Torment, chicken soup for the Sith soul [CLOSED]

[The Gloaming]

The dueling ring was just for show. Nobody was really watching, except maybe a few acolytes or Marquette who had nothing better to do than watch Gienn teach his apprentice a very hard lesson.

He stepped out toward the center of the ring, awaiting Philli'p. His lightsaber had been turned on it's lowest setting, not out of pity or empathy. No, it was a pack of respect. To be hurt be a Sith, both mentally and physically, was a privilege. Such a taste of the power of the Dark Side was not for just anyone. This one had to be deserving. Of course Gienn would not allow his opponent any relief, otherwise he would learn nothing.

No darts, no lightning, just the basics today. That was all Gienn needed most of the time anyway. The familiar snap-hiss sounded in his ears, basking his brain in the glow of power.

 

[DeathToll]

His fingers rubbed at the fresh bandage around his palm. He had been sitting in his stone hard bed, wishing away all that he had done and regretting all that he would do. The pain to come always outweight the pain of the past. A new bandage reminded him only how he'd soon need another one.

The jingling of the chain at his belt, ringing the sound of his approach as he turn a corner; Phili'p had arrived, with lightsaber reluctantly waiting to be plucked for battle. It twisted and turned, just as this Acolyte's insides churned with a sickness. He was to fight his new Master today. Phili'p would not enjoy this...

And walked in to the center of the ring and out from the haze into focus. His only concentration upon denial of this very excercise. His fists at his sides, lifting back behind him as he give a hesitant and half bow; not wanting to look back up for fear of the fight to begin. Phili'p was still having trouble calling him his 'Master'.

His sleeves hung past his knuckles, and the old burn marking across the left of his neck and face show through - even beneath the torn shirt at his collar. The thin, long stiletto blade was tucked into his left boot as usual; the feeling of the object not even phasing him after all this time.

"I ...await... your command."

He spoke, not quite convincing; still having to yet pull at the lightsaber he had created from his belt.

 

[The Gloaming]

Gienn sensed a great amount of doubt in Philli'p. Not just for the fight, but for just about everything. "Indescision leads to death. If you are to serve me and learn to survive, you must be DESCISIVE!"

As his voice rose, his hand did with it. He struck his apprentice in the face with the back of his hand. It felt good to inflict pain.

"If you are angry, strike me out of vengeance. If you are fearful, defend yourself from my sting. If you are unsure, curl up and rot."

Gienn turned his back on his apprentice, and awaited a failed attempt at revenge.

 

[DeathToll]

Phili'p's cheek turned with the smack, his eye tearing. In that instant, it was like the striking of lightning within him as memory flooded his emotion with sadness and anger. He remembered his tree. His brow lowered, nose scrunching up, and eyes beaming. The man had turned his back. There was no escaping the Darkside.

While he stand there in building hate, the lightsaber hilt at his belt quivered and pull at its chain. Boiling rage filling his hate for this place, for himself.

His right hand snatched up the hilt and swung, the red beam spewing out as he swing down a crossing blow at the exposed back in a scream.

"Aaaarrhhh!!!"

 

[The Gloaming]

Gienn took two steps forward and felt the lightsaber pass right behind his back. He suddenly straightened up and swung his blade around. The crimson beam of light, about two thirds the length of a normal one, made contact with Philli'ps hand, sending his own lightsaber reeling away.

Gienn plucked the hilt off the ground without even moving his hand, and in an instant, stood before his apprentice with both blades drawn.

"You have no control over a weapon. If you are to be a weapon yourself, I suggest you learn to first conquer to blade."

Gienn slapped Philli'ps blade against his thigh before returning it to it's owner. "Now you know what kind of pain to expect from training alone. If you have rage, I suggest you use it, lest you be made a fool..."

Gienn turned his back on his apprentice once more, and deactivated his blade with a tsk-tsk.

 

[DeathToll]

Phili'p cringed as the hilt smack upon the thigh. His hand was red, pulsating with a pain from that shortened and stunted beam's contact. He knew pain, though that never eased its sharp familiar greeting.

His teeth showing, air forcing a thin saliva to bleed through each crevace, in a grind; with his head held low, he could not hold the anger at bay. It was what Gienn wanted. He had batted Phili'p's saber away with ease. Phili'p's hatred of the Darkside curdled, like spoiled concentrations of evil swimming in a gew of dark-red blood.

