The Cunning Stunt held its place over the decimated planet of Mechis III. Lord Catalyst peered over the wreckage once more, memories flashing through his mind. Memories of failure, of disappointment, of betrayal. The ashes of the past were the perfect tempering agent to forge a stronger blade, however. He was going to use the lessons that he had learned from those that were buried here, and pass them on to someone far more promising. "Zareel," he spoke into his comm to his apprentice, "come to the Mechis system. It's time we talked about your progress." He closed the comm channel and sighed. This task held much emotional weight, and it was going to take a lot of strength for him to see it through. Catalyst strode to his starfighter in the hangar and was soon blasting to the planet's surface.
It took a brief few minutes for Whisper to tear through the planet's atmosphere and glide through the sky. Noxious smog mixed with volcanic ash blanketed the planet, and industrial factories churned thick smoke into the air. The Dark Lord landed at the foot of the wreckage that he had wrought so recently. It still somehow felt like ages ago that he had watched his former Apprentice betray the ideals of the Empire, and summarily executed him to prevent the spread of further dissent. This was the location where he would finish the teachings of someone far more powerful and competent. He stepped out of his TIE Phantom and looked upon the towering structure that used to be an Ultra Star Destroyer sticking out of the planet. The creaking metal echoed and reverberated deep from underground. Catalyst wasn't sure what could left down there, but it would make a perfect example for how to not succeed among the Sith. Catalyst turned his eyes to the sky, waiting for his apprentice to join him.
OOC: This will be a semi rapid-fire Trials-style RP. The stakes are real, and death can happen at any time. Responses are expected to be quick but not to the point of sacrificing quality. Please post a CS (TST level 10) at the end of your first post for me to review.
IC: Apprentice Zareel
Dreadwar Barracks, Nilrebmah XIII
Once done with a couple of hours of training and a shower, Zareel was lazily caressing the leaves of an indoor plant after having watered it; she had managed to grow it inside her room in the barracks and with enough luck, she would obtain a small supply of natural soothing agents.
She had started to hum reclined back in a chair, brushing her hair, when the voice of her master pulled her out of her thoughts.
"Zareel, come to the Mechis system. It's time we talked about your progress."
For a second she stood still looking at the communicator which had transmitted the message; a bit puzzled, especially after all the hustle and bustle that had taken place over the past few months and the pause in her training that it had meant. Quickly, the apprentice stood taking her main belongings: weapons and supplies to go in search of a free disposal vessel from her house.
"I need a ship of my own... this borrowing will eventually look bad" She muttered as she sat down and set the course to what had been the planet of the now gone house Halcyon.
A while after
Mechis III
“Relax, it's just meeting your master, at the place where he ended up with his previous apprentice, calling you with a we need to talk... nothing to worry about.” The Balosar told herself with a nervous smile, tightly braiding her hair while the small ship started descending after locating the Dark Lord.
Bringing down a rebellion was never an easy job, little had affected her personally; however, she had been able to see how many members of the empire had been touched, had fallen under pressure from dear ones to join or were simply part of the dissidents. Part of her was glad that she had never formed bonds with anyone; thinking of the circles she moved in, be it because of her work in the empire or the missions in which she had participated; in other circumstances, it might have affected her. It was practically impossible to avoid the inevitable curiosity about how much all this may have affected her Master; yet at the same time, it was not something she could ask, let alone think that he would even answer.
Zareel rose from the seat, clipping her weapons to her belt, descending from the ship; with the firm decision of ignoring the knot at the mouth of her belly for now. It wasn’t just the nervousness, there was excitement there too.
“Hail Master” She dropped to a knee and lowered her head, waiting for what was to come next.
Character Sheet
Theme Music: White Rabbit - Jefferson Airplane Name/Title:Dread Apprentice Zareel Jhenan’Doka Age: 27 Sex: Female Species: Balosar Orientation: Pansexual Homeworld: Balosar Occupation: Sorcerer Apprentice, Midwife, herbalist. Height: 1.60mt Weight: 55kg Physical Description: Slim with the almost fragile figure of someone who famished a big amount of her life, pale skin, brown eyes and curly red auburn hair. A pair of antennapalps, characteristic from her race, are usually retracted to remain hidden between her curly hair or the braids she normally wears. Long deep visible scars on each forearm, after the extraction of two parasites from Kelcium and a deep scar on her right tight from a badly treated exposed fracture. Over her whole body there are small marks caused by herself while testing animal toxins, venomous or healing plants. Clothing: Zareel usually wears wide blouses of light materials in kimono style, also wide trousers and sandals or being plain barefoot. Shawls to protect herself from the cold are very common in her. For battle she prefers tight pants and combat boots, maintaining the style of blouses. Weapons: A pair of saber tonfa, emulating the ones she took from the guard of the lab where she used to be imprisoned. A small vibro-knife. One blaster. Equipment: A utility belt. Small first aid kit additionally carrying herbs (Millaflower, Behot, Gimer bush). Languages: Galactic basic, Balosur, basic Huttese. Combat Skills:Zareel is relatively proficient in the use of dual weapons/lightsaber, combining this with her training in Soresu and having more experience in the use of dual tonfas; growing to be a mostly defensive fighter. Other Strengths: She has participated in alchemy lessons, acquiring in them, at the moment due to her level, only basic knowledge and practice.
