Silent Forge

[Elensa Jari]

Location: Medical Bay, Former Jedi Temple, Coruscant

Her time in the medical bay done, her wounds bandaged but not fully healed, the moment had come to resume her training. Elensa's participation in the Acolyte Tournament had not gone as well as she had hoped, though she had known from the start that it was a futile thing to attempt - her training was woefully lacking in the Sith methods of combat, and it had been evident from the beginning that they had not been required to follow those same courtesies that the Jedi practiced. Hardly a surprise that they always seem to get the upper hand against Jedi in true combat. That was a lesson she had learned now, at the hands of [member="Sage Bane"], and it wasn't one she was anxious to repeat any time soon. He had humbled her in the way that men often tried to, and the Acolyte wasn't yet certain whether she was any stronger for it.

The wound on her abdomen had healed nicely with the application of a little kolto and some much-needed sleep, but her hand had required a good deal more work. The med-droids had splintered the fingers and placed it in a cast that made her slender hand look twice as big as usual, a situation she was less than pleased with. Had he taken the hand off at the wrist, a prosthetic might have been quicker to place upon her wrist, but with the bones crushed painfully, the fingers had needed to be set and splintered, while the fractures in the palm had required the use of bone cement to pull the fragments back together, combined with a bone-welder to carefully fuse them back together. It might be weeks before she could properly use the hand, so further combat was out of the question.

Her sole saving grace was that the Sith weren't overly fond of pain medication, so even though her hand hurt as though she periodically dipped it in hot lava, her mind was at least clear of the soporific effect that a sedative or painkiller might have had on her mind. Not as though taking it would cause me to slur my words, though, she thought morosely. The Sith believed that pain was a teacher, something that each of them had to overcome in order to grow and become stronger. The tournament had certainly proved that: she had suffered many kinds of pain in the process of her defeat, none of them quick to leave her, and few as simple to treat as her hand and stomach.

Now unable to participate in more practical lessons for a little while - though she'd have been little surprised if the Lords would force her to anyway, requiring that she cope with the temporary disability - her time now needed to be directed somewhere that would be suitably productive. The choice had been easy, of course. In truth, it was made for me. In the Jedi Temple, she might have spent a few weeks recuperating, meditating privately or in groups, participating in philosophical discussions, or reading in the Temple Archives. Here, more proactive methods were required, lest she be singled out from the pack by her brethren and eliminated. Acolytes are not permitted to kill each other, she mused, shaking her head. But in truth, punishments for such a crime are for getting caught, not for the act itself. If any of the others felt that her present weakness was an opportunity, they would eliminate her. And in my present state, I could do little to stop them.

The biggest loss she had suffered had been both real and symbolic: that last few moments of the battle had parted her from her lightsaber. She had been unable to retrieve it, knocked unconscious through her opponent's use of strangulation, and knew it was lost to her now. Ironically, it was here on Coruscant that she had constructed it originally, under the watchful eye of her Jedi Master. It had taken her several long months of learning the technical aspects, making a few mistakes in trying to replicate them directly, practising the meditations and rituals required to complete that blue-bladed weapon. It was her last tie to the Jedi Order, and one she knew that was gone from her now, a piece of her life she had sought to hold onto and had now been taken from her.

Defenseless, that was how she felt now. Elensa had never been a woman to feel misgivings over such: both Jedi and Sith taught that security was a myth, a feeling of complacency that people tricked themselves into. But now she was surrounded by beings who sought the best from her and would see her dead if she failed. But even in those last moments, I always thought to put up a fight, she reflected. There is no chance of this now. So, her course was set, readily enough: if she could not protect herself against the others, she needed to work on correcting this. In the absence of my lightsaber, I must build another.

This one would be different, of course. A Jedi's lightsaber reflects who they are: it is a tool designed to protect and defend, one built in a state of calm serenity, with their clear purpose being to connect them to their blade and to the Force more strongly. It was a rite of passage, and one she had eventually passed, but a Sith weapon...this was not the same at all. To a Jedi, a lightsaber is a tool, something you hope never to have to use. To a Sith, it is a warning to all, a necessity that serves as an extension of their destructive capability. A Sith without a lightsaber was a target, pure and simple. And I am done being a target for others, Elensa mused. If Sage taught me anything, it is that I cannot wait and hope for blessed providence. I must take my fate in my own hands, before someone takes my life in theirs and crushes it.

She clearly had a lot of work ahead of her now.

