The Way of the Blade -- The Path of the Force

[Rom]

Standing in the center of a cavern hidden in the sprawling desert of Korriban, Darth Vereor took a moment to inspect his old training grounds, untouched by person or time in the near decade since he had been here. Everything was still where he had left it... including the now picked clean bones of an Acolyte who had been unable to keep up with the grueling pace the Barabel set. The opening in the canyon wall outside was deceptively small, yet if one followed the twisting path through sand and stone, they would emerge in a wide space, easily the size of a standard hanger aboard a Star Destroyer. An underwater tributary poured into a large lake that dominated the eastern side of the cave, a small outcropping of rock growing out of the center of the cold, still waters.

Stalagmites and stalactites burst from the stone near the entrance, and cleared further into a large clearing, free from rocks and obstacles. Dropping the bag at his hip to the floor with a low clatter of metal, the reptilian Sith slowly wandered around the clearing, replacing wicks and lighting the stakes and torch holders surrounding the area, allowing a dull fiery glow to permeate the cave. Nodding in satisfaction at the low lighting, barely enough to see by human standards, the Dark Lord fell to his knees and began to meditate, drawing on the immense power laying within his body and the wider world around him.

Rage and fear permeated the Sith planet, vestiges of power long dead burning with malevolent yet impotent rage in the deep places of the world. Pinpricks of light and power came to him through the Force within the academy, the strong and weak alike laid bare under his metaphysical gaze... and he found the majority of them wanting. A snort of derision echoed through the cavern, and with a shake of his head Vereor closed his eyes and began to push, weaving an aura of fear into the growing power he was emitting and sending it out like a wave across the graveyard world.

For some at the Academy miles away, a sense of foreboding would envelop their hearts and drive them scurrying into the shadows like the worms they were.... and yet others would feel, within the burning power that shone like a beacon far out into the desert, an invitation. A chance for knowledge, practice, and the promise of power. Letting out a breath, Vereor wrapped himself in a cloak of concealment, the sudden burning power disappearing as quickly as it had arisen. Unless they had a long history of interaction with Vereor his signature would have been unfamiliar, especially as most of his time was spent with the fleets or based in his palace on Anaxes. For the Acolytes, it was simply an unfamiliar but all consuming power... easily a Darth of the Council, but which one it would be would remain a mystery until they arrived.

Finding him would be the first test, to cull the unworthy. The deserts of Korriban were no place for the weak or unintelligent. They would have to move swiftly to follow his fading signature through the desert and into this hidden cave, all the while avoiding the predators that would flood the desert as the sunlight began to fade. Keeping his eyes closed, the reptilian Sith moved from his knees into a cross-legged position and slowly rose above the ground, leveling off six feet above the ground and levitating there without any visible sign of effort, his lightsabers joining the rocks that began to float and orbit around his still form. He had time to wait, and Vereor knew he would require all of his patience to deal with some of the Acolytes that would likely come stumbling towards his training grounds, tantalizing visions of glory and conquest blinding them to their own weaknesses.

"Thiz one shall see how these Sith measure up.... and whether or not they can be taught."

 

[Cortan]

Just how many hidden caves were there on this planet?

Ancient Sith Lords carved them out for their tombs. Bold warriors turned them into arenas to test the future generations even long after their deaths. And it seemed the Dark Lord had one as a sort of personal training ground.

The question then was - which one?

"Found anything, J?" Azur yelled above the roar of the small barge's engine as it flew across the desert stone, a setting sun casting its light on the deep canyon in which the young acolyte could feel the powerful one waiting. And he knew it had to be the dark lord - only one other had felt this powerful in all his life, and he knew that were the Empress here, the entire planet would have known it. And whilst his senses still needed refinement, the sensation was... familiar, from the anniversary celebration.
As the astromech beside him gave a small whine that sensors had not found a thing, Azur's memories recalled that in that encounter, his mother had been beside him, much to his then chagrin. Sentimentality briefly seized him, realising that he had not truly seen his mother since that time, only speaking to her once to try and secure a mission that he might complete. How did the duchy of Tel fair? Was his father still pushing ahead with his desire for conquest?