As any balosar she possesses Antennapalps in the top of her head, these appendixes allow her to “sense” the changes in the mood of others; mostly the negative ones, permitting her to know when is the most appropriate time to raise her defences or just run away.
The highly contaminated environment of her home planet and the constant abuse of drugs during her life had caused her to develop a natural resistance to toxins, drugs and venomous substances.
After her interaction with the Eye of Typhojem she developed resistance against Force Horror and Force Insanity Flaws: Her insecurity makes her hesitate too much when making decisions, especially when involves potential physical damage. Due to her time being an addict, her body has become frail and lacks physical resistance or high stamina. Alignment: Neutral Evil Personality: Observant, normally doesn’t engage in many conversations, preferring to listen and analyse the participants. A person of quick laugh, never seems to be taking completely seriously any situation; but that’s usually a copying method to deal with the fear of being misunderstood or her absolute social awkwardness.
She doesn't socialize in depth with anyone, attachments or alliances aren't an absolute for her; an ally can quickly become an enemy or a target if there is the prospect of a reward in exchange for its removal; because of this, is quite irregular in her sympathy and can easily change her mind about a person by minimal actions or for her own convenience. However, this doesn't mean that she will openly reveal her feelings. Fears: Death, her arrival at the academy was directed by her desire to gain the knowledge to prolong her existence in some form. Likes: Tea, reading during her free time, collecting and dry plants, smoking and strong drinks. Dislikes: People over affective or over sensitive, excessively sweet drinks, dress etiquette, whiny people, poor lies (if you are going to lie, try to be credible) Habits: When concentrated in something, tends to chew her lip; stares blankly, blinking quickly when doesn’t know how to respond or react to something uncomfortable. Relationships/Love Interests: None Masters: Darth Catalyst
Biography:
Born and raised in Balosar; as a child, she always helped her family in their business, even when Zareel never really knew what they were into. She just spent her days collecting herbs, mushrooms and delivering small notes to some people who look scared after reading them.
At the age of fifteen, the man for whom her father worked, ordered that she had to deliver a package. Even when she had never seen that man before, something put all her senses in alert warning her about him. The wicked smile of the man, or moreover, her father's sad smile; like he was trying to say something but didn't dare to. The man was, in fact, a chemist who was responsible for the production and distribution of death sticks and the package was a box full of them for a new client. The orders were specific, not a single unnecessary word, no questions, no delays. All with the same brilliant smile of someone who knows how to cause pain.
Her memories become quite blurred from that point, mostly out of fear and pain suffered; someone had been informed of the route she would take to make the delivery and intercept her, taking the box and her leaving her with three broken fingers and a small stab on her leg. Maybe it would have been better if she had just run away, there were a lot of possibilities, but she took the last and worst one; Zareel went back home, empty hands but thinking that it was just a small mistake and she could try again later.
That little mistake was paid with a broken arm and leg, also five years working on the drug's production, replacing her father. However, through that period of punishment, she took her time to learn more about plants and toxins; using the facilities of the laboratory when no one was looking she produced her own concentrations, taken from different plants or animals she could get in the proximities or in the same lab. As such, it was much easier for her to create more potent drugs, since those normally produced there were not enough for her after years of addiction.
While testing on herself some of the creations, she starts to discover her sensitivity to the force; being able to, with extreme concentration, metabolize the toxins and poisons quicker than an average person, even some other balosars. And as the years kept passing, she wasn’t the same terrified girl.
Employing the materials gradually accumulated during her tortuous stay, she instigated a revolt and finally managed to run away. This was the first time she took a life; her most important victims were the owner of the laboratory and a guard who was especially vicious, from whom she took the pair of tonfas with which he used to beat her.
Her first destination was her old home and the desperation of being reunited with her parents was her only fuel. Sadly, when she arrived, she found out that shortly after her departure her father had died in the hands of her mother. The woman had been the true responsible of her fate, the one who decided to sell her in the past as a slave; her intention was to make a profit from her work and discard the man who was no longer of use to her.
The severe exhaustion, the abstinence of the toxic substances she was already used to and the hunger, after long days without eating any food, did a lot more than her will, her heart was broken. Her mother had been the holiest of all things in her life and now she was gone; leaving in front of her just a beast who had fed on the little strength and hope she could have ever had. Without a second thought, while the woman tried to communicate with someone who could remove the disturbance that was annoying her, Zareel instinctively began to drain her energy. Work that was not too difficult, but that stopped when the woman fell weakened to the ground, just to be able to strangle her with the help of the sticks that she put against her neck. Once her mother wasn’t breathing anymore, she left.
After spending a few months wandering and hiding, afraid that anyone related to the laboratory could be pursuing her, Zareel enjoyed a small change in her luck; becoming a sort of resident midwife in a brothel, starting with the first aids for a woman who had suffered a miscarriage and providing later some drugs to improve the performance of some clients or decrease it in some particular cases.
That brothel received a wide variety of clients; a considerable amount of them were users of the force, giving Zareel a small view of some skills and feeding more and more her curiosity.