 

[Elensa Jari]

Location: Jedi Archives, former Jedi Temple, Coruscant

Her walk here had been straightforward enough, but so odd was it to stride through these well-remembered halls wearing the clothing of the Jedi enemy, knowing fully well that her every breath was perhaps a betrayal of those who had once called her 'family'. But they died, unable to preserve their lives or mine against the Sith, she reflected sorrowfully. The only difference was that she was dying more slowly: first her soul before her body. To see myself here like this...perhaps that was always to be my fate. She had sought to live as a Jedi, even though she had struggled with it, but that path was at an end. Destroyed now along with my voice, and those who had been all that was left of my world. The Sith had given her a new one, offering her the torture of life rather than the sweet release of death. Then, I would have welcomed a lightsaber piercing my heart, but they gave me a mercy that is perhaps more insidiously more sadistic.

The Archives remained much as she recalled: walls stacked with glowing holobooks, containing data from across millenia and from all reaches of the known Galaxy. Elensa had never failed to be awed by the magnificence of it, and even those Sith who felt that this place was a decadence the Jedi arrogantly flaunted, they could not deny that it was a significant spoil of war, available for their use if they had the patience, courage and wit to use it. Not all among us do, of course, but they see the Jedi path as heretical, worthy of destruction. Perhaps had the Sith Lord who had led the first strike teams here not had a cool head upon their shoulders, this place might have collapsed in flames, sundered and corrupted into uselessness.

She had taken her place at one of the many consoles lining the room, fitting into a seat with a familiarity that provoked just a touch of true nostalgia. I've sat here before, many times, to read, to study, to research. Her Master had insisted upon it, back in those days: to a Jedi, understanding and acceptance was the key to their ideology. If you don't understand, you should look! She'd always liked this spot: the chair was comfortable, the terminal function, and she had been right by one of the small Selab tree that had been planted within to give the room a less severe aspect. The smell of the leaves had reminded her of home: the small handful within had been the gift of the Hapes Consortium, and that had always offered her comfort in moments of distress. Gone now, of course. Burned, perhaps, or used to adorn some Sith Lord's quarters. It left the room very much empty, for reasons beyond her ability to explain. Alien to me now, as perhaps it might always have been but for that little touch.

The glowing screen before her described many different types of lightsaber: multi-bladed weapons, extendable blades, curved hilt weapons designed for one-handed combat, even a lightsaber pike that had been carried by Force Sensitive guards to beings of magnificent power throughout the ages. To carry one would be to lose any sense of concealment, of course. Those were taller even than she was, no doubt unwieldy to use by any but the most agile. The notion of constructing something more traditional had occured to her, of course: technically, she had already done so before, in the form of the weapon she had now lost to her opponent during the Tournament. But such only taught me that I must be as unpredictable as he was dangerous. To that end, she needed something that might yet surprise an opponent.

Several hours of looking had not yet enlightened her, as frustrating as that was. Each kind of weapon had specifications attached: component lists, suggested means of obtaining some of the rarer items that might be required (with particular emphasis placed upon locating suitable crystals to serve as a focusing mechanism), information regarding the rituals that might be undertaken in their construction, mostly useless to a Sith, of course. The Lightsaber Pike, she had rejected as useless, and the weapon she was reading of now, the Lightfoil, had intrigued her only insofar as a similar weapon (absent the energy blade) was often used on her homeworld for duelling purposes among the men of the noble houses. But still not an appropriate tool for one such as me. No, these wouldn't do at all.

 

[Elensa Jari]

Location: K'Farri, Hapes Consortium

The Archives had proven perplexing as they always had - there had been plenty of obscure references to weapons of varying type, but very few useful leads. Plenty of Force Users had created weapons similar to the lightsaber, and so there had been many options to choose from, though precious little in the way of the schematics needed for them. Some of the references were mere stories, perhaps even anecdotal, others lacking substance beyond a simple notation. It had proven frustrating and arduous, searching for that one little detail that might be the key she was looking for.

She had finally found what she had wanted: not in the Archives of the Jedi, but in those of the Sith. One of the contemparies of Bane had been said to wield a lightsaber that had both range and flexibility, maneuvered by careful motions of the wrist and swinging momentum, rather than the traditional locked-wrists approach to lightsaber combat demonstrated with a standard hilt. The Lightwhip.

There were varying ways to construct such a thing, according to the Sith Archives. It had taken her days to come up with any viable information on them, and even then, there had been no suitable schematics within the databank. Apparently those planning to use such a weapon must puzzle that out for themselves, she had reflected, seething at the inconvenience. Perhaps it would have been better simply to construct a more traditional lightsaber, but memory of the way Sage Bane had bested her during their tournament duel still rankled. Every weapon needs an edge, so this should be mine.

Irrespective of that thought, she was now too far in to let such a thing best her.

Durasteel and Agrinium might be used for one variant, while in others, lightsaber-resistant materials were needed, so that the user might make several strands. The possibility of using alchemical techniques also existed, so as to ensure that the energised lash did not slice into those designed purely from metal, to give the weapon greater versatility, and make it harder to stop.

