ButtsnBalls
AlteredTundra“I can’t- I- It’s too much” the young boy cried as he dropped to his knees, his tightly clenched fists rapping on his head. The pain overwhelmed him causing tears to stream down his cheeks and trickle onto the cold concrete floor below. His whole body trembled as if every muscle began to freeze and contract. Despite having no actual physical injuries, the boy truly was in a great deal of pain.
“Focus my young Padawan. It is not your pain that you are feeling.” Leneer’s voice was calm and soothing, quiet yet clear. The Togruta took a knee and laid a gentle hand on her apprentices shoulder. Young Rylos’ anguish did not recede though. Leneer looked around the dark corridor that the pair found themselves in. Pitch black walls and hard grey floors were barely illuminated by the odd flickering light – and each time the dull lights did flicker, the mangled corpses of the syndicate thugs came into view. The Jedi did not resort to killing lightly, but these criminals were well-trained and harboured a barbaric mentality; they would not be taken alive. Leneer herself suddenly winced as a distant scream echoed down the halls, and it caused Rylos to squirm even more. This facility was one of Black Sun’s many holding-pens hidden on Coruscant and even the weakest of force users could feel the darkness surrounding it. Deeper within this place Black Sun veterans practised the dark art of torture on those that wronged them or withheld information. It was a place filled with pain and agony, all of which the young Empath could feel.
“Listen to my voice Padawan. Close your eyes and focus on my words. You are standing on the beaches of Kashyyk with water up to your chest. The waves are crashing against you, reaching over your shoulders and toppling over your head. They are blinding you and it feels like you are going to drown. But all you need to do is step back onto the sand and leave the water behind. Leave the emotions behind Rylos, take a step back and find clarity. The water is still there, you can still hear it, smell it and sense it, but you need not swim in it.”
Rylos walked slowly along the desolate halls where he once played as a child. The youngling dormitories were eerily silent and were filled with a darkness that did not require a force-user to sense. Many Jedi had died already and many of those that remained were filled with pain and suffering. He did not allow himself to be engulfed by these emotions that he felt, but even so he could not stop the tears from filling up around the edges of his eyes. He held back a choke as he was forced to stop his stride and take a wide step over the bodies of three younglings that blocked his path. He could not help but look down as he did so, and his eyes caught those of a young Zabrak boy. The once orange eyes had already turned pale and seemed so unnaturally devoid of life. ‘I should have got here sooner… I could have protected them…’ he cursed, feeling the guilt of the world fall upon his shoulders.
“Section’s clear! Move onto the next one!” came a sudden order from around a corner.
It was the unmistakable voice of a clone trooper.
Rylos didn’t pause to think as he began to hone in on the intruders, his body jolting forward as if on auto-pilot. His footsteps were light and graceful, hardly making a sound as his soles bounced off the marble floor. He glided around a corner with such fluidity that he managed to avoid catching the eyes of the clones leaving a room… that was until he unleashed his bright yellow saber.
“Jedi!” the closest to him barked, but it was not quick enough. Two of the clones raised their blasters and began firing but Rylos quickly closed the gap, knocking aside their blasts with ease. He had the squad of seven pinned down between two rooms, the doorway acting as funnel and allowing him to take on no more than two clones at a time. He began cleaving through them with silent and focussed determination, his saber ruining the weapons and extremities of those who opposed him before he knocked them aside. By the time he fought through the doorway only one remained. The lone man stood on the far side of the room, fresh dark crimson blood soaking his pearly white armour as the corpses of younglings laid littered by his feet. In his hand a single grenade, enough to blow the two of them to pieces.
“Take one more step Jedi and I’ll blow us both. Put the lightsaber down and get down on the-” The clone’s order stopped abruptly as the grenade flew out of his hand and through the window behind him. “Shit!” he gasped as he fumbled futilely for his pistol before another force attack sent him flying backwards. Rylos flew across the ravaged dorm-room and stood above the trooper. He poised his saber at the cold unemotional helmet, ready to deliver a killing blow.
“Master, you tell me that my ability is gift and that I should use it, but tell me to de detached and reject emotions. How can I do both? How can I ever become a true Jedi with this burden?”
