In Silent Judgment

[Wolf]

[member="Elensa Jari"]

The biting cold of the harsh Yalaran climate still found its way in some part through the auditorium, which was now used as a combat arena by the First Order Sith. First Order Sith. The term itself still troubled Wolfgang Krieger, and the Knight of Ren could only shrug and trust the Supreme Leader's judgement. The Yalaran Sith Temple was no doubt an intelligent choice of residence by those Sith who chose to swear allegiance to the Supreme Leader, and Wolf expected nothing less from them. Indeed, it was their intelligence that made them such a potent threat in Wolf's mind. Not how well they could twirl a lightsaber or use the Force.

Indeed two blades were being twirled at the moment, clashing with the sparks of combat in the centre of the combat arena. Wolf watched with interest as the two acolytes danced around the arena. They both looked young, and inexperienced. The Knight of Ren smiled to himself as he mused on the two of them. They were in store for a painful journey of suffering under the Sith. And that was how it should be. In their time here they would be broken, beaten and starved of all joy. They would either crumble and be crushed underfoot, or rise into something far greater than they had ever thought before. Wolf would be lying if he did not admit the similarities between this and the Order of Ren's own methods, though they had their differences. The two had a lot in common, perhaps there was some way for them to work together. Wolf doubted it.

He winced slightly as he shifted while sitting on the stone seats observing the spectacle, and a shot of pain ran up his leg. Under his black robes his body was covered by strange crustaceous creatures named orbalisks, that continuously bit into him and sucked on the Dark Side energy within him while pumping him with adrenalin. Thankfully for the moment, they were 'in hiding', and so the pain they inflicted upon Wolf was more tolerable than it would be when they were on full display, but it certainly was not pleasant. The main advantage they provided now was the simple fact that Wolf could walk again. He could feel eyes on him, and knew that other Sith who sat in the room would be observing him closely. Largely due to him being a Knight of Ren, and partly because the orbalisks that resided within him exuded a sickly dark presence that only made the Knight stand out all the more.

The Sith of the First Order were in their early days, and Wolf had been sent to exchange pleasantries and discuss their differing methodologies, and perhaps keep a small eye on them as they began. At their inception, the welcoming of the Sith into the First Order appeared as though it would be a popular option for Sith residing around the galaxy, but with the repelling of the Jedi from Korriban by a resurgent Sith Order, it was likely many Sith would find more attractive destinations than the First Order. And honestly, that made Wolf quite happy. He did not trust the Sith to keep to their promises, they were by nature self-serving and their ambitions lay only for themselves. However Wolf had once been a Sith himself, and he knew there were some who were more noble than others.

In his time as a simple Sith acolyte, his views then were not far from his views now. His actions had always been for what he believed was the greater good, and order and peace enforced through the galaxy by an iron fist was the greatest good he had discovered. The only things that changed in his mind between his time with the Sith and now was his realisation that the Supreme Leader was the one to enforce this peace, and that the Knights of Ren who served him truly understood the unity necessary to achieve this. Dark Siders working together in perfect tandem and harmony, not some loose collection of self-serving conquerors who happened to share some common goal, with some wanting the greater good, some wanting their own power, and others just wanting to see everything burn.

He did not trust them. Wolf knew former Sith colleagues who would have leapt for joy at the offer for refuge from the First Order. Not so they could gladly serve the Supreme Leader and install order across the galaxy. No. But because they could grow stronger again in their own right, and when the time was right, they would take their rightful place. Wolf sighed, his attention returning to the duel in the centre of the arena. There were other Sith dotted around the room. Some whose eyes were on the hooded Knight of Ren, and the dark power he exuded from the orbalisks. And some who did not care much for him at all. Wolf ignored them, his eyes trained on the parries and strikes that were in front of him. He may not trust the Sith, but he trusted the Supreme Leader's judgment, and he would do his utmost to carry out his will.

 

[Elensa Jari]

[member="Wolf"]

A whirl of colour, the loud humming noises that changed pitch with motion, the effusive cries of those exerting themselves in a contest that was both mutual education and vicious hostility, each being trying to outdo the other and score that critical hit that might end their battle and see one claim superiority, if only for a moment. Such was the life of a trainee within the Sith ranks: a never-ending endeavour, each seeking to assert themselves as worthy of the title, looking to prove themselves in the eyes of those with greater power, perhaps one day with a view to supplanting such at the top of the food chain.

