest. It was a lot more information, but not enough. He couldn’t just get that information, there had to be more! Secrets were hiding, he wasn’t about to leave everything unfinished.
He wracked his mind for what little he understood of what just happened, searching the Force for pockets of energy that he hadn’t noticed, trying to find the final pieces of history like he was scrambling through an ancient tomb to find hidden relics. His eyes were hungry with curiosity as he struggled to find them. Yet, he realized something. It was likely there would be different emotions associated with the parts after the death of his previous point of view. Perhaps, maybe, she would be sad about the man’s passing. He searched deeper, looking for the somber waves of depressing hate. He looked for only the most bitter and cruel of the memories stamped upon the Force in this place as he scoured them. There, finally, it was there. He reached out to it, and his vision changed once more. As the Force flowed through him, he saw from a different set of eyes.
He stood up, getting ready to throw a punch, yet there it was that he saw the face of the assailant. The Sith had a distinctive scar across his forehead, it looked like tangles of roots of vines wrapping around and grasping at his eyes. His face was pale, almost as if it were painted with chalk. Yet, that was all he could get out of it before he felt it. Pure agony. Lightning burst from the fingertips of the Sith, pouring into “his” eyes, mouth, and body as he convulsed. He falls, both in the memory and in reality, hitting his head on the ground and coughing up another few drops of blood. He looked at the ground around him, like he had been kicking and flailing as in the memory.
[End Psychometry Power Application 862/300]
A vague whisper in the Force of what he assumed to be failed apprentices. Not even having a saber. What could possibly warrant such a brutal execution? And in the middle of nowhere? Surely an execution would be a public affair. Something was afoot, and Yarkar made note to check on it. Perhaps the Force was looking to have him bring vengeance for fallen comrades, or perhaps just to put them in the record books. Time would tell. There it is again, the future coming to corrupt the past. Why couldn’t it just stay on its side of time?
-
Yarkar Edetar
- Registered Member
- Posts: 90
- Joined: Sat Nov 20, 2021 6:41 pm
Re: To Touch The Intangible (Force Training)
Yarkar did not get peace, however. Peace is something not often granted to this Sith, and the trend continues still. As he sits in wonder, trying to decipher ancient mystery, his senses, still acute from his peering into the past, pick up on something behind him. His mastery of the Force just barely granted him the speed to fall to the ground seconds before a bite would have landed into his neck. Another feat of agility follows with a quick flip from the ground, planting his feet on the creature’s chest and pushing it over seconds before it sank its claws into his tendons.
He gets up, his pupils dilated, and his breath controlled, scuttling backwards to make distance. He sensed great darkness within the creature. It was ancient darkness, cold and calculating. What a wretched sense, but it calmed Yarkar. He understood darkness. He reveled in it, after all. This thing was an opponent that he could understand, given the time to do so. He smiled, thinking of how he could pacify the creature, to let it continue to roam. The reptile once again approaches him, only to take a powerful push from the Force into its face, knocking it back again as Yarkar wielded the strong presence of the Dark on the planet to his advantage. He didn’t draw his saber, not yet it was time to try something risky for the sake of letting a creature after his own heart live. What a disgustingly Jedi way to look at it. He couldn’t stand that an outsider would see it as that.
[Begin Beast Control Power Application]
Yarkar drank in the Force as he and the beast stared each other down. There seemed to be a mutual understanding going on. For the hssiss to approach, it would have to catch Yarkar off guard. However, in turn, for Yarkar to continue in his own goal, he would have to focus for a bit. The hssiss, regardless, charges again, only to get pushed down to the ground. Yarkar took the moment to try his first attempt at tapping into the beast’s mind.
He scowls as his mind drifts towards the hssiss and noted that the Force clung to it the same as it would to other living things, but there were twinges beneath the surface. Hints of darkness hiding beneath. Yet, as he sensed that the beast starts to stand, he instead simply attempts to read the emotions of the beast, getting inconclusive evidence before realizing he had focused for too long, having to sidestep a charge from the reptile again, jumping up to higher ground with a pulse of the Force a split second before the beast turned around. A cloud of dust and small rocks flew into the air, further confusing the creature as to where its prey had gone, and Yarkar once again took advantage of the short time he had gained.
He reached out again, now focusing hard on the darkness within the creature, on the emotions in its core. The hunger, the confusion, the anger at losing its prey. All the emotion rising to a high as it rears its head towards Yarkar again, prompting him to lash out with a choke around its neck. He could feel its pain, he fed on the darkness as it suffered. It drew away his pure attention, but he had finally gotten a grasp on this thing and how it feels. After all, emotions were the key to manipulation. That was why the Sith wielded them like a weapon. To know them was to avoid the trappings of them. Yarkar’s anger was no longer a handicap, but a weapon for him to wield against his foes, like this hssiss. However, this being was weak. It wore its emotions on its sleeve, not even hiding its darkness from the world around it. It was vulnerable, like Yarkar used to be. He was strong now, and it was the duty of the strong to teach the weak to behave.
Yarkar lifts the hssiss upward, throwing it into the rubble nearby from the rockslide as it struggled to stand and find its footing in the rough stones. As it slipped and floundered, he rose. He looked it in the eyes, outstretching his hand as he started to grasp upon those innate emotions within the lizard. The raw power of the Dark Side in it, grasping at it and imprinting his command. He figured if it worked on the Dark outside of creatures, why not within? He grinned as he enforced his will, it was not soft ripples in the Force like usual. It was crashing tidal waves, torturing the thing from the inside as the very Force it was made of was assaulted with the raw will of a Sith rising into his prime. Its poor mind wracked with abusive will from Yarkar, poison in the Force. It was all too sensitive to in its emotion-driven hunt. Yarkar’s will was spoken clearly, almost like telepathy, except in the form of ultimatum. The Force was crushing on its mind, demanding obedience at all costs. There was not an alternative, Yarkar did not offer the beast a deal. No, that would mean there was an option beyond subservience. Nay, the only option was to obey its new master.
The message was clear as day:
“Obey and rise to greet your new leader.”
The hssiss was weak, its throat nearly crushed, its body bruised, its eyes filled with debris that it frantically fought to remove. All this paled in its need to rise, to obey. It stopped its panicked flailing, all its wounds meant nothing to it for a mere moment as it rose and calmly walked from the debris, lowering its head in the only subservience it knew. The beast, having lived without domination its whole life, suddenly felt a need to serve and protect its new liege. The compelling of the Force was one that did not give many options, especially when wielded by a strong weapon of the Dark like the being before him.
In Yarkar’s eyes was not the Yarkar that the other Sith had grown to know. It was a younger Yarkar, a Yarkar who lived a life of subservience. A Yarkar who yearned for nothing but control of his destiny. Today he imprinted that destiny onto a poor, foolish creature. He didn’t think of it like this, in his younger and older selves, but it was the truth regardless. He was not the apprentice with no master in the Praxium. No, he was Darth as he was named shortly before his absence, and the Force pulsed through his veins. His mind echoed another command to the noble lizard, a being that listened to the same dark urges as he did. Yarkar’s respect for the thing was clear, and he was no slave driver like his parentage. He did what all good commanders do once a service is no longer necessary.
“Leave. Leave and hunt elsewhere, beast. Find your prey not in Sith, but in creatures of the Light. The Dark shall stand united. Leave.”