One day, while the music was at its full and the dancers had just arrived at the scenario; the apprentice of a client started to cause trouble; evidently had drunk too much and started to yell and complain about some money-related issues. Even if fights were absolutely normal in that place, security usually rectified those problems when things started to be uncomfortable and too noisy for the rest of the guests; but in this special case, the guards were busy controlling an angry Gamorrean. The drunk apprentice, aiming for his master with an unsuccessfully telekinetic push, tossed a table against three dancers; Zareel, who was drinking at the bar next to the scenario, stopped it in time. Then, standing between the client and the apprentice, she shot him with a small needle imbued with a paralyzing toxin; giving time for his master to take him out and also take care of him as he considered fitting.
She knew that he didn’t need her help, it was evident, but something inside her started to desire more; test herself, gain more strength, more power, more knowledge, somewhere out there somebody could enlighten her. Even when after a while she had grown to like that twisted place, she decided to leave to search the Sith Academy.
Rank/Level : 10 Base Class: Sorcerer Sub- class: Alchemist
Attributes (72)
STR (Strength) 8
FPR (Force Power) 9
DEX (Dexterity) 9
INT (Intellect) 9
CON (Constitution) 8
MAN (Manipulation) 9
PER (Perception) 11
DES (Destiny) 9
Skills(17pts) Forms
Form I – Shii- Cho - 1
Form III – Soresu - 1
Form VI - Niman - 1
Trakata - 1 Force powers
Telekinesis - 1
Telepathy - 1
Mind trick - 1
Force Resistance – 2
Tutaminis - 1
Force Bond - 1
Drain Force - 2
Feed on Dark Side - 1
Crucitorn – 1 Sith spell
Aura of uneasiness – 1
Sutta Chwituskak - 1
The scorching wind whipped around the two Sith at the base of the mass grave. Lord Catalyst's hair was pulled tight into a bun behind his head, and by the look of his outfit, he was ready for action. For a few minutes he stared at the Ultra Star Destroyer that he had personally brought down, seemingly lost in the memory of the experience. After a while, he finally spoke to the kneeling Balosar. "Thank you for joining me, my apprentice." His voice was soft and contemplative, a far cry from the usual jovial nature he displayed around the public of the Empire. He beckoned her to rise, gesturing to the wreckage in front of them.
"I'm sure you know the significance of this place. I've been thinking about it a lot lately. Upheaval is never an easy thing, but chains must be broken." He shot a sly smile in her direction. "And that's exactly why you're here today. I want you to look upon my failures, because even Dark Lords have their imperfections. Look upon the chains that held me back, and that held back those that rest at the bottom of this pit. We're going to go on a little sightseeing tour. If you can prove to me you won't make the same mistakes of the dead, I'll even let you take a souvenir." He stepped forward, towards a gaping gash in the hull of the ship. A subtle application of Force power wrenched the opening wide enough for the two of them to walk through, and Catalyst extended his hand in invitation.
Inside the ship was a far more sorry sight than the shredded exterior could have belied. Lights were dim or flickering in and out of existence. Bulkheads were ripped from their placement and scattered across the halls. Corpses littered any horizontal space that would support them. Catalyst had not taken time to evacuate the crew, instead condemning them to the fate of the traitor they followed. The Dark Lord stepped in and closed his eyes. "Now then," he started in a more formal tone. "What can you tell me of the betrayal of House Halcyon? What lead to the collapse of the House that we stand in the ashes of?"
The apprentice remained silent, fighting the urge to embrace herself caused by the wind hitting her until she noticed her master gesturing for her to raise; there was an ominous feeling within the planet, destruction in so many levels; material and spiritual, the ruins of the one who had nurtured his own fall with great fervour.
Zareel just nodded at the Dark Lord question; the far from surprising fall of House Halcyon and almost all of its leaders had been a stunning sight that no one had ignored. The apprentice looked around, eventually stopping at her own master; one of the highest ranks in the house, but also the one who had passed the sentence.
She herself had in a way rejoiced in the removal of many of these people. Had it been too cynical of her to behave as if she liked some of them? No, she was nothing more than an apprentice, and many of them outranked her but she had always ensured her own survival by dealing with those in power in a way that would not bring her trouble. If she had to smile, she would do it; if she had to praise them, she could fill them with compliments until they were fed up. None of this had ever secured her loyalty to anyone. The pleasure house had taught her a lot about how someone could make you believe they loved you.
He said, and she couldn’t but frowned at the idea. How much of it was his responsibility? He’d been the master of the house leader, but how much of his mistakes had been up to him?
The idea of not falling on the same mistakes wasn’t haunting or depriving her of sleep, at least no consciously; thinking about failing by herself was a different history.
“If you can prove to me you won't make the same mistakes of the dead, I'll even let you take a souvenir."
After those words, she couldn’t completely hide a smile at the thought of what she may get from that obliterated place; but also, at the silly idea of selling rocks as souvenirs from the fall of Halcyon; there were plenty of people who had rejoiced in that event and could pay for that.
As her master made a way to enter the ship, she hesitated for a second; the restlessness that had overwhelmed her on her way there had returned. How could she prove she was not going to fail? She was certain that she couldn't betray the Empire, but there were many other ways of being a failure; her pessimism had shown her many ways of doing so over the years. Shaking her head, pushed those thoughts away to follow him inside. There he had the need to blink a couple of times to adapt to the change in luminosity; the watered bodies gave a much more realistic account of what had happened. On top of that, it wasn't the fresh smell of flowers that flooded the ruins and dissimulating, she covered her nose as if she were just scratching it.
