Pain is your price...

[Reverance]

​

Prakith

Unnamed Mountain Range

Early Morning

There were few in the universe would could claim to understand misery and anguish in such delightful sentiment. Unabated, the Lord of Pain clutched his title with broken body against stone and the relish he found in such notions. An unforeseeable consequence of a life shifted sideways upon itself, he found himself with the affliction of not knowing the difference between the ending and the beginning. But for him, there existed times where the body could not muster the flood, and dams were placed upon gaping and broken channels. Crucitorn, one of the few powers that he considered a staple for any Sith, was a skill that began it's onset early in his life, beset with certain injustices. He learned quickly, torment through the body and torment through the mind, some pain wasn't meant to be endured.

The world was a harsh reality, one of the few places that closely resembled what some might consider nightmarish conditions. Jagged stone upon the mountain ranges stabbed outwardly, broken and sharp and capable of gripping. The land gave the appearance of broken and desiccated brownies, bearing only the resemblance of something akin to such dessert but biting in ways unexpected. The sky was painted a dull shade of brown, dabs of red and yellow mixed in, as mountains climbed in ascent to flat-top, often crested with the wind scarred monadnocks that revealed the granite and limestone shades of stone beneath. Going downward, the mountains struck sharply towards the lowlands, bottoming out in rift valleys that showed some semblance of water movement. Some of the rift valleys and moving water lines show indentations upon their non existent riparian zones, graben and horst indicative of parallel and quite active vault lines. However, Gabriel had found a solitary plateau to land his ship upon, the legs jutting out grab into red and white stone.

Stepping out upon the stone, Gabriel found comfort in the desolate and fortress world, teaming with the presence of the One Sith. He waited for his apprentice, eager to learn from his master, and capitalize upon punishment and burden previously afforded. Once more, it would be as good a day as any...to learn the value of pain.

[member="Logan of Little Coruscant"]

 

[Evor]

The metal door of the heavy freighter slowly lowered itself, crushing the dying grass underneath with a sharp hiss as the steam from the inner workings of the ship dissipated into the cool air of the plateau. A large figured emerged from inside the ship, the last wisps of smoke barely clinging to him as he slowly stepped forward toward his master. As neared the end of the ramp, his bowed his head slight in deference to the man, fully aware of the pain and misery that his life would be subject to if [member="Reverance"] felt that he was out of line. Logan feared that if that day ever came, one of them would walk away dead, for it was in neither of them to back down from pain or shy away from a fight. They both lived and breathed violence, albeit for different reasons. Truth be told, Logan had no idea what drove his master to the lengths he went to, and where his tolerance and welcoming of pain came from. The countless scars, missing eye and never ending abundance of skill implied he was a man with a dark background, his inclination to pain having derived from years of abuse and being pitted against the toughest does, but Logan truly had no idea.

As he kept walking forward, he glanced around the plateau, taking in all that he could. This was only the second time he had been called upon by his master, the first time resulting in a humiliating defeat in his own palace of sorts. leaving him gasping for breath on the floor, unable to move from the sheer amount of pain and body racking abuse that had been inflicted. As he looked around, he tried to see anything that could possibly give him any sort of an edge, in what he assumed was to be another fighting lesson. He stopped about 10 feet away from Reverance, breathing in deeply. He was not a man to usually be nervous, but Reverance's presence set him on edge naturally. He was so calm and collected, unaturally silent and deadly and so unlike the thugs and other brutes he was so used to dealing with that it threw him off. For that reason, he would stay quiet for about 3 minutes if Reverance said nothing, letting his own mind chew him up and over think things.

[member="Reverance"]

 

[Reverance]

"Calm yourself..." The Sith Lord spoke as he reached out with the force. He could feel the anxiety leaching out from the acolyte, newly minted in the taint of the darkside. Pain was his burden, the truest staple for growth to form. Muscles torn would rebuild anew, stronger and more powerful. Branches pulled from the trunk provide revelation to the xylem and phloem, to form new and more prospering appendages. The mind senses weakness, the body adapts and avoids. It is through these processes that one must learn to appreciate pain. It isn't a weakness, it is the most powerful signal a body can manifest and the truest form of motivation for change. And it demands respect and understanding.

The Sith Lord strode away from the freighter and sat upon the rocky plateau, legs crossed, as he pulled the dagger from sheath upon back and placed it against the adjacent stone beneath him. With a gesturing hand, he waved for the acolyte to sit across from him. "Come...sit down." A crimson eye beckoned a modicum of command, a haggard face bestowed upon a figure that was more than capable of forcing the apprentice to his knees. But this wasn't about coercion, it was about acceptance. Acceptance that certain things could not be prevented and as such, required the body to acquiesce. And giving in was all the more easier when the stimulation was understood.

[member="Logan of Little Coruscant"]