Star Wars Roleplay: Chaos

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Tatooine Training (pm before joining)

Her eyes focused on the strange man and the floating shard of broken glass and ceramic preparing to either shoot the man before he shoots her with those spinning pieces of plate and glass. She proceeded to grit her teeth as the man did not understand her Tusken language her hands slightly shaking in annoyance and anger before lowering her gun slightly her lips quivering as she attempted to speak in normal civilized language. "S...tay....THERE!" she said loudly her arm reaching out at the man who slowly walked around her and over towards the door to the outside. Her eyes peering over to the open window near the door seeing a small sand storm coming near the small building. Her body immediately tensing up as the Strange man pushed the blood stained table over towards her with an unknown power her hands raising up the Cycler rifle yet again at the man as he quickly hid behind the table the sounds of the shards of glass and ceramic colliding with the floor echoing through out the building.

"Get.......OUT....T-HAR!" she said yet again in a broken demanding tone as she slowly walked over towards the hiding man her finger steadily on the trigger ready to fire at him given the chance. "Storm.....near!...no hide!" she said assuring the man that there was no where to run as the storm would maker it far more difficult to run away
 

Ajarod Shova

Guest
[member="TI-1027"]

The Tusken was speaking in words that Ajarod could understand, if broken ones, but the situation was still falling further apart. She was advancing on him, her weapon raised, and he doubted that meant anything good for his chances of survival. But he could tell that she was speaking the truth - a howling sandstorm was taking shape outside the hut. Terrible timing; he didn't fancy his chances out there. It was already going to be nearly impossible to find his way back to camp, but in a sandstorm he would be lucky to be able to walk in a straight line - if it didn't bury him, fling him around, or scrape the skin from his bones first. Still, he was more likely to survive that than a cycler rifle round through the forehead, so he would take the chance if he had to.

"Stay back," he said. "Tell me what you want." If he had to, he would throw the table at her in the hopes of knocking her weapon away. But if she was willing to talk, he would try that first.
 

Drogh

Guest
The shadow figure, straving and thrist following his footstebs back to the camp, he felt like a ghost as the duel suns began to collaspse, dark began to rise and swallow the desert. It got colder, finally a sense of relief is what Drogh thought, his cloak which was a burden had become a blessing, shielding him from heavy winds of sharp sand, as one must remember sand is just very small rocks.

Tracking his way though the slopes, ducking and hiding at any hint of sound or living creature he found him self to see the fires of the camp, the droids on their endless patrol the Mercarines drinking and most likely having the better time here then anyone else, and the slaves toilling away or be useless. When he realized that food and water was offered Drogh was ready to straggle the Darth Banshee to death, what a mockery, how did he not find any food? Despite his thoughts, he knew that it was just the way of things, the game she is bound to play on them, all of them. He sat down furthest way from the crowd, he began staring foward, trying to find some one worthy to stalk for the night.
 
The Tusken stepped closer to the strange man her rifle still pointed at him cautiously "In...fo..maton!...dead...people!...who!?" she said yet again in the most broken way possible being separated from modern civilization she had no real concept on other languages other than the ones that they yelled out before dying. She proceeded to reach into her leather satchel and pulled out a piece of cloth the same piece of cloth that was used to make the infamous Tusken outfit and garments. She proceeded to shake the piece of cloth in anger before throwing it at the man hitting him in the face with the sand and blood stained rag. Before raising her rifle back at him sights trained on his head ready to fire at a moments notice.

The storm coming in closer and closer towards the battle scarred moisture farm several chunks of rocks thumping against the outside walls of the building.
 
[member="TI-1027"] [member="Drogh"] [member="Ajarod Shova"] [member="Noda Fir"] [member="Darth Manah"] [member="Noda Fir"] [member="Enduri Jaii "] [member="Ajarod Shova"] [member="Jorryn Fordyce"]

It was time to start the lessons, she had bell toll for all of the new acolytes assemble under the canopy. She waited for them all to assemble, as they came in and started to sit down. She said to all, Congratulations on passing your first trial, now we begin lessons. The first thing you're going to learn is how wield a lightsaber, as without this knowledge you would cut down by the first Jedi you meet. Now on the outside of this marque you see other ones, make your way to a overseer. Each of these overseer will instruct you in one lightsaber form, but before you pick a blade you must recite the sith code to him, without error. Her voice was calm and collective, there would be blood spilt today, as sith did not advance with others, but on top of others corpses. Whilst they practiced fight she began getting the next trial on the way, she sent out scouts looking for local movements. To see anything nearby would be good challenge for them, if not she would take the next trial elsewhere.
 