What had led to their fall? “That was…” Tilting her head, she pondered the causes, many situations and comments she had heard. “Halcyon was too over-confident of how powerful he had come to be in a short term. Being a knight, being put in charge of the bank, participating in a Kaggath; all this overconfidence was extended to his followers later when he created his own house, but…” Zareel suddenly started to bit her lip remembering another circumstance she analysed in the past. “I think they felt secure at some point with you being the master of their head-house and later your presence in their halls. Someone could have noticed the need to be careful, the need to behave with the membership of a Dark Lord and having an eye upon them; but maybe they only saw you as a safe card to obtain whatever they wanted, something like a spending machine to get easy approvals or just the wild card they could name to buy a free-pass from their mistakes.” Her eyes kept wandering from corpse to corpse while entwining her fingers, not going too high, but mainly not wanting to look directly to her master while talking. Yes, she wasn’t keeping her mind from telling what she thought had been the reasons behind; but for that, Zareel needed to remain calm. Not that she was accusing him, but there was a gut feeling he did feel responsible for how events had inevitably occurred. "I can't speak of how did you act among them, but how they interpreted your... friendliness, may have been mistaken."
The Balosar took a deep breath before continuing “It is correct that even a Dark Lord may have imperfections, but in this particular case, it was the clustering of critical flaws of a group of people who did not want to assume their own limits, or even worse, never wanted to transcend them. They just wanted to ignore the existence of any minor deficiency in their person and... to say that in a not very subtle way, to dip in gold the excrement, believing that with that they could convince the others that they were someone valuable.” Untangling her fingers, she finally raised her eyes to Lord Catalyst. "Impatience, fear, pride; there have been many other siths who have used these feelings to their advantage. Noticing how they affect them and knowing how to overcome the potential limitations these feelings could mean in a fight or their life. But House Halcyon only tried to persuade everyone that they were so strong that no one should attack or oppose them; this, to their misfortune, only caused a lot more desire to prove how true their façade was and made their weakness more and more visible. As Siths we naturally tend to feed on our emotions; but in the end, they fell helpless slaves to their own desires."
A small smile adorned the Dark Lord's face as he listened to his apprentice's answers. She was certainly not wrong, and she spoke from a point of view that he had not considered. Of course, she had not seen things from the same side that he had, but the wisdom behind her deductions was difficult to fault. "You speak many truths, my apprentice," Catalyst responded as they stepped deeper into the bowels of the dead ship. "You touched on the key faults of their ringleader: his overconfidence, his hunger for more, his complacency with our casual working relationship." He paused, letting the words hang in the air. "I do not choose apprentices that aren't exceptional in some way. He was no exception, being charismatic and intelligent but also a dedicated worker. I wasn't his first Master though. He had been an apprentice of one Lord Neoplix. I'm sure you remember the report I made you do on his transgressions. Halcyon had already been corrupted by the influence of the very being whose legacy still carries a bad taste in many mouths, and it was my task to balance that. I fear that my influence was one that tempered a sense of entitlement though. A Master's duty is to impart their apprentice with the knowledge of power and how to use it, but also to teach how to not use it." The enunciation was punctuated with a gesture of his gloved hand. "I do believe I failed in that regard, as that was not a trait he showed often, nor was it something he taught to his subsequent apprentices. He certainly knew he had power, but there was no temperance or restraint." Catalyst met the eyes of his apprentice, driving home the point of his monologue. "There is a key difference between knowledge and wisdom, and this divide is tragically apparent when one endlessly seeks power for the sake of power."
The unearthly groans of the ship echoed around the pair as they descended through the broken hallways and corridors. The pungent stench of sulfur permeated the odor of rotting corpses. Catalyst seemed unbothered by it. "I want you to take that distinction to heart," he said while stepping over yet another corpse. "There are many who emphasize the benefits of knowledge and equate it to power. While this can be true in a sense, I have always noted that those with an abundance of power never shrink at the opportunity to use said power. The same holds true for knowledge, a phenomenon I like to call 'self-righteous blabbery' since that's all that some of those walking dictionaries seem to do when opportunities do not arise to challenge their knowledge." He could not suppress the mockery in his tone. "Therein lies the strength that those of wisdom possess: the ability to turn away from a chance to flex their muscles, metaphorical or otherwise." A large smirk plastered itself across his face. "But is that something that can be taught, or is it inherent to the individual?" He raised his brow and looked to Zareel for her thoughts.
IC: Apprentice Zareel
Location: Mechis III, Wreckage
As they moved forward the sounds seemed to echo more noticeably, her antennae had gradually straightened out along the way; helping her to remain alert to her surroundings. She didn't want to miss any words from her master and tried not to stray too far from him as they walked; even so, she would occasionally take a couple of steps backwards, thinking about what he had said; just to hurry up the pace and catch up with him again.
What’s the point of having power? What happens when you crave power but there is no purpose attached to it? What do you do with it?
"Therein lie the strength that those of wisdom possess: the ability to turn away from a chance to flex their muscles, metaphorical or otherwise." A large smirk plastered itself across his face. "But is that something that can be taught or is it inherent to the individual?"