The smell of ozone hung heavily in the air, a sharp scent that assailed that senses as the clash of blades severed the delicate bonds of oxygen molecules in the air, leaving an acrid odour that could be detected even outside the circle in which the two combatants fought. Standing near to the other Acolytes that had gathered nearby, coldly observing and preparing to participate in their own bouts, Elensa felt it even though her face was covered by a dark semi-transparent veil, appropriate for a woman of her status, Acolyte or otherwise. It never does to let those another see your face, she reflected. Not that these have earned such a thing.
Especially not the men among them. She hardly judged them as such, either: most of them were boys, basking in self-adulation and seeking that of their peers with all the inherent narcissism of their breed.

Those who might perhaps have been worthy to look upon her eyes without concealment were largely absent from the room: watching Acolytes strutting and showing off was not the responsibility of any of those Sith with true purpose. Such a thing might be delegated to those newly arrived at their knighthoods, or to those older instructors who were present to break and remake the students, but the majority of those in the room were not yet experienced enough to call themselves 'Sith'. As with myself, we are all merely aspirants, children playing with lightsabers that could easily take our own lives as they might of any enemy we might face.

There was a marked exception, however, one evident enough for all of them to see, though very few paid him any mind, focused as they were on the more exciting task at hand. And yet any attentive Force User would recognise one who does not belong, she reflected, her veiled eyes staring in the direction of the one with the strange presence in the Force. The Acolytes were all weaker in that aspect, motes of darkness in the presence of true shadows. This one, though, felt like something else altogether: disciplined, but flickering in essence, as though tainted or diseased. A corruption surrounded by healthy cells, a cancer growing in the belly that might be fatal to excise.

He wasn't one of them, that was clear. Darkness was his essence, his every breath, but there was something...un-Sith-like in the way he watched them. Assessing, yes, predatory, certainly, but almost far removed. As though a spectator at a show you have no interest in, but as watching intently in case something interesting happens. It was an oddness, an abberation in a place where everything was required to fit into carefully-designed boxes.

Which means you do not belong, she told him silent, her icy-blue eyes narrowing thoughtfully. Typical of a male to intrude on something that is not his business.

 

[Wolf]

[member="Elensa Jari"]

Their faces were etched with gritted determination as the two combatants continued their passionate dance. At one moment it seemed one had gained the decisive advantage, the other backpeddling and seemingly overwhelmed before darting to the side and regaining his composure. Their hungry desire to succeed and best the other was no doubt admirable, the ever-present need to better oneself and break one's chains, to overcome one's weaknesses and attain greater and greater heights was common among the Sith. And no doubt the acolytes wanted to prove themselves among their superiors, if any were even present.

Wolf's attention snapped to the battle at hand as one of the combatants cried out in pain, the other's blade striking him across the chest and sending the man reeling to the ground in pain. With his foe's scarlet blade at his neck, the defeated acolyte conceded through grit teeth. Wolf watched with interest as the defeated one struggled to his feet, the strike resulting in a light but no doubt painful burn that had seared through his tunic and across his chest. The man held his head high and proud, not looking at those few dotted around the room, before turning and ambling out of the combat arena, his hand to his chest, presumably towards somewhere he could receive medical assistance, or simply treat himself.

The victor stood in the centre of the arena, the only sound his laboured breathing as he recovered. He looked around the arena, outstretching his hands. "So who is next?" He sneered, his self-confidence no doubt greatly bolstered by his victory. His eyes were naturally drawn to the dark presence in the room, settling on Wolf. "Will it be you, outsider?" Wolf remained motionless on his seat. He merely raised an eyebrow from beneath his hood as he realised he was being addressed. His eyes met with the acolyte's, holding his gaze for a few moments of silence as eyes around the room turned to him.

Wolf's face remained expressionless, his eyes narrowing slightly as he pondered whether the acolyte truly believed he was capable of challenging him. The acolyte, slightly put off by the lack of reaction and beginning to realise he may be well out of his depth, broke his gaze with Wolf and looked to the other acolytes who stood around the arena. "Or will it be one of you?" His lightsaber re-activated with a snap-hiss, brandished with renewed vigour as he was buoyed by his recent victory.