The command was once again spasmed through the pathetic skull of the hssiss, it twitched and cried out as it began to stagger away, defeated. Its mind wracked with the inconceivable notion of disobedience. Even following the orders of the Sith was painful, so much so that the idea of subservience was all that the creature could dream. Yarkar watched it leave, keeping his focus upon the thing within the Force for much longer than the eyes could keep track of it. When it was beyond even the limits of Yarkar’s senses, he dropped his focus, wondering where the being’s travels may take it, should it continue upon the directive set upon it by the Sith. He wondered for just how long the thing would listen before it realized it was no longer in a way where the Sith could threaten it. The limits of his power were something that would require a much keener test indeed. One difficult to measure in captivity.
[End Beast Control Power Application 982/600]
He gets up, his pupils dilated, and his breath controlled, scuttling backwards to make distance. He sensed great darkness within the creature. It was ancient darkness, cold and calculating. What a wretched sense, but it calmed Yarkar. He understood darkness. He reveled in it, after all. This thing was an opponent that he could understand, given the time to do so. He smiled, thinking of how he could pacify the creature, to let it continue to roam. The reptile once again approaches him, only to take a powerful push from the Force into its face, knocking it back again as Yarkar wielded the strong presence of the Dark on the planet to his advantage. He didn’t draw his saber, not yet it was time to try something risky for the sake of letting a creature after his own heart live. What a disgustingly Jedi way to look at it. He couldn’t stand that an outsider would see it as that.
[Begin Beast Control Power Application]
Yarkar drank in the Force as he and the beast stared each other down. There seemed to be a mutual understanding going on. For the hssiss to approach, it would have to catch Yarkar off guard. However, in turn, for Yarkar to continue in his own goal, he would have to focus for a bit. The hssiss, regardless, charges again, only to get pushed down to the ground. Yarkar took the moment to try his first attempt at tapping into the beast’s mind.
He scowls as his mind drifts towards the hssiss and noted that the Force clung to it the same as it would to other living things, but there were twinges beneath the surface. Hints of darkness hiding beneath. Yet, as he sensed that the beast starts to stand, he instead simply attempts to read the emotions of the beast, getting inconclusive evidence before realizing he had focused for too long, having to sidestep a charge from the reptile again, jumping up to higher ground with a pulse of the Force a split second before the beast turned around. A cloud of dust and small rocks flew into the air, further confusing the creature as to where its prey had gone, and Yarkar once again took advantage of the short time he had gained.
He reached out again, now focusing hard on the darkness within the creature, on the emotions in its core. The hunger, the confusion, the anger at losing its prey. All the emotion rising to a high as it rears its head towards Yarkar again, prompting him to lash out with a choke around its neck. He could feel its pain, he fed on the darkness as it suffered. It drew away his pure attention, but he had finally gotten a grasp on this thing and how it feels. After all, emotions were the key to manipulation. That was why the Sith wielded them like a weapon. To know them was to avoid the trappings of them. Yarkar’s anger was no longer a handicap, but a weapon for him to wield against his foes, like this hssiss. However, this being was weak. It wore its emotions on its sleeve, not even hiding its darkness from the world around it. It was vulnerable, like Yarkar used to be. He was strong now, and it was the duty of the strong to teach the weak to behave.
Yarkar lifts the hssiss upward, throwing it into the rubble nearby from the rockslide as it struggled to stand and find its footing in the rough stones. As it slipped and floundered, he rose. He looked it in the eyes, outstretching his hand as he started to grasp upon those innate emotions within the lizard. The raw power of the Dark Side in it, grasping at it and imprinting his command. He figured if it worked on the Dark outside of creatures, why not within? He grinned as he enforced his will, it was not soft ripples in the Force like usual. It was crashing tidal waves, torturing the thing from the inside as the very Force it was made of was assaulted with the raw will of a Sith rising into his prime. Its poor mind wracked with abusive will from Yarkar, poison in the Force. It was all too sensitive to in its emotion-driven hunt. Yarkar’s will was spoken clearly, almost like telepathy, except in the form of ultimatum. The Force was crushing on its mind, demanding obedience at all costs. There was not an alternative, Yarkar did not offer the beast a deal. No, that would mean there was an option beyond subservience. Nay, the only option was to obey its new master.
The message was clear as day:
“Obey and rise to greet your new leader.”
The hssiss was weak, its throat nearly crushed, its body bruised, its eyes filled with debris that it frantically fought to remove. All this paled in its need to rise, to obey. It stopped its panicked flailing, all its wounds meant nothing to it for a mere moment as it rose and calmly walked from the debris, lowering its head in the only subservience it knew. The beast, having lived without domination its whole life, suddenly felt a need to serve and protect its new liege. The compelling of the Force was one that did not give many options, especially when wielded by a strong weapon of the Dark like the being before him.
In Yarkar’s eyes was not the Yarkar that the other Sith had grown to know. It was a younger Yarkar, a Yarkar who lived a life of subservience. A Yarkar who yearned for nothing but control of his destiny. Today he imprinted that destiny onto a poor, foolish creature. He didn’t think of it like this, in his younger and older selves, but it was the truth regardless. He was not the apprentice with no master in the Praxium. No, he was Darth as he was named shortly before his absence, and the Force pulsed through his veins. His mind echoed another command to the noble lizard, a being that listened to the same dark urges as he did. Yarkar’s respect for the thing was clear, and he was no slave driver like his parentage. He did what all good commanders do once a service is no longer necessary.
“Leave. Leave and hunt elsewhere, beast. Find your prey not in Sith, but in creatures of the Light. The Dark shall stand united. Leave.”
The command was once again spasmed through the pathetic skull of the hssiss, it twitched and cried out as it began to stagger away, defeated. Its mind wracked with the inconceivable notion of disobedience. Even following the orders of the Sith was painful, so much so that the idea of subservience was all that the creature could dream. Yarkar watched it leave, keeping his focus upon the thing within the Force for much longer than the eyes could keep track of it. When it was beyond even the limits of Yarkar’s senses, he dropped his focus, wondering where the being’s travels may take it, should it continue upon the directive set upon it by the Sith. He wondered for just how long the thing would listen before it realized it was no longer in a way where the Sith could threaten it. The limits of his power were something that would require a much keener test indeed. One difficult to measure in captivity.
[End Beast Control Power Application 982/600]
-
Yarkar Edetar
- Registered Member
- Posts: 90
- Joined: Sat Nov 20, 2021 6:41 pm
Re: To Touch The Intangible (Force Training)
Yarkar once again boarded The Merciful Rogue, his protocol droid coming up to him. “That was quite the feat with the rocks, I thought I was done for!” The droid rattled on with his voice high pitched with a hint of static, it had been a while since Yarkar had tinkered with the voicebox in him. At least the thing could talk now, but it was aggravating to say the least. He wasn’t incredibly fond of the droid, but it was useful to have a translator when you needed one.
Yarkar snapped back at the droid, his anger still residually boiling to the surface before it had fully calmed after the incident with the hssiss. “Do you have no faith, you bucket of bolts? I am stronger than this planet, I merely proved it so! If you wish to join it in the league of those who doubt me, I can be sure to put you among their ranks!”
The droid whimpered slightly, “Sorry sir, I didn’t mean to offend.” Yarkar replied in turn, “You knew what you said, just not that I would pick up on it.” He walked towards his quarters, boots clanging on metal as he went to wallow in his own emotion. It had been quite some time since he had spoken to someone. The last one was that professor now that he thought about it. He was quite interesting to talk to, finally a perspective of true perseverance in the name of power. It had been quite some time since he’d seen it.