“I’m unsure if it’s just one or just the other” The apprentice opened and then closed her mouth putting in order her idea. That was one particular issue she had thought about a lot, especially while witnessing a couple of Kaggaths, the way the participants had insisted on how important they were and how this had prejudiced or benefited them. “I see a problem with the ones who can’t seem to see or recognize the appropriate circumstance to show off themselves; moreover, they tend to put themselves at risk because they can’t distinguish someone who actually doesn’t have the need to boast their merits.” She made a pause and a brief smile crossed her lips “But I tend to call that a lack of survival instinct. Now, on the other hand, a subject can have a natural self-awareness aiding him to recognise the key moments where would or wouldn’t be appropriate to… flex.” Tilting her head to the left Zareel took a moment while crossing her arms. The wisdom a person could show wasn’t purely an innate ability, there was something else.
“It can be taught, with the adequate experiences and a guide; of course, these experiences aren’t always pleasant; in fact, they tend to be the opposite, otherwise they wouldn't remain engraved in the individual's psyche as they need to. Use your power when it is needed, talk about the knowledge you possess when it is required. Do it out of place, any of them, and pay the price for your arrogance.” Tilting now to the other side her head, she kicked a small metal piece that was in front of her foot. “There come those who are born with a good spark of wisdom… they have a minimal advantage, a starting point; they can start naturally analysing the situations around them, knowing their place. But any of the two options, taught or inherent have the same answer, they need to be cultivated.”
“As far as I can see, naively thinking that one no longer needs to develop one's wisdom is falling into the same arrogance that carries the obsession with only power or only knowledge.” Just about to kick a new unidentified item from the floor, she suddenly stops, looking at her master who was in that direction. "My own Master has been rethinking his own actions and decisions; I feel that this should be taken as an example that one can never stop learning."
A warm smile broke across Catalyst's face. "Clearly, my apprentice, your words belie the fact that you happen to carry the advantage of which you speak. You speak true about my own thoughts. In the words of Lord Nathemus," Catalyst let the sneer slip into his voice at his distaste for his contemporary, "There is always more to learn." He chuckled briefly at his own flippant mockery, knowing the Shadow Hand could just as easily leave him a husk, though not without disappointing a great many people.
"Another thing to consider," he continued speaking, "is knowing just how your power affects those around you. You spoke of using such only when it is one's place to do so. Well, how do you know when it is your place?" A guttural groan echoed from the wreckage around them. Catalyst looked up upon hearing the noise. "It's about time.." His smirk sharpened and he glanced down at Zareel. "Perhaps my question was more or less rhetorical."
It was no secret that Catalyst was imbued with an ancient virus that kept his flesh whole and his mind cognizant as he aged. Most people knew that he had enlisted the help of his former apprentice Halcyon in completing the ritual to grant him life eternal. Similarly, it surprised nobody when Halcyon coopted the ritual for himself and stole the secret of undeath. Few aside from Catalyst were privy to the knowledge that he had imbued a few of his enforcers with the same virus, albeit without the midichlorian rich ingredient that prevented them from becoming little more than mindless slaves. Now, four fine specimens in various states of decay were clambering over various sections of ruined durasteel. "Well here's another chance to use that power," Catalyst stepped back and crossed his arms as two of the zombies charged at Zareel with outstretched arms, grasping at her and attempting to rend her arms from her torso.
IC: Apprentice Zareel
Location: Mechis III, Wreckage
The apprentice raised an eyebrow and tensed her lips containing a smile at the mention of the Dread Lord; she had used those words to explain herself but didn’t think she was using his, especially considering with whom she was talking.
Zareel unconsciously bit her lip; she was barely starting to consider the question of her master when a sudden groan discontinued her line of thoughts; her antennapalps reacted tensing and raising in an attempt to distinguish the source as she tried to ignore a shiver running through her spine. “About time you said?” she spoke in a low voice, looking at the Lord while blinking quickly, silently questioning what was getting closer. The Balosar, as a reflex action, took both hands to the grip of her weapons. Lord Catalyst’s smile offered her a hint of what was coming next, but if that wasn’t enough; a familiar reek grew closer, along with multiples groans that joined the first one she had noticed. “Kriffing House Halcyon…” That was only the beginning of what she mumbled, a string of insults kept coming against the fallen house when two rotten creatures launched towards her.
“I suppose, an opportune moment to employ whatever power I may have, is when my master is just stepping back to emphasize his lesson.” Zareel just gave one more look to her master by the corner of her eye. Quickly she unsheathes her tonfas, igniting them at the moment she gave them a forward twist by their small hilts while stepping away; the main target was the extremities that approached violently to her.
The burning plasma made short work of the extended extremities of the zombified attackers. The outstretched arms fell to the ground limply, but the zombified attackers continued their attacks. A set of jaws descended toward Zareel's hands, attempting to bite her. The putrid smell of their breath was emphasized by the grey, gooey saliva that dripped from their lips. The second zombie stepped backwards and expelled a fountain of vomit and mucus from its mouth towards Zareel.
Behind her, Lord Catalyst had disappeared from view, using the Force to cloak his presence. His voice echoed within the walls of the wreckage, "So show me. What power does a Sith Knight wield?" He watched from his unseen vantage point, silently judging his apprentice's worthiness.
IC: Apprentice Zareel
Location: Mechis III, Wreckage
A flash of plasma against the arms, a thud and there it was that familiar smell again; her nose was instantly filled with an almost unbearable stench of burned putrid flesh. Sadly, even if she was free from their claws, the rotten enemies didn’t stop. The Balosar just gritted her teeth; her master was also out of sight, and she needed thinking faster.