[member="Darth Banshee"] (Subbed my saber )

Manah waddled out carrying her heavy bag heading to the middle of the grounds placing the bag down she plonked her bottom in to the ground.
and waited.

Casiualy she halled the bag into a tent
" One dalk lor...lady for form 2 please. " she giggled in a childish way.
acting like a small child. as opposed to the vessel of an ancient lord as she was... well she was supposed to be.
 

Drogh

Guest
Drogh was watching in the baking heat, feeling sweat trench his cloak as he ignored the exhaustion the heat had inflicted on him. He was kneeling down, using a tent as shelter from the sight of the intoxciated mercenaries, however he felt partcially annoyed by the endles patrols of the droids that did not require sleep.

He was furiouse when everyone was told to assemble, lightsaber combat he heard from the distance shouting. Drogh hiding his range with a metalic mask got up, eyeing the mercs as he moved towards the centre of the camp to start the dreaded training. Alot was racing though his mind, for starters he didn't have a saber, secondly he was not found of fighting. So, he began to think was there any thing else I could do, perhaps, perhaps there was another way, the survivors might still be sleeping, perhaps they woundn't be missed if some one crept in their tents.

He found a tent, he heard the snores, how heavy and disgusting it was. He would put a end to those, as he crept into the tent his eyes trained on a sleeping "acolyte", no one had spotted him as he crept foward to the crude bed, looking over the "acolyte" like a ghost coming to collect some thing. Taking out his arms, he tightly squeezed his hands around the sleeping "acolyte" neck untill there was nothing more but a faint whimper of death. He left the tent, thinking that he had made his life slightly easier.
 

Ajarod Shova

Guest
All at once, Ajarod understood the Tusken's fury. She had seen the dead. He had been kept alive only to tell her who was responsible.

"Sith," he said, unsure if the word would mean anything to her. "It was the will of a Sith. I'm sorry." Some part of him told him he had no reason to feel pity or remorse - the Tuskens had attacked them first, and he had killed them in self-defense. But the Sith had come to their planet, invaded their hunting grounds, tracked and killed their banthas. And he knew the feeling of loss well. Still, he had to escape. He called on the Force again to strengthen his muscles, diving backwards through the door of the hut and out into the whipping sandstorm. With a wrench of his hand and a tug on his power, he carried the table with him, wedging it in the doorframe. The Tusken might be able to get past it if she could tear it free, but by then he hoped to have vanished into the desert, the low visibility protecting him from her deadly cycler rifle.

The sandstorm ripped at his initiate's robe and scoured his exposed skin. He covered his eyes and nose with one hand, shutting his mouth tightly as rough grains sought to invade his throat again. Once more he called on the Force, reaching out with a sight that did not come from his eyes. He searched for the telltale marks of those who had passed this way, searching for the trails of acolytes returning from their hunting expeditions. Fear, anger, hope - he seized on each emotion as he sensed it, guiding him one more step toward camp. He could not say how many hours passed. His skin blistered and bled, and he called on the pain to focus him, to grant him strength and keep him conscious. His boots were heavy with sand. His eyes burned. But still he walked, because his choice was to walk or to lay down and die.

It was night when the sandstorm abated, and late night by the time that the most bedraggled and near dead of the acolytes dragged himself back into camp. Ajarod knew that his survival would be... most unexpected, not least of all in his own mind. He had trusted in the Force to bring him back, but he had only half believed himself capable of finding the camp. A grumbling in his stomach reminded him that he had not achieved the entire purpose of the excursion: to find something to eat. Once more he stretched out his senses, and there he found it: a womp rat pack, gnawing on the corpses of the failed acolytes. Stretching out with his power, he seized the largest of the creatures with an invisible hand and twisted. Its neck broke before it knew what had happened; the other rats fled in terror.

As the other initiates slept, Ajarod scavenged through the bodies of the fallen initiates. It was a gruesome task, but it yielded results: a knife to clean and dress his kill, and the supplies to start a small fire. He cooked and ate the womp rat, his hunger driving him to gnaw with reckless abandon at the seared flesh until the juices ran down his chin. And then, for what was left of the night, he slept.