He hated to say it, but he saw a little bit of Tormentous in the man. Someone willing to act in the name of power rather than revelry like Kressara, or out of some kind of deep necessity like Aliclair. At the same time, he saw a bit of that in Aliclair as well, just not as much as in the eyes of the wooden apprentice. There was something in him that just pulled Yarkar deeper, the thought of what mysteries would drive a man like him to join the Sith. A professor typically has their means set. Of course, the Dark Side was the path to true independence, but it made Yarkar question why the professor had spent so long before mastering the darkness within him. Was there something that Yarkar was missing? Perhaps he would ask the next time that they met.
What had him thinking of others this time? Why was he being dragged down this corridor? Could he be lonely? Everyone he had ever met before the Sith had hurt him. Even afterwards, the Jedi still sat among what few fond memories he had of sending distress signals, dreaming of Jedi at his doorstep ready to free him. Yet, all in vain. There was nothing of it, he had lived alone. He always had. Even surrounded, he was alone. Yet, he only now felt lonely. Why must he be cursed with this, only companions with bolts, sheet metal, and electric pulses? Meaningless, all of it. He didn’t need anyone! He was Yarkar Edetar! Apprentice of Lord Tormentous! Yet, he wanted people. Yes, that was it. He had spent so much time where want and need were the same. Finally, he was at a point where the two split. What an accursed thing! Why should he have to want things that weren’t necessary? He was better than this. He wished he could just rip it out, pound it into pulp and feed it to a rancor!
His mind wandered back to his dream, to Listre. Yes. That caused this. His other self’s weakness. His inner monologue dripped with blood, anger, and violence towards the weak man who had submitted to his parents’ will. Given in, and for what? Accolades? Money? Power? He had that here, but he was free to do as he pleased. He hissed, hatred in his lungs. His jaw clenched and veins in his face became pronounced. How could his mind have even thought of that? How could he have dreamed of himself as such a wretched thing? How could he have been content with that? It was awful, despicable. He wasn’t that weak. He could never be that weak. Yet, the thoughts still had happened. He had wished to feel weak somewhere in those deep recesses of his mind and he couldn’t rip them out. He hated it. Every moment of it. He wanted it all to go away, yet it stayed. Crawling in his head, this infestation. It was everywhere, yet when he looked, he could never find it.
[Begin Darkness Power Application]
Hatred and disgust filled Yarkar’s mind as his futile search continued, seeking out his inner weakness. His power in the Force started to weigh upon the room as his emotions grew unrestrained. Pity and anger mixed into a disgusting slurry in his veins, his body turning into a vessel for pure hatred towards all things. His mind screamed in agony as the bloodlust of his own emotional tirade ran over it. He wasn’t pulling energy in like usual, instead pushing it out. Waves of his power rippled around his ship, undetectable to the layman, but a force sensitive that was conscious of and vulnerable to such disturbances would be devastated. The Force wailed in pain as Yarkar took his loneliness out upon it, torturing it for being in his presence.
Yarkar hated everything in this moment, dead and alive were one. His weakness was in his own self, yet he couldn’t find it, he resolved to take it out of everything, to tear the weakness in the galaxy apart and meld it anew. He would never be weak again. No one would ever be weak again. Yes, that was it. If weakness was stripped from existence, then Yarkar could rest in peace.
That became his drive, his purpose. His power continued to push in all directions, forming a sphere of disturbances around him as the fabric of the Force was folded and bunched up as if it were cheesecloth. Yet, a side effect came of this. The thin strip of light underneath his door began to ever so slightly dim. The smallest hint of what Yarkar was doing, unconscious now of his own action in his rage-fueled tirade. After all, if light came from compression, dark came from its opposite. Fire burned in his heart, hate and anger built up over a lifetime of being beaten down. More and more Yarkar pushed the Force away, wanting his emotions to leave him blank. Yet, the emotions did not quell, they only made the Force writhe in agony as it started to fight back.
It lashed against him, trying to batter its way towards him, the darkness in it craving his emotions that he failed to quell. As it did so, the light grew stronger in the room, reflecting off the floor as Yarkar finally noticed the brightening more than the dimming. Yarkar’s mind almost immediately cut to thoughts of power, the ultimate distraction for the young Sith’s mind. His thoughts still plagued by the turbulent nature of his adolescence. Yarkar started to pierce the Force at the point where the light was brightest. He pushed it in all directions, like a mole digging a tunnel into the ground, mounding the power of the Force around it as he dragged himself into this expanse.
Before his eyes, he witnessed the lights begin to dim, his own intentions stealing the light from reality, forcing its energy into the Force as if it were electricity. Every panel in the ship hummed with the Force as the light was dispersed, made dimmer and dimmer as he began to even store some of that energy in the massive well that was his talent. His rage made him the perfect recipient, he felt his strength blossom as the Force flowed away from the light and through him.
“What’s going on? Is there a power outage?” The droid outside worried, his voice shaky and uncertain to the future of both itself and the vessel. A poor thing, really, as the Dark began to swallow the Light. Yarkar took it upon himself to make the ship befitting his mood, lashing out as the door opened, determined to make all the light disappear. The lights from the hallway bulbs were simple enough, but then he met his true competitor. The sunlight dribbling in through the clouds and the cockpit. He smiled with reckless abandon as he started to sap the energy from the cockpit, the area around the ship being used like a battery for the power in the Force as Yarkar almost laughs.
Darkness envelops the ship, tiniest strips of light remaining reflecting off the ghostly pale skin of the Sith. Yarkar used his hands like a compass, pointing him to the smallest lights of equipment, the smallest streaks of light from the star seeping in through his focus. Faster and faster, he was having to rely only on his senses in the Force to figure out where he was in the ship, bathing it in utter darkness as he walked through each room, snuffing out every scrap of light that he could find in each. He wanted the ship to be free of the weakness of the Light. Yes, that was the excuse he would tell himself. Finally, he was at the final glow in the ship. He looked the terrified protocol droid in its glowing eyes, a grin of a predator that had met its prey crossed his face. It was only visible in the slight glow of the eyes, glinting off his teeth as the shadowy figure of Yarkar was silent but the droid quivered. It feared the worst, its joints rattling as the light from its eyes was taken, leaving it alone and in utter darkness. Yes. Peace at last.
[End Darkness Power Application 837/200]
Yarkar snapped back at the droid, his anger still residually boiling to the surface before it had fully calmed after the incident with the hssiss. “Do you have no faith, you bucket of bolts? I am stronger than this planet, I merely proved it so! If you wish to join it in the league of those who doubt me, I can be sure to put you among their ranks!”
The droid whimpered slightly, “Sorry sir, I didn’t mean to offend.” Yarkar replied in turn, “You knew what you said, just not that I would pick up on it.” He walked towards his quarters, boots clanging on metal as he went to wallow in his own emotion. It had been quite some time since he had spoken to someone. The last one was that professor now that he thought about it. He was quite interesting to talk to, finally a perspective of true perseverance in the name of power. It had been quite some time since he’d seen it.
He hated to say it, but he saw a little bit of Tormentous in the man. Someone willing to act in the name of power rather than revelry like Kressara, or out of some kind of deep necessity like Aliclair. At the same time, he saw a bit of that in Aliclair as well, just not as much as in the eyes of the wooden apprentice. There was something in him that just pulled Yarkar deeper, the thought of what mysteries would drive a man like him to join the Sith. A professor typically has their means set. Of course, the Dark Side was the path to true independence, but it made Yarkar question why the professor had spent so long before mastering the darkness within him. Was there something that Yarkar was missing? Perhaps he would ask the next time that they met.