As with all weapons derived from the lightsaber, her first step was to obtain an appropriate focus crystal. She couldn't be sure if one would suffice, so her plan was to locate several, such that more could be used if her design did not work first time. To that end, she had come here: to a world far from the reach of the Sith or the Jedi, within the vast expanse of the Hapes Consortium, buried within the Transitory Mists. K'Farri is known to have crystal caves hidden away within the landscape. All I need do is find them...

The Force didn't exist here in the way it did on the nexus worlds, those that carried whispers of the Force the way a tidal wave carried water. K'Farri's whispers were such that, if you weren't quiet, you might miss them altogether. Fortunately, I am nothing but silent, Elensa thought, perhaps for the first time viewing her silence as a positive, though it was intended as figuratively as it was literally.

She could almost hear them, the crystals. It had been something she'd come to realise as a Padawan, when first meditating with one that she had been given to construct her training weapon. They weren't sentient, but nonetheless had their own distinct presence in the Force, a soft light against a dark background that might be perceived by one sensitive enough. A soft ringing in your mind, saying "Here I am".

Her footsteps had taken her through dense forest, and she could feel the foliage, the smaller life that existed in great quantity here, small eddies of energy that flowed into a torrent of it. The hard part was discerning light she was looking for in a field of it, hard to distinguish, the way a whisper might be hard to hear in a room full of people talking.

Not to worry. Sith she might be, but patience was a weapon as much as any other. The crystals would call to her, and she would answer, in the only way that she could.

 

[Elensa Jari]

Location: Crystal Cave Entrance, K'Farri, Hapes Consortium

It had taken hours, a long endless stretch of sore muscles, blood pounding through her veins in relentless rhythm, the aching pulse of her head telling her to stop and rest. Those were merely physical pains, torments of the body that might relent in time, given a moment of simple ease. That was something that might come later, but at that moment, she had nothing but the will to continue moving. Night was falling rapidly, the local sun long having moved out of her vision, the canopy of trees doing much to obscure it as it approached the planetary horizon.

The illumination was a problem, of course: as a Hapan, she had limited night vision, practically non-existant, for all intents and purposes. As the sun had started to descend towards the nadir, she had noticed her visual range diminishing, and the time when she would be near blind was fast approaching. Most Hapans would stop there, but Elensa did not use her eyes alone to find her way. One sense declining meant that she focused more upon the others, and her senses in the Force were by far stronger than her eyesight had ever been.

Finding the cave had been a mixture of luck and patience, or so she felt as she sat now in the mouth of it, darkness, weariness assaulting her mind and her muscles, leaving her unwilling to go any further. To enter the cave in search of the crystals she had come for was inviting, a temptation that struck away at her, even though she felt the need to shove it aside. It was said by both Jedi and Sith that obtaining crystals for use in their traditional weapons was testing in a way that many experiences could not be, on several different levels. She'd heard stories, but she still wasn't sure if she believed them or not.

Ghosts, visions, antiquated spirits of Sith long past, vicious beasts, enemy Force Users, an overwhelming sense of needing to be elsewhere - yes, she'd heard those. It was hard to deny that there may well be some test in store, with so many corroborating stories, but it was also clear that no two beings ever agreed on the nature of them, which left her suspicious. Perhaps the idea is to scare off the unprepared, so that only those truly ready to forge their weapons approach these places.

Elensa wasn't prepared for much of anything at present. Part of her despised the weakness that forced her to recline now against the smooth rocks that constituted the entrance of the cave, bereft of light or warmth beyond that which her clothing provided her, but she was still recovering from the injuries sustained at the hands of Sage, and she knew she had pushed herself harder than was necessary. Time was what was required here, a little rest to see her through.

A dark sense of what was to come lingered at the edge of her mind, worries and fears creeping up upon her without form, but sufficient to leave her restless in the dark, the sun's light having finally diminished, what little illumination the stars might have offered entirely useless to her. To sit in darkness was a natural burden of any Sith, but her energies deserting her, she could not help but feel it was one she suffered with more than most. At least until exhausted sleep finally claimed her.

 

[Elensa Jari]

Location: Crystal Cave Interior, K'Farri, Hapes Consortium

Opening her eyes did little to dispel the darkness that had blanketed her vision as sleep had swept through her consciousness and pushed aside what few thoughts had plagued her. Evening had fully descended now, the only illumination being that of the stars, and that was little enough, and entirely insufficient to give her sight. A moment of pause to collect herself, and the young woman reached into one of the small pouches at her waist, removing a small hand-held glowrod, one that could be strapped onto her wrist so as to leave her hands free. She slipped it carefully over her gloved hand and fastened it firmly onto her wrist, pressing a small button on the top which would activate it.