“No my young Padawan, you misunderstand. A Jedi, no matter how disciplined or trained, will always feel emotions. They are a part of life and they give us meaning. To bury them and reject them only serves to make them fester and grow stronger; it is misunderstanding that I believe has led to many Jedi succumbing to the dark side. A Jedi should accept their emotions, seek to understand them, but not let them guide them away from Peace.”
Rylos could feel the terror that the trooper hid behind the mask, the feeling of hopelessness as his life was held at the tip the saber. The Jedi wanted to kill him, to punish him, to avenge the deaths of the other Jedi whose blood adorned the troopers armour, but he couldn’t. Rylos’ stomach knotted and twisted, and his face screwed up into a pained scowl. “No.” he whispered to himself as he released the button on his weapon, causing the yellow beam to retreat back into the hilt. He knew that killing was against the Jedi code, that in taking a life he was no better than the enemies he fought, but more than that he was emotionally unable to go through with it; to connect with someone so deeply, to empathise with them completely and then wipe them from existence, was simply not something he could do. However it didn’t stop him from force pushing the troopers head back into the wall, knocking him unconscious. Rylos turned and left then, walking past the other troopers who laid scattered by the doorway with injured or missing limbs. They were in pain but they would live.
Once clear of clones, Rylos found a moment to meditate and feel the various connections within the Temple. The clones were everywhere and they all felt the same, each filled with determination and anger. It was the outliers that he was looking for – those that were grieving, that felt scared and betrayed – other Jedi. Such emotions were swirling around near the archives, a small group with very mixed emotions. He was not so adept with feeling connections that he could pinpoint exactly where they were or what they were doing, but he could tell they were trying to escape the masses of clones beginning to surround them. “If they’re trapped in the Archives they’ll have to escape via the hidden supply tunnels.” he thought to himself. He knew the tunnels fairly well, having previously investigated a spree of break-ins. Two undercity criminals had somehow found out about the tunnels and exploited a vulnerability in the ventilation to gain access; although they didn’t have the audacity to go into the Temple proper, they did manage to steal a few of the supplies that were transported through the tunnels. Fortunately Rylos knew that whilst the external ventilation vulnerabilities had been resolved, people could still gain access to the tunnels from shafts within the Temple, and so Rylos headed off towards the nearest entry point careful not to be followed.
“Focus my young Padawan. It is not your pain that you are feeling.” Leneer’s voice was calm and soothing, quiet yet clear. The Togruta took a knee and laid a gentle hand on her apprentices shoulder. Young Rylos’ anguish did not recede though. Leneer looked around the dark corridor that the pair found themselves in. Pitch black walls and hard grey floors were barely illuminated by the odd flickering light – and each time the dull lights did flicker, the mangled corpses of the syndicate thugs came into view. The Jedi did not resort to killing lightly, but these criminals were well-trained and harboured a barbaric mentality; they would not be taken alive. Leneer herself suddenly winced as a distant scream echoed down the halls, and it caused Rylos to squirm even more. This facility was one of Black Sun’s many holding-pens hidden on Coruscant and even the weakest of force users could feel the darkness surrounding it. Deeper within this place Black Sun veterans practised the dark art of torture on those that wronged them or withheld information. It was a place filled with pain and agony, all of which the young Empath could feel.
“Listen to my voice Padawan. Close your eyes and focus on my words. You are standing on the beaches of Kashyyk with water up to your chest. The waves are crashing against you, reaching over your shoulders and toppling over your head. They are blinding you and it feels like you are going to drown. But all you need to do is step back onto the sand and leave the water behind. Leave the emotions behind Rylos, take a step back and find clarity. The water is still there, you can still hear it, smell it and sense it, but you need not swim in it.”
Rylos walked slowly along the desolate halls where he once played as a child. The youngling dormitories were eerily silent and were filled with a darkness that did not require a force-user to sense. Many Jedi had died already and many of those that remained were filled with pain and suffering. He did not allow himself to be engulfed by these emotions that he felt, but even so he could not stop the tears from filling up around the edges of his eyes. He held back a choke as he was forced to stop his stride and take a wide step over the bodies of three younglings that blocked his path. He could not help but look down as he did so, and his eyes caught those of a young Zabrak boy. The once orange eyes had already turned pale and seemed so unnaturally devoid of life. ‘I should have got here sooner… I could have protected them…’ he cursed, feeling the guilt of the world fall upon his shoulders.