Morning came far too early, but Ajarod was accustomed to driving himself hard on little sleep. His sand-seared skin, caked in dried blood where it had been exposed to the storm, burned with a constant dull pain, but he had experience with enduring that, too. The Dark Lady had spoken: they were to be trained with lightsabers. A strange sensation crept over the slave - he had never been trusted with so deadly a weapon before. And yet there was one major stumbling block - he had no idea what the Sith Code was. It was a creed to be spoken among the Dark Lords, not recited within the hearing of lowly servants. But he could improvise, could adapt - it was all that had kept him alive for these many years. Stretching out his senses, he began to listen.
 
[member="Darth Banshee"]

The next competition had been expected, the culling of hopefuls had always been a trademark of Sith training and was engraved across it's history. Jorryn was still excited when she heard it, many of these hopefuls would be lucky to find themselves cleaning the boots of a Sith Knight. She had also already had much training from a Sith Lord, mostly training her in Makashi, the way of the Ysalamiri. As she made her way to the overseer that taught the second form, she couldn't help but hope that she would find the slave that fancied himself a Sith Acolyte so that she would be able to end his transgression herself.

"Peace is a lie. There is only Passion." She began to make her ascent towards the platform where the combat would be held, her eyes darting to the other Sith that had already recited the code. "Through Passion I gain Strength." The hopefuls had held their lightsabers like newborn children playing with rattles in their crib, guffawing at the new instruments of death that they held. "Through Strength I gain Power." Jorryn had received her lightsaber from the man she called both master and father long ago, a decrepit hilt with an ancient and flickering crystal. "Through Power I gain Victory." She had repaired it and made it her own, a tool that she used to inflict suffering on her enemies and bring glory to the Sith.

"Through Victory my chains are broken. The force shall free me." Her left hand came behind her back as she bowed before the overseer in front of her, again ignoring all the hopefuls that would be dead sooner or later. The only person that she cared about were the Lords hosting this event.
 
Sith? This was a new word she had never heard of before but just by hearing the simple word her skin turned cold and a shiver up her spine almost as if it was a cursed word...a forbidden word that was not to be spoken. "S...i.th? Wh..at.....Sith?!" before she could get a answer the strange man leap backwards through the hut's small door frame and out into the unforgiving sand storm the large dining table wedging itself in the frame causing it to be stuck and preventing her from following him. She proceeded to run towards the dining table her hands gripping the sides of the large furniture and began to push and pull it with all of her strength. However to no avail as she was unable to move it with her strength alone as the way it was positioned made it almost impossible. The Tusken then proceeded to shake once again in anger her hands reaching out towards the large table "G....et.....Ba...ck....ere!" she said in the rough tone once again before suddenly the table shattered through the door.

The Tusken proceeded to look at her hands in confusion what did she just do? Was it this "Sith" that she was told? Is that what the feeling was truly called? She didn't know but she had no time to think of such things as she had a prisoner to catch. The Raider ran out into the cruel sand storm outside which continued to throw large chunks of rock and various other materials around. And although the large gusts of wind were hard to walk through she was able to walk slowly through the large storm. Though her eyes and mouth were protected by her mask she was still unable to see the strange man. Aiming her Cycler Rifle in a random direction she proceeded to fire it hoping to hit the man. The crack of the rifle echoing through the brutal storm as she continued to fire the rifle in random directions which seemed to simply whiz by the man or completely miss him all together.

Eventually the Tusken gave up attempting to shoot him through the storm before putting the rifle back onto her back and running back into the battle scarred building having no choice but to wait for the storm to pass before attempting to hunt him again. There she slept through the storm with her rifle tucked into her arms in case of an intruder came into her "home" the sounds of her bantha roaring loudly awakening her from her deep slumber. She proceeded to stretch out lightly before getting up from the floor of the hut slinging her rifle behind her back walking back outside and looking around seeing for signs of any life. However all that she seemed to find were pieces of clothing and splats of blood stained into the sand which seemed to trail further away from the hut. The Tusken whistled out to her Bantha the Bantha walking over towards her as she proceeded to jump onto the back of the large shaggy creature riding it towards the blood trail.
 
Noda heard the announcement, and had to decide upon a lightsaber. Thinking about each of the forms, Noda thought. Their was Shii-Cho, the first ever form, Makashi, the second, the third, Soresu, the fourth, Ataru, the fifth, which was both shien, and djem so, and the sixth, Nimen, and finally, the last, Juyo. After careful consideration Noda decided upon Niman, or the Way of the Rancor. He walked over to the overseer in charge of Niman.

