Kaylee Channing Meditation Courtyard, Ispen’s Force Academy Kaylee surveyed the assembled students. Her little lesson had drawn quite a crowd! She was familiar with only a few of them; most she just recognized as being new admits. A good sign, to see them showing up for such an early class. You could always distinguish the motivated students from the ones who were there only because they had to be — the motivated ones went to class and actually tried to learn. As everyone was filtering in, one student stepped forward and saluted. "Master Channing, ma'am! Would you mind if Student Kardge were to join your exercise, ma'am?" “Of course not,” Kaylee said with a warm smile. “You are welcome here. Please just find a seat.” Another student inquired, "Master Channing, what, exactly, are we going to be doing to explore our powers?" “I’m glad you asked,” she replied. Then, raising her voice slightly, she announced to everyone in the courtyard: “If you all will please take a seat around the fountain, we’ll get started.” Kaylee waited a few moments for the students to settle in and then began speaking. “As you all know, the Force is present everywhere, in everything that we do. It flows from life and through life. It affects everyone in the galaxy, but only a few have the capacity to fully feel it. If you are sitting here today, then you are one of those people. Some of you may feel blessed to have been born with such a gift. For others, it may seem more of a curse. But what I hope to help you realize today is that, good or bad, this ability is something you will have to learn to deal with. The Force can be a powerful tool, but we must use it responsibly, governing ourselves by the wisdom of our chosen path. This is something you will — or, at least, should — struggle with for the rest of your lives. “To begin, I would like each of you to sit quietly for a moment and contemplate your Force journey thus far. Think about where you have been, and where you would like to be going.” As the students sat, Kaylee sent waves of peace and calm through the group, trying to quell any nervousness or distracting feelings. Soon the courtyard was silent, and the students were free to focus on the question at hand. As they meditated, she rose and gently laid several small flower petals in front of each student. When she had finished her task, she spoke softly, bringing the students out of their reverie. “In front of each of you, I’ve placed petals from flowers that grow in this garden. The petal is only a single part of the flower, but it reveals much about the plant from whence it came. So too are your Force powers only a single part of you, yet how you use them reflects on who you are. “You have the next five minutes to do whatever you like with your flower petals. You can team up with others and share petals, or you can work on your own. There is only one condition: you may not physically touch the petals. Anything you do must be done through the Force. Create an abstract work of art…suspend them in the air…it doesn’t matter what you do, so long as you exercise your Force sense. And this will require concentration.” TAG: Students
Kardge arched a curious brow and eyed the small petals in front of him. "Petals?" He thought, the bottom lid of his eye twitching madly as if too concentrated to perform the task at all. He would've asked a question, but it seemed Master Channing had already answered it. "Use the Force to move the petals. It's so much easier just to touch them, though." Kardge thought again, silently complaining to himself about the situation. Many of the other students were probably more adept at manipulating objects with the Force, and Kardge was no different. However, he had never really practiced anything until now. The soothing waves of calm overwhelmed the young apprentice and he shook his head as if to whip the feeling away. That never happened. Kardge found himself staring at a pile of petals of varying colors and shapes, thinking in his mind on how to "create" something. He reached out with his hand a few times, only to pull back, remembering the order to not touch them. Kardge allowed a frown to cross his face as he lifted the petals slowly with a devout burst of concentration. "Alright," Kardge said softly to himself, looking around to the others. He hadn't really met the others, and the Sith students were too cocky or arrogant to even ask to help. The Jedi students may be reluctant to work with a Sith student, so that was out of the question. Kardge was all alone on this mission. "Maybe by color..." He shifted through the petals, finding that if he separated them by color, there would be uneven piles of reds and blues, with nearly too many yellows and whites. He grumbled to himself and lifted them higher, looking up at them as they hovered before him at eye level. "Damn it," He swore, letting the petals hover back to the ground and eyed them all curiously. The former mercenary shifted through them again, this time by size. He came up with nearly even amounts of large and small, and not nearly enough mediums. The calming feeling subsided to a sense of frustration and Kardge lifted the medium petals individually and crushed them one by one with the Force. The soothing feeling returned, only after eliminating a potential weak link in his strategy. Now, what to do with the remaining petals? Kardge sighed and rested his chin in his palm, eyeing the petals curiously. His eye twitched again and he focused all of his attention on lining the two sizes up as if they were a well-formed military. Kardge was almost so focused that he lost track of what he was doing and started moving through the petals by hand.