What had him thinking of others this time? Why was he being dragged down this corridor? Could he be lonely? Everyone he had ever met before the Sith had hurt him. Even afterwards, the Jedi still sat among what few fond memories he had of sending distress signals, dreaming of Jedi at his doorstep ready to free him. Yet, all in vain. There was nothing of it, he had lived alone. He always had. Even surrounded, he was alone. Yet, he only now felt lonely. Why must he be cursed with this, only companions with bolts, sheet metal, and electric pulses? Meaningless, all of it. He didn’t need anyone! He was Yarkar Edetar! Apprentice of Lord Tormentous! Yet, he wanted people. Yes, that was it. He had spent so much time where want and need were the same. Finally, he was at a point where the two split. What an accursed thing! Why should he have to want things that weren’t necessary? He was better than this. He wished he could just rip it out, pound it into pulp and feed it to a rancor!
His mind wandered back to his dream, to Listre. Yes. That caused this. His other self’s weakness. His inner monologue dripped with blood, anger, and violence towards the weak man who had submitted to his parents’ will. Given in, and for what? Accolades? Money? Power? He had that here, but he was free to do as he pleased. He hissed, hatred in his lungs. His jaw clenched and veins in his face became pronounced. How could his mind have even thought of that? How could he have dreamed of himself as such a wretched thing? How could he have been content with that? It was awful, despicable. He wasn’t that weak. He could never be that weak. Yet, the thoughts still had happened. He had wished to feel weak somewhere in those deep recesses of his mind and he couldn’t rip them out. He hated it. Every moment of it. He wanted it all to go away, yet it stayed. Crawling in his head, this infestation. It was everywhere, yet when he looked, he could never find it.
[Begin Darkness Power Application]
Hatred and disgust filled Yarkar’s mind as his futile search continued, seeking out his inner weakness. His power in the Force started to weigh upon the room as his emotions grew unrestrained. Pity and anger mixed into a disgusting slurry in his veins, his body turning into a vessel for pure hatred towards all things. His mind screamed in agony as the bloodlust of his own emotional tirade ran over it. He wasn’t pulling energy in like usual, instead pushing it out. Waves of his power rippled around his ship, undetectable to the layman, but a force sensitive that was conscious of and vulnerable to such disturbances would be devastated. The Force wailed in pain as Yarkar took his loneliness out upon it, torturing it for being in his presence.
Yarkar hated everything in this moment, dead and alive were one. His weakness was in his own self, yet he couldn’t find it, he resolved to take it out of everything, to tear the weakness in the galaxy apart and meld it anew. He would never be weak again. No one would ever be weak again. Yes, that was it. If weakness was stripped from existence, then Yarkar could rest in peace.
That became his drive, his purpose. His power continued to push in all directions, forming a sphere of disturbances around him as the fabric of the Force was folded and bunched up as if it were cheesecloth. Yet, a side effect came of this. The thin strip of light underneath his door began to ever so slightly dim. The smallest hint of what Yarkar was doing, unconscious now of his own action in his rage-fueled tirade. After all, if light came from compression, dark came from its opposite. Fire burned in his heart, hate and anger built up over a lifetime of being beaten down. More and more Yarkar pushed the Force away, wanting his emotions to leave him blank. Yet, the emotions did not quell, they only made the Force writhe in agony as it started to fight back.
It lashed against him, trying to batter its way towards him, the darkness in it craving his emotions that he failed to quell. As it did so, the light grew stronger in the room, reflecting off the floor as Yarkar finally noticed the brightening more than the dimming. Yarkar’s mind almost immediately cut to thoughts of power, the ultimate distraction for the young Sith’s mind. His thoughts still plagued by the turbulent nature of his adolescence. Yarkar started to pierce the Force at the point where the light was brightest. He pushed it in all directions, like a mole digging a tunnel into the ground, mounding the power of the Force around it as he dragged himself into this expanse.
Before his eyes, he witnessed the lights begin to dim, his own intentions stealing the light from reality, forcing its energy into the Force as if it were electricity. Every panel in the ship hummed with the Force as the light was dispersed, made dimmer and dimmer as he began to even store some of that energy in the massive well that was his talent. His rage made him the perfect recipient, he felt his strength blossom as the Force flowed away from the light and through him.
“What’s going on? Is there a power outage?” The droid outside worried, his voice shaky and uncertain to the future of both itself and the vessel. A poor thing, really, as the Dark began to swallow the Light. Yarkar took it upon himself to make the ship befitting his mood, lashing out as the door opened, determined to make all the light disappear. The lights from the hallway bulbs were simple enough, but then he met his true competitor. The sunlight dribbling in through the clouds and the cockpit. He smiled with reckless abandon as he started to sap the energy from the cockpit, the area around the ship being used like a battery for the power in the Force as Yarkar almost laughs.
Darkness envelops the ship, tiniest strips of light remaining reflecting off the ghostly pale skin of the Sith. Yarkar used his hands like a compass, pointing him to the smallest lights of equipment, the smallest streaks of light from the star seeping in through his focus. Faster and faster, he was having to rely only on his senses in the Force to figure out where he was in the ship, bathing it in utter darkness as he walked through each room, snuffing out every scrap of light that he could find in each. He wanted the ship to be free of the weakness of the Light. Yes, that was the excuse he would tell himself. Finally, he was at the final glow in the ship. He looked the terrified protocol droid in its glowing eyes, a grin of a predator that had met its prey crossed his face. It was only visible in the slight glow of the eyes, glinting off his teeth as the shadowy figure of Yarkar was silent but the droid quivered. It feared the worst, its joints rattling as the light from its eyes was taken, leaving it alone and in utter darkness. Yes. Peace at last.
[End Darkness Power Application 837/200]
-
Jacobi Wylcott
- Full Member
- Posts: 515
- Joined: Thu Sep 28, 2017 8:41 pm
Re: To Touch The Intangible (Force Training)
Vjun - what a dreary place. Toxic rain and civil unrest. Such a miserable acquisition. But to the Castle Vjun it was a glorious fortress of the Sith. A redoubt of the Southern Reach. Yet out here away from the bustle well into the darkness of wilderness - there was a lure. An all tantalizing lure. One that drank in of the power of the Dark Side of the Force could not dismiss it. Nor would they so desire to do so. Inquisitively the huge man in hardened armor and draped over with a heavy encompassing cape and cowl mounted his speeder bike and without hesitation the throttle screamed - shooting the bike out of the hold of his hovering Sith Infiltrator. The ship eased away into the skies, ascending upwards unto a holding pattern. Tormentous on the other hand descended in rapid measure.
Like a plummeting rock the black speeder bike dropped - only coming to a rest via the repulsor coils and secondly blasting off from its new perch. The direction was drilled into Tormentous’ skull like a pulsating headache. A darkened red shadow burning with intent on the horizon. Bringing the speeder up to full throttle the distance was devoured quickly enough and within a few hours he had passed through the terrain in a blur of motion - coming to a halt on a ridge overlooking a valley. These details did not matter, but what did indeed matter was that he was very near the location that called him near.
Dismounting the speeder with a pair of macrobinoculars his boots crunched his way to the edge of the ridge. In the distance he spied easily enough the profile of a vessel. Bringing up the binos he viewed the scene for a brief moment.
Seeing little of interest but sensing much of potential and the slight scent of familiarity, the Dark One remained stationary for a while. Unfolding before him nearby was something else entirely than simply a starship parked in the woods. It took some time to pinpoint but sure enough he spotted what looked to be a man in the distance. Something about him felt familiar. Far out of visual identification range he relied on his senses to guide him. The Dark Side surrounded this youth and Tormentous decided he would wait and see how things would unfold.