Light fired forth suddenly, near-blinding her with the shock of intensity, an ice-pick driven into her temple with no possibility of avoidance. She shook her in silence, to clear the spots that has assailed her vision, then carefully pressed a hand against the rough stone behind her, pushing against it so that she might find her feet once more. Her legs felt stronger now, the weary ache having diminished by what little rest she had afforded herself, sufficient perhaps to allow her to go on.

The cave stood before her, the contours of the opening illuminated softly by the lamp on her wrist, shining against solid stone that had been eroded patiently by the elements, but that whispered with energy that could be felt only by a few, offering unspoken challenge to those who would dare to enter. Yes, the crystals were here, that much was apparent: it was they that spoke silently in the darkness, an invitation to walk forth and seek out the depths within. And so I shall. I did not come this far to turn back now. Even with her limited understanding, she knew that the Sith would never tolerate such a retreat.

A soft breath, a gentle inhale that only caught slightly at the end, and she proceeded forward, one tentative step, then another. The ground beneath her feet felt firm, though her own thoughts were that which felt unsteady at that moment. The sense of the Force within felt confusing, strong and energetic, threatening to overwhelm her in a steady torrent of sensation. It churned through her senses with invisible acuity, pressing against her emotions and making them stand out to her moreso than she had expected. It's inescapable, the knowledge that I fear my next step. Only a coward would deny that fact.

The inner caverns did not seem threatening: dark, certainly, compacted dirt and stone mingled together to form a solid wall on either side of her, curved and rough to the touch. Silence reigned within, little there to disturb the empty passageways, formed naturally by means she cared not to comprehend. Each step was one surrounded by darkness on all sides, but for the torch shining ahead of her. A tenuous light in the dark, only pushing it back in temporary reprieve.

Her eyes started to notice a change after a while had passed - how long, she could not have said with any accuracy - an inner glimmer noticeable, the soft hue of different colours intermingling with light both reflected and also mirroring an inner luminosity. A corner turned, and an open cavern appeared before her, glittering with light that seemed truly at odds with the depth of darkness that she had experienced walking through the tunnels, a glow that pushed aside the dark and offered an artifical daylight of polychromatic radiance. Finally.

Removing the glowlamp from her wrist, the young woman set it down on the spongy ground in front of her, then moved to sit down, moving her skirts out of the way so that she might rest in a cross-legged posture. Her eyes closed, and her physical senses lapsed, pushed aside through force of will so that she might focus upon the Force. Oh, yes, there was plenty of energy here, swirling around her with the ferocity of a storm, tempestuous, wild, untamed. So many crystals, each containing a fragment of that luminous energy, each one a potential treasure. And yet, I do not just pick one at random.

The others had been clear on that point: to obtain a crystal was no great feat, something any lesser mortal might achieve with little effort expended. But such low expectations were unworthy of a Sith: theirs was to find the perfect crystal, something that called to the individual on some level, to reflect their inner nature and magnify it in some fashion, serve as a mirror for it, a lens that showed only a reflection of the being that held it. To discern a single tear in a rainstorm is my task now.

 

[Elensa Jari]

It was an assault on the senses, a perceptual battering that left her inwardly feeling bruised and overwhelmed. First it had been simpler: bright lights flickering into being within the darkness, first one, then another, then another, until the darkness was entirely pushed aside and she felt bathed in the light, so much so that she felt overpowered by it, unable to see for the radiance. Such is what it would be to feel as a Jedi feels, she mused, remembering that once, such had been her path.

Things had gotten far worse from there.

Images drifted across her mind, evoking memory and new insight. She saw the grand fluted structures of her homeworld, ancient buildings of elegant design and costly material. Women attired in fine sweeping dresses of delicate embroidery; the men in simpler, more durable clothes, ready to serve their needs. Few non-Humans, but they had never been given a welcome on Hapes. A glance downwards, and she had seen her younger self, wearing simple robes that were not even tailored, common colours and plain fabrics that she wore as testament to the humility required of those she walked with. A brief look to her side, and another walked beside her, a grey-haired male, skin lined by years, his own clothing a match for hers. He had smiled at her, but never broken his stride.

And then there it was, just as she remembered: a flare of light, the sudden feeling of heat projected across her skin, the rough hard sensation of the ground rushing up to meet her, a shock of agony at her throat, the warm wet at her throat as her life's blood trickled down her neck, staining her robes. She remembered wanting to scream, and felt that even more strongly when she realised that she was doing so, but could not hear it. A loud ringing in her ears, making every sound that she could hear that much more distant, as though heard from underwater. The piercing quality of it hurt her head, banishing coherent thought: all she knew was that everything had gone awry.