Dorvi, the anxious Anx, stretched his limbs and rubbed his elongated head as he rose from his sleep. He rubbed his delicate eyes as he looked around. His eyes soon focused and he was up and ready to go. He headed over to his closet to put his decorated robes on. He put them on and fastened them onto his body. He then retrieved his lightsaber, and he clipped it onto his belt. He exited the dorm and went into the hallway. He was anxious for his lesson as a Jedi. He wanted to learn the ways of the force and how to duel well. He'd always looked forward to it. He headed down the hall with great pace, reaching out for his instructor, Moliar. He sensed him nearby, through the force. Slowly taking turns around the temple, he searched him feelings. He eventually realized his master was in the dueling arena. How exciting, as for he was anxious to learn lightsaber combat. He entered the room. The sunlight shone on him brightly, but it felt good. Nice to see the light of day. His crest on his head glowed brightly, in joy, representing his emotion. The Anx smiled at Moliar and approached him. He stopped a few yards away from the instructor. “Greetings, master Moliar.” he said, bowing his head. He would now wait for his master's response, or perhaps for another student to enter the room aswell. He waited.
Victor did as requested of the beautiful Master Channing, and took a seat. He closed his eyes and slipped into a small state of meditation, still being wary of his current surroundings. "Think about where you have been, and where you would like to be going," said Master Channing. Instantly, his memories of his time at the Jedi Academy on Courscant came to mind. Vic felt a small bit of regret for leaving, but smashed that regret down, realizing that he was much better off here and now. Besides, the only part he missed was the friends he had made during his twelve years training there. Vic then thought of himself in the future. He saw a being, a human man in his mid-thirties adorned in black robes, the hood up. Even through the robes he could tell he was built for a human. The being looked as if nothing could phase him; he was too powerful and too wise to let anything affect him. Then, the man turned to look into a mirror. The reflection was not the same as the man in his mid-thirties, rather a small child who looked exactly like Victor. "In front of each of you, I've placed petals from flowers that grow in this garden." The words of Channing broke his trance. Vic wondered if what he just saw was a vision, or simply a dream. He would ponder on that later, but for now, he focused on the flower petal in front of him. Channing told them to do whatever they wanted with the petal, but not touch it physically, only with the power of the Force. The students had the option of teaming up with another studen. Victor decided to do it alone; he would be able to concentrate better that way. Vic stared at the petal. He couldn't recall what kind of flower it was, but he had seen it before during his brief periods of meditation in the gardens of the Academy that he performed frequently. Just like back on Coruscant when he was eight or nine, he focused all thought on the flower and lifted it into the air with the Force. It took little effort; he had done it countless times before with larger objects. For about a minute, he just left it suspended in the air. Then, still with little effort, he began to twirl it in circles. Then in figure eights. Then, in the shape of his name, "Vic." After about two minutes of that, he began to twist it, twirling it until it was as thin as a needle. He unravled it to it's original shape, and then did it again, before unraveling it once more. Countless number of options formed in his mind, and he had about one minute left to do what he wanted with it. Hopefully, his distortions that he thought up would not rip it.