If only she could keep them away… The apprentice relied for a moment on the force, keeping her eyes on the monsters trying to expand an aura that could provide her with a safe distance; this worked on animals in the past, although she wasn't sure of how their brains processed information or even if they did; just in case, she tightens the grip on the handles.
She had been advised in the past from the bites. Did this vomiting have an effect that should also be protected against? Well, other than the repugnance she was already feeling. Zareel quickly focused on the still approaching drooling jaw; she twisted her weapons upwards undoing her previous movement, aiming to get rid of its head or at least the toothiest part. She felt the urgency of space to take one or two steps backwards, there she would have a better range to deal with the putrid fountain on the back.
Waves of malevolent Force energy cascaded from Zareel as she channeled her Aura of Unease. It did little to deter the ravenous undead, whose minds were controlled only by hunger and a pathological need to spread their pathogen. Thus the frantic assault continued. Jaws closed upon empty air as the Apprentice deftly removed the head of the nearest attacker. Its body slumped to the floor as the last groan of life escaped what was left of its vocal cords. In her attack though, she had failed to get out of range of the sludge that was erupting from the other. Her steps back afforded her some safety, but the substance coated her arms and hands. A tingling, burning sensation ensued as the bile dissolved its way through the first few layers of her skin. It wasn't enough to cause permanent damage yet, and her Balosar anatomy offered some extra protection from the toxicity, but it was not something that could be ignored for long.
The zombie let forth a guttural screech, slowly backing away from the Sith. Had the Aura done its job after all? The sound echoed through the dead dreadnought, soon being accompanied by a chorus of replies. It was calling for reinforcements. "Some fights can't be won with sword and sorcery alone," the voice of Lord Catalyst spoke above the din. "How will you overcome an endless army that won't stop until it has consumed you entirely?" His last words faded away, and soon so did his presence in the Force. Zareel was alone now, with no direction and a horde of hungry monsters soon to be upon her.
IC: Apprentice Zareel
Location: Mechis III, Wreckage
A successful slash, except it wasn’t enough to allow her to low her guard. The monster in the back had withdrawn but not without first covering her arms with the disgusting product of its insides; it stung and burned as if boiling water had been poured on her skin. She quickly clipped back one of her weapons to the belt to clean the viscous substance; her sleeves were roughly pulled down against her sored skin to wipe her arms and hands.
After that, a shiver ran through her spine; her antennas had tensed and she stands still, almost like a small animal right before a predator attack. Previously, on an innocent corner of her mind, she had considered the idea of her spell being effective; the growing shriek let her know something else happening and was by far a worse situation.
"Some fights can't be won with sword and sorcery alone," the voice of Lord Catalyst spoke above the din. "How will you overcome an endless army that won't stop until it has consumed you entirely?"
Zareel suddenly noticed she was alone; her master was not just invisible, but out of any possible perception. Her first reflex was to turn back on her steps but she couldn’t move; the noises, growls and violent screams were stuck on her antennas and for a moment was the only thing she could pay attention to. Nervously, the balosar realised that she had started to bite her lower lip to the point of hurting herself. “I can’t with all of them…” she muttered trying to calm her abruptly agitated and anxious breathing; with two she could handle, but that sounded like many more than what she experienced in the past.
The apprentice forced herself to Inhale slowly; her eyes quickly wandered on her surroundings and went back every now and then to the one who had initiated the call; she could attack that one, but it wouldn't stop what was already started. The illumination was more of a technicality than a reality, but during the journey had been sufficient to see how much damage had suffered that place. If only she could leave them all there stuck.
Her eyes widened with an abrupt idea that flourished on her and then they were promptly fixed on the ceiling, looking for spots more devastated and fragile. After choosing one, the apprentice carefully extended her sored hands, giving intricated twists and drawing invisible circles with her fingers; letting flow her feelings, concentrated on her new task to accumulate the dark energy necessary to hit her objective in the precise moment and section.
Her voice came out in a whisper, followed by the energy beam with which she was aiming at where she assumed the roof might be weakened the most. "Sutta chwituskak"
The Bolt of Hatred cast from the Apprentice's hand lanced its way through the lacerated durasteel, causing debris to rain down around her. A large piece of the structure landed atop the armless undead that was just beginning to charge at her, rendering it flattened with a satisfyingly wet sound. Creaks and groans echoed throughout the dead ship. The floor beneath her began to shake. The shrieking roar of the undead hoard intermingled with the sounds of the ship falling apart more. Fear and confusion mixed with the rage and primal hunger of their cries.
Then the floor began to collapse.
It started as a crack, branching out from where the pieces of shattered roof had crushed the lone zombie. Larger pieces started falling away, bouncing down into the abyssal ruins of the derelict ship. Zareel would have a precious few seconds to react before the entire section she was standing on crumbled away and left her falling into parts unknown. With still no trace of her Master, she would have to decide quickly if this was the way he intended her to go.
IC: Apprentice Zareel
Location: Mechis III, Wreckage
Her mouth had parted with anticipation at what the balosar had just done and then in a grimace of pain, as she watched the undead being crushed; at this point, every move seemed to have a 50/50 chance of success. Or so she wanted to think for not weighing up the potential foul luck that could be discharged on her.
An antennapalp twitched in response to a subtle sound beneath her feet, was it a crack? "Oh no... now what?"Zareel whispered and struggled with moving her right foot backwards or not; finally, more than taking a step, she just slid it. Feeling too apprehensive as to how treacherous the ground beneath her feet might truly be.