Shaking it off, Azur glanced around, at high canyon walls, dry as they had been, without flowing rivers, for thousands upon thousands of years. No wonder the stones had cracked, and the sweeping winds eroded them so well, as to form the caves both small and labyrinthine that, that lined the canyon walls like windows into the earth.
"Come on J, there's gotta be some sign Lord Vereor is out here. He's... hiding, somewhere out here, waiting to be found. No point leaving such a clue if there's no trail to follow..." The wroonian muttered as he keyed in a few shifts to the map projected by the barge, before pushing forward on the throttle to increase its speed. Letting go of the lever once it was up to a pace he liked, Azur let his eyes flick both left and right, as J continued to scan. His adamant search for some deliberate sign came from a simple truth - that search every possible cave he saw would just leave him on an endless, wild chase that would bear fruit only if he were the luckiest man in the galaxy. And that his right leg was now made of metal sorely contested that argument.

Yet at the same time, could not there be a swifter, more effective method to this search? What he did right now was a task not unlike that of a probe droid - scanning as much as possible in the vague hope that something relevant emerged. Something that perhaps worked for distant, near-lifeless ice balls like Hoth, but this was Korriban, a... near-lifeless ball of rock. Azur furrowed his brow, wondering if analogy was something he needed training in as well.
Be-Be-Beep, Woo-WEEEEO
J suddenly screamed in order to seize Azur's attention, and the blue skinned man hit the brakes as he pulled back the throttle lever. He cast a glance down at the astromech, a silent indicator that this had better be good.

Be-bop boo, beelee beep
"...Groundwater near the surface, eh?" Cupping his chin as he looked about, Azur could see why that information was important. Most might brush it aside - of course there was groundwater, practically anything that did still live here relied on it - but its implication was... deeper, in this scenario. For assuming the Dark Lord did intend to just, well, wait until someone showed up to wherever he hid himself... then he was going to need supplies to last the wait. And whilst there was the possibility of bringing his own along, Azur could only imagine the trek he must have already made, given he had not noticeably arrived at the academy, and J had not simply picked up the power core of a ship laid about somewhere nearby. So a source of freshwater? A natural place to set up shop.

"Show me a map of the canyon overlaid with your sensor data." Stepping back to give the droid some space, Azur watched as a blue hologram flickered into being from the astromech's projector, and proceeded to build up the image. The data was, evidently, broad and based on a very basic reading, unable to estimate an accurate scale for the water source, whether in width or depth... but it did so where it came closest to the canyon walls - where it was easiest enough, and most feasible, for something to reach. Otherwise there was just a load of rock separating the two.
"Right then, time to stop and start a new search." Securing his cloak, as he saw the setting sun and realised how cold the desert would quickly become without its light, Azur gave the droid a simple pat on the head, signalling for it to take the barge somewhere safe as he hopped off. The droid gave an uncertain whine, but nevertheless drove off, hopefully not to be ambushed by wild mynocks or some such.

As for Azur himself, he began the climb up the steep walls of the canyon, following a winding path held together by the withered remains of ancient plant life. Loose stones gave way every now and again, but the artificial leg proved the worth of its construction as it held secure, and did not break or shudder as he was forced to stamp it down. As the climb grew steeper, he increasingly found himself using his hands, and a slight hunch over, to secure his continued ascent, the still hot dust and sand only somewhat mitigated by the gloves that coated his fingers. Eventually, he finally came to a stop, taking in the chance to breathe, as he gazed upon the tall, wide entrance, that seemed as if a gateway to another world. He could hear the sound of the winds rushing through it, an almost guarantee that there had to be something deeper - something hidden here. With a slight smile curling into existence on his face, Azur boldly stepped into the opening, ready to seek out his destiny.