To his delight it wouldn’t take long as one of the predatory creatures local to this world made to get the better of him. Tormentous did not find many opportunities to be amused but if for once he had to describe the feeling - it perhaps would have been that. Sharply the Dark Side of the Force coalesced around the youth in a way that showed not the potential he’d initially sensed but far more. A working knowledge and a potent connection. It was disgusting. Such untapped power sitting out here in the mud on Vjun. What a waste. But perhaps not. The Dark Side was raw in this youth and Tormentous feed off that aura without even realizing it.
Conquering the lizard thing, the youth collected himself and Tormentous could sense the emotions within. Such familiarity. He felt he knew this one. But could not place it. So much had transpired in the past months and even years that it was hard to visualize - particularly those that had vanished from time even for good reason. It made him want to go down there and rip this youth’s life away for daring to show competency at all. It meant that there had been this potential Acolyte here all this time when he was away on crusades across the stars. Having another sword he could trust was not something he took lightly. Then again - he didn’t really trust himself much less those that weren’t right in front of him.
As time bled onwards and Tormentous knew more and more that this lone survivor was one that belonged to him - a Darkness fell over the youth’s ship. Curious. But wondrous. Such power so easily achieved. His view began to dim. Annoyed, he looked up partially to the local star and glared as it was not time for dusk. But there was no mistake. The power of the Dark Side was at work and Tormentous knew at once that the power was exhuming from that ship and from that ship it was.
He paused in thought and before he knew it he had tapped into the endless currents of the Force and touched the mind of the other before him, far below in the valley. ‘Acolyte,’ The wind carried the growled voice and the Dark Side of the Force followed it.
Far overhead of the ship in the valley stood Tormentous, arms at his sides, cape billowing in the wind and most important of all - that damned Sword mag-locked to his back. There he awaited the youth to return to him.
It was time to get to work.
Like a plummeting rock the black speeder bike dropped - only coming to a rest via the repulsor coils and secondly blasting off from its new perch. The direction was drilled into Tormentous’ skull like a pulsating headache. A darkened red shadow burning with intent on the horizon. Bringing the speeder up to full throttle the distance was devoured quickly enough and within a few hours he had passed through the terrain in a blur of motion - coming to a halt on a ridge overlooking a valley. These details did not matter, but what did indeed matter was that he was very near the location that called him near.
Dismounting the speeder with a pair of macrobinoculars his boots crunched his way to the edge of the ridge. In the distance he spied easily enough the profile of a vessel. Bringing up the binos he viewed the scene for a brief moment.
Seeing little of interest but sensing much of potential and the slight scent of familiarity, the Dark One remained stationary for a while. Unfolding before him nearby was something else entirely than simply a starship parked in the woods. It took some time to pinpoint but sure enough he spotted what looked to be a man in the distance. Something about him felt familiar. Far out of visual identification range he relied on his senses to guide him. The Dark Side surrounded this youth and Tormentous decided he would wait and see how things would unfold.
To his delight it wouldn’t take long as one of the predatory creatures local to this world made to get the better of him. Tormentous did not find many opportunities to be amused but if for once he had to describe the feeling - it perhaps would have been that. Sharply the Dark Side of the Force coalesced around the youth in a way that showed not the potential he’d initially sensed but far more. A working knowledge and a potent connection. It was disgusting. Such untapped power sitting out here in the mud on Vjun. What a waste. But perhaps not. The Dark Side was raw in this youth and Tormentous feed off that aura without even realizing it.
Conquering the lizard thing, the youth collected himself and Tormentous could sense the emotions within. Such familiarity. He felt he knew this one. But could not place it. So much had transpired in the past months and even years that it was hard to visualize - particularly those that had vanished from time even for good reason. It made him want to go down there and rip this youth’s life away for daring to show competency at all. It meant that there had been this potential Acolyte here all this time when he was away on crusades across the stars. Having another sword he could trust was not something he took lightly. Then again - he didn’t really trust himself much less those that weren’t right in front of him.
As time bled onwards and Tormentous knew more and more that this lone survivor was one that belonged to him - a Darkness fell over the youth’s ship. Curious. But wondrous. Such power so easily achieved. His view began to dim. Annoyed, he looked up partially to the local star and glared as it was not time for dusk. But there was no mistake. The power of the Dark Side was at work and Tormentous knew at once that the power was exhuming from that ship and from that ship it was.
He paused in thought and before he knew it he had tapped into the endless currents of the Force and touched the mind of the other before him, far below in the valley. ‘Acolyte,’ The wind carried the growled voice and the Dark Side of the Force followed it.
Far overhead of the ship in the valley stood Tormentous, arms at his sides, cape billowing in the wind and most important of all - that damned Sword mag-locked to his back. There he awaited the youth to return to him.
It was time to get to work.
-
Yarkar Edetar
- Registered Member
- Posts: 90
- Joined: Sat Nov 20, 2021 6:41 pm
Re: To Touch The Intangible (Force Training)
Yarkar’s peace did not last long. He was not allowed it. The Force did not let the boy stand idly by, no. This was something greater. He felt a presence. His heart sank, his blood roared in his ears. He could only assume one thing, but that one thing could not be. His senses were not well honed when he had last met someone with enough power that he would witness such waves in the Force. It couldn’t be though, could it?
He feels a ripple thunder through the Force, made vulnerable by him reaching out to his senses so keenly, trying to determine the identity of the approaching wave of malice. He tastes copper in his mouth as the wave of unrelenting Force runs through him. His senses in the Force almost felt they were overcome by static, but he could feel the intention in the wave. Yes, there was something there, something familiar about it. A rage he had to confirm now. One word rang out in his mind. A single word, a calling. A summons, one may even call it.
“Acolyte.”
Yarkar felt such unimaginable rage at the word. To think that someone would go so far as to impersonate his master, only to call him by the wrong title. It was infuriating! There was no way his master could view him as so weak. His anger steeped in the Force, his senses coming back as anger flooded them and he drank in the power of the Force. He felt his body’s ebb and flow in the Force, the tidal wave that erupted in his chest and crashed through his limbs. The darkness around him started to fade, his saber ignited as his droid cowered in fear, having understood nothing of what just occurred. Yarkar marches out of his ship, feeling the Force catching in his neck, like a frog about to croak. He lets out a merciless scream across what had once seemed like empty canyon. His voice was filled with perpetual rage, a fire that, once lit, could never truly die out. A voice with a twinge of a whining child and an undertone of a dangerous foe rang out as he stomped and flung his arms, his saber loudly sworping as it was slung about, cutting dark lines in the stony ground at his feet. (Force Scream)
“I am Yarkar Edetar, former apprentice of Darth Tormentous! I am no acolyte, and I shall not be demeaned as such! I know not who you are, or why you dare to insult me by thinking so little of me, but if you dare to continue your charade, consider me your foe! Your presence in the Force is clearly a lie, and I will not tolerate it! Come at me if you dare, and I will show you just how strong my master has made me! Coward!”
Yarkar's voice is filled with venom, spittle slinging from him as his rage fuels his every word. He didn't think, he just spoke. His mind poured out into every howling vowel and thundering consonant.
He feels a ripple thunder through the Force, made vulnerable by him reaching out to his senses so keenly, trying to determine the identity of the approaching wave of malice. He tastes copper in his mouth as the wave of unrelenting Force runs through him. His senses in the Force almost felt they were overcome by static, but he could feel the intention in the wave. Yes, there was something there, something familiar about it. A rage he had to confirm now. One word rang out in his mind. A single word, a calling. A summons, one may even call it.
“Acolyte.”