There weren’t many options and the apprentice inevitably had even less time to decide her response. Eventually, the apprentice chose to rely more on her hearing than on her vision; which, by the way, was only disturbing her as she saw where she could potentially fall. Listening carefully, she started to move backwards; trying to remain as little as possible on each step to not waste time, or worse, press to hard the extremely weakened ground.
The great graveyard of a ship continued to creak and groan as its internal structure shifted. Durasteel and other material rained down around Zareel, and the floor continued to give way to blackness. The only sound that echoed louder than the destruction of the ship was the cries of the undead caught beneath it. A warm rush of air displaced by the debris, carrying the scent of rot and death, blew upwards from the chasm that was continuing to open beneath the Apprentice's feet. A blur of darkness careened down into the pit from above, echoing with the signature laugh of her Master before disappearing into the shadows of the derelict ship.
Zareel's quick steps continued to buy her time above, but there wasn't much floor left for her to stand on. Before long, there was nothing but jagged beams jutting from the walls like broken ribs, and sparking wires reminiscent of severed veins that might be capable of supporting her weight. Inky blackness yawned below her, and the way back to the ships looked increasingly less dangerous. There wasn't time to deliberate on the safest route, though, as the final piece of floor supporting her weight gave way. There were two options before her: fall or flee.
IC: Apprentice Zareel
Location: Mechis III, Wreckage
The apprentice tensed her jaw as she continued in her desperate manoeuvres to keep her balance. Her hands would reach out, sometimes forwards, sometimes backwards; seeking to propel or sway her body in the direction that best suited her.
Here came again that part of herself that used to be so useful on some occasions but at the same time she hated it so much; her breathing was erratic, and she didn't know at what moment she had started to feel like this. She was scared.
At least she could ignore a little of the shrieking that at this point had become part of the background noise. The apprentice quickly grasped for something to help her hold on a little longer, a protruding wire was chosen and wrapped around her hand to provide a small amount of steadiness.
Zareel was felling the urge to sneeze, wanting to clear her nose from the hot stench that had abruptly slapped her from the depths of the ruins; But then, the sudden sight of a falling shadow caught her attention. Even worse, it was accompanied by an unmistakable laugh.
"Oh come on..."
Did it have to be just when she had succeeded in setting foot on solid ground?. Or so she mistakenly thought, for as soon as her weight became more noticeable on the piece, she felt how it sank; giving way to accompany the rest of the ground that collapsed into the unknown area. Her hand tried to give the cable a squeeze, but now she was no longer confident that it could resist her for long; or worse, that her own arm could resist the weight of it.
Zareel looked down for a second that took forever, what was there? Besides the visible falling creatures and the ones that perhaps were there in the past... what had been left behind before the crash?
With that thought in mind, she began to carefully unwind her hand from the substitute rope. Swaying back and forth a little, as she could still feel her body falling and the cable releasing her hand; she forced herself to let go of her fear and concentrate on finding a place to fall without killing herself in the process.
Jagged metal rushed past the apprentice in a blur as she fell into the blackness below. Echoes in the Force spoke to Zareel, guiding her through the dark passage and telling her when to brace for landing. A faint orange glow illuminated her final destination, growing brighter as she approached. The durasteel platform sped ever closer, but at least she would be able to see where she needed to land.
As Zareel approached the landing, she would finally be able to see the source of the glow: her master was standing just away from the center of the platform holding his ignited lightsaber at his side. "Glad you decided to join me," he quipped with a grin as her descent reached its end. Upon closer inspection, it looked like their footing was in fact a sealed blast door. Darkened halls branched off in either direction, faint sparks of electricity only serving to enhance the sense of depth from gazing down them.
Catalyst turned and began walking down one of the passages. The echoes of the undead were even louder now than before, reverberating through the halls in a cacophony of hungered groans. "Tell me, my Apprentice," the Dark Lord spoke over the din, "what are your goals as a Sith? What tenets do you hold close to your heart, that one day will be passed down to your own apprentices?"
IC: Apprentice Zareel
Location: Mechis III, Wreckage
Her first instinct was to brace herself when there was no more wire to hold on to; so much debris passing in the opposite direction around her made her fear for a blow or a cut from them. Almost like a small fishing line, she could feel something pulling her; she could sense how the force guided the right direction in her free fall. Finally, she could recognise the presence of her master also at the end of the descent.
"Sorry I'm late, some things... happened." Her gaze awkwardly wandered around and then back to the hole through which she had descended; simultaneously, she shifted her weight from one foot to the other, wary of the firmness of the surface that held them now and feeling slight discomfort in them after the fall even though she had tried to cushion it as much as possible.
The awkward movements of the apprentice were interrupted when the Dark Lord began to move. Zareel had started to follow him, cautiously, when the question issued by him made her notice that she had reconsidered her reasons; causing her to pause for a couple of seconds before catching up with him again.
"Until now, my sole purpose had always been to not die, at least not now; but now, it seems to be such a shallow description... I kept moving on automatic for so long, just following where the tide took me that it's hard to recognize what I have done for myself." Her voice was trembling slightly, so she cleared her throat to suppress it; having let herself go in such a complacent way for so long made her feel resentful of her own attitude, of how little control she had over her own existence. She had run away in the past, told herself she had to be strong enough to free herself; but after that, she only managed to get to a place where, while she was treated much better, she only did things for others.