About five seconds later, he raced back out as he drew his lightsaber, and dived to avoid the Tuk'ata that leapt at him from behind. The beast was massive, like a hound blown up to over half a dozen times the size - at least - and with far too many teeth. He could also see its claws, like daggers one and all, but it was decidedly short on a few as the searing red edge of his saber twirled upwards to take them away. Landing with one foot outstretched to stop himself skidding down further along the side of the canyon, Azur considered his options as he briefly stared down the creature, which was in the process of attempting to regain its footing, as its own weight tore down its would be footholds. The last time he'd taken on one of the Sith's ancient abominations in a direct manner, it had broken several of his bones and cost him probably a litre of blood - there was a reason his response to several hssiss along the way, having seen the shifting sands beneath invisible feet, was to drive straight along. Yet he had to doubt that the creature would so willing just let him go in peace, and given it had effectively challenged him now, it was hardly honourable, or the Sith way, to back down so easily from a fight.

And truth be told, he did at least need some victory for himself, after what had happened on Christophsis.

Having had that chance to think, the Tuk'ata had now found its grip, and now bounded up the canyon towards him. Holding his saber up, Azur shifted slightly into an opening stance for Juyo, waiting several seconds...
And then leaping, using the sudden shift in height from the canyon's sides to get himself a great deal of clearance as he pass the Tuk'ata overhead. He swung once with his saber, managed to cut a small trail into the creature's skin thanks to the speed at which it passed under him, before landing again as the dust stirred on both sides. Smacking against the canyon wall, the Tuk'ata howled, and swiftly turned its surprisingly flexible form back towards the acolyte, but that was not the thing Azur briefly took note of. Instead, he saw where the cracked walls, in a fragility wrought of age, shook off sizable bits of stones, which crashed down and shattered against the ground. A plan began to formulate in the young man's mind, something that might end this quickly, or at least give him a chance to try another entrance...

The beast came again, and this time Azur ducked to the side as he tried to avoid a direct collision. This time, and in a display of the Tuk'ata's rumoured intelligence, the creature predicted him, catching itself short before its momentum might carry it too far, and instead used it - with one front claw securely embedded in the ground - to swiftly shift around. What it did not predict however, was where Azur held out his palm before him, and aimed slightly at the ground. All it took was a brief moment, an instant in which he focused, for him to gather the power he required, and release it thereafter. Just as the Tuk'ata released its grip to charge forward, a wave of telekinetic energy shot forth from Azur's hand, and whilst not enough to shift something as large as the Tuk'ata itself, it did manage to knock away much of the ground beneath it. Its footing lost yet again, the Tuk'ata scrambled to regain it, as Azur ducked backwards up the canyon side. As he reached the cliff face, a roar behind him made clear that not much time was available to him, and so he would need to act quickly.

Saber still in hand, he raised both arms upwards, towards the near broken canyon wall. He had spotted two particularly long, sizable cracks, that extended from the top of the cliff, and met together about halfway down. Gravity was on his side here, so all he had to was... start it off.
As the ground shook behind him, the Tuk'ata's howl signalling its approach, Azur instead closed his eyes, and drowned out the creature's terrible sounds. Instead, he heard only the small breath he drew, as the only image was that of the cliff face in his mind, and his hands, along with his focus, tightened greatly. The Force, it was said, could do all things, so long as one had the will to make it happen. So certainly, now, as he needed it, it could be made to move just a bit... of damn... ROCK!

And so, it did.

At first, it seemed as if just a slight shift - a small 'pop' as the stone hopped out of place. But that small disconnect had increasingly large consequences, as the canyon stone quickly lost the power which with to hold itself aloft. With a horrid scratching sound, and a loud rumbling, the stone between the two cracks that Azur had found fell, gaining speed with each second, and slipping farther and harder as a result. A great shadow was cast over the wroonian as the stone passed overhead, its pointed bottom against a top heavy height causing it to briefly roll in the air, but only a second later, it came crashing down with great fury and power. The stone collapsed on itself, shattering a thousand thousand ways, and crumbling across the landscape. Opening his eyes as he drew greater breath in a slight pant, Azur turned back to look upon his work, and saw the forward limb of the Tuk'ata struggle and claw for freedom, only to then fall limp.