He recited the code of the sith to the overseer. "Peace is a lie, their is only passion. Through passion I gain strength. Through strength I gain power. Through power I gain victory. Through victory my chains are broken.The force shall free me." Noda proceeded to choose two lightsabers, one red, the othe red-orange. "Teach me overseer".
 

Drogh

Guest
Drogh had made his way though the camp, swaying in and out of empty tents, perferring not to be spotted by everyone, leading his way to the sound of the bell he finally made it amoung his fellow "acolytes". He could almost choke on the words, acolytes berely, any Tusken raider could do this, surviving in a harsh desert is nothing. He suspected that most people here had far harder trials of their own, none of which had given them the title of "acolyte". Drogh still, kept his destain to him self, hiding behind a empty hollow husk of a mask, to hide any emotions that would give him away.

He was the last in his group to make the little, oath, vows what ever this was, who didn't know the saying of the Sith, everyone who lived under Sith space must know, and beyond. Waving his eyes underneath his mask he repeated words like a robot repeating orders. "Peace is a lie, there is only passion"
"Though passion I gain Strength, though Strength I gain power, though power I gain Victory, though Victory my chains are broken, the force shall free me" He said in a dim voice, as if the words had no meaning, and which to Drogh they did not.

The overseer was generally a bit surprised to have seen him, he had been late, and generaly hid away, spying on the mercs trying to grab a blaster at any given chance which he had no chance, not with the endless patrols of the droids. He was rather hoping to go back to his watching, but sadly he was denied that told that he had to fight. Drogh was asked what style he would train in, thoughts of irony crossed his mind, how he thought that the sith deemed the lightsaber as a waste of time, and only wielded it for the sake of mocking the Jedi. He would rather advance his force-skills, but of course that Darth Banshee would refuse us access to that power. Having a small sigh, that echoed against his mask he said in a dead tone "Niman" his voice was so dull that it did not show if he truely cared or not.
 
"Ugh , why must the Sith fight , why not just find a more diplomatical solution? Anyway, if I want to succeed , I must learn it." , the young prince thought to himself as he wanted towards an overseer. He had memorized the Sith code before leaving home , and now it was time to put it to test.
As he arrived to an overseer , in a serious and calm voice he started saying "Peace is a lie , there is only passion. Through passion, I gain strenght. Through strenght , I gain power. Through power , I gain victory. Throught victory , my chains are broken. The Force shall free me." , he then took a pause to quickly think what he wanted to learn. He was a Prince , and so he needed something to defend himself. "Teach me Soresu.". He also needed a weapon to fight with "And , a lightsaber please.".

[member="Darth Banshee"]
 
@Enduri Jaii
" Wow you're a ray of sunshine aren't you. " Manah giggled over hearing the whinnying.
" Boo hoo i have to learn to fight. it's Aratu for me . she said keeping up her childish mask sitting on her heavy bag.
 

Ajarod Shova

Guest
No one noticed a slave, and to be invisible had advantages. Few people watched what they said in front of those they pretended did not exist.

So Ajarod watched and waited, his senses outstretched beyond human limits through the power of the Force. Again and again he heard the Sith Code uttered, and he snatched at each word, searing the knowledge into his memory. What stood out to him most was the ending. Was this his opportunity to break his chains? To be free? He wondered if that was truth or merely deception. If he survived the trials, his leash would certainly become longer. He would be permitted a weapon, allowed to walk unquestioned through the halls of the Dark Lords, and yet he would still have a master, still take orders, still know that another sat above him and judged whether or not he was worthy to live. But whether it was true freedom or not, he would certainly be more free than he had been in years. If he could stay alive.

The other acolytes chose their overseers, speaking of forms of combat and the way of this beast or that. Ajarod had no idea what it all meant, but he watched and waited and learned. He observed each form in turn with the eyes of a man who has seen much bloodshed, sizing up the merits of each style of combat and imagining his own hands going through the motions of each strike and parry. And so it was that he made his decision: Djem So, which they called the Way of the Krayt Dragon. Rather appropriate to learn it here on Tattooine. He approached the overseer, offered a respectful bow, and began to speak, filling his words with all the confidence he could muster. If he did not act like a Sith, he would never become one. Turning back to his old life was impossible. It was evolve or die now.