A string of spit, led by a tiny orb, freely flung out from his teeth and past his lower lip to land onto his chin. He felt the Force ...the Darkside seeping into him. If only for this moment, he would allow it. He stretched open his hand, fingers flexing with pain, as the bones in joints and tendons crack. He took his lightsaber with a sparking ignition, straight out as he force a skidding step and thrust the blade forward with a spitting rage; a single scream of hate for that red beam to hit true and delve into the middle arch of Gienn's spine.

"RraaAAGHH!!!"

 

[The Gloaming]

Gienn dropped. Right below the blade in fact, and he'd only intended to wait until his apprentice moved, not struck. No, Philli'p was already faster because Gienn made him angry. A moment of staring, partially at the blade, partially past it, and the Sith was already rolling away from the blade. He stood and ignited his own, watching momentarily as rage built in his apprentice.

Gienn stepped forward and hopped about a meter off the ground with a dizzying spin. After four or five rotations, he felt his feet connect with the ground again, and his lightsaber thrust forward at the young man before him.

 

[DeathToll]

Phili'p followed after Gienn's trail, turning a head to where he'd next attack. Twisting his saber down, only to swirl it upwards for a powerful blow, his actions were slowed as he watch the blurring rotation of his Master before him.

When Gienn's feet touched down and his saber lash out, Phili'p had only been able to strike out with a stumble off to the side. He staggered back after he had swatted at Gienn's blade, the contact knocking Phili'p back in his clumsy side-step.

Phili'p's face swelled with a beat red anger, and he skid forward with a leading left foot; crossing over a slanted two-handed slash from his right to left.

 

[The Gloaming]

Gienn put his blade forward, and blocked the strike with less than medium power. Now he would quit bullying Philli'p and actually teach him something.

Gienn stepped back to speak. "Have you had any training?"

 

[DeathToll]

It took Phili'p a moment to come out of his anger. In fact, he didn't; only looking as if he had. He pulled at his forward leg to get back up to a normal stand, to force himself to disengage from the beginning-level duel. His saber-in-hand fell to his right side, his head holding low; he found it difficult to look Gienn in the eyes.

"...S-Some."

Phili'p was reluctant to give a straight answer, not out of fear for the man who called himself his Master and not out of a shy introvertedness from his unnaturally extended time alone. Phili'p wanted to kill this man, yet wanted to deny him Phili'p's free will of the Darkside both. He was conflicted, and so it showed in his moddest answer. He had been trained for most of his young life, unreliably able to tap into his powers; though never had he gained a control over his actions. When he was in control, he was in denial of his darkness. When he had been enraged by his temper, as Gienn had done here today, he was no more dangerous than a cub with half-grown claws. There were times when he had shown great promise, though only followed by pitiful times of regression.

As he answer, Phili'p's audible thoughts arose with a chaotic replay of past attempts by other Masters; failed attempts, and painful experiences.

 

[The Gloaming]

"Because you have a great darkness in you, I know you can be a talented warrior. But you must be able to wield a lightsaber, it is imperative. If a Jedi can do it, you should be able to as well. There are Seven recognized Forms of lightsaber combat, but there are others as well, unorthodox methods infused with unorthodox weapons."

Gienn reached back into the locker room with the Force, and pulled forward a bag with several different lightsaber hilts. He pulled two out, one double bladed, and one with a handle twice the normal length.

"These are my lightsabers, used only when I honestly believe I may die. The Shoto I've been using is only for practice. When I'm surrounded, I use the fourth form, Ataru. It allows me to move from enemy to enemy in the blink of an eye, taking advantage of space and time. This is when my double bladed saber sees use. But when I am in a duel, though my acrobatic capabilities are much greater, I prefer the use of the seventh form, Juyo. This is when my long handled saber see use, because it allows me control of the blade, and a more efficient fulcrum to generate power and ferocity. Pick a hilt from the bag, unless you prefer your own, and tell me what you know of the forms, and which you admire the most."

 

[DeathToll]

Time seemed weighted down into soaking mud, as Phili'p lift up that simple lightsaber in hand. His fist rising up over the bag, arm stretched with wrapping muscle in misuse and sagging sleeves of unwarrior-like atire. The glow in hum, the red beam of evil still lit, held its pitch steadily.

No matter Phili'p's wishes, he never denied enevitability. He never denied the power of the Darkside. Though he wished he had never been born, and that he never knew of his connection to the dark mystery; he always found himself revisiting that point, standing in the midst of the blind rage and vaporous heat.

With a defeated stare to Gienn's feet, Phili'p switched off the blade. For once, he would let his detestable talent seep through. He had been holding it back, placing more concentration on caging the very feelings and natural affinity for battle instead of letting his muscles live memory of what it knew to be truth.

