The agent must be executed. No mercy boy.
The words rang in Graxin's head in a constant melodic repeat as he popped in another protein cube. He had been given another task, one of much importance. His true tests were beginning now, it seemed.
He sat in the standard Imperial off duty fatigues; planted firmly on a supply crate in one of the many dueling rooms. Here, Sith gathered to test their abilities against one another. Bets were often placed, and for Graxin, it helped him figure out just how to take them down. Many were overconfident, and made rookie mistakes that were never take advantage of because their opponent was either too terrified, or doing the same thing.
Arrogance was easy to best.
His elbows were on his knees with his chin on the knuckles of one hand, the other digging into a small cloth pack for more of the tasteless protein cubes. Small, colorless, odorless, and utterly disgusting in texture. They were all Graxin could eat, and he had been forced to learn to love the things.
Another duel ended, and the referee announced and end to this evening's fights. Men and women slowly filed out of the room, leaving Graxin with only a few individuals to observe. They were normal folk; all busy going about their afternoon routines. Yet, he knew them to be fake. It was what he taught himself, in order to cope. This was all a giant, simulated, training setup.
Or a dream. Either way, he hasn't woken up yet, which meant that he hasn't yet passed, but he would.
The infiltrator squeezed his eyes shut, took in a deep breath, and tried oh-so-hard to reach out with the force. He had been told that he was a highly force sensitive individual, yet the Graug had never nurtured it, nor had they even recognized it.
The Sith he regularly interacted with had been told not to teach him, likely a precaution. He could see the merit to it, but at the same time, he taught himself. He had no teacher, and he would not ask for one. Self-discipline, and relying on one's self had gotten him this far.
The faint trickle of awareness, a tiny fraction of the river of power that was the force, the Bogan and the Ashla touched his mind. He could feel the people around him, going between their lockers, heading for the showers, flirting, being social, he could see it all.
He remained that way, protein cube held in front of his open mouth as he tried to access the force. He would not notice anything, or anyone approaching now. He was too transfixed on the others within the room.
[member="Alexandra Cinthra"] [member="Sokrai Ronaro"]
The words rang in Graxin's head in a constant melodic repeat as he popped in another protein cube. He had been given another task, one of much importance. His true tests were beginning now, it seemed.
He sat in the standard Imperial off duty fatigues; planted firmly on a supply crate in one of the many dueling rooms. Here, Sith gathered to test their abilities against one another. Bets were often placed, and for Graxin, it helped him figure out just how to take them down. Many were overconfident, and made rookie mistakes that were never take advantage of because their opponent was either too terrified, or doing the same thing.
Arrogance was easy to best.
His elbows were on his knees with his chin on the knuckles of one hand, the other digging into a small cloth pack for more of the tasteless protein cubes. Small, colorless, odorless, and utterly disgusting in texture. They were all Graxin could eat, and he had been forced to learn to love the things.
Another duel ended, and the referee announced and end to this evening's fights. Men and women slowly filed out of the room, leaving Graxin with only a few individuals to observe. They were normal folk; all busy going about their afternoon routines. Yet, he knew them to be fake. It was what he taught himself, in order to cope. This was all a giant, simulated, training setup.
Or a dream. Either way, he hasn't woken up yet, which meant that he hasn't yet passed, but he would.
The infiltrator squeezed his eyes shut, took in a deep breath, and tried oh-so-hard to reach out with the force. He had been told that he was a highly force sensitive individual, yet the Graug had never nurtured it, nor had they even recognized it.
The Sith he regularly interacted with had been told not to teach him, likely a precaution. He could see the merit to it, but at the same time, he taught himself. He had no teacher, and he would not ask for one. Self-discipline, and relying on one's self had gotten him this far.
The faint trickle of awareness, a tiny fraction of the river of power that was the force, the Bogan and the Ashla touched his mind. He could feel the people around him, going between their lockers, heading for the showers, flirting, being social, he could see it all.
He remained that way, protein cube held in front of his open mouth as he tried to access the force. He would not notice anything, or anyone approaching now. He was too transfixed on the others within the room.
[member="Alexandra Cinthra"] [member="Sokrai Ronaro"]