Letting the blade of his lightsaber collapse as well back into the metal hilt, Azur then let out a sigh of relief, before turning back to look upon the canyon wall. Since the Dark Lord had evidently not taken that entrance - or if he had, Azur would need to ask of how one tamed such a beast - the acolyte began his search anew, one hand set upon the cliff face so that he would be close, and hopefully, nature would be unable to claim him as he had made it claim that Tuk'ata. He found many entrances, some larger but not deep, whilst others were so small that not even rodents might call them home.
But then he paused, as he came to one, barely of a size that a man might squeeze through - and larger species of both width and height would certainly struggle - but there was...

A smell.

Having grown up on a world so wet, and now on a world so dry, Azur realised the sheer contrast that came from the smell of moisture so truly that he almost wondered how he could not have realised to consider it before. Pressing his hands into the gap as he checked the true measure of its inconsistent width, Azur pushed himself into the opening, and began to shimmy along, even as he might narrow his frame at times to get himself through. The heavy fabric of his cloak did well to protect him from the outcrops of rock that had yet to be quite so well worn down, and there were many points in which he was not sure if he would avoid managing to draw blood from something he failed to see...
Yet for all his fleeting concerns of the fleeting space, like the twist for some ancient tale, the cavern changed in an instant that seemed to serve entirely to surprise him.

The tight, cramped passage had led to a vast, vast opening, big enough that one could build an entire academy here if they so wished - perhaps how exactly their first had come about. Turning his head, Azur saw a great underground lake, still and fed by but a single source, and with no outflow immediately visible to him. Stepping forth as he glanced every which way, his eyes eventually came to centre themselves upon the heart of the large chamber...
And almost immediately, he dropped to one knee.
"My Lord."

 

[Bee]

At first, the pain had been indescribable. A white-hot needle driving itself into her flesh, parting sinew and muscles, sinking deep into her bones. But the pain was a choice, one that made sense but one that at the same time, one that wasn't easy to follow through on. A necessary evil. Over time, like all misery, it faded. Through repetition, she learned to control it. Lying flat in the sands, eyes trained on the starry sky, Eris rubbed absently at the mark on her bicep, smearing a pinprick of blood that bloomed against her pale, pinkish skin. Groaning quietly, she rolled her shoulder against the ground, head turning to address the creature by her side. "Ugh." She blinked, fighting back stars. "That's enough for now, Kelvie."

Not surprisingly, the yali remained silent. Forcing a smile, she fought through the oncoming paralytic and waved her hand dismissively, arm dropping back onto the ground as the numbness robbed her of sensation. "Go." With a tilt of her angular head, Kelvie butted her head against the woman's shoulder, letting out a soft purr that rumbled through the otherwise quiet evening before prowling away. Eris had never considered herself to be a 'pet person', nor had she ever really wanted to be responsible for another life that wasn't her own, but there was something incredibly comforting about the feline's presence, and if nothing else watching the yali pop the tails off of desert lizards - her favorite pastime, it seemed - was amusing, to say the least. The crimson-furred creature didn't seem to show any fear as she made quick work of the juvenile hssiss that skittered about, hardly a foot long and woefully underdeveloped, the greenish reptiles at the mercy of the predator who appeared more interested in using their limbs as playthings than hunting to kill.

As expected, the pain gave way into a terrifying numbness, and subsided in record time. Sooner or later, the pain would be negligible. The paralytic would have no effect. But it was only through repeated exposure that one could build a tolerance, and though Eris' body was learning to adapt to the toxin, two months of allowing the clever cat to drag it's barbed tail along her skin was nowhere near enough to generate a complete resistance. Her upper arms, laid bare in the fading sunlight, were marked with long, thin wounds in various stages of healing, some scarred over and others quite new, an intricate pattern of misery written in self-imposed suffering. Pushing herself into a more reclined pose, weight resting on her forearms, Eris drew in a deep breath and appreciated the solitude, the cool, dry air, and the glittering lights overhead. It was almost beautiful - hell, on any other planet, it likely would've been. The malevolent symmetry of Korriban was hard to describe, and as she forced herself to relax, to push away the anxiety that the pain had brought, she found herself overcome with the Dark Lord's power. Uncertain of the source - other than the fact it was the work of a powerful creature indeed - she considered the feeling for a moment, pushing herself to her feet at the realization that, despite it's vague familiarity, it didn't belong to anyone she truly knew.

