High up and far away from the temple on Ajan Kloss, Jedi Knight Hannibal Grayza had sat himself on a large outcropping of a distant mountain. Covered in grass joined by a few stones and a very old and bent tree, it was almost literally half a world away. Peaceful, quiet, and most importantly nowhere near any potential distractions. Hannibal needed to be alone for what he was about to do. He didn't want to risk someone else nearby being affected, after all.
He'd flown up here in Arcene, and it the speeder he began removing a variety of things. Paper charms, small tokens, candles, incense, a plush carpet arrayed with various designs, and a small metal lockbox. He arranged these things under the shadow of the short overhang above the area, a place he could focus in meditation away from every distraction imaginable. He'd been somewhat unfocused since the prison, though not just because it was a difficult experience where a friend had fallen in battle.
Hannibal had avoided killing anyone his entire Jedi career. Sometimes a cut here or there was needed, but he'd focused purely on non-lethal methods of taking people down. But then again, he'd never before had to fight a Sith intent on killing him before. He was sensitive to the eddies and flows of the Living Force, having to cut himself off from distant battle to maintain concentration in the moment when he fought. He'd experienced the deaths of others before of course, and was capable of dealing with it.
Unfortunately, while he was at his weakest, he'd taken hold of Talak Rand's lightsaber. While there had been a large number and variety of psychometric impressions involved in the act, the first and strongest was from Sol Puara. The hate, the anger, and his slow death by poison and suffocation after his mask had been ripped away from him. Being forced to kill someone was something on its own, but experiencing their death firsthand through the Force was enough to shake Hannibal like little else could.
So, here he was. He needed to get past this situation, and the fear and uncertainty that came with it. While Jedi should never encourage to or enjoy killing, allowing the deaths of evil people to pass peacefully by was something Hannibal needed to achieve. He needed to find balance with the lessons of his family and the teachings of the Jedi and become his true self, and a true Jedi. In spite of his titles and training, Hannibal did not always consider himself a Jedi because of his doubts. Now the the time to change that. He couldn't afford to be uncertain or to hesitate any longer.
Besides, Nashyr would laugh at him if he couldn't fight any more and gave up, bless her heart.
Hannibal arranged the various objects in a ritualistic fashion, lit the candles and incense, and sat himself cross-legged in the center of the rug. Entering a code he unlocked the metal box, tilting it so the intricate hilt of Sol Puara spilled forth in front of him, and placed the box aside off the rug. He stared at it for a few seconds, as one might closely watch a dangerous animal or a small bomb, and then sighed softly.
"I must not fear. Fear is the mind killer. Fear is the little death that brings the end of all things." he intoned clearly and loudly, like a prayer, pushing away all outside thoughts and distractions. Slowly, methodically, finger by finger the young Knight slipped off his gloves and tossed them aside, first the right and then the left. He breathed deep, letting the chill mountain air and the Living Force sink down deep into his bones, reinforcing his mind and his focus.
"I will face my fear. I will allow it to pass over and through me. And when it has gone past I will turn the inner eye to see its path." He raised his left hand and then his right to shoulder length, fingers splayed and palms downwards to face the dark weapon. It lifted gently into the air off the rug, twirling once through the air and arranging itself left-to-right above his hands. Hannibal's palms turned upwards, cupped like a pilgrim seeking to drink from a river or the alms of passing strangers. Another deep breath, the Force passing through him and taking with it his uncertainty and his fear. He could do this. He must. Failure was unacceptable.
"Where the fear has gone, there will be nothing." Slowly the hilt began to fall toward his hands, centimeter by centimeter. The young Knight steeled himself and opened his mind, ready to understand and accept the man he had killed.
"Only I will remain."
The hilt landed in his hands, the psychometric impressions of the past rushing forward like water into an empty vessel. For once, Hannibal did not flinch away.
He'd flown up here in Arcene, and it the speeder he began removing a variety of things. Paper charms, small tokens, candles, incense, a plush carpet arrayed with various designs, and a small metal lockbox. He arranged these things under the shadow of the short overhang above the area, a place he could focus in meditation away from every distraction imaginable. He'd been somewhat unfocused since the prison, though not just because it was a difficult experience where a friend had fallen in battle.
Hannibal had avoided killing anyone his entire Jedi career. Sometimes a cut here or there was needed, but he'd focused purely on non-lethal methods of taking people down. But then again, he'd never before had to fight a Sith intent on killing him before. He was sensitive to the eddies and flows of the Living Force, having to cut himself off from distant battle to maintain concentration in the moment when he fought. He'd experienced the deaths of others before of course, and was capable of dealing with it.
Unfortunately, while he was at his weakest, he'd taken hold of Talak Rand's lightsaber. While there had been a large number and variety of psychometric impressions involved in the act, the first and strongest was from Sol Puara. The hate, the anger, and his slow death by poison and suffocation after his mask had been ripped away from him. Being forced to kill someone was something on its own, but experiencing their death firsthand through the Force was enough to shake Hannibal like little else could.
So, here he was. He needed to get past this situation, and the fear and uncertainty that came with it. While Jedi should never encourage to or enjoy killing, allowing the deaths of evil people to pass peacefully by was something Hannibal needed to achieve. He needed to find balance with the lessons of his family and the teachings of the Jedi and become his true self, and a true Jedi. In spite of his titles and training, Hannibal did not always consider himself a Jedi because of his doubts. Now the the time to change that. He couldn't afford to be uncertain or to hesitate any longer.
Besides, Nashyr would laugh at him if he couldn't fight any more and gave up, bless her heart.
Hannibal arranged the various objects in a ritualistic fashion, lit the candles and incense, and sat himself cross-legged in the center of the rug. Entering a code he unlocked the metal box, tilting it so the intricate hilt of Sol Puara spilled forth in front of him, and placed the box aside off the rug. He stared at it for a few seconds, as one might closely watch a dangerous animal or a small bomb, and then sighed softly.
"I must not fear. Fear is the mind killer. Fear is the little death that brings the end of all things." he intoned clearly and loudly, like a prayer, pushing away all outside thoughts and distractions. Slowly, methodically, finger by finger the young Knight slipped off his gloves and tossed them aside, first the right and then the left. He breathed deep, letting the chill mountain air and the Living Force sink down deep into his bones, reinforcing his mind and his focus.
"I will face my fear. I will allow it to pass over and through me. And when it has gone past I will turn the inner eye to see its path." He raised his left hand and then his right to shoulder length, fingers splayed and palms downwards to face the dark weapon. It lifted gently into the air off the rug, twirling once through the air and arranging itself left-to-right above his hands. Hannibal's palms turned upwards, cupped like a pilgrim seeking to drink from a river or the alms of passing strangers. Another deep breath, the Force passing through him and taking with it his uncertainty and his fear. He could do this. He must. Failure was unacceptable.
"Where the fear has gone, there will be nothing." Slowly the hilt began to fall toward his hands, centimeter by centimeter. The young Knight steeled himself and opened his mind, ready to understand and accept the man he had killed.
"Only I will remain."
The hilt landed in his hands, the psychometric impressions of the past rushing forward like water into an empty vessel. For once, Hannibal did not flinch away.
@Phoenix