Drael-Ynn breathed deep the night air, letting the cold fill his lungs. The chill served to calm him, to help him attune himself to his surroundings. He could feel the crisp metal of the staff, outstretched in his right hand. He could feel the clammy cold of the fog flowing around his body. But, most of all, he could feel the fear.
Fear.
That emotion permeated the air, thicker than the mists, and threatened to drown him. The salty-tang of horror came with the cold, and Drael-Ynn rang his tongue over his teeth. This emotion, he knew, was powerful and could cause a man to perform unfathomable deeds, turning him into an unbeatable being. It could also cause him to flee like a mouse evading the paws of a feline, turn a brave warrior into a craven rat. In his years of life, Drael-Ynn had known great terrors, and the horrors he now tasted were easily the type to cause a grown man to cower and weep.
Fortunately, the fear was not his.
His eyes closed, Drael-Ynn continued his chant, using his natural telepathic ability as a Draethos to send the unholy mantra into the weakening minds of his fellow Acolytes. They were hovering just outside of striking distance, the fear of him keeping them away, but the fear of running pushing them forward. Drael-Ynn's words, just whispers in their thoughts, burned at their self-confidences, causing them to doubt and dread the inevitable. And it fueled their growing terror.
To Drael-Ynn, there was more to fear than just the panic it caused. To him, it showed weakness. A panic-stricken person was a coward. A man fleeing from battle was a coward. A cowering foe, begging for mercy, for fear of death, was a coward. The warrior inside him felt nothing but contempt and anger for those who refused to laugh Death in the face. They were nothing but wasteful beings that did not deserve the resources needed to sustain them.
The fear he consumed quickly fueled a gathering fury. His fellow Acolytes were craven fools, unworthy of even setting foot on Nassus. The anger was his passion, and his passion was his link to the Force. Drael-Ynn reached out and felt the powers firmly in his mind's grasp. The time was right.
A scream of rage shattered the minds of the surrounding Acolytes, and was followed by a verbal roar. Drael-Ynn spun quickly, his staff lashing out at the nearest opponent, dropping the hapless Acolyte to the ground. The Draethos smiled to himself as the other trainees rallied. Their fear was still strong, but they had overcome some of their hesitation. That, in turn, fed his bloodlust, his passion for combat, and he felt his oneness with the Force grow stronger. He gave them a second more to regroup, and then he was amongst them.
The battle didn't last long; thirty seconds at most. Drael-Ynn relaxed into a defensive stance, and saw through the Force that the five Acolytes were all on the ground, nursing various bruises and broken bones. The fear, pain, and anger were as strong as before, but the Draethos felt something else: a void. He turned slowly, probing with the Force, trying to draw power from the emptiness, but found nothing.
His staff in a ready position to fend off any attack, Drael-Ynn opened his eyes, but he quickly bowed when he saw the figure standing before him. "Mistress Yvonne. My apologies for not sensing you earlier."
The Sith Marauder, her lithe figure clothed in the jet-black robes of her Order, smiled. "Of course you would not. Your reliance on the fear of others is a weakness, Drael-Ynn. How will you find passion when you face opponents who do not fear you? How will you fight?"
Slightly angered at the truth in her words, Drael-Ynn straightened up. "You are right, Mistress."
"Of course I am." Yvonne reached out with her hand and Force-pulled a fallen practice sword from one of the Acolytes. "Come, strike at me, and I will show you how to wield more than just your preys' fear." With a shriek that sent the remaining Acolytes scurrying away in terror, Yvonne launched forward, blade dancing in her hand.
The Draethos was caught off guard by the speed and ferocity of his mistress's attack. Her form, Djem So, was pitted against his still unfamiliar Form VII, and the Sith Marauder's expertise and experience quickly shown through. Though he managed to hold his ground for some minutes, Drael-Ynn found his inability to sap his opponent's strength and disrupt her flow to be critically damaging. A hard jab followed by a strong slash deflected his staff out of position, and he earned a solid crack against the side of the head. Yvonne's kicked insured his fall.
Drael-Ynn struggled to regain his footing, but Yvonne's booted foot pressed his head to the stone pavement. The Draethos gritted his teeth as his stars danced in his eyes. He tasted blood in his mouth, and just past the ringing in his ears, he heard Yvonne's mocking voice. "You see? Your strength is your greatest weakness. This you must correct." The pressure on his head diminished. "See me tomorrow, and we will begin remedying this problem."
"As you desire, Mistress," Drael-Ynn growled as his teacher turned her back to him and strode out of the training grounds.
-+-
"Your opponent fears you not." Mistress Yvonne's voice played loud and clear in Drael-Ynn's mind. "You cannot intimidate it, you cannot overwhelm it, you cannot instill fear in it. What will you do?"
The Draethos grunted as he landed a somersault. Drael brought his training staff into an overhand guard, just in time to block a downward slash. He followed through, attempting to bisect his opponent, but was quickly parried. Spinning, Drael turned away from the counterattack and dropped back into a ready position.
He was breathing hard, and his muscles ached from the hours-long sparring session. He could feel his connection with the Force, but it was nowhere near as strong as when he fought live foes. In those matches, he could always pull towards himself his opponents' fear and anger and doubt, and use that to focus his rage for battle and increase his passion through the Force. But, against a droid, a machine that had no emotions, Drael-Ynn found himself at a severe disadvantage.
"What will you do?"
Drael-Ynn gritted his teeth and launched a series of fast stabs and slashes, designed to overwhelm his foe. Even as he did so, he reached within himself and pulled at that itching sensation of defeat and shame, that anger at himself for not having defeated his opponent. It was an alternate way of drawing passion, Yvonne had shown him, one that didn't rely on the moods of others. This method drew upon his warrior code, his desire and morals to always be the best in any combat.
Drael prided himself in his martial ability, and this current match was taking far too much time. In a real combat situation, he knew, he would have been defeated or killed, and that result was unbearable. Fury for his failure grew, and feeding on that, he found focus and strength. That turned the shame and anger into a blazing fire, and Drael used it to renew his aching muscles. His movement and reaction speed increased tremendously, and the flurry of attacks forced his droid opponent backwards. With a quick parry, Drael found himself under the droid's guard, and he slammed his practice staff home. The droid, sensing that it had taken a mortal blow, fell backwards and deactivated.
The sound of feet on stone echoed in the sparring room, and Yvonne stepped forward. She wore her customary smile, and clapped her hands. "Much better, Drael-Ynn. You were significantly faster in finding your inner rage than you were a week ago. However, it still took you far too long. You will find that in real combat, you do not have the luxury of time. You must be able to draw your power immediately and leap into action."
Drael-Ynn bowed his head and let the sweat drip off his face. "I understand, Mistress. I am still breaking my habit of assaulting my opponent's mind. It is difficult, otherwise, to draw that connection with the Force."
The Marauder frowned and toed the prone training droid. "It can be difficult, but it is only a challenge for you to conquer. As a Marauder, you must be ready to do battle at any time, and so you must be able to find your passion at a moment's notice. Pick up on anything, your slightest desire or annoyance, and fan that flame into an inferno."
Yvonne looked up at Drael again and her smile returned. "But, you've been sparring and practicing for the greater part of the day. Go get some food, and relax for a few hours. Remember, there is more to passion than just anger and hate. There is also camaraderie, fellowship, and compassion. Explore those avenues, for they are also useful. Perhaps you will find another path to passion."
"Perhaps I will, Mistress." Drael-Ynn executed another bow and headed out of the sparring room.