With the flat of his fist facing up, bold knuckles jutting from fingers wrapped into fleshy palm, he twist his wrist up and twirl the hilt through the course of those fingers with ease; spinning it around so that the emitter face reverse in grip. His last and smallest finger press upon the switch and re-ignite the beam horizontally and out in the same direction that it had been before, only with a face up fist in reverse. He then continue to flourish the saber about him in a readjusting grip to point the beam down to the side of his right foot. Never looking up, he dejected...

"I am ...vicious. Strange. I ...admire Juyo. I ...respect its paradox, its fury."

It was difficult, to say the least, to acknowledge his hated qualities; but to speak them outloud, and to one such as this, was nearly impossible. It was clear that he prefered his own hilt. He had not yet earned any such an advanced hilt, and though he did not act it - he did believe in the right of the strong. Finishing his honesty with a guilty gasp and swallow down those escaped words, Phili'p seemed to melt from grace; his moment in focus lost to regret and doubt. In truth, Phili'p would show promise in both forms Juyo and Ataru. It seemed, more and more, he would follow in his ...'Master's' footsteps.

His eyes barely drifted up, but for a second and before they ran back to the floor. He was a slave, hesitating but unable to deny what was demanded of him. He finally answer.

"I know that Shii-Cho is simple ...weak. That Makashi is limited. That Soresu is stunted, Ataru is aggressive, Djem So is physical, that Niman is passive, and that Juyo... Juyo is irratic."

However you translate, it seemed as though Phili'p spoke negatively of every single form. Though, for once, he seemed to show some knowledge and finally act the part. He hid his nature well, all these years. Hating who he was didn't make it easy to grow as a prominent talent in the Darkside.

 

[The Gloaming]

"Juyo is erratic, and vicious, as you said. But it is also meditative. Although not as fluid as Ataru, the short staccato sequences can mold your mind into the area of combat. Your ferocity with the form can guide you to victory. You must first learn to vent your anger properly."

Gienn ignited his long-handled lightsaber, and tossed the bag out of the dueling ring. "When you attack me with all your might, I will deflect it with ease. You will become frustrated, this is good. What happens next is dire! Do not allow your frustration to envelop you, to overtake you. Take that frustration, and any anger you surely feel towards me, and place it not in your mind, but in your stomach. This is where your fight comes from. When you are fueled by your anger, able to strike without thinking, without boiling inside, you will find a new attack. One you've never performed. This is Juyo. Come kill me..."

 

[DeathToll]

For once, Phili'p was eager to engage the fight. Though he listened, he could not stand the fact that he was going to be attempting to apply Gienn's teachings; as if he actually wanted to become a Sith. His skin rubbed across the hilt of his lightsaber, squeezing it with a madness; willing to take the next step towards what he could not endure, only to end it all. Phili'p wanted only to rip the walls of the galaxy down, if only to give himself peace. If that meant he had to learn the very things that made his skin blister and boil, then... so be it.

Before Phili'p had even given attempt at Gienn's teachings, the Master had already "deflected his attack". Gienn's words only further brought discomfort and a squirming frustration up past his stomach. Phili'p almost couldn't even keep -that- down, let alone keep down his actions not yet come to pass. But when Gienn gave word, Phili'p put his words to the test.

Phili'p burst out with a scream, a swiping one-handed slash from his low right up through left; lunging forth with his left foot to close the distance, in an opening rage.

 

[The Gloaming]

Gienn kept his blade pointed toward the ceiling. When Philli'ps attack was deflected, Gienn swiped his blade forward by tilting the long handle. If Philli'p was focused enough, he would surely block.

 

[DeathToll]

Phili'p brought his other hand to join upon the hilt's grip, angling his blade to come back up for a same-side block and putting his entire body's weight behind it. He would attempt to push the Master's blade away (crossing his own saber over to his left and hopefully pushing Gienn's saber away and to Gienn's right) with a shove, then angle his own blade to sweep in horizontally through Gienn's torso.

 

[The Gloaming]

Gienn hopped out of the way of his apprentices blade. Now things were moving.

"Remember, Juyo is the ferocity form, so press the attack, and use combos."

Gienn stepped forward again, and kept his blade still before him, awaiting a flurry of attacks.

 

[DeathToll]

Phili'p had done it, so far; keeping his rage in like a bottled up compressor. Having let go with his left hand after letting the sweep of his attack fly right, Phili'p stepped left as Gienn stepped forward.

Shooting in, Phili'p angled his body to the left (almost past Gienn's right side) and swatted Gienn's blade upwards from underneath. Phili'p's head would be a target, just to Gienn's right side and was meant to draw an attack like any feint. Phili'p didn't wait to find out though, as he then ducked down under his own saber with a flourish over head - only to bring it round for a horizontal slice into Gienn's underbelly and under the guard of his saber. Phili'p's head would pop back up on the other side, to Gienn's left.

