One more before the Bell Tolls. (Satra)

[Raien Keth]

One more before the bell tolls.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=YEm-az-xUxE​

The presence(s) inside Krayt’s reborn armor slept inside the great halls, awaiting one foolish or daring enough to disturb their rest, usually this would come in the form of some invasion into OS territory or other malcontents threatening the integrity of the Sith that he was awakened to dispatch.

Today it came in the form of one last student, there had been many dozens over the decades, some here, some before time forgot the Echani sun guard champion, general and gladiator. Perhaps there was one lesson left in him, if the potential might survive it as ever.

Rising from his meditative slumber the ancient Sith took steady, heavy steps towards the arena, each one denting the floor, leaving mark of his passing in force and physical awareness, only able to see that which was strong enough in the force to warrant his attention, the rest a grey canvas of nothing to him. Arriving at the arena, the betrayers feet dug into the stone of the place, motionless as he always beneath the spiked armor and vong shaped maul now replacing his left hand, a mighty weapon in of itself but no more welcoming.

Darth Surtr stood for one perhaps final time upon the arena floor, chest rising and falling inside the armored shell, as he breathed of the darkside evident in this place. Here passing force signatures were lighter to his dim sith spawn eyes, purpose renewed in their shaping to be more than they were.

Always a test, the first one to face him.

[member="Satra Woodle"]
​

 

[Satra Woodle]

Satra enters the Arena. One more chance for the Sith. She would not run away this time when fear overran her. She would stand strong. Become strength. Power. It was the Sith way.

She had given herself a challenge, for sure. Of course, she was not looking for a permanent master. But this Sith was a strong one. She would learn from him. Would be set on a path for greatness. Power. Power was what she wanted. Power was what she would get. She would no longer fear. She would take the power. Be independent. But first she needed a teacher. And she would start with this man.

She examines the Sith, a heap of armour. He had given full dedication in his quest for power. Power. the word came back again. Power was what she saw in him. She must be his last student. He was on the brink of losing it all. She nods too him in respect.

 

[Raien Keth]

~Time is short. Listen well.~ His voice echoed in her mind, strong, pure and powerful of tone. Noting the nod, she had no need of respect toward him, his best students had hated him thoroughly in equal measure to their respect. For all there was merely force potential inside to be unleashed, and indeed his eyes began to bore into her aura searching for it.

Surtr descended the steps toward her, she had come to him with open hands, which was preferable, no pre-conceived barriers in the way to rip down to get to the truth of her. So now to see who and what she was or would become. Though it was true the walking armor was less and less mortal flesh, there was no frailty here, instead there was more and more inanimacy to it, ironically a forced return to the days as a motionless Echani in part.

Pressure in the force became focused upon the potential, heavy pressure, demanding answer to the most important question any sith could ever answer. It would dictate how long they would survive, how powerful they would become and what would sustain them. For it had sustained him past his time, far long past, while so many had come, gone or fallen to become flawed Jedi, fuel to burn for any growing Sith under their heel.

~Why do you come before me?~ What was her purpose, her passion and driving force. A strong one was required, the more detailed the better, her first test and training. She had to claim it, to take it.

[member="Satra Woodle"]​

 

[Satra Woodle]

​"Power! Power is what I wish too take. And you are the one with enough skill too grant my that desire. I tell that your time draws near, one way or another, surely you must carry on your legacy one way or another?"

​​Satra questions her answer for a second, wondering if it will be seen as rude. Too make sure this is not her first impression, she continues too bow her head too the Sith lord.

​"In short, I am asking you for training, and another chance among the Sith."

​​She ends on a more respectful note, and a hint of fear would break through, though only one skilled in giving fear would notice it.

 

[Raien Keth]

“Never ask.” Keth’s physical voice revealed itself, powerful as the gladiator of old since the armor rebuilt the body, but phasing in and out. “Act.” The strongest sith decided what they wanted, and walked towards it. Stupid ones overstretched, others shaped the galaxy to their own liking, one act, or one battle, or one gesture at a time.

Surtr made heavy step towards her, more of the arena floor claimed for the session. Slivers of fear coming from her, ones he was well practiced in inflicting. Each needing to be conquered embraced and used as a weapon, as with all things. Much to teach and little time, direct his words were.

~What does power give you.~ Again he spoke to her mind directly. Motivation, reason, what drove her, what was behind her, in front of her. ~Power, credits, ships, men~ a metaphorical click of his fingers, which for the armored hand shattered a nearby stone, ~come and go like dust.~ There was no wrong answer here, just the strength of her conviction tested.

Sith Philosophy 101, he was face to face with the potential. Vong spikes atop the armor, a step more might have impaled the woman. Force senses looked into Satra, into her mind, her past, her present, what made her who she was and what she craved?

[member="Satra Woodle"]​

OOC:

Spoiler

Fill in the blanks if you like, for what he sees in her. You’re doing well