She remembered lapsing into unconsciousness, that slow cognizance being torn away from her, as though she had simply fallen asleep, all cares for the world gone. Maybe, when she awoke, everything would be better: just a dream, like those she had first experienced when her training had begun. Just another nightmare, the kind that my Master always said couldn't hurt me. Always she had awoken to discover that he had been right, as he so often was: her fears had failed to materialise. Just a dream.

Elensa had felt the difference when her eyes had slowly opened. Her throat felt on fire, as though she had not drunk anything in days, parched and dry. She reached out for a glass of water that often sat at her bedside, and failed to reach it: it simply wasn't there. Shock surged through her, and she realised that she was not in her bed: there was no soft yielding mattress beneath her, supporting her. The surface felt hard, rough, coated in small fragments of something, dust everywhere. Her muscles felt sore and she was reluctant to move, not wishing to build upon the agony that motion might bring. Stiffly, she clawed at the hard ground beneath her, seeking purchase, pulling herself upright. A strangled sound came from her throat where a sharp exhalation might have been, and she reached up to wrap a hand around it, feeling the wet beneath her skin, knowing something was drastically wrong.

The ringing in her ears had ceased, but silence reigned here, but for the occasional trickle of rough debris falling from lesser purchase. Her eyes becoming accustomed to the dusty gloom, she noticed the fallen stone that had come to rest all around her. So too did she see the bodies: torn, fallen in distorted repose, empty shells that had once been vibrant men and women, now nothing but meat ripped into fragments. Flung from her side, another, dressed in the same brown and tans as she had, sightless eyes staring up at the murky sky that they could no longer see. The girl dragged herself that way, feeling the sharp rock fragments beneath her as she pulled towards the corpse.

Why didn't you see this?, she cried, inwardly, her voice not offering the volume she so remembered, though in her head, it was a scream of frustration, of rage. The man lying before her had always known, always had insight she had lacked, always seemed to have an answer to her every question or puzzle. She felt wetness against her cheeks, reached up and pressed a hand to the liquid there, pulling it away to examine it. Not blood, just water. That only incensed her further, magnifying feelings that she had so rarely felt over those past few years. You should have seen this, she wanted to scream at him. How could you have failed us both?

That was the numbing reality of it: her wise teacher had failed to see the obvious, failed to note the danger, had brought her here despite it, and then had left her, abandoned her that he might take his rest. And you were the one that always taught me that we stick together, no matter what. It angered her, ignited a fury she hadn't felt before. You lied to me, didn't you? When things went wrong, you gave up and fled, leaving your flesh behind, leaving me. Of course he had: staying would be hard, would have meant he'd have to face up to his failure in letting them come here, in letting this happen.

The Elensa of the present moment felt that same wet sensation upon her cheeks, reached up beneath the veil that covered her face and felt the tears there, streaming unbidden from her eyes. That hollow feeling in her chest persisted, but she could not look on the face of her fallen Master without feeling that same sense of abandonment. He left me alone, and alone I remain. So it had been since that moment: even here, surrounded by the swirling eddies of the Force, she felt truly alone.

 

[Elensa Jari]

A whisper broke through her solemn reverie, snapping into her attention the way one might do with a sharp clap or a loud noise, though in a more subtle fashion. It started as a simple needling in the back of her mind, the gentle prodding of something that sought to grasp at her focus. It became more insistent, a pulsating vibration that sought to break through the memories that flooded through her mind, as if trying to serve as a drop of cold water that might penetrate a dream and coax one back to reality.

Her eyes opened, forcing her to blink rapidly to remove the tears that blurred her vision, motes of green and blue and a myriad of other colours becoming visible, first in an amalgamation, then clarifying into individual lights. It felt softer now, less oppressive to her, though she had felt herself pulling away from the Force as though scalded by it, the reflex one presents on feeling pain. It was as much at fault as her former Master had been for the incident which had robbed her of voice and identity. It spoke to her now, though, reminding her that her isolation was one that she chose, not merely one inflicted upon her.

Perhaps that's true, she thought, pushing herself off the ground stiffly, coming to her feet in a rustle of skirts. But even an ally that is always with you can still betray you if you let your guard down. The Jedi had taught her that it was best to relinquish one's will to the Force, and trust it to aid you. Her Master, with his death, had taught her the folly in this: that a blind man might still be led off a cliff by that which he trusted to guide him to safety. The Sith have the right of it: the Force is a weapon that might aid you one moment and yet fail you the next.

She stumbled her way through the cavern, skirting crystals that stuck out at odd, jutting angles from the walls, even littering the floor and requiring her to step carefully around them. One tore at her skirt, fraying the neatly-stitched hem and nearly pulling her over to sprawl absent her dignity on the ground. Moments like that, she wished she had the ability to so much as murmur a curse, but she had to settle for merely feeling stupidly angry for such a small thing. That pulse of anger only served to intensify the sensation whispering in her mind.