Clever and quite in tune with her mistress' wishes - there was something to be said for a Force bond, even in it's burgeoning stages - Kelvie paused in her harassment of the lizards, watching Eris as she dusted herself off, before following the dark-haired woman who seemed keen to seek out the source of the aura that had passed over her. Save for the challenges the terrain itself provided, her path was a fairly simple one. The cybernetic enhancements in her blue eyes made it easy to see in the dark, and following in the footsteps of another - albeit unknowingly - ensured that the way was free of danger. Opening herself up to the Force, revealing her sharp presence as she moved, it was clear that someone had reached the source of the power before her. But to see Azur kneeling there as she squeezed her way inside was something of a surprise, though her expression betrayed only curiosity even as her gaze traveled further into the darkened cavern, the image of Vereor in meditation the last thing she expected to see.

Without a sound the yali retreated into the shadows. Without hesitation, Eris silently joined the familiar Acolyte, falling to one knee beside him.

 

[Bleed Me A River]

~Hours earlier~
Grik tore the meat off of a Shaak patty burger, he had salted for his return to Korriban. After his last mission, he made a stop at Naboo for some hunting, bagging a large sack of Shaak and various other roaming animals of the Naboo countryside. Having run into a small party of Gungan hunters, he carried with him a few trophies of battle. One such being the tongue of one of the Gungans foolishly attempted to disarm the significantly stronger and larger Barabel. No blades were used in the removal of his tongue, however the group of hunters met the steely kiss of his Scimitar. He toyed with his kills, by not cutting deeply at first, then finally tearing through the remaining brave souls who stayed behind to fight. The tongue was salted for consumption later on. Four eyes now hang on a necklace around Grik's neck.

Having broken through the atmosphere above the desert he was assigned to go to, he flies about for a small time, before ssetting down. His repainted Jedi Starfighter moved quickly through the air before landing, possibly kicking up a large amount of sand around him. He leaps from the cockpit with a tan colored net, neatly folded until it fell. As it unraveled, it was made evident that it was a primitive form of camouflage. Grik had yet to install a cloaking device in the ship, as it has not struck him as a necessary piece of equipment when his form of concealment did the job just fine. After unraveling the tarp, he lifted it over his ship and dropped it. The tarp covered the majority of the ship, nonetheless effectively hiding the ship from eyes at a distance or from above. He clicked the locator and placed its beacon into one of his many utility pouches. His rifle was in his right hand and his pistol on his right side as well. His lightsabers were displayed on his left hip and all of his other weapons lay in their respective places. He takes a step from the ship and scans the desert with his many senses. As he stared out, he felt an overwhelming presence. The presence was dark... very dark, though a certain type of strong and wise energy was felt as well. "Dark Lord... This one believes it is time for us to meet." he says before biting the final chunk out of the salted Shaak patty.

After a long walk in the deserts of Korriban, Grik finds another Signature in a canyon. As the canyon came into view, the temperature dropped. Grik got immediately more comfortable in the cooler environment. As he neared the canyon, a few Mynock could be spotted flying about the dusty sky, aimlessly. Without second thought, Grik lined the sights of his rifle on one of the Mynocks. He fired, and Tyuuvvvv!! the red bolt pierced its chest. With a low whine, it fell to the sand, followed by a second victim.

After a slight distraction from the Mynocks, the Barabel ventured into the canyon, running two of his claws against the dark stone as he walked to 'feel' the canyon and its inhabitants. The vibrations gave Grik an idea of what was around him before beginning his ascent. He quickly scaled the canyon walls in search for the Dark Lord. Most of his ascent was uninterrupted with the exception of a few Mynocks waking from their slumber. He continued up until he found the man that he had been looking for, as well as two other Acolytes. He silently beat himself for not being faster before kneeling at the feet of the Dark Lord Vereor. "M'lord, this one is honored to meet you."

(Sorry for being late. Long week.)