Veston rustled through a pile of white papers, searching for one of the many lessons he had already prepared. The first lesson was entitled 'Force Nexus House'. It outlined the defining points of the House and the responsibilities of the Nexus House students. As the students filed into the classroom, Zachian looked them up and down. Some of them slouched, some stood up straight, and others still stared blankly with no expression or stance. The students seemed eager to learn, however, Veston and few lessons to teach them. He had one message, and no lessons. He had values and morals, not ficticious or non-ficticious events and facts. Veston believed that facts and events for simply to be used as example for teaching morals and values, no more, no less. As the students seated themselves, Veston further arranged his organized mess. "I welcome you all, students, to the Force Nexus House. I trust you are all here to learn more about the Force, and not the differences of Light and Dark, Good and Evil, or Black and White?" He paused, expecting no reply, and continued, "The worlds of our universe contemplate such things endlessly, instead of looking to the insight of the force itself." Veston looked around the room, noting that all but a few students were listening diligently, and then continued. "Though, I personally believe myself to be that of the Jedi position, I have danced along both the borders of the Lightside and the Darkside. I know what it means to have no morals and I know what it means to have every moral. Now, at this point, I would be considered a Lightside Jedi. However, that's not what this house is about. You are here to learn the middle of both the Light and Dark, and let me tell you, if you have had any previous training in either the Jedi or the Sith, forget everything you have learned about being the person you are. Amongst the Grey Jedi, there is nothing but you and your morals. The Force is simply the Force, and you are simply one person. You are connected only to the Force." Veston decided he had talked enough, and he remembered what it was like to be a student of the Jedi. Always listening, and never asking. He also remembered how he hated it, and understood that that method of teaching didn't work. "Well... any questions?"
After being approached by Lierka, or at least that's what Kardge thought her name was, he looked down to the petals. His bottom eyelid twitched again as he glanced at the other students. Making the petals float around them, weaving them into hair, it was all so... girly. But, it was to better a technique, Kardge reassured himself. "To master the Force, one must manipulate the tiniest objects to gain a true understanding of the power we hold," It was a quote that he had heard his foster father use quite often, namely as a joke that was meant to ridicule Jedi and Sith. Kardge had never really met anyone like that in his days as a mercenary, but his father had been around. He had seen things that an accomplished spacer would try and disprove. The petals and the way he had arranged them, so simply placed in rank and file, angered him. Memories of his father and the entire squad of mercenaries flooded back to him as he withheld his remorse with a few deep breaths. He wanted to crush the rest of the petals, like he did the medium ones. "In a world of strong and meek," Kardge whispered to himself, lifting up one of his force crushed petals in his hand and eyed it cautiously, as if it were to bite his face if he neared too close. "There is no room for those caught in between..." The Sith student crushed the petal in his own grip and turned his gaze back to Lierka. He stood slowly, grunting easily as he rose from his seated position, and approached the girl slowly. She was younger than Kardge, much younger,and was of a species he had never even known of. Frankly, he didn't think the other students knew what she was either. However, her startling beauty was enchanting, and with that short moment between them, she had definitely caught the stern attention of the mercenary. Kardge cleared his throat and kneeled beside her, keeping a cautious distance between them even in that close of a setting. Kardge was taught that a mercenary's best friend was his weapon and his squad. This was different. Kardge's weapon was a lightsaber, two in fact, and his squad for now were the Sith students he never met before. "Those who fail to proceed are left behind," Kardge thought to himself before allowing his grimmace to subside. He spoke softly, as if embarassed to ask for assistance. "What should I do with my petals? Hovering them around me seems just too plain." He continued speaking, as if she cared to listen, and kept his stern militaristic posture even when seated. "I ordered them, weeded out the outcasts, and placed them into rank and file. But I don't know what to do with them..." The thoughts rushed to Kardge's mind, the anger, the hatred. Such a simple task should not cause so much emotion in one student, especially one just mastering the techniques of the Force.