The man was arrogant, though perhaps he could justify his self-confidence against whoever was to face him. It was a common trait found among many Sith, indeed if one had self-doubt it would lead only to weakness. At least he was not foolish enough to have followed through on his challenge to the Knight of Ren. Wolf watched with interest as the acolyte's attention focussed on a certain acolyte, a veiled woman. The man sneered, calling out to her, "Ironic, that you wear a veil to hide behind, but then wear clothes that make you stand out more than the others here." Indeed her apparel was a contrast to the usual black and grey of the acolytes that surrounded her. "Or perhaps you are still attached to the vanity of physical appearance, and you have not learned what it means to be a Sith?" The acolyte extended a hand, beckoning the woman towards him, "Come, I will teach you."

 

[Elensa Jari]

[member="Wolf"]

Perhaps the flash of indignation and anger provoked within her was easily discernable through the Force, but she cared not, eyes fixed coldly upon the Acolyte that sought to challenge her, though it was doubtful that he would see such, the veil over her face doing much to conceal her features. His words had been intended to provoke her into accepting his ridiculous challenge, and she knew well enough that she would now accept. On Hapes, a male daring to speak to her in such a fashion would have met with severe punishment of one form or another, but among the Sith, such disputes were expected to be settled by the Acolytes themselves, as a means of training and weeding out those that could not complete their training to the standards demanded.

That a male would speak to her in such a fashion enraged her, far beyond that simple umbrage at the affront he had offered. I wear a veil because you are not worthy to look me in the eyes, she told him silently. True, she had returned to wearing her native dress on joining with the Sith, putting aside the absurdities of wearing robes bereft of ornament or elegance, but this Acolyte was not of a station to call her on it. He had simply chosen Elensa as the target of his arrogance, undoubtedly feeling that he could challenge any within the room and emerge victorious from it. Something you'll quickly learn is not the case.

That the brute had also offered challenge to the outsider had come as a surprise, but that man was not bound to accept it in the way that a Sith was: he would not gain the respect of the Sith by pummelling an arrogant Acolyte, but nor would he be shamed by declining, since such provocation from a mere student was of little consequence in the scheme of things. The stillness with which the man had stared down his would-be opponent had been entertaining to observe, at least, and had offered her first insight into both: one was steady, confident in himself, inclined to view the student as beneath him, no verbal refusal even required. The other...whatever his bravado, there was fear there.

And I shall use that.

Her long skirts rustled against her ankles as she stepped forward, eyes continuing to stare from behind her veil, assessing her opponent with a sense of disdainful detachment, appraising a male that needed a lesson in how to act towards a lady. She stepped onto the sand of the small arena, feeling the crunch of it beneath her shoes, the way it yielded to sudden pressure. Reaching behind her, she drew her weapon from the binding it held on her belt, a long coiled tendril coming away in her hand.

Woven of fine metallic fibers, curled into a loop that would reach out for several meters in length if fully extended, it felt cold but comfortable in her grip, the metallic grip of the weapon curving softly to follow the line of her hand, a small loop of leather fitting neatly over her hand to tie tightly at the wrist. She shook out that long tendril, the metallic lash brushing against the sand, a soft hiss emanating from it as they started to glow with a bright white-yellow light, suddenly charged with energy.

Rotating her wrist with a small but sharp movement, the lightwhip moved, suddenly jerked firmly in a forward direction to snap out towards the other Acolyte, an energetic filament heading towards him at considerable speed. Elensa had learned that using her weapon required a subtle manipulation, not the jerkier motions required when using a traditional lightsaber, and she used this now, to cause the weapon to snap just in front of him, jerking the lash backwards before it made contact, a clear enough indication of intent.

She wasn't about to make it easy for him to beat her. Even if he walked away with victory, she'd have her pound of flesh first.

 

[Wolf]

[member="Elensa Jari"]

There was a momentary expression of surprise on the Acolyte's face as the veiled woman produced a lightwhip that came careening towards him, before being snapped back with a sudden movement. The surprise was quickly replaced by one of derision as the Acolyte stared her up and down. "If you expect to defeat me with that, you're more uneducated than I thought." With a flourish of his blade, his legs stood shoulder-width apart in the signature stance of Form V, his right hand gripping onto his lightsaber tightly beside him. "Know that the name of your teacher is Rin, and after this lesson of pain you will thank me for correcting your ignorance."