"I have not been a part of the greatest deeds, but that is exactly what I have found myself searching for. It is not enough for me to simply not die now. I need to feel that I am living; I need to feel." Zareel glanced at her own arm from the corner of her eye; she could still feel the subtle tension of the scarred skin running vertically along almost the entire limb; she had felt pain and fear, but she had not fled as she had in the past; she had not numbed her senses just to dodge what was around her.
"I don't want to merely be serviceable, and I don't want to Only be a tool. Because I can be useful to this empire, but I don't want to be useful just on their behalf; I want to be useful through what I'm achieving for myself. And maybe, that's what I want to transmit to my own apprentices in the future…”
She shrugged, still a bit confused, but realizing that there was a lot she hadn't thought about thoroughly "I don’t have a particularly clear idea of how am I supposed to train anyone; when joining the academy, I never thought it would be something I would implement in the future. But... with the time I've spent among others, I know what I don't want them to do, how I wouldn't want them to end up." Zareel looked back to where she had landed, thinking about how much destruction surrounded them, how the howling of the beast never stopped and how that was the only thing left of someone’s memory.
The balosar hesitated for a moment before speaking again, thinking if perhaps that could help her to clear her mind. “Did my master put a lot of thought into it in the past? What would he do if he trained someone or how might he do it? The only thing I have clear is that I want to help them to learn.”
“Did my master put a lot of thought into it in the past? What would he do if he trained someone or how might he do it? The only thing I have clear is that I want to help them to learn.”
Catalyst chuckled at Zareel's pointed wisdom. Indeed, the Dark Lord had rarely considered his own motives for training apprentices beyond the fact that there were apprentices in need of training. "Well not dying is still an admiral goal to strive for, and a good thing to teach one's apprentice. What is more important to consider, though," he countered the question posed to him, "the past, or the future? The way I see it, we have a duty to carry on our successes, and teach those that come after how to achieve the same. Dwelling on past mistakes dooms one to repeat them." He looked around the hallway of the downed ship, almost as if steeling his own resolve. "And sometimes, it's not enough just to let the past die."
The pair of Sith continued through the derelict wreckage, and the screeches of whatever monsters lurked within the walls seemed to grow ever louder. A blast of hot air swept through the hall, carrying the scent of sulfur and rot. At the end of the hall, a large gash exposed what looked like a mix of stone and metal. Catalyst flicked his wrist as they approached, and the gash widened further with the shriek of tearing metal, opening into what appeared to be a structure deep built beneath the surface of the planet. "Amazing what you can find when you go treasure hunting," the Lord of Linguistics quipped with a smirk. He stepped through the newly created doorway, inviting Zareel to follow behind him.
The chamber before them was much more artfully constructed than the ship they were exiting from. Adorning the walls were decorative sconces, spaced around cutouts in the hall. Some of these spaces were occupied: a suit of ornate powered armor, a pair of glimmering metal wings, a large alchemized sword and axe, a small set of decorative knives. Beneath each of these read the name of the former wielder of the item, all recognizable as deceased. It also appeared that there were more spaces dedicated to empty plinths awaiting an assigned treasure. A noticeable flare of anger rose in Lord Catalyst's Force presence, more visibly given away by the dust violently unsettling with each footstep he took. He closed his eyes and took a moment to calm himself. "Perhaps this is the greatest lesson of all," he said somberly. "No matter your accumulations during life, your lavishly decorated grave is still just that." A bellowing roar echoed through the chamber, as if on cue. Catalyst turned Zareel and addressed her with a stern face. "Are you ready to prove yourself better than these failures?" he challenged. "To prove your worth to the Empire?"
IC: Apprentice Zareel
Location: Mechis III, Wreckage
“I remember, in my first field task, the first piece of advice I received from you was to not get bitten; at first sight quite simple but very important in that situation.” Zareel shrugged, pausing for a moment, not losing sight of her master as she considered which road her training had taken her on. Even if he hadn't been particularly specific about the purpose of his lessons, he had given her a cue to think about those things for herself. Even if they had had some interruptions, she had been quite comfortable with how he had made her think by herself, whether on the reason of the events or the outcomes; rather than simply pointing out blacks and whites on a chromatic scale of events.
She hurried her pace, catching up with him at the opening in the wall; at the exact moment, he was forcing it to tear open, leaving them passage free. The shriek of the metal separating had caused her antennae to instinctively retract, but as she entered, they gradually relaxed and her attention focused on each of the items on display.
Taking a few steps closer, she recognised the names and even one or two of the objects. For an instant, she was even curious enough to want to approach, but an abrupt change in the ambience sent a shiver through her body and her hands went straight to the grips of her weapons. It was her master, Lord Catalyst, the source of that energy; still, his words only made her understand a little more the reason for his mood. The image of her mother’s body, lying lifelessly while wrapped in the finest clothes and jewellery, came to her mind.
She exhaled, turning her back to the trophies in the walls to resolutely face her master; her antennas rose and her arms fell in a relaxed position on each side of her body. The nearing sounds were impossible to ignore, but she did not permit herself the luxury of showing any fear at this stage. She had never been certain of anything, she had been plagued by doubts all along the way, but she would no longer allow herself that.
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