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Krath Training: Lesson 3 - ACO Trevor Rastyn and KP George
Rastyn and George both stood atop the mountain, Rastyn slightly shivering in the cold night air. It was the middle of the night on Nesh, and the dark sky above was obscured by thick clouds that seemed have enveloped the moon. Rain beat down heavily upon the surface, drenching the master and his apprentice. A thunderstorm brewed overhead, and lightning flashed high overhead, the sudden and brief bursts of light ensuring that both men's eyes never had time to adjust to the light, but were rather dependent on the storm to see. To add to the lack of visibility, fog had gathered atop the mountain, and the two fighters were separated by a thick white mist.
Both George and his student only wore their black training pants, forsaking both tops and shoes for this lesson. The dirt and rocks felt rough beneath George's feet, and he knew that any sudden movements would probably result in him cutting himself. In his hand he held a evil looking sword, its edge sharpened to the point that it seemed to cut the very air around it. Though he could barely make out Rastyn through the fog, he knew his apprentice was similarly armed to himself. George focused his energy on resisting the cold, and waited. Time passed, and neither George nor Rastyn said a word. Through the flashes of lightening, George could see Rastyn's figure in the distance, unmoving. The Krath Priest smiled, and continued to wait. Soon, it would only be a matter of time.
As George knew he would, Rastyn began to fidget, his body in a slightly different position with each flash of the lightening. Eventually, George heard his student's voice calling out from over the space between them.
"Master, is there a purpose to this lesson?" asked the young man, teeth chattering between each word. The winds seemed to howl around Rastyn, and he had to raise his voice to be heard above them. Thanks to the winds, and the fog, George had been completely obscured from view. A lightening flash illuminated him for a brief instant, and then he was gone again. Rastyn grew bored, and turned his own sword over, its honed edge managing to reflect even the meagre light that was available.
"The purpose of this lesson is to teach you of dedication and hard work" came George's voice finally, surprisingly clear despite the loud winds. Rastyn couldn't help but smirk.
"Dedication I have, George" he called out, "Being in the Royal Guard and commanding the Infiltrator Wing tends to teach that." He paused, awaiting his masters response. Nothing came. Rastyn sighed, and called out again, "George?" Another pause, and nothing. Then, George's voice again.
"You know of dedication. You may even know of hard work. This lesson will teach you that these things must always be on your mind, even when you must suffer hardship and pain to maintain them."
"Is that why I'm standing out here trying my hardest to avoid catching hypothermia?" asked Rastyn, a faint tinge of sarcasm colouring his voice.
"Partially" came the response, "But partially to show you that you must always focus on the task at hand, and that the more you focus, the easier the pain will be to control."
"How will standing on a mountain top help with that?" asked Rastyn, genuinely curious.
"It won't" came the answer, "But this will." Another flash of lightening came, and George was suddenly closer. Yet another flash, and the Krath Priest was almost within striking distance, his sword coming up. Rastyn looked in bewilderment, a small reflex in the back of his mind bringing up his own sword. With the final flash of lightening, George seemed to jump forward at Rastyn, bursting through the mist the separated the two. The master brought his sword down in a vicious overhead blow, which Rastyn barely blocked, instincts and reflexes telling him to move to the side and parry the blow along his blade rather than try and keep it contained to one section. Sparks flew off the two blades and Rastyn had to fight to keep his blade upright. He readied for another blow, but George instead ran past, disappearing into the fog behind Rastyn again. The apprentice swore, and looked around, holding his sword ready in front of him. He stopped all movement, listening for George. Turning his head around, he couldn't see where the Krath Priest was. He swore silently, he couldn't hear a thing due to the howling winds. A feeling more than anything convinced him to turn around, sure enough, George was there, this time the blade coming from Rastyn's left in a savage sideways blow intended to dismember the young Acolyte. Rastyn jumped back, feeling a sharp pain in his feet as rocks below cut into his skin. George continued pressing the attack, executing a series of different strikes, Rastyn having to focus completely on each to block them. As the master and apprentice moved around, the winds howled around them and the lightening strike nearby. Both men ignored it as they continued their duel, their minds focussed only on one thing - the fight, and surviving it. Rastyn ducked under one of George's overhead chops, one that would have decapitated him had it connected, and charged into the Krath priest, his shoulder making a sickening thud into George's midsection. The master went sprawling backwards, momentarily off balance, and Rastyn sensed the opportunity to press the attack. He began to charge George, and delivered his own slash, his blade coming across horizontally to try and take the Krath Priest across the chest. George leaned back, the blade instead slicing through the air with a keening sound, as Rastyn