"Peace is a lie," he said. In his own life, he had seen it to be true. Life was a struggle at the best of times, and all too often whatever happiness one had was shattered by things beyond one's control. "There is only passion," drive, willpower, the instinct to survive. "Through passion I gain strength," the will to go on, to endure, to seize every opportunity. "Through strength I gain power," the power to control one's own destiny by becoming stronger than those who would decide for you. "Through power I gain victory. Through victory, my chains are broken. The Force shall free me." He spoke each word with conviction, clinging to it as if it were his lifeline - for indeed it was. The overseer nodded and passed him a small, cold metal cylinder, and it was one of the most important moments of his life.

The lightsaber was hardly a special one - it had been made for an initiate's clumsy use, more durable than elegant. And yet to Ajarod, it was perhaps the only taste of real power he had ever experienced. He ignited it, felt the heat of the crimson blade as it sprung to life and cast its bloody glow over the dunes. It was lighter than he had expected; unlike a sword, the blade was weightless. The former slave gave it an experimental twirl, finding the balance, imagining how it would feel to fight with this deadly instrument in hand. All his aches and pains were forgotten, his exhaustion pushed aside, as the thrill of becoming something entirely new began to take hold of him. And then he remembered the others, and his heart grew still again. They knew how to fight already, and they were dangerous.

If he was to survive against them, it would take everything he could muster. His passion would have to truly become strength. "I am ready to learn," he said.
 

Drogh

Guest
Drogh took his lightsaber, it was not a pretty elegant thing, it was in his mind poorly made and cheap, and if he had any luck, he would not be stuck with it. However, his lightsaber had little intrest in him, the little 'innconet' voice of a girl that had a almost echoly voice in his mind, caught his attention. He felt some thing spewing out of the little girl, some thing strong powerful growing within her. His eyes were fixed on whom they called Darth Manah. He felt as if some thing was looming over him as he stared down at her, he felt she was hiding some thing. Yes, yes that giddy laugh and child like behavior felt fake, sythetic, forced. But he coundn't be certain, however alot like him self he had his suspcions she too was wearing a mask.
 
After several hours of riding on that large and shaggy Bantha the Tusken drifting in and out of consciousness as she swayed back and forth ever so slightly on that large beast. She is awoken by the sounds of people speaking in the same droning tone as one another as if the life had been sucked from their bodies. She looked around the area attempting to find the source of the sound before seeing a small trail of smoke puffing up into the air in the distance covered up by several hills of sand and the dried bones of different creatures. The Tusken proceeded to pull the reins inside of the Bantha's mouth turning him towards the direction of the smoke before proceeding to take out her rifle from the leather strap from her back holding it in one of her arms cautious of a surprise attack.

As her Bantha got closer to the camp the Tusken slowly climbed off of the large creature and proceeded to walk quietly towards one of the many Tents. The sounds of the people became clearer and clearer before she eventually was able to understand what some of them were saying. "Urrck gur?" (The Force?) she said to herself quietly as to not alert any of the strange people. The Tusken proceeded to peek her head out from the Tent to get a better look she immediately noticed the black as night clothing that they wore and the strange metallic cylinders at their sides and in their hands. Before she could even think as to what they were immediately a bright red light shot out of one of them. The Tusken's eyes grew wide as she looked upon the strange item it glowed like light but was red like blood the familiar feeling of dread and darkness came over her once again sending a shiver up her spine. "Ootgr...Urhack?" (So cold...what's going on?) she said as softly as possible her eyes still fixated on that red light.
 
Makashi[member="Jorryn Fordyce"]

The few acolytes in this marque, the overseer listened to them all recite the code. As the last of them finished, he gestured they sat down. As they sat down, he rose on to his feet, and walked in front of them. He was slender man, dressed in robes, he was not however sith. Like all overseers, he failed become sith, but did he was strong enough to teach. He was stronger than acolytes, but weaker than the ones who advance beyond this point.

Makashi, is the most graceful of lightsaber forms. So I wonder why you chose it, as I doubt any of you are graceful.
His last remark was almost snorted out.
This form is designed to help you duel other force users, something you may do very little of, after your first encounter.
He was implied they would die, if they faced a Jedi.
Though one of you may be worthy of training, though I doubt that very much.
He was saying this was waste of his time, and they should just go home or die know.
Reality was this was his job, and see so many die, he no longer cares.
Now the first thing to learn about Makashi is this, how to block.
As if you don't block,you die.
​Now to learn to block, you must imagine a pyramid in front of you.
The point of that pyramid, is your lightsaber.
The further your opponent's lightsaber gets towards you, the further you must move your lightsaber to block it.
Now your opponent will probably be faster than you, so to protect yourself better take step back.
Now form to two lines, one line will attack, and one line will defend.
He sat down on his seat, waited for the Acolytes to begin.