Another few steps forward and she found herself slipping, a shiny patch of pre-crystalline mass catching beneath her booted feet and leaving no purchase, her leg suddenly sliding forward without control, forcing her to slide backwards. She threw her hand out to catch herself, hoping to stop herself from hurting too much on the inevitable impact that came a heartbeat later. A sharp pain came from her hand, a slashing agony that caught against delicate skin through the soft fabric of her gloves, followed momentarily thereafter by a duller sensation in her back as she struck against the firm ground.

Tears came to her eyes unbidden, the pain provoking them absent her conscious consent. The young woman lay prone for a moment, simply experiencing the pain and assessing the damage. She could feel that her hand was cut open, bleeding freely against the jagged crystalline surface that she had caught it on. The contact had done something to her, though: her body felt the pain of that minor injury, but her mind caught a glimpse of images that were not of her recall.

Images of buildings burning, people screaming in pain, watching as their lives flashed before their eyes and had their memories torn away by the agony that set upon them. Flashes of light from the sky that rained down upon them and snuffed out lives, vaporising both body and the hopes they had carried with them. Scenes of desolation, places that had once held grand cities and overlooked civilisation, now charred and decayed, ruins jutting out from the ground, all that was left of homes, offices, schools. She saw the old Temple at Tython engulfed in flame, dark clad warriors carrying red bars of light striking out against those that would protect themselves in vain. The image pitched, speeding through an atmosphere and showing nothing but darkness and stars, a background for a torrent of pitched energy exchanged between mechanical monstrosities wheeling desperately in hope of preservation.

It was sorrow that she felt at that moment, hers and that of others, a poignant resignation at the life that flowed away, like blood from a wound. Tiny lights extinguished in the darkness, smothered out without ceremony or care, another name on an endless list. It was horror, atrocity, reality. This is what the Galaxy looks like when you strip away the outer shell of the civilised, and look at the inner core, corrupted, tainted, rotten. This was the world as she knew it, degredation concealed by a lie.

She took a shaky breath and pulled her legs up into a kneeling position, wrenching her hand painfully away from the crystal formation, her blood vividly illuminated against it by the light that glowed within. The abrupt cessation of contact broke the flow of images in her mind, and reality flooded back in with the force of a nova. The Hapan took a shakey breath, letting that wave of sorrow suffuse every cell, leaving her trembling at the intensity of it.

The blonde moved a shaking hand to her belt, grasping at a small tool, pulling it away and bringing it to the crystals that were stained with her blood. She'd found what she was looking for: there were no definite signs of this being so, but she simply felt it. A small press and the laser cutter activated, searing energy slicing through the crystal bed and allowing the blood-tainted remnants to fall away at her pull. She held them for a moment, sharp and so very fragile, gently pricking against the palm of the hand that had not been injured by them, resonating with clear light even thus severed from the cave. These will do just fine.

 

[Elensa Jari]

Location: Sith Temple, Yalara, Yalara System, Wild Space

Whirling in a sharp circle, skirts flurrying around her with the motion, a flick of the wrist to complete the motion. Elensa had returned from K'Farri several days ago, enduring the long shuttle flight that existed between there and the Temple that had been requisitioned on Yalara for the purposes of the Sith. The crystals she had collected remained safely secured in a pouch on her belt, ready for her to work with when the time was right. Her hand still itched at the memory of them gashing a wound into the palm as she had struck them, her blood sealing a compact between them in some odd fashion.

For now, she had put the laborious process of crafting to one side - there was little point in continuing until she was ready to wield it. The weapon she had chosen was a difficult one to wield, dangerous to both user and target, likely to backfire if used improperly. Charged as it would be with the same energies present in a lightsaber, a single misstep could result in severe injury or death. An ignomious end to an unremarkable career. That wasn't the way she intended for things to end.

She had procured a practice whip from the Armoury, a simple affair made of braided Crosh-hide with an Agrinium handle. The Hapan hadn't cared to speculate as to why such a thing was in the armoury, but it served her purposes well enough. Taking possession of one of the many rooms suitable to be used for training had enabled her to spend several hours learning the different means to use it, and experimenting with the motions that would allow her to control it effectively.

First it had been a case of working out how to wield it without hurting herself. The simplest motion was an overhand flick: drawing it backwards and then flicking the wrist to propel it forward, where it would strike with a loud snap. Invariably, this meant that each strike would require her to draw the weapon back before she could unleash another. That much was clearly the sort of methodology that would get her killed, so it was entirely insufficient for the purposes she had in mind.