 

[TheSilentWind]

Katana was awake, his mind shaking after hearing what he could only describe as a 'roar in the dark side of the force'. The Zeison Sha Warrior was meditating in the training room, his abilities were growing stronger. Katana remebered his fight with an acolyte who he didn't pick up his name. Hopefully, he would never see that foul creature again. All that was on Katana's mind was one thing, that scream he had in the force. He wanted to go investigate it and he would ****ing do it. Katana got up picking up his discblade as well as his equipement such as his Zeison Sha Warrior Armour. He went to get a sensor to track himself toward where he was going. From what he could feel, the strong presence was still there, it was as if the person or whatever that was inside their wanted Katana to come or he wanted to be found. Katana would happily claim it.


Katana went to the hangar to see what type of transportation equipment he could use. From what he knew, if he used a shuttle hw would get his ass kicked out of the academy or probably get killed. Katana determined the best use of equipment was a landspeeder which he could use. Katana went out with his speeder as he travel toward the canyon. When he saw it, Katana could feel the presence of other people within the canyon. It seemed as if the acolyte wouldn't be the only one here. He travelled in the canyon as he seeked the presence of the force sensitives. Katana could also feel the temperature being cooler. It was certainly odd for some place like Korribian which is known for being a desert like planet. Katana searched canyon for the mysterious presence. He had come to determine that it was probably a council member in the Dark Council, perhaps the Dark Lord himself.

He entered a cave, the one of many within the canyon only to find that a Barabel and two humans were there before him. Katana's mind raced in seconds trying to find the best way to show respect to the 'strong presence' that he was looking at. Katana knew instantly from looking at it it was the Dark Lord of the Sith,a position he wondered if it would help him pursue his own agenda. Currently, Katana didn't want to get killed and he would make sure that didn't happen.

Katana walked toward the Sith Lord, saluting to him as he knelt to the Dark Lord of the Sith. "My Lord, it is of great priviledge to be within your presence."

 

[Srota]

Knowledge, power, the search for such things was what truly motivated Tasan, and when he woke with a start, his eyes adjusting to the darkness of the room slowly and steadily, he realized he had been dreaming of just those things. Oh sure, he was driven by a few other factors as well, but this was hardly the time for thinking of such topics. He slipped out of bed and quickly dressed himself in lightweight robes and clipped his lightsaber to his belt. Thye male togruta was driven by the search for dark, forbidden knowledge, his endless search for the very nature of evil and the ways to protect those he cared for from such matters having long since corrupted him to it's own way. Few knew the true depths of his... darkness, but then, he had always been good at hiding these depths of sufferring he could cause.

He had slipped out of the room and the temple itself in the early morning, and the air was still cool enough to be bearable out in the desert, as he slowly trudged through the sand following the guidance he had received in his dream. He knew there was much to learn from out in the desert, and though he did not know where the source of this vision or dream had been, he knew it was powerful and knowledgable, and that was good enough for him.

It had taken him hours, and he had been attacked a few times, his robes now flecked with the blood of those he had killed as he stepped through the mouth of the cave and into the darkness. It was cool and damp within the cavern, a marked contrast from the desert outside, but he did not seem to mind one bit, and he had even cracked a brief smile as he looked about the room, his yellow, animalistic, eyes taking in the small gathering of sentients before him. He said nothing, just moved to join them, and slipped amongst the group, nodding a more formal greeting to the barabel whom seemed to be the source of all this raw power.

 

[Rom]

The power that pervaded the cavern settled around the Acolytes, embracing them in an indiscernible miasma that pressed against their kneeling bodies with intense pressure. The cloaked and armored Barabel seemed to disregard the greetings of his new students, slowly descending from his levitating meditation and stretching his body into a standing position just as his clawed feet touched the cavern floor, the humming red lightsabers and speeder sized rocks continuing to revolve around him in a smooth orbit.

"You few who have passed through the desertz of Korriban to reach this cavern are to be this onez' new studentz. Here in thiz cavern, you will learn to embrace the power granted to you, allow it to guide your blade and your handz, and forge your very will into a weapon more potent than any force of nature or star cruiser you care to name. Weaknezz will not be tolerated..... and failure will be punished most harshly."

The robe clad skeletons in the corner of the cavern rustled in an invisible wind, a testament to the harsh nature of the Dark Lords' teachings.