realised he had put too much power into the strike. George saw the opening in his apprentice's strategy, and lunged forward, his sword whistling through the air, it's point headed directly for his pupil's neck. At the last instant, Rastyn batted it away with his blade, grunting with the exertion. He brought his blade to bear on George, who blocked it with his own, the two men slamming up against one another. The edges of the blades dug into each of their chests, but they ignored it. Blood began to seep, but the master and his pupil merely stared at each other, their eyes cold as they continued to push, waiting to see which one would break off first. Rain fell upon their backs, mixing with sweat that both had built up from the fighting. Time seemed to slow down as they continued locking their gazes on one another. Finally, George broke off, and jumped back. Rastyn moved to follow, constant attacks harassing George. George felt rage brewing, and fuelled it with a series of quick attacks open the apprentice. Rastyn jumped back, blocking each strike as his body processed what he was going through. He felt a dull pain in his feet, and his hair was matted, drenched as it was in rain and sweat. He could feel a warmness seeping down his chest. His feet shifted positions quickly, quicker than he could think about, as instinct began to take over and he blocked blow after blow, move after move. Then, as he was executing a counter attack, George dropped his sword. Rastyn's blade cleaved through the air, as he considered the action. He and George had been fighting this entire time, and the Krath Priest had shown no signs of slowing down - clearly he had dropped his blade for a purpose. Rastyn's mind worked in overtime as he considered what he was witnessing. He came to an understanding and, just as George's falling sword hit the ground, so too did Rastyn's blade stop in it's motions, a scant few centimetres from George's neck. Rastyn was breathing heavily, and adrenaline pumping through his veins causing his body to tremble slightly and his blade to develop a vibration. In the distance, he could hear thunder crack across the sky, and lightening light up the mountain top. Rain fell around him, as little droplets seemed to bounce off his blade. He noticed the fog again, and was surprised - all these things had been going on around him the entire time, and yet they had disappeared from his awareness during the fight. Taking deep breaths to regain full control, he lowered his sword. George smiled and bowed, and Rastyn returned the bow.
"Now" said the apprentice between deep breaths, "What was the purpose of that fight? What lesson was taught?" He was beginning to shiver again as the night air combined with the sweat and rain on his to chill his body.
"To teach you that, when you are focussed enough on your task, nothing else matters" answered George, gesturing around him. "You know what you experienced, you know that, for a moment, I and the fight was the only thing your mind was aware off." Rastyn nodded.
"I wasn't aware of the cold, or the rain, or even the fog" he answered, "Not when I was truly concentrated." George grinned,
"More" he said, "Much more. Look at your feet." Rastyn did so, and was shocked. He lifted up his feet to see bloodied and tattered soles, bits of rock and dirt mixed in with skin and blood. As he stared, his body began to finally relay the pain he was meant to be feeling. Rastyn was in awe.
"I... I didn't feel a thing" he said. George nodded.
"This is the true lesson of dedication, of hard work. Not that you must ignore your pain, but that, when you are focussed and dedicated enough, you will not feel any. This is what all true Dark Jedi must learn. An Obelisk learns it through fights like this, a Sith learns it through his fighter. As a Krath, however, you are greater than either of those Orders. You must learn it during everything you do, for a Krath's greatest contribution to the Brotherhood is that of constant thought and consideration. In everything we do, we must always be calculating, and no decision we make must ever be rash. Let the Obelisk batter their lightsabers against each other mindlessly, and let the Sith rage without reason or cause - a Krath will always consider each and everyone of his decisions and actions. In this way, a good Krath will always make the correct decision and action. That is what it means to be one of Us. That is what it means to excel within our Order."
Rastyn nodded his understanding, and then hesitated. "I didn't think during all of that fight" he admitted, "Some of it was just reflex." George nodded.
"Don't worry" he said, "Your training will fix that."
"Oh?" asked Rastyn. George nodded.
"We'll start by exploring your dedication to your Dark Brotherhood studies, and more importantly, to the philosophy of the Brotherhood. In the last lesson, I explained to you what my beliefs regarding the Force and the Dark Side where. In this lesson, I explained to you why dedication and concentration is important. I believe this is especially true of one's beliefs of the Force and it's actions. What your beliefs are will colour every response you make and every decision you take."
"You want my beliefs?" asked Rastyn, and his master nodded. "Ok..." the Acolyte began, but stopped as George shook his head.
"Not yet" answered George, "A Krath must always be thinking, and it would be too easy for you to do that just by talking." The Krath Priest picked up his sword again and gestured for Rastyn to take up a guard stance. "Now" said George, grinning, "You can explain your views." Rastyn laughed, and the fight continued.