The Knight of Ren too was intrigued by the weapon of choice of the woman. He had not combatted such a foe himself either, and it would be interesting to see how the lightwhip would be used in a one on one duel. The woman's silence also struck Wolf, and he interpreted it as a show of the woman's own sense of superiority, that the Acolyte before her was not worth speaking to, and her flash of anger seemed to be saying as much.

Without warning the Acolyte Rin moved to attack. Standing at six foot, he was clean-shaven and hooded in a black robe that made his appearance unremarkable and indistinguishable from many other Acolytes, and indeed that was just the way he wanted it. He outstretched a hand towards Elensa Jari, his palm facing upwards and motioning as if he were beckoning her towards him. Tendrils of the Force suddenly lurched forward, aiming to pull Elensa Jari towards him. Perhaps he could make her fall, or at least lose her balance. Regardless of the outcome he then immediately darted forward, his blood still pumping with the adrenalin of his last fight, his muscles still primed and ready for action, though they ached.

Raising his right arm above his head, he attempted to near the woman and strike his scarlet blade down at her from her left shoulder down to her right hip. A bold move, if he managed to make it near her. He would make no attempt to spare her life with his opening strike. If she were so arrogant as to try and humiliate him by catching him off guard with her initial display of the lightwhip, the Acolyte expected her to be able to adequately cope with his opening move. If she could not, then she deserved what was coming to her.

While his face was one of marked derision, inside he was slightly uncomfortable at facing a weapon he had no knowledge of, being used to sparring with other lightsaber users. Indeed, the momentary expression of surprise he had betrayed made him feel embarrassed in front of his peers, and within his heart he felt a well of anger as he desired to give this foolish girl a lesson in respecting those that were stronger than she.

 

[Elensa Jari]

[member="Wolf"]

Uneducated, am I? Perhaps to some extent, that was true, but she felt the flash of uncertainty that had emanated from the Acolyte when she had drawn her weapon. But you don’t know what to do about this, do you? Chances are, he’d never seen such a thing – very few Sith had, from her understanding. The amount of time it had taken for her to learn of the existence of such a thing was evidence enough for that, and part of the reason she had selected it. When dealing with something you understand, confidence is only natural. But take a different approach and this is undermined. Her teachers had always said that such a thing was half the battle. Now I must win the other half.

She felt the tug of energy pulling at her, a technique she had first experienced at the hands of Sage Bane, when the two of them had fought in what seemed like a lifetime ago. That tendril of kinetic energy struck hard, wrapping around her and drawing her towards her waiting opponent. The tree that remains standing bends with the wind, she thought coolly. Instead of allowing the energy to pull her from her feet, she went with it, dropping to her knees and rolling with that momentum, shoulder-first, coming out into a firm kick that lashed out to strike at her opponent’s leg.

The illumination provided by her lightwhip dulled as the energy shut off for a moment, deactivated at her touch in order to stop her accidentally being caught by it as she moved. A dangerous weapon it might be, but the length and flexibility invariably meant that it could be unpredictable both to her and her opponent, and she had no intention of being injured by her own weapon. A sudden spark struck out near to where she had been a moment ago, the other Acolyte offering a scything cut intended to bisect her – had she still been on her feet, dragged towards him by the Force Pull. That she had kicked him firmly in the knee hadn’t stopped the momentum of that strike, but that and her sudden roll had taken her out of line, such that the attack missed by a thin margin.

That much is a start, isn’t it?, she thought, coming up onto her feet and turning with a sudden half-spin to place herself at an angle to the other Acolyte. Truthfully, she needed a little more range than she had at that moment, but though her lightwhip often worked best at full extension, there were ways to use it far closer. The white-yellow tendril hissed into existence once more as her thumb pressed against the activation stud, the whip whirling around her in a swirl of colour that only served to illuminate her.

The temptation was to send it striking forward, to perhaps wrap around a leg or an arm, and use that grip to jerk her opponent off his feet, but with a lightsaber in hand, such a thing would prove truly difficult to do. Better then to give myself a moment, and decide on a response thereafter, she mused. Throwing out her vacant left hand, she drew upon the dark energies gathering closely around them, pulled in by the exertion of their fight, then pushed outwards with them, forming that latent potential into a firm wall of kinetic energy, expressed outwards from her palm towards the one that had sought to challenge her.

Two can, after all, play at the same game. His response would dictate hers.