Tag:
Kyyrk
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Kurenai Yumi
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Millu Lee
Word Count: 1,361
The Force was quiet today.
Beric could not sense why, but it seemed more. . .
subdued than usual. He did not even know if the Force was an entity that
could be subdued. It was what bound the universe together, living, and non-living. And it was always active, teeming with life as if it was its own world to explore. But for some reason, that energy, that boundless power of creation? It was silent.
And Beric did not know why.
When he had gotten the transmission that he was to be summoned to the Knights of Obsidian's new headquarters to be promoted to the rank of Obsidian Lord, he had been caught off-guard. It had not been something that he was expecting; most of his time spent in the Knights of Obsidian had been devoted to peacekeeping missions around Vandor and the sector at large or training Millu so that she could come into her own one day as a master of the Force.
But to be recognized himself as more than a master, but a Lord? It was a gratifying gesture. But the stillness of the Force had added an air ofquiet menace to the message. He did not know if the Force was trying to reach out and speak to him, and if it was, what was it trying to say? Beric had served the Knights of Obsidian since Vandor had elected to join the Confederacy, and he had seen the good that it had brought to the galaxy. Was the Force trying to warn him of the Knights and deeper malice that was hidden within? Or was there a more sinister impending danger that the Force was trying to make Beric aware of?
Suddenly, he felt a surge of the Force overtake him as his vision began to blur and change. He was no longer in the adjourning room to the council chambers of Arx Obsidia, but a scene that seemed to be a memory from his childhood. He felt his senses began to slip away until his reality completely distorted as his mind fully dove into vision. . .
[] - - - []
Jormund Layne stood amid the highest tower of Frosthall. A snowstorm had shook the castle-village overnight, and freshly fallen snow covered the ancient stone crenelations. He was a powerfully built man, with broad shoulders and a broad torso, and his salt and pepper gray hair hung loose and long over the fur cloak that graced sat over his armors, providing an unneeded but commonplace buffer against the cold. His hands were folded behind his back as the wind whipped at his hair and cloak, his long strands flying black in the breeze.
It was quiet. Peaceful. There was a sense of tranquility in the air, the calm that came after the storm.
That sereness was disturbed by the sudden noises of a small boy.
A child, likely around ten or so with blond hair that fell just above his shoulders. His eyes were bright blue, like that of ice. Compared to Jormund, this boy was small and wiring, his fur cloak dwarfing his light frame. The boy held a misshapen wooden stick, likely a piece left out from one of the log piles used to keep the massive watchfires burning. He seemed to be using it as a pretend laser sword, imitating the noises of clashing blades and the reports of blasters as he waded through the throngs of an imaginary army.
He whooshed with his mouth as he cut down an imaginary foe and deflected an imaginary blaster bolt. "There are more enemies, cresting the hill!" he cried to what must have been his imaginary allies as he began to vault himself up the stairs, continuing his pretend battle scene as he did so. But when he reached the top, his boot caught the ledge of the final stone step, and he fell over faceplanting in the snow. He looked up, his face partially covered in snow, and saw the silhouette of his father, who turned slowly, peering down at the boy.
"What is this?" Jormund asked with an eyebrow raised, and the boy seemed ashamed as he drew himself to his knees, brushing off the snow that clung to his robes and his cloak.
He looked up slowly, with only his eyes, his face still downturned. "Sorry, father. It was nothing -- I was. . . playing."
Jormund's face was covered by a massive beard that gave away his aging, but he still gave a smile that peered through the bushy mass. "Playing make-believe again, are we?" He chuckled ruefully, before extending a massive gloved hand towards the boy, beckoning him closer. "Come now, son. There is no shame in enjoying victory -- even if it just pretend," he added. His eyes were crinkled, and in their ice-blue irises, the same as his son's sparkled with a warmth that betrayed his true nature.
Still embarrassed, the boy dropped the stick to the ground, its fall muffled by the fallen snow. He picked himself up and trudged over to his father, standing at his side as they viewed the entirety of Frosthall and the mountains that surrounded it. "Son," Jormund said. "What do you see?"
The boy looked up at his father in confusion. That question had an obvious answer, didn't it? It seemed a strange one to ask. "I see Frosthall," he answered timidly. "And. . . the mountains beyond them?"
Jormund clasped the boy's shoulder with a massive hand, gesturing with the other towards the panorama that lay before them. "I do not mean with your eyes. Close them. Reach out with your senses, and tell me what you see."
Heeding his father, the boy shut tight his eyes as he began to strain out with the force, his tongue licking his upper lip in concentration. At first he could see nothing, but then -- there was something. And another something. Flashes of light. . . no, they were more than light. They were pure, indescribable. "I -- I can see it The trees! The snow-marmots! The Kod'yok herds! The herders themselves!"
Jormund gave a smile. "This is the Force, my son. It is what binds our world and the galaxy together. It will be your guide, and it will never lead you astray."
"Trust it, Beric. It will be the only thing you can when all else has failed."
[] - - - []
As suddenly as it had begun, the Force vision had ended, leaving Beric with more questions than answers. That had been him with his Father, and he now remembered the moment that the two had shared. It had been the beginning of a long journey during which he had come into his own as the Lord of Frosthall.
But still. . .
what was the Force trying to tell him?
He would not have time for answers. Not yet, at least. The note had been sounded, and it was Beric's time to enter the council chambers of Arx Obsidia.
The Obsidian Council sat in a semi-circle on a raised dais at the end of the flat marbeled room, a concentric ring in front of them that Beric now moved to stand. There were observers all about the chamber, and Beric knew that his apprentice would be one of them. He waited at the edge of the ring as the Lord Commander rose to his feet and began to speak.
"My brothers and sisters," the Lord Commander began, addressing the entire chamber,
"we gather once again to recognize another of our number. Of this, the question was never if, but of when. This ceremony serves as a formality, and little more. For I hold this individual to have successfully passed the Reaving. And perhaps in time, his apprentice shall stand among our number as full-fledged Knight Obsidian. Knight Beric. Step forward."
Slowly he walked forward at the behest of the Lord Commander, kneeling to the ground with one knee once he reached the center of the circle, his head bowed towards the Council and Lord Commander in deference as he waited for them to continue.
Beric Layne
was to be ascended to Obsidian Lord this night. Long had he been among the more notable Lotus operatives. Much like
Taiia Locke
, the man had proven himself in the recent hardships. Certainly one Voph was confident could help lead the Knights into a new age. As before, the Obsidian Council gathered upon the dias at the edge of the main courtyard. 
Vytal Noctura
Asaraa Vaashe
Rylan Kordel
Gerwald Lechner
Lunara Azure
Lucianus Adair
Hisashi
Ashelia Solidor
Shalita Verd
Zlova Rue
Nine Lives
Zoe Rosella
Aries Creed
Eli-Mae Forrest
Veronika Fleischer
Vyse de Valorous
Aadya Volke
Teyla Sal-Soren
Vanir Eris
Redd
Julra Repraj
Shamira Karuto
Laneya Wexler
Talak Jenste
Ticca
Krystal
Fury of Aerðs
Xevnlie BrightScorch
Miyako Saki
Cord Starfall
Pyeth Raffinki
Dreidi Xeraic
Ora Haskarr