The Barabel slowly walked amongst the kneeling students, the bladed edge of his tail sparking against the stone and leaving a furrow in the cavern floor, his sanguine eyes carefully roving over their forms and judging their capabilities with a glance. Some had the bearing of combat veterans, accustomed to defending themselves and striking against a foe without mercy or hesitation; others, the lack of instinct inherent in a trained fighter clearly visible in their body language. Vereor contained any notion of encouragement or disappointment, keeping his gaze level as he gestured for each of them to stand.

"This one would know what forms you have learned, and where your interest in combat liez. Do you desire to dominate the battlefield through strength of armz, or through the sheer power of your will? Who will you be on the Battlefield? A swordsman or a Force Wielder? Direct combat or support? What role will you take against our enemiez?"

 

[Cortan]

Azur's gaze only shifted from the Dark Lord to recognise the presence of others entering the vast, underground chamber, and even then, only for brief instances. Whilst he had met Darth Vereor once before, that had been in a capacity far, far from that of a teacher. And as his experiences here, and on the distance core world of Coruscant had taught him, every teacher had their own method. Some ranged from the relatively gentle and eccentric, to the gruelling and... abusive, to put it somewhat mildly. And yet, each of them had been effective in their own ways as well... There was no telling what the dark lord would favour, and certainly no need to invite it early by not giving him the proper respect and attention, as befit one of the most powerful beings in the galaxy.

Yet, eyes and thoughts are not the same, and so after the quick glances he had gotten, his mind mulled on the new arrivals each, distracting himself as he awaited Vereor's eventual response. The first was a woman with whom he was somewhat familiar, though only by the way in which many of the Sith were regular acquaintances, without ever truly knowing each other. He knew of and valued her abilities, but beyond that, the crusader dubbed Eris had seemingly little history beyond the extent of her own name. Certainly, she claimed a history of service to the Imperium, and even named a Darth as one of her existing masters... and yet however and whoever he asked, there was not much to be said of her by anyone, unless he was to start asking up on heights of the hierarchy that were often beyond his sight.

Considering this was the first encounter in quite a while with such a level of said hierarchy, he imagined the answer was going to evade him still for some time.

The second face to come after him was unfamiliar, but in some ways, easier to make measured observations into his persona and origins. A barabel, like the Dark Lord himself was, but of a different colour, height, build, and overall likely origin. The second barabel, whose name was not known to Azur, was evidently a warrior of some kind, prideful or cautious, perhaps both. One of the two would explain why one would ever charge to load themselves up with enough weapons to outfit seven other men if the urge suddenly took them. Dual wielding he could understand, or perhaps carrying an alternative weapon for when the battle did not favour one's standard arm... but this many? There was paranoia or ego at work, at least by his measure. Of course, then there were the 'prizes' that the hunter had likely claimed within the last day or two. Not even bones that could be cleaned or last, but a tongue and eyes. Things that would rot away exposed in the open air with relative haste. Unless the barabel would seek to preserve them later, those were not prizes to keep - merely for the sake of the act that had wrought them. So, that one probably enjoyed what he did, whatever it was and whomever he had done it to...

The next to come would have been, in the eyes of another, perhaps been utterly unremarkable. Male, human, well built, physically as common as you could get.
The weapon they wore, on the other hand, said something quite contrary to the assumption of commonality. Prior to this, Azur had only known of the discblade in study, a weapon that was to the Zeison Sha as the lightsaber was to many other force wielding orders. Though its uses as a melee weapon were... questionable, it was an intriguing possibility for telekinetic combat. But then, why did a Sith - and presumably an acolyte - carry such a weapon? As far as he understood, the Zeison Sha weren't readily allies of the Sith, but that didn't mean it wasn't entirely out of the question, right? A defector, perhaps? Was it claimed from the body of a fallen foe? Where there were questions about the barabel that Azur did not necessarily wish to see answered, this human had seized his genuine curiosity.

And then there came... Tasan. He knew of the togruta from a prior encounter, but even less about them than was the case with Eris. Unlike with the sole female of the chamber however, the wroonian's ignorance of the crimson skinned alien was just that - ignorance, wrought by a lack of inquiry. At the very least, he seemed dutiful enough, and aware of his priorities. But this was not a mission, where the interests of the Imperium were at stake. This was a chance to learn, and the only thing at risk, would be themselves. How would the togruta fare then?