Yarkar felt such unimaginable rage at the word. To think that someone would go so far as to impersonate his master, only to call him by the wrong title. It was infuriating! There was no way his master could view him as so weak. His anger steeped in the Force, his senses coming back as anger flooded them and he drank in the power of the Force. He felt his body’s ebb and flow in the Force, the tidal wave that erupted in his chest and crashed through his limbs. The darkness around him started to fade, his saber ignited as his droid cowered in fear, having understood nothing of what just occurred. Yarkar marches out of his ship, feeling the Force catching in his neck, like a frog about to croak. He lets out a merciless scream across what had once seemed like empty canyon. His voice was filled with perpetual rage, a fire that, once lit, could never truly die out. A voice with a twinge of a whining child and an undertone of a dangerous foe rang out as he stomped and flung his arms, his saber loudly sworping as it was slung about, cutting dark lines in the stony ground at his feet. (Force Scream)
“I am Yarkar Edetar, former apprentice of Darth Tormentous! I am no acolyte, and I shall not be demeaned as such! I know not who you are, or why you dare to insult me by thinking so little of me, but if you dare to continue your charade, consider me your foe! Your presence in the Force is clearly a lie, and I will not tolerate it! Come at me if you dare, and I will show you just how strong my master has made me! Coward!”
Yarkar's voice is filled with venom, spittle slinging from him as his rage fuels his every word. He didn't think, he just spoke. His mind poured out into every howling vowel and thundering consonant.
-
Jacobi Wylcott
- Full Member
- Posts: 515
- Joined: Thu Sep 28, 2017 8:41 pm
Re: To Touch The Intangible (Force Training)
Furious unbidden rage exploded from the ship just after Tormentous touched the mind of the youth. So much emotion - it was fuel. (Feed on Dark Side). He physically inhaled, such was the density of the outrage and what power was absorbed unto his being. Every inch of his body burned with an inner fire of power. Tormentous’ unique energy field was utter chaos and to the Force it was abominable. Now with Yarkar’s outburst that energy field became a great unbridled hurricane. Opening and closing his fists, flexing his body and feeling the tenuous power held within he obtained dominion over it all and corralled his senses. The youth down there was impressive. That was the sole most accurate assessment Tormentous could deliver to him. Impressive.
Impressive yes, but wild and unfocused. Tormentous could use this and mold this Acolyte into such an asset - no - this one was worth more than an asset. He beheld the potential to be a Lord among lessers. Even so, the youth raged from his ship and unleashed an unconstrained wave of fury. Shock and awe. A lightsaber too. Carving up the stones beneath with pitiless abandon. Knowledge then. This one was not just a powered potential but one that held knowledge enough to construct a light weapon - or even slay an owner. Either was cause for interest.
The youth screamed into the open air, spittle and raw anger alike rising into the yonder ways. If it had been ocean that the youth was exhuming then that valley would have been swamped and overfilled in moments. His threats reached the skies with promise and seething defiance. A berating performance that, Tormentous was certain, would have cowed some Jedi and even Sith that he had known in his time.
But for this outrage - the Lord of Torment caught one stinging vocal. Instantly his curious demeanor and intensive outlook vanished.
“COWARD!”
The echo bounced from the trees and arose into the skies crackling with power. Each wall of the valley was touched by the sinful curse. Words were just that - words. A vocal sounds uttered from the throat given from the oxygen of the lungs and produced into a simple manner of thought and to the understanding of others. Words could do only as much damage as the receiver would then allow. One could call it pride or perhaps personal hubris. The Dark One was well beyond the feelings of pride and such words were but spitballs off of a Naga Dreadnought. But there was so much more to that last given phrase.
There was a belief behind it. Yarkar had delivered an impassioned threat and capped it off with true - absolute - assured confidence. He did not think of the words so much as he believed them to be true and without mistake. When Yarkar spoke the word ‘coward’ it had been done with more fervor that compounded with the emotions of anger and the most pure hatred that they had ceased to become words.
It was absolutism.
Tormentous’ frown churned until it became the loathsome form of revenge that he could not so much as attempt to still as he could stop the rotation of Vjun itself. Briefly he considered refusal to this path. The obliteration of such a wondrous prospect was such a waste. Of waste Tormentous had never been appreciative of. Even through his years on the Throne of Moraband he had never dispatched his most insignificant minion off to be squandered without purpose. There had never been waste. Even the lives of his slaves were of purpose and meaning. To sunder this being without purpose - was waste.
He lifted his chin in defiance and raged. All the energy he had assumed thus far was burnished upon the totality of his right arm which undertook the form of black energy coursing with the darkest of red energy tendrils lashing away. In moments the arm’s length energy was corralled and contained - shrinking unto his enclosed fist which he aimed down at the youth beyond.
Tendrils of whipping black energy lashed out and scorched the earth around him. One even snaked out and slapped his right thigh plate, melting a gouge in the thick armor and burning the skin beneath. He growled at the notion of pain but that last minute boost of feeling solidified him.
What if he killed the youth?
Tormentous eyed the valley, his blind right eye glistening with utter hatred. “If he dies.” He spat. “Then he is weak - and will deserve only that.” A moment later he added, “Unworthy.”
With a final roar, the Lord of Torment released all that hatred from his closed fist (Force Destruction). Large and without compassion - the ball of obliteration hurled its way forth. That which it even came close to was lashed with black destructive tendrils, that which was touched was simply no more. Atomized. In a speed that would make a blaster bolt jealous - the ball surged forward - right at Yarkar. From this distance there was certainly at least time to react. But that reaction would be testament. A valediction of that rage in Yarkar’s heart.
Would it be the embrace of annihilation? Or the unrelenting - unbound furious defiance of a man that knew what hatred really was?
Impressive yes, but wild and unfocused. Tormentous could use this and mold this Acolyte into such an asset - no - this one was worth more than an asset. He beheld the potential to be a Lord among lessers. Even so, the youth raged from his ship and unleashed an unconstrained wave of fury. Shock and awe. A lightsaber too. Carving up the stones beneath with pitiless abandon. Knowledge then. This one was not just a powered potential but one that held knowledge enough to construct a light weapon - or even slay an owner. Either was cause for interest.
The youth screamed into the open air, spittle and raw anger alike rising into the yonder ways. If it had been ocean that the youth was exhuming then that valley would have been swamped and overfilled in moments. His threats reached the skies with promise and seething defiance. A berating performance that, Tormentous was certain, would have cowed some Jedi and even Sith that he had known in his time.
But for this outrage - the Lord of Torment caught one stinging vocal. Instantly his curious demeanor and intensive outlook vanished.
“COWARD!”
The echo bounced from the trees and arose into the skies crackling with power. Each wall of the valley was touched by the sinful curse. Words were just that - words. A vocal sounds uttered from the throat given from the oxygen of the lungs and produced into a simple manner of thought and to the understanding of others. Words could do only as much damage as the receiver would then allow. One could call it pride or perhaps personal hubris. The Dark One was well beyond the feelings of pride and such words were but spitballs off of a Naga Dreadnought. But there was so much more to that last given phrase.
There was a belief behind it. Yarkar had delivered an impassioned threat and capped it off with true - absolute - assured confidence. He did not think of the words so much as he believed them to be true and without mistake. When Yarkar spoke the word ‘coward’ it had been done with more fervor that compounded with the emotions of anger and the most pure hatred that they had ceased to become words.
It was absolutism.
Tormentous’ frown churned until it became the loathsome form of revenge that he could not so much as attempt to still as he could stop the rotation of Vjun itself. Briefly he considered refusal to this path. The obliteration of such a wondrous prospect was such a waste. Of waste Tormentous had never been appreciative of. Even through his years on the Throne of Moraband he had never dispatched his most insignificant minion off to be squandered without purpose. There had never been waste. Even the lives of his slaves were of purpose and meaning. To sunder this being without purpose - was waste.