She had discovered that more power could be generated by reversing the direction of a stroke, again another sharp flick of the wrist being sufficient to that purpose - much moreso than was ever the case with a lightsaber. There had been a few moments where she had felt the sting of the whip as she misjudged the momentum and direction, but those incidents had become fewer as she continued to refine her motions. A quick spin to draw impetus, and she could throw the whip out in one of several directions, perhaps even as a move to confuse an opponent. But too much spin and I'll end up wrapped in my own weapon. That initial incident had been embarrassing indeed.

Now she had arrayed a series of bottles around the room, all at different distances and angles. Her objective was to strike out at each one and smash it or knock it off the slender pedastal that they rested upon, disturbing none but her target with each stroke. So far, she had been at it for over an hour - some strokes had missed, others had struck an unintended target, while more still had glanced off, causing the bottle to wobble but not topple completely. With a Lightwhip, the damage would be more severe, she noted, but that was no excuse for sloppiness. An enemy certainly will appreciate the difference between a scratch and a deeper injury.

There was much more to be done - that much remained clear. There would be no chance of her completing her weapon and wielding it in the field if she could not master the basics. Patience and preseverence much be my weapons for the time being, the blonde noted inwardly. It was time to start again. For as long as it might take.

 

[Elensa Jari]

Location: Sith Temple, Yalara, Yalara System, Wild Space

Kneeling on the hard stone floor of her quarters, her hands folded in her lap, eyes closed, Elensa's mind was elsewhere at that moment, concentrating upon the yellow-white crystal that hovered in front of her, levitating on a tendril of invisible energy. She might have chosen a pillow to cushion her knees, or perhaps sat more comfortably on a chair, but the Sith taught that pain refined one's mental clarity and strengthened their connection to the Force, so her discomfort served as a means to an end.

It had already been several hours, and her legs had gone comfortably numb, such that she could barely feel them anymore. No doubt if she tried to stand now, she would collapse in an undignified heap, but it was required of all Acolytes to be able to withstand adverse conditions, and such exercises had been much of her early training among their number. Her mind was not worried about her body at that moment: rather, it was tapping into the currents of the Force, using them to attune herself to the crystal that hovered before her.

Part of the crafting process she had chosen to embark upon required that she wrest the crystal into submitting to her will. True, they were not sentient, but they possessed energetic imprints that were tied into the Force as much as she was herself. The Library had spoken of those crystalline essences: to use them effectively within an item, they first had to be willing to serve the user. She didn't really understand how it all worked, but the references she had read were clear: an unattuned crystal was a trap waiting to be sprung.

The process itself was simple: banish the physical world around you, craft a connection to the crystal using your mind and pour your very self into it: let it absorb your anger, your rage, your ambitions, hopes, dreams, everything that constituted you, and allow the crystal to become suffused by it. Some Sith did this by producing their crystals artificially, imbuing them with those emotions during the growth process, so they arrived at a crystal that carried that attunement already completed. Elensa had chosen a natural source, and so she and the crystal were having a...negotiation, of sorts.

The crystals had shown her much when she had made contact with them on K'farri, images that she could little reconcile with memory: perhaps they were past, perhaps present, maybe even something that was yet to come. That was a sharing of a kind, but now it must receive something from me. And so she had knelt there, mind disembodied, sharing her own memories, all the pertinent ones that had brought her to this place. She wanted the crystal to understand.

First, a memory long-muddled by time and distance: the Jedi going to her home on Hapes, received in cold politeness by the family matriarch, requesting that the third daughter of the house be given up to Jedi training. The gentle disdain that mother had offered them, the way she was slowly worn down by the patient coaxing of the Jedi that had come, and that final decision. Being torn away from home and taken to Tython, her tailored clothing exchanged for plain robes, hair trimmed shorter and face exposed without the veil appropriate to one of her station.

Time fast-forwarding a little: training alongside her Master in the Temple, long hours spent talking through the basics of Jedi philosophy, politics, the sciences. Arguments flaring between them as the mild-mannered older man tried to teach his apprentice to eschew arrogance and push aside her disdain for men, to integrate into the ranks of the Order without the conflict that had so defined her time there. The homesickness that had assailed her thereafter.

And then that fateful day on Hapes, there to serves the Republic as representatives of the Order, trying to bring Hapes into the fold. Walking amongst the woman that were her people, feeling out of place next to them, attired in common fabrics next to their extravagance. The way all that had become irrelevant as an explosion had torn through them, ripping bodies to shreds and once again obliterating those tenuous threads that had tied her to that life: her Master, her allegiance to the Jedi, her voice, all taken from her.

All this was shared with the crystal, a stray tear leaking from her closed eyelids as she remembered it all, feeling the intense emotions that were associated with those traumas. The recollections she shared of her time amongst the Sith: finding them, a lost little Jedi apprentice torn from her oaths to those. Stripped of her Jedi robes, given darker clothing to wear, pushed through trials and tests that she had endured in utter silence, knowing that nothing could hurt her the way that her mutilation could. Learning the strength that she might draw from that pain, unstable, reckless, dangerous.