Phili'p's free hand was not so free, following his saber wielding right hand's every move. And as his second attack would no doubt be deflected or blocked, Phili'p's anger might overtake him as he further aimed to slide the blade through that attack to free up his lightsaber for a further lifting slice through Gienn's throat. To do this, Phili'p would have to let his lightsaber slide up against Gienn's lightsaber (if Gienn had blocked Phili'p's attack) and sidestep around Gienn's left to rip away that slice from their saber's connection and through Gienn's throat.

 

[The Gloaming]

Gienn blocked the first attack, and saw an opening. He ignored it. The young man was learning, but still readable. As Philli'p flourished at Gienn's stomach, Gienn simply pushed his handle downward, letting it take the blow.

Philli'p lunged at Gienn's throat, rather fast too. Gienn tossed his lightsaber into the air and bent backwards, watching the blade slide just above him. His hands made contact with the floor, and his legs kicked up, swatting the blade from his apprentices hand.

Gienn rotated all the way backwards, landing on his feet again, several meters away. His hands outstretched, one on either side, and both lightsabers fell into his grip.

"Good, you're progressing. But you must allow your body to act, and your mind to flow free of form. Focus on victory, not on the movements. I could read your next move, which is precisely incongruent to Juyo as a form and as a lifestyle. You must surprise yourself with each flourish, parry, and block. One part in which many Sith fail is that they don't allow the Force to guide their movements, as well as controlling it. Only the survivors know to do this. You are learning Philli'p. Now, come at me again!"

Gienn tossed his apprentices lightsaber back to him, and stood in a defensive stance.

 

[DeathToll]

Phili'p's hand was smacked loose by the kick, and he watched as his saber flew into the hands of his Master. The bandage wrapped upon his hand flapped open and he gripped it with the other hand. At first he was surprised, then he felt a disapointed anger swelling up inside, and finally he found himself rethinking his strategies. As he caught his saber, he was not boiling over with a vengeance in failure. He was not on the verge of lashing out in a blind rage. Phili'p didn't even realize that the lesson had taken hold of his mind, stimulated in his attempts to defeat Gienn within the perameters of his desired form. Should he have a moment to realize what he was showing signs of, he would throw his saber aside and deny the Master of his cooperation. But he didn't. The bandage gave him distraction, and he tore it off, throwing it to the side and flexing out the hand to breath easier. The scars were clear, though it was not his meaning to show off his most recent denial of who he was; the deep cut still in healing across the center of his fleshy palm. He would fight through the pain. It was a torment, feeding his soul.

When Gienn gave call to another attempt, Phili'p had recalled the Master's own reflexes in movement. He knew learning this most difficult form would not be easy, but he needed to show a promise in it to reach more advanced stages of teaching.

Phili'p dashed in towards Gienn. And instead of attacking outright, Phili'p flourished his blade across and between them. Spinning it around, he finally reached a convenient and involuntary side-slash from his left. His blade remained in his dominant right hand supported by the left, so that the slash came from a crossed arm. This slash, that would have been easily blocked but not easily deflected, was immediately followed up by a rebounding bash of the beam closer to the hilt. This action would have looked like a quick and powerful jab or punch with a two handed grip upon the hilt, not moving much from the previous position after the slash had contacted with Gienn's lightsaber or perhaps missed entirely to retract for this follow up. This 'bash' was rocked forth with his entire body weight to force Gienn's lightsaber up and back, as Phili'p was finding a new strength in his led movements. Immediately thereafter, his wrists twisted to tightly swing around the tip of his lightsaber for another slash from the opposite side. Finally, after this slash had most likely been blocked or otherwise dealt with, Phili'p pulled the hilt back in a similar manner as before for the 'bash' only this time angled his lightsaber to swing down through Gienn's hopefully exposed leg.

After the first three attacks, Gienn's blade would have possibly been forced away and to the side. This would leave his leg open, as Phili'p had shuffled his feet to circle the Master in his attacks; thus further attempting an angle for that side, that leg. As Phili'p attempted that last swing, he more utilized the beam rather than a full motion of his arms; almost keeping the hilt at his center for the entirety of those four motions. And in that last motion, he moreso pulled the hilt of the lightsaber back and away to his left for the swing to cut through the entire thigh he aimed for; and would use that pulling momentum to slide back and to his left, contradicting what his previous aim in movement might have been for another sequence of attempted strikes.