He lifted his chin in defiance and raged. All the energy he had assumed thus far was burnished upon the totality of his right arm which undertook the form of black energy coursing with the darkest of red energy tendrils lashing away. In moments the arm’s length energy was corralled and contained - shrinking unto his enclosed fist which he aimed down at the youth beyond.
Tendrils of whipping black energy lashed out and scorched the earth around him. One even snaked out and slapped his right thigh plate, melting a gouge in the thick armor and burning the skin beneath. He growled at the notion of pain but that last minute boost of feeling solidified him.
What if he killed the youth?
Tormentous eyed the valley, his blind right eye glistening with utter hatred. “If he dies.” He spat. “Then he is weak - and will deserve only that.” A moment later he added, “Unworthy.”
With a final roar, the Lord of Torment released all that hatred from his closed fist (Force Destruction). Large and without compassion - the ball of obliteration hurled its way forth. That which it even came close to was lashed with black destructive tendrils, that which was touched was simply no more. Atomized. In a speed that would make a blaster bolt jealous - the ball surged forward - right at Yarkar. From this distance there was certainly at least time to react. But that reaction would be testament. A valediction of that rage in Yarkar’s heart.
Would it be the embrace of annihilation? Or the unrelenting - unbound furious defiance of a man that knew what hatred really was?
-
Yarkar Edetar
- Registered Member
- Posts: 90
- Joined: Sat Nov 20, 2021 6:41 pm
Re: To Touch The Intangible (Force Training)
Yarkar felt the Force cower. Yes. That telltale sign of Power (Sense Force User). His teeth clenched, his mind filled with fury, he locked onto the source of the disturbance only to see darkness. He witnessed true darkness begin to erupt through the cliffs. There was nothing that would stand in this thing's way, and Yarkar quickly realized he wasn't going to be able to take anything from such a horrifying bolt of death. No. There is pride and there is hubris. As his mind filled with rage, with the Force, it calmed. The world around him began to slow, every sense made manifest (Battlemind). He pumped the Force in his throat through his body, letting off like a cannon as his legs took him as fast as they could (Force Speed). His body was pushed to its limits, his Force reserves draining quickly as he had done so many displays so quickly. His anger was nigh infinite, but his body still held weakness in it.
He sprinted for his life away from the ball of Death, the very reaper become manifest as it crashes around him. He narrowly escapes being atomized as the sound of rock turning to dust around him filled his ears. The hum of his saber grew silent over the mass destruction. The wrath of what could clearly be a god. Yet Yarkar did not falter. He knew now where this imposter hid. He continued his swift sprint, barreling towards the man cloaked in shadow. As he makes it to the hill, his legs begin to give out. While he can still stand, he could no longer keep up his Force-charged swiftness for fear of permanent harm. He could feel internal tears being cauterized, the pain of hundreds of wounds wracking through his body as punishment for his crime against nature (Repair). He tries his best to hide it as he vomits blood, feeling it trickle out the corners of his mouth. Eventually he gave in, doing his best to seem like he was still kicking by spraying his mouthful of blood uphill towards his foe. Thankfully it was not upwind, but it did not get too far. His body was tearing itself apart to try and put itself back together after the brush with death made his adrenaline-filled muscles nearly tear off the bones where they stood. He gasps for breath as he calls upon his anger once more to keep him fighting, feeling the Force itself was the only thing keeping the blackout of certain doom only on the outskirts of his eyes (Remain Conscious). He feels his rage come back to him, feeling it fill his veins, and starts to drag his feet forwards. He takes one step at a time towards the man he still doubted was Tormentous, his Lord.
Crrrrrrk thunk, crrrrrrk thunk.
The sound of Yarkar's boots dragging over loose gravel and then getting their footing with a heavy stomp before the next leg continued the motion so he wouldn't topple raised through the air. The only reason he was still able to move his legs was by using the Force to suppress the output of almost every nerve in his body (Control Pain). His grip on his saber hilt was weak, but twitching. Every time it would nearly fall from his grip, he would twitch and pull it back into a tight fist that slowly loosened again as the process repeated itself. His diaphragm, if he were able to feel it, was screaming in agony as he belted out, "You are but a specter! A ghost! The real Lord Tormentous left me to die, but I live in his name. He wouldn't have come back. Not now. Not to see me like this." His voice was that of a man pleading with the universe that it wasn't real. That he wasn't the disappointment this ordeal made of him. He no longer thought the man an assassin, he was close enough now to make out some facial features. Nothing substantial, but Yarkar knew Tormentous' face when he saw it. Yes. This was the man who took him in all that time ago. "I am Yarkar Edetar, former apprentice of Darth Tormentous. No man shall stand in my way until I make him proud. No man, beast, or monster shall stop me."
His eyes glowed with hate, fully having convinced himself that the man that stood before him wasn't real. There could be no other explanation, clearly. Tormentous hadn't come looking all these years. Why now? Didn't the Sith say he was gone, unable to be found? Surely he would have been found if he was hanging around Vjun, right?
He sprinted for his life away from the ball of Death, the very reaper become manifest as it crashes around him. He narrowly escapes being atomized as the sound of rock turning to dust around him filled his ears. The hum of his saber grew silent over the mass destruction. The wrath of what could clearly be a god. Yet Yarkar did not falter. He knew now where this imposter hid. He continued his swift sprint, barreling towards the man cloaked in shadow. As he makes it to the hill, his legs begin to give out. While he can still stand, he could no longer keep up his Force-charged swiftness for fear of permanent harm. He could feel internal tears being cauterized, the pain of hundreds of wounds wracking through his body as punishment for his crime against nature (Repair). He tries his best to hide it as he vomits blood, feeling it trickle out the corners of his mouth. Eventually he gave in, doing his best to seem like he was still kicking by spraying his mouthful of blood uphill towards his foe. Thankfully it was not upwind, but it did not get too far. His body was tearing itself apart to try and put itself back together after the brush with death made his adrenaline-filled muscles nearly tear off the bones where they stood. He gasps for breath as he calls upon his anger once more to keep him fighting, feeling the Force itself was the only thing keeping the blackout of certain doom only on the outskirts of his eyes (Remain Conscious). He feels his rage come back to him, feeling it fill his veins, and starts to drag his feet forwards. He takes one step at a time towards the man he still doubted was Tormentous, his Lord.
Crrrrrrk thunk, crrrrrrk thunk.
The sound of Yarkar's boots dragging over loose gravel and then getting their footing with a heavy stomp before the next leg continued the motion so he wouldn't topple raised through the air. The only reason he was still able to move his legs was by using the Force to suppress the output of almost every nerve in his body (Control Pain). His grip on his saber hilt was weak, but twitching. Every time it would nearly fall from his grip, he would twitch and pull it back into a tight fist that slowly loosened again as the process repeated itself. His diaphragm, if he were able to feel it, was screaming in agony as he belted out, "You are but a specter! A ghost! The real Lord Tormentous left me to die, but I live in his name. He wouldn't have come back. Not now. Not to see me like this." His voice was that of a man pleading with the universe that it wasn't real. That he wasn't the disappointment this ordeal made of him. He no longer thought the man an assassin, he was close enough now to make out some facial features. Nothing substantial, but Yarkar knew Tormentous' face when he saw it. Yes. This was the man who took him in all that time ago. "I am Yarkar Edetar, former apprentice of Darth Tormentous. No man shall stand in my way until I make him proud. No man, beast, or monster shall stop me."
