Author Topic: Finally it has happened to me right in front of my face and I just can not hide it {Nessa/Amarant, Circle of Catechism} ~ complete  (Read 1097 times)

Offline Nessarose deWinter

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The grounds behind the Forbidden Temple were vast and wide. Even with the building of Endelaan's capital city around it, there were placed that would remain untouched by any hands. The graveyard of the Endelanese was one of those places, and the so called backyard of the Temple was another. Many occasions called the people of the planet and the Sanguine Potestatem to meet there, yet few were as important as what was to happen that night.

Sun setting, Nessarose looked at those that had come together. Gladiators and Warriors, and a few of their mates. A handful of fighting forces that could not wield the Force. As good as an audience as any, a touch bigger than the last Circle. They were always growing keep growing. And with some of the projects that were happening, not even the grounds would hold them all sooner rather than later. A few hundred now, a few thousand in the future. Endelaan was growing. Her kingdom would never stop.

The Ancient One was there as well. Age had claimed her body and she was old and withered, needing the help of two slaves to be mobile and move anywhere outside of the main hall. "None has told him of the Circle," the old woman croaked, her voice dry and crusty. And who would tell him? None knew, and those that did knew better than to let anyone know.

Nessarose nodded her head and walked to the center of the circle. Her aura expanded, covering the grounds of the Temple and the building city around it, further off into the plains, thudding with the rhythm of her heart. Amarant deWinter, she called to him through the Force, you are summoned. If he would follow the summon's sense, he would know where to go. And then they would begin.
« Last Edit: 06/03/13 17:14:47 by Nessarose deWinter »

Offline Amarant deWinter

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Amarant held his sword out in front of him, though it was clean now, it had recently been stained by the blood of the innocent. At least innocent in his eyes, Aeval told him that they were supposed to die, but how many times had he killed someone and the only reason he had was because someone told him he had too. Through all of that, though, the sword was still beautiful. Finely crafted, nice weight, sharp blade, plus it had a bit of himself in it. The sword also had a special ability, it kept enough energy in it to replenish Amarant if he was weak, a design he had created himself with the help of Sith Alchemy.

Amarant deWinter, you are summoned.

Amarant paused for a moment and looked around, his cousin and her inability to speak to him face to face made him roll his eyes, she was a sucker for theatrics. He did not know where it was she was located, but he could feel it, and he had a weird feeling about it. He knew it was his time to be given the rank of Gladiator, and he knew that whatever she had in store was going to be something he did not enjoy, but he had gotten used to it by now. He had come to the conclusion that any power he was going to get was going to come at a high price.

Sheathing his sword and adorning his armor, he walked from his room, and followed the "sense" that he had that would lead him to the location. It was quiet out tonight, which was never a good sign, the entire planet seemed either asleep or somewhere else. He paid it no mind, he was preparing himself for what was to come. For some reason the memory from his childhood of exploring the galaxy popped into his head. How naive he had once been, thinking that traveling around from planet to planet was a good way to live. He had been on Endelaan longer than he had any planet, excluding his time in prison and Coreillia. He often wondered what his life would have been like if he had never discovered his affinity for the force, who his true father was, and his bloodline in the Family of Darkness.

He paused outside of the Forbidden Temple, know he had reached his location, but wondering if he should continue. He could feel many people behind the Temple, and he knew this was where he was supposed to be. Clutching the handle of his sword, he let out a sigh, and he marched onward. He had come this far, there was no turning back now. Slowly, the people started to come into view, and he knew he was about to be a spectacle for all to enjoy. His cousin, Nessarose, slowly came into view and he took note of The Ancient One who had come out. He was correct, this was his ceremony, and a flicker of excitement overcame the dread he felt.

Walking to the middle of the circle, he faced Nessarose, and though she was his cousin he treated her the same as any other member of the planet. He dropped to one knee, bowed his head, and he spoke "My Queen, I have been summoned?" He was different around her when the people of the planet were around. They would allow no disrespect to their Queen, even if Amarant meant no harm from it.


Offline Nessarose deWinter

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And there he was. The usual bubbly sweetness that usually accompanied  Nessarose's face and expressions was entirely absent now, and her eyes  carried a certain weight to them that others could but rarely see. The  silence hung in the air for a moment longer before she broke it,  speaking the opening words to the ceremony.

"Stand in the center of the circle, he who answers to the name Amarant,"  it began. She knew he was already in the middle, but it didn't matter. The ceremony had its words; her people expected them to be as they were. Changes might be made in the future, but she saw no reason for them now. For someone who had grown up in a house lacking so much of rituals and rites, she was actually still excited by this, even though it was hardly the first time she conducted the Circle of Catechism ritual. The very air seemed to shimmer for a moment. Powers older  than any of those present were rising, as they always did during the  Circles, "This night, you are to be challenged.  This night, you shall prove that you are worthy of being called a  Gladiator. This night, should you fail, you shall die."

Speak the words out loud, she sent Angelo by telepathy, say you pledge your mind, body and spirit to the Catechism of the Gladiator. Ascension or death.