Her lips parted as if to offer a sigh, a soft exhalation leaving her as she relinquished her self-control for a moment. A hand moved forward, coming to rest beneath the hovering crystal just as she relinquished her grip upon the energies that held it, the soft white-yellow gem dropping onto her palm, glowing with a soft inner light. That physical contact between them served to highlight that which she could feel: the presence of the crystal. It was as though two of them were in the room: her, and the crystal. Not one presence in the Force, but two, and both of them carrying the faintest essence of her.

It was a familiarity shared, a bond established, though how strong that would prove was something she knew she would discover with more such sessions. Weariness assailed her as it had so many times over the past several weeks, her body drained from the energy that had channeled through her to keep the crystal suspended before her, and to form that tenuous connection that she could feel remained between them even without her conscious intent to keep it there.

The crystal was ready to incorporate into the weapon. It was hers, and now it would serve her.

 

[Elensa Jari]

The handle of the weapon had to be constructed in much the same fashion as any traditional lightsaber, carefully crafted by hand, each component needing the loving care that signalled proper craftsmanship. Failure was considered far more problematic than making a simple mistake: the Sith made it clear that only those worthy of being part of their ranks would ever be able to successfully create a weapon of such ilk. Elensa knew that to be a lie, of course: something designed to promote competition and instil a sense of careless ego in those that sought to prove themselves to the upper hierarchy. Even so, failure carried heavy penalties, and she did not wish to experience those for herself.

The power cell had come first: a small affair of durasteel frame and transparisteel casing, carefully-compressed Trumponium Gas forced to rest between them, generating electrical charge due to the highly reactive nature of it, something that might create the energy needed to establish the blade that might characterise a lightsaber, or the more esoteric tendril of the lightwhip. This she had secured in the bottom of the pommel: a slightly curved affair that would rest perfectly in the natural curve of her own hand, slender and cold, shaped from darkened Agrinium and inscribed with elegant patterns of her choosing.

Above this, perhaps the most intricate part of the weapon: the crystal mount, hollow aside from the frame, within which she placed the yellow-white crystal that she had obtained on K'farri, and since attuned such that it resonated softly in her presence, connected to her in a way that it never could be to the weapon it would serve as a component for. The physical bond that existed between the crystal and the other components was a shallow one, negligible compared to the one she had formed with it: even handling it carefully with a set of precision tongs, she could feel it, as though it was a unique presence, one that softly whispered soundlessly in the back of her mind.

Next came a focusing lens, a simple polished sliver of crystal formed into a circular lens less than a centimeter in width, cut so that it would slip perfectly into the casing, to be fixed immovably once the rest of the casing was put into place. Energy would surge from the power cell and into the crystal above, but this would need to be directed through the focusing lens in order to reach the emitter without becoming a destructive surge that would cause it to explode. This would then be directed into the emitter, which would allow the energy to be converted into the burning plasma that would create the cutting beam.

A lightwhip was a slightly more complex beast in this regard, however: no simple blade that would extend to a given length and remain static once it reached it. With this, the emitter was fastened to a long tendril of flexible agrinium, crafted with an alloy to allow the rigid metal to become a thin length that would allow the energy to run along it, the way electricity might move along a cable. A lightsaber's emitter simply released this energy and used a field to constrain it: a lightwhip channelled it much differently, but allowed the energy to be manipulated as the tendril moved.

This completed, all that remained was to fasten the casing together: hers had multiple layers, the inner casing carefully containing the components, a simple click-lock holding the two sides together and keeping the mechanical parts secure within. Over this went a thin metallic sheath that would rest over the top, terminating at the emitter and being fastened on at the base by a cover that would protect the charging port that might enable the power cell to be recharged. Placing the sheath over the inner case, she fastened the base on, screwing it on with several sharp turns until it tightened, a touch of Force energy placed into the effort to make sure it would not loosen over time.

The young woman dabbed at her forehead with a soft cloth that she had placed at her side, feeling a touch of perspiration at her brow. Secluded in her quarters, she had eschewed the veil that she normally wore to conceal her face, allowing her to see what she was doing without the semi-transparent material obscuring her vision. Now the nerves kicked in: as much as she was sure that she had followed the instructions with due care, as certain as she was that the crystal was perfectly attuned and aligned to allow energy to run through it as designed...there still remained a touch of doubt, a sliver of concern that it might not work.

There was, unfortunately, only one real way to be certain she had succeeded. Failure would bring more immediate consequences, but there was no avoiding that. You have to take a chance to achieve anything of value.