...Then again, the same could easily be said of Azur, could it not?

The answers to such questions would come soon now, as the Dark Lord at last descended to greet them. His power was at once being demonstrated before Azur's eyes, and felt by Azur's very being as a weight without mass bore down on him. Yet if there was a flinch or hint of uncertainty from the acolyte, it was hidden well, with only his body tensing to better hold, and his fingers and thumbs pressing harder to the ground, palms tightened as fists that rested upon the floor. Darth Vereor was promising them greatness, in exchange for their willingness to seek him out, and he- no, Vereor was promising greatness, in exchange for seeking him out. By the Dark Lord's own words, failure was still possible, even if utterly undesirable. And yet, where a few months ago such threats would have unnerved him... now Azur simply breathed. Tried to regulate himself, and maintain a visible calm, whilst letting an anger rise beneath his surface. The anger that had driven him for some time now, ever since Christophsis. Ever since he had faced both the Jedi and failure together, ending in the loss of the duel, his pride, and a leg. Where Vereor had raised the skeletons of past disciples - perhaps his own, perhaps those of others - to instil an understanding of the consequences, all Azur could see was the enigmatic Jedi padawan, in her strange clothes and with her strange tattoos, awaiting the fate she so deserved by his hand.

"Shii-Cho was my first, and Ataru my second, my Lord." Azur had been the first to arrive, and so was the first to speak, rising to his feet. From his belt, he drew forth his lightsaber, regarding it for a moment, before hoping that he would not embarrass himself as he tossed the weapon lightly to the Dark Lord, going for a symbolic gesture to join his following words.
"My lightsaber is my weapon, and the means by which I intend to strike down my foes as best I may. The force may do many things, but in a fight, it may flicker and weaken with my own strength, however great I might make it... but the lightsaber remains true, and all it needs is a single opening to end a life. ...At the same time..." A hesitance crept into Azur's voice, and he tilted his head, before snapping back to finish speaking, back to being firm.

"Whilst I am more than eager to face my foes head on, measuring that purely in the skill of the lightsaber is... inadvisable." Catching both his robes and the trouser leg beneath, Azur pulled up the fabrics over his right leg, revealing the metal plating of his prosthetic. He had opted not to have skin cover, so that he would never forget or be fooled by his own sentimentality.
"So I would wish... as shown by a warrior of the past, to find ways to use the power that we - that I - wield, to change the course of the battle into my favour, so that I may seize victory. Victory, and my vengeance." Azur would now wait, whether for commentary, assessment, or the return of his saber if it had been accepted. Azur had made his views clear, and now it would be up to the Dark Lord to show what he thought of them.

 

[Srota]

The press of power against him was harsh, heavy, and it kept him on his knees, fighting to keep from collapsing as his body acclamated to the unnatural pressure it was experiencing. His head was lowered initially, eyes gazing at the ground as he fought to look up and to meet the Sith Lord in the eye. He would not show weakness here, but he had certainly not had the training that the others had experienced. His skills were more raw, less honed by practice than the others and much easier to adjust and correct for an experienced trainer. He could hear the settling of feet on the ground, and the heavy steps of the Barabel as he moved past the acolytes, asking them more specifics about themselves and what they sought from their instruction. This put Tasan in an odd position for a moment, normally, he was more used to being the one asking questions and interpreting the results, now he would be the one giving the answers.

As the sharpened tail scraped ever closer, Tasan's mind began to race, and he fought to control himself and his thoughts, trying to calm his mind as he thought about how he would act in a fight. Soon, it was his turn to speak, and he rose to his feet, unsteadily for a moment, before looking the barabel in the eyes once more. "I have been taught the basics of Shii-Cho, my lord, though not much more, to be honest." He thought for a moment once more before responding to the second question. "As for where my interest in combat lies, I wish to crush the foes of the Empire and the Sith, to make them beg for mercy before I deliver the final blow myself. For all those who would oppose order do not deserve to live."