His eyes glowed with hate, fully having convinced himself that the man that stood before him wasn't real. There could be no other explanation, clearly. Tormentous hadn't come looking all these years. Why now? Didn't the Sith say he was gone, unable to be found? Surely he would have been found if he was hanging around Vjun, right?
-
Jacobi Wylcott
- Full Member
- Posts: 515
- Joined: Thu Sep 28, 2017 8:41 pm
Re: To Touch The Intangible (Force Training)
The earth was sundered by the strike and the little valley found itself a new scar upon its surface. Black and red flames of the ether broiled at the impact zone for quite some time before eventually dying out and returning to the Dark Side of the Force. Tormentous’ arm was numb after the release of so much consolidated power at one time and he breathed out heavily like a bull, steam crawled off of his armor, heat haze surrounded him. It felt good to flex his might after so long a term away from the realm of battle. His veins in the numbed arm pulsated harshly and the throbbing was of great discomfort, he used the pain to begin his recovery after such an attack.
For a moment the Dark One allowed himself to assume the youth down below had been obliterated in entirety. He no longer sensed the being near the impact zone. Curling his fist up and slowly lowering it to his side he frowned. So much potential, though not wasted as the weak owed the strong their lives. A life spent. The essence of which was a sacrifice to the Dark Side of the Force.
A moment before Tormentous made to turn away a spike in the Force caught his senses. His eye snapped to the location of the abrupt incline in strength and suffering. “Impressive.” Tormentous mused. With the dissipation of the Destruction, one could resume their senses abroad. No one could mistake the bullet of a man crashing his way up the mountain. Clawing for every inch in utter defiance of his attacker.
The Dark Side of the Force surged in Yarkar and Tormentous took back his initial thoughts at once. This was no subject to the fallable weak. This was a youth with the endurance to keep going. The determination to remain unhindered by anything in his way. The fervor to be more and exceed expectations and then to strike down whoever had set those expectations for him. There was no middle ground. There was only victory as Yarkar crashed into the chains holding him back and did not find victory for himself - he seized it.
Victorious of the mountain.
Yarkar climbed to the level ground on which Tormentous stood. The youth was spitting blood and was covered head to toe in dirt, rock and debris. Small cuts crisscrossed his form. He heaved, covered in sweat and his eyes gleamed with the hatred in his heart.
It was glorious.
Tormentous turned to fully view the youth now and his eye set on none other than what the voice had confirmed to him. Yarkar Edetar. “Former.” Tormentous spat vehemently. Once my Apprentice, you shall never be anything less. You were left to survive.” He reached behind him and slowly clasped his hand upon the grip of his Sword - the Jidai Maras itself. The sword, once touched, opened up as the conduit of the Force and to all it whispered the promise of power. To Tormentous it tempted him with killing Yarkar and covering its blade in his blood. To Yarkar it tempted him with unrivaled power if he’d only slay the Sword’s owner and take it for his own.
He brought the blade around, aimed the tip to the earth and in simple motion sank it into the ground. Eyeing Yarkar then, he began. “And survive you have.”
“If I am specter. If I am ghost. Come - and I shall defy you. I prove myself not by word - but by deed.” Both hands gripped that sinister Sword and its mirror surface cracked with a molten red glow. The fiery heart of the steel surfaced by the sands of Moraband was made known.
“But before your decision is made. Know this.”
“Once you were but a child. Insignificant and untested. Now,” he lifted his Sword and motioned towards the fit and cut specimen before him, “you are ready to begin your life.” The tone of his voice lowered menacingly. “And to reveal yourself to our enemies.”
As he spoke he brought up his mental barriers. (Force Shield). And so he erected a suitable defense that his foe could not strike him with underhanded treachery - of which everything was at work here. Strength of arm and will just as well as cunning and guile.
“As Sith, to survive is to know oneself. Had you not undertaken this lesson. With abandon you would have gone and thrown yourself away. Now, old enough to become tempered, your unyielding rage must be honed into a weapon of precision to pierce the heart of the Jedi and all those who would defy the Sith Order.” Once more he brought down the Sword but this time he lowered it into a duelist stance not too far away from Form II. “By word alone I do not demand your knee to the ground. By action, if I must, I will put you there.”
“End of they day. Yarkar. You will earn this life and you will take it for your own. For nothing is given, everything is earned. So to will I earn your acknowledgement.”
For a moment the Dark One allowed himself to assume the youth down below had been obliterated in entirety. He no longer sensed the being near the impact zone. Curling his fist up and slowly lowering it to his side he frowned. So much potential, though not wasted as the weak owed the strong their lives. A life spent. The essence of which was a sacrifice to the Dark Side of the Force.
A moment before Tormentous made to turn away a spike in the Force caught his senses. His eye snapped to the location of the abrupt incline in strength and suffering. “Impressive.” Tormentous mused. With the dissipation of the Destruction, one could resume their senses abroad. No one could mistake the bullet of a man crashing his way up the mountain. Clawing for every inch in utter defiance of his attacker.
The Dark Side of the Force surged in Yarkar and Tormentous took back his initial thoughts at once. This was no subject to the fallable weak. This was a youth with the endurance to keep going. The determination to remain unhindered by anything in his way. The fervor to be more and exceed expectations and then to strike down whoever had set those expectations for him. There was no middle ground. There was only victory as Yarkar crashed into the chains holding him back and did not find victory for himself - he seized it.
Victorious of the mountain.
Yarkar climbed to the level ground on which Tormentous stood. The youth was spitting blood and was covered head to toe in dirt, rock and debris. Small cuts crisscrossed his form. He heaved, covered in sweat and his eyes gleamed with the hatred in his heart.
It was glorious.
Tormentous turned to fully view the youth now and his eye set on none other than what the voice had confirmed to him. Yarkar Edetar. “Former.” Tormentous spat vehemently. Once my Apprentice, you shall never be anything less. You were left to survive.” He reached behind him and slowly clasped his hand upon the grip of his Sword - the Jidai Maras itself. The sword, once touched, opened up as the conduit of the Force and to all it whispered the promise of power. To Tormentous it tempted him with killing Yarkar and covering its blade in his blood. To Yarkar it tempted him with unrivaled power if he’d only slay the Sword’s owner and take it for his own.
He brought the blade around, aimed the tip to the earth and in simple motion sank it into the ground. Eyeing Yarkar then, he began. “And survive you have.”
“If I am specter. If I am ghost. Come - and I shall defy you. I prove myself not by word - but by deed.” Both hands gripped that sinister Sword and its mirror surface cracked with a molten red glow. The fiery heart of the steel surfaced by the sands of Moraband was made known.
“But before your decision is made. Know this.”
“Once you were but a child. Insignificant and untested. Now,” he lifted his Sword and motioned towards the fit and cut specimen before him, “you are ready to begin your life.” The tone of his voice lowered menacingly. “And to reveal yourself to our enemies.”
As he spoke he brought up his mental barriers. (Force Shield). And so he erected a suitable defense that his foe could not strike him with underhanded treachery - of which everything was at work here. Strength of arm and will just as well as cunning and guile.
“As Sith, to survive is to know oneself. Had you not undertaken this lesson. With abandon you would have gone and thrown yourself away. Now, old enough to become tempered, your unyielding rage must be honed into a weapon of precision to pierce the heart of the Jedi and all those who would defy the Sith Order.” Once more he brought down the Sword but this time he lowered it into a duelist stance not too far away from Form II. “By word alone I do not demand your knee to the ground. By action, if I must, I will put you there.”
“End of they day. Yarkar. You will earn this life and you will take it for your own. For nothing is given, everything is earned. So to will I earn your acknowledgement.”