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For what seemed to take minutes, and really only took seconds, Trevor looked at his hands. His finger nails were blue, and his finger tips were shrivled up like rotten fruit. He adjusted the grip he had on his weapon, which George had yet to notice the significance of. A flash of light lit up the mountian top, and George noticed the tattoos covering Trevor's body. Down both his arms, covering his shoulders and lower neck, and adorning his chest down to his waist. The blood running from Trevor's wound covered some of the ink under his skin. George watched the colors spread across Trevor's body fade as the light quickly vanished, followed by the dull rumble of the thunderstorm above. The rain continued to fall in a slow, angled pattern around the two men. The Master and his Apprentice were in the thick of a heated dual. A lesson, more-over. A lesson on dedication and work ethic. Both of which Trevor had proven to posses, but none-the-less, the lesson was not over. Trevor watched George pick up his sword with the aide of the Force. Trevor felt the throbbing from the soles of his feet, but continued to push them out of his mind. His feet were cut badly, his left foot more so than his right. He knelt down and recovered his weapon, without taking his eyes off of his Master. "First off...." Trevor said as he slowly stood up. "I prefer to fight with a weapon I'm comfortable with..." Trevor said and suddenly with a sharp snap, a second blade blasted out of, what George thought, was the base of Trevor's weapon. He looked at the viro-staff and realized that Trevor was holding his weapon of choice from his days as a Royal Guardsman.
"You..." George said as he stood up and lowered his sword to his side. "Should not be using a staff... Lightsaber or not."
"You gonna take it away from me?" Trevor said with his weapon at the ready, and a smile on his face. His feet still in throbbing agony.
"Yes. I am." George said as he rushed across the barren rock of the mountian top and attacked Trevor. Trevor, feeling very much at home with his weapon of choice, was able to put his skills to better use, though George was still considerably stronger and faster. Trevor had a feeling that George was holding back to keep from destroying his Apprentice, but not so much that Trevor was not pushed to the limit to earn his Master's trust and resepct.
"Then I believe.." Trevor started, while blocking a parry from George. "You're going to have to work for it!" Trevor added as he spun his weapon around, directing the momentum of Georges attack away. Once George was pointing in the opposite direction of Trevor, George began to calculate his next attack, leaving his guard down for a split second. Trevor released his weapon, in a pre- meditated assault, and punched George in the back of the head, while he turned around. Stunned, George took several quick steps away and ran away in to the fog. "I also believe, I'm getting used to this putting pain out of my mind." Trevor said as he knelt down and concentraited on George's possible next move. "I haven't seen you be this defensive ever, Master." Trevor stated, and from a distance, George answered, baiting Trevor.
"Who says I'm being defensive?" George asked as he continued to stalk Trevor.
"No one..." Trevor said as he turned in the opposite direction of where he heard George's voice. "That's just what I believe..." Trevor said, and brought his blade up over his shoulder behind him. As soon as he finished talking, he could hear the sound of footsteps approaching him from behind, and knew that George was playing games with him. "I believe that your training methods are flawed, Master." Trevor pushed up with his blade and forced George back briefly. Just long enough to get to his feet and face his Master in the mountian top fog.
"Oh?"
"Yes, you are too predictable..." Trevor continued with a grunt. "The means which you disappear one way, talk from another spot, and return from where you left was too predictable."
"Very well, predict this!" George said and used the Force to push Trevor to the rocks below. The sharp edges dug into Trevor's back and shoulders and cut him severely. Trevor sprang to his feet as George's sword came crashing down, sparks flying as it struck the ground. The two continued to duel for moments, exchanging attack for defensive manuver, cutting the soles of thier feet to the bone, and bleeding from thier wounds for moments on end. Attacks from the left, from below, from behind (hehehe), the two Dark Jedi battled for supremacy. The two men jumped and weaved across the rocky mountian top as the ground slowly became more and more red with the stains of thier blood.
"So what else do you believe, my young Apprentice?"
"I believe, this will end right now!" Trevor said as he dashed towards George, his viro-staff trained on George like a lance. George stood his ground, prepared for Trevor's attack, or at least, what he believed to be Trevor's attack. At the last possible second, Trevor threw his viro-staff at George. Unexpecting the rash manuver, George took his eyes off Trevor. Just long enough for Trevor to spin his battered body around, take George by the wrist with one hand, and claim George's sword for himself with his other hand. With the sword safely in his other hand, Trevor used his momentum to drop to the ground, further scratching and cutting his upper body, and throw George to the ground. As George rolled over and prepared to defend himself, with a flash of lighting, he found Trevor holding his own sword to his neck. The two continued to breath and pant heavily from thier strenious exersice, and did not say a word. George closed his eyes.
"Destroy me..." He said.
"I can't do that..." Trevor replied quietly.
"Yes you can!" George snapped as he opened his eyes. The fury rushing through both men was at a peak. Trevor paused and looked at George, then threw the weapon aside.
"I don't believe I could live with myself...."
"...And I believe you have learned your lesson...." George finished.
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