Offline Amarant deWinter

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Amarant glanced around at everyone who was present for the ritual. In all his years he never thought he would be standing in a place like this, surrounded by the people he was surrounded by, and doing what he was about to do. Everything seemed so... different. His life, his dreams, everything he had aspired to be were so vastly different than they were three years ago. Part of him hated this, hated where he was, hated what he was doing. But the other half embraced it, loved the feeling of the dark side, actually enjoyed these types of things. He once thought he would never be capable of such things, yet here he was, a Gladiator hopeful.

"I pledge my mind,  body, and soul to the circle," Amarant said loudly, for all to her, and he brought his hand up to his chest right over his heart. His eyes raised and he met the gaze of Nessa, locking eyes with her, staring into them and letting her know that he was worthy of this. "I will ascend... or I will die." The words sounded strange coming out of his mouth, but he was more than ready, months of constant training had assured him of that. Confidence soared through his body, no one would stop him from achieving his goal.

Offline Nessarose deWinter

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Nessarose nodded, her approval made public. The rite of ascension had  begun. There would be silence now from the circle, as all men and women  present looked at each other. Some gave looks that were completely bold,  while others were worried. There were a few who seemed to beg with  their eyes, and one that licked her lips slowly. There would be no more  words until the choice was made.

View the people in the circle, came the instructions from Nessarose,  choose one. He or she must be upon the path of the Warrior. Name them  by their name, and challenge them to the Circle of Cathechism. Choose wisely.

Offline Amarant deWinter

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Amarant's eyes scanned the crowd of people standing amongst the circle. Even though he was looking around, he already knew who he had in mind, Bodish. The only person who could keep up with him when it came to battle, the only one who knew Amarant in and out, the only one who would be able to give him any sort of challenge. This was about proving his worth, and if he picked someone weak from the crowd, what was the point in it? As his eyes scanned the crowd, he met the gaze of the tall muscular Bodish, who was staring at him with a terrifying glare. A smirk almost played across Amarant's face, Bodish wanted this more than Amarant did.

"Bodish,"
Amarant said, never looking away from him, both their eyes locked onto each other. "I challenge Bodish to face me in the circle." Bodish nodded his head and he stepped forward out of the crowd. He was an imposing man, much taller than most of the warriors, and he was built like a tank. At first glance, it appeared that Amarant would have no chance against him, but Amarant was no pushover. Every Path of the Warrior knew that he was capable of great feats.

Offline Nessarose deWinter

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"Challenge accepted," said Bodish as he stepped forward. If there was any doubt within him, neither his face nor his voice gave it away. Nessarose looked, keeping the surprise carefully tucked under a well practiced face. She had not thought Amarant would choose the only friend he had here for this."The blood of Amarant shall appease the Ancient Ones, for the glory of Endelaan!"  His arms were already working, removing the weapons he carried about  him and his shoes. One of the slaves rushed to Amarant, giving him the  same treatment. All weapons would be returned once the Circle was done  with. But the battle would be a battle of honor; blades, shoes, and  other weapons, had no place within it.

Once both men were  without weapons and shoes, and both were in the center of the Circle,  the crowd cheered. Nessarose waited for them to calm down before  speaking.

"None may make use of any weapons," she said, knowing the words she must speak. Her words, her presence, presented the Sorceress,  "neither of you may create any weapons from the earth of Endelaan, nor  take weapons from those who have gathered for the Circle. Amarant and Bodish .... It has always been the belief of the people of Endelaan  that neither the Force nor weapons are what makes us strong. Both are  mere tools that serve us. yet if we cannot survive without them, then we  may not survive at all.

Amarant and Bodish, you are to fight to the death, and you are not to use the Force.

Fight!"

Offline Amarant deWinter

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Bodish stepped forward and stripped off all of his weapons, and Amarant did the same, thoughts flooding through his mind. In the back of his head, through rumors of the Circle, he had heard that this was a fight to the death. Choosing his one and only friend, the only person who knew anything about Amarant, was something he had thought long and hard about. They had trained together, fought and bled together, they were members of the same clan, maybe it did not make sense to fight each other to the death. But Amarant had been born alone, he had come to Endelaan alone, he would leave Endelaan alone. He did not come here to make friends, he came to the planet to grow strong enough to one day kill his father, and having attachments such as Bodish would only hinder him.

"No hard feelings big guy." Amarant said with a slight smirk.

"I will not hold back on you, pale skin."

Direct and to the point, that was the way he was. The two men circle each other, sizing one another up, but Bodish was the first to attack. Amarant hoped he would, he was much faster than Bodish, and if he could tire him out it would make for a much quicker fight. Bodish lunged forward to try and grab Amarant, but Amarant was much quicker, and he ducked under the attempt. His body spun around and he kicked Bodish in the lower back, it barely effected him, shit this was gonna be difficult.

Amarant moved in and tried to punch Bodish, but his fist was caught and Bodish returned the favor with a powerful punch to the jaw. Amarant would have fallen down, but Bodish had a powerful grip on his hand, and he held Amarant up. Before Amarant could think, he felt a knee directly in his gut, and all of the air shot from his lungs. Amarant gasped out for air, but was thrown like a rag doll across the circle. He landed hard and rolled a few feet, would have been more, but the crowd forbade him from exiting.

Gasping for air, Amarant tried to get his wits about him, Bodish was slowly stalking towards him. He pressed himself to his knees, but before he could do anything, Bodish grabbed him and