Nimian @Drogh @Ajarod Shova [member="Noda Fir"]
As like the other overseers, he to had failed to advance but survived the trials. He however did not care, he enjoyed being an overseer, he had power, but as long as he did his job, no one would cut him down. He ample amount of food, which was telling on waistline. He was no fool though, and knew most of them in front of where dead already, his job was to make sure the strong survived the day, the rest did not matter.

He lowered his arms, and signaled for them all to sit. As they did he got up, quite fast considering his weight.
Now you decide to learn the way Rancor, or to the Jedi the way of the diplomat.
There is nothing diplomatic about lightsaber, proving the Jedi lie.
There was nervous giggle in his room, by an acolyte that one would not be living long, he thought to himself.
This form is the most versatile of all the lightsaber forms, no strengths and no weakness.
This means every form is weaker to it, in some way, but conversely every form is stronger than it in some way.
The only thing we don't incorporate into this style is the fancy pancy Makashi form, which is purely dueling.
Now the main purpose of this form, is to block and attack, until you can use force power at close range.
His voice was quite jovial, despite the fact he was going to execute one of them, at the end of the lesson.
Now I want you to form two lines, and practice this in turns, and do this.
He then bekond a student over, not the one he was going to kill, but another.
Now do a high attack, then low and then aim for my chest.
The acolyte gave quick bow and then did an overhead attack, he moved his blade to block it.
Then he swept his blade low in one motion as he was order, the overseer jumped over the blade.
As he landed the acolyte went to strike his chest, he blocked it, and then put his hand on acolytes chest.
He then let of a spark that blew him out of tent, he then gave the acolyte a quick of respect.
Now you have not yet learnt to use the force, so stop once get your hand on his chest.
Now begin!
He sat down and watched them practice, keeping an eye on his victim to be, he did enjoy killing the odd acolyte.

Soresu @Enduri Jaii
The overseer for this class was not human, but a near human Arkanian. He did not display emotion, his face was like muscles where like granite.
He got up and then said, Sit.
They all sat down immediately bar one, as he was getting down. He was force pushed out of the marque, and his own lightsaber was thrown against him, killing the acolyte instantly.
He then turned back to class and said, The last obey my command will die, as slowness means death.
Now soresu is not about fancy maneuvering nor outright attacking, it simple they ability to outlast your opponent.
To do this you must be strong, and have endurance, not speed, not agility and not brute force.
Your first task of every day is to a one more press up, than you did on your last day.
Starting with a hundred, the last to complete a hundred press ups, well they are dead.
He sat down and grinned, waited to see who was last.

Ataru [member="Darth Manah"]

The overseer here was a woman, she was slender, and build of aerobics instructor.
She listened to them all recite the sith code, this now bored her, she heard so often she no longer cared.
She then rose from her seat, and said Everybody sit down at the edge of marque.
As the students did, it made room in the middle of it for her.
This form is about speed and aggression, to do this you need room to maneuver.
Hence you are all sat at the edge of this marque, now I going to signal each of you one by one.
I want you to run and jump each other, and block each other lightsaber, whilst in mid air.
She then started sat down and started pointing to random people in tent to start the ball rolling.


Makashi
 
[member="Darth Banshee"]

Running and jumping right up the hyperactive Manah's ally.
she began hopping like a child playing jump rope. after all she had an image to maintain.
Aggression was easy she was a psychopath there were many small creatures tortured and killed at her hands.
she kept her eyes on her bag as she did this.
 
Enduri thought to himself 100 Goddamn press-ups? Are you out of your mind? I have to do them , don't I, yes I do . He lied on the floor with his arms lined up , he started pushing agaisnt the ground. 1... 2... 3... , all the way up to 50 , then he stopped. He knew , if he was the last one , he would be killed , so he continued. As he reached 80 , he was very tired , and could almost breathe. It was like every single one , he did from then on , was one step closer to heaven. 81...82...83..84... and , 100 , he lied down again , and took his time to get his breath back. A good 10 minutes had passed , when he noticed 5 more acolytes were still doing the trial.
Three of them finished and the last two remaining started , doing the exercise faster and faster. Something unexpected happened , they both finished at the same time. Enduri wondered what would happen then.

[member="Darth Banshee"]
 

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