“Section’s clear! Move onto the next one!” came a sudden order from around a corner.
It was the unmistakable voice of a clone trooper.
Rylos didn’t pause to think as he began to hone in on the intruders, his body jolting forward as if on auto-pilot. His footsteps were light and graceful, hardly making a sound as his soles bounced off the marble floor. He glided around a corner with such fluidity that he managed to avoid catching the eyes of the clones leaving a room… that was until he unleashed his bright yellow saber.
“Jedi!” the closest to him barked, but it was not quick enough. Two of the clones raised their blasters and began firing but Rylos quickly closed the gap, knocking aside their blasts with ease. He had the squad of seven pinned down between two rooms, the doorway acting as funnel and allowing him to take on no more than two clones at a time. He began cleaving through them with silent and focussed determination, his saber ruining the weapons and extremities of those who opposed him before he knocked them aside. By the time he fought through the doorway only one remained. The lone man stood on the far side of the room, fresh dark crimson blood soaking his pearly white armour as the corpses of younglings laid littered by his feet. In his hand a single grenade, enough to blow the two of them to pieces.
“Take one more step Jedi and I’ll blow us both. Put the lightsaber down and get down on the-” The clone’s order stopped abruptly as the grenade flew out of his hand and through the window behind him. “Shit!” he gasped as he fumbled futilely for his pistol before another force attack sent him flying backwards. Rylos flew across the ravaged dorm-room and stood above the trooper. He poised his saber at the cold unemotional helmet, ready to deliver a killing blow.
“Master, you tell me that my ability is gift and that I should use it, but tell me to de detached and reject emotions. How can I do both? How can I ever become a true Jedi with this burden?”
“No my young Padawan, you misunderstand. A Jedi, no matter how disciplined or trained, will always feel emotions. They are a part of life and they give us meaning. To bury them and reject them only serves to make them fester and grow stronger; it is misunderstanding that I believe has led to many Jedi succumbing to the dark side. A Jedi should accept their emotions, seek to understand them, but not let them guide them away from Peace.”
Rylos could feel the terror that the trooper hid behind the mask, the feeling of hopelessness as his life was held at the tip the saber. The Jedi wanted to kill him, to punish him, to avenge the deaths of the other Jedi whose blood adorned the troopers armour, but he couldn’t. Rylos’ stomach knotted and twisted, and his face screwed up into a pained scowl. “No.” he whispered to himself as he released the button on his weapon, causing the yellow beam to retreat back into the hilt. He knew that killing was against the Jedi code, that in taking a life he was no better than the enemies he fought, but more than that he was emotionally unable to go through with it; to connect with someone so deeply, to empathise with them completely and then wipe them from existence, was simply not something he could do. However it didn’t stop him from force pushing the troopers head back into the wall, knocking him unconscious. Rylos turned and left then, walking past the other troopers who laid scattered by the doorway with injured or missing limbs. They were in pain but they would live.
Once clear of clones, Rylos found a moment to meditate and feel the various connections within the Temple. The clones were everywhere and they all felt the same, each filled with determination and anger. It was the outliers that he was looking for – those that were grieving, that felt scared and betrayed – other Jedi. Such emotions were swirling around near the archives, a small group with very mixed emotions. He was not so adept with feeling connections that he could pinpoint exactly where they were or what they were doing, but he could tell they were trying to escape the masses of clones beginning to surround them. “If they’re trapped in the Archives they’ll have to escape via the hidden supply tunnels.” he thought to himself. He knew the tunnels fairly well, having previously investigated a spree of break-ins. Two undercity criminals had somehow found out about the tunnels and exploited a vulnerability in the ventilation to gain access; although they didn’t have the audacity to go into the Temple proper, they did manage to steal a few of the supplies that were transported through the tunnels. Fortunately Rylos knew that whilst the external ventilation vulnerabilities had been resolved, people could still gain access to the tunnels from shafts within the Temple, and so Rylos headed off towards the nearest entry point careful not to be followed.