"Ask them," Kardge repeated in a relatively low whisper. He'd never really gotten the gist of "asking" for anything in his lifetime. With mercenaries, everything was take what you can. It was a general rule of thumb, and it was placed as something of a survival code. Morning mess, arms and armor, guard duty, and even killing those you are hired to kill. If you didn't take what was offered or develop the initiative to just take something, you were as good as dead. "Damn it boy! How many times have I told you that the scope on that rifle is to be centered! You want your shot to veer off-target and alert them to our presence?" Xaero scolded his adoptive son in a grated whisper, as not to lose their position camped on the top of a rolling hills of Cato Neimoidia. He was a gruff man with an even gruffer demeanor, and all of his men saw him as a brother, while Kardge saw him as his father. "But they have one of those Jedi down there don't they dad?" The boy asked, being only 10 at the time. He was curious about the ways of the Force, although too curious for a mercenary's taste. Mercenaries didn't need the Force. To them, it didn't exist. Just some tool for psychics to play around with to have their way with the galaxy. Kardge recalled Xaero stating that "The Force is like a twi'lek barmaid: you treat her right, and give good tips, she's yours for the night. Get too out of control with her and grab something you shouldn't, and she'll mess you up for life." Kardge never really understood the Force and how the other mercenaries made jokes about what Sith could do just by squeezing their hands. It intrigued Kardge to no end, and it usually caused him to lose focus from time to time. "No boy," Xaero scolded as he adjusted the boy's scope for him. Force knows he was too unfocused with one of his daydreams to do it himself. "That's a Force Adept, one of those weird Witches from Dathomir. They control the Force differently than a Jedi or Sith would, but trust me, just because they don't have a lightsaber, doesn't mean that they still can't deflect a well-placed shot." Xaero offered a smile to his prodigy as the boy took aim in the scope. Below, inside the base filled with neimoidian rebels, there was only one Force Witch which seemed to grow apart from her clan. Many Dathomir Witches usually stayed on their homeworld, and held contempt for many outsiders, especially men. Kardge took aim, following the Witch as she paced between rebel groups. Apparently the Jedi and the Sith, from Xaero's information, refused to aid either side in the battle, and with the neimoidian rebels losing the fight, they must've really pulled some strings for a Dathomiran General. The boy's grip tensed on the rifle as he zoomed in his shot. She was a rather dark and ruddy complected woman, with even darker braids of woven and nappy hair dangling into her face. She wore little clothing, aside from some bone-plate that looked as if it had seen better days. Xaero's outfit each had their own armor, which they usually found off merchants on Nar Shaddaa. The woman herself was beautiful, but not by a suitor's standards. Her stance for battle was apparent in the way her hips swayed with every pace from group to group. Her shoulders held a posture of a warrior that had seen many glorious battles, and the scars on her visible flesh revealed that she was tough as a rancor in hand-to-hand combat. Kardge applied quick pressure to the trigger, having caught the Witch-General in the dead center of his scope. The shot rang out, and Xaero yelled a battle cry which sent his men tumbling over the hill to charge at the base below. Kardge pulled slowly away from the scope and smiled at his shot: a dead hit through one temple and through the other. The smoldering bolt and exit wound still smoked, which meant that their primary objective was accomplished. The Witch-General was dead, and that was one less tougher opponent for the Wraid Knights to deal with in melee. Xaero placed a quick congradulatory pat on the boy's shoulder. "I thought you said they could deflect the shot," Kardge said, his smile subsiding into a frown of disappointment. Xaero laughed and hoisted the boy up, the sounds of battle echoing up the hill-valley with triumphant screams and howls. "A well-placed one yes. A perfect one," The mercenary leader smiled as he stood on the crest of the hill. "I wouldn't think so..." Kardge snapped out of his brief memory and looked to the new petals given to him by Lierka. They didn't match his others at all. If he didn't decide to take her advice and think of something simple, he would've repeated his same routine: crush the outcasts, order the masses. That's what Kardge wanted: power over those who fit in, and the destruction of those who didn't. He nodded slowly, as if agreeing with something, and it seemed rather odd as he did so. Little would those around him know, he was agreeing with his house placement. The Sith wanted power, and Kardge was placed there because of his past. His past of desiring power. Desire... the path of the Dark Side. "Very well," He said with a renewed confidence. Looking down to his petals, he began to think, in less time than he had done before. In no time, he gathered the petals with the Force and brought them up to eye-level once more, gathering them with one hand and suspending them in mid-air with the other. He felt the Force flow as a warm sweat of concentration dripped from his brow. Master Channing had said it would take concentration, and Karge was certainly concentrated. "Concentration and focus are two completely different things: a soldier is focused and can rush into a headlong of enemies with little fear of what they are facing; a dejarik player is concentrated, and can determine his next move before he even makes it. How else do you think I lose most of my credits on Nar Shaddaa? I'm too damn focused!"
"Damn it boy! How many times have I told you that the scope on that rifle is to be centered! You want your shot to veer off-target and alert them to our presence?" Xaero scolded his adoptive son in a grated whisper, as not to lose their position camped on the top of a rolling hills of Cato Neimoidia. He was a gruff man with an even gruffer demeanor, and all of his men saw him as a brother, while Kardge saw him as his father. "But they have one of those Jedi down there don't they dad?" The boy asked, being only 10 at the time. He was curious about the ways of the Force, although too curious for a mercenary's taste. Mercenaries didn't need the Force. To them, it didn't exist. Just some tool for psychics to play around with to have their way with the galaxy. Kardge recalled Xaero stating that "The Force is like a twi'lek barmaid: you treat her right, and give good tips, she's yours for the night. Get too out of control with her and grab something you shouldn't, and she'll mess you up for life." Kardge never really understood the Force and how the other mercenaries made jokes about what Sith could do just by squeezing their hands. It intrigued Kardge to no end, and it usually caused him to lose focus from time to time. "No boy," Xaero scolded as he adjusted the boy's scope for him. Force knows he was too unfocused with one of his daydreams to do it himself. "That's a Force Adept, one of those weird Witches from Dathomir. They control the Force differently than a Jedi or Sith would, but trust me, just because they don't have a lightsaber, doesn't mean that they still can't deflect a well-placed shot." Xaero offered a smile to his prodigy as the boy took aim in the scope. Below, inside the base filled with neimoidian rebels, there was only one Force Witch which seemed to grow apart from her clan. Many Dathomir Witches usually stayed on their homeworld, and held contempt for many outsiders, especially men. Kardge took aim, following the Witch as she paced between rebel groups. Apparently the Jedi and the Sith, from Xaero's information, refused to aid either side in the battle, and with the neimoidian rebels losing the fight, they must've really pulled some strings for a Dathomiran General. The boy's grip tensed on the rifle as he zoomed in his shot. She was a rather dark and ruddy complected woman, with even darker braids of woven and nappy hair dangling into her face. She wore little clothing, aside from some bone-plate that looked as if it had seen better days. Xaero's outfit each had their own armor, which they usually found off merchants on Nar Shaddaa. The woman herself was beautiful, but not by a suitor's standards. Her stance for battle was apparent in the way her hips swayed with every pace from group to group. Her shoulders held a posture of a warrior that had seen many glorious battles, and the scars on her visible flesh revealed that she was tough as a rancor in hand-to-hand combat. Kardge applied quick pressure to the trigger, having caught the Witch-General in the dead center of his scope. The shot rang out, and Xaero yelled a battle cry which sent his men tumbling over the hill to charge at the base below. Kardge pulled slowly away from the scope and smiled at his shot: a dead hit through one temple and through the other. The smoldering bolt and exit wound still smoked, which meant that their primary objective was accomplished. The Witch-General was dead, and that was one less tougher opponent for the Wraid Knights to deal with in melee. Xaero placed a quick congradulatory pat on the boy's shoulder. "I thought you said they could deflect the shot," Kardge said, his smile subsiding into a frown of disappointment. Xaero laughed and hoisted the boy up, the sounds of battle echoing up the hill-valley with triumphant screams and howls. "A well-placed one yes. A perfect one," The mercenary leader smiled as he stood on the crest of the hill. "I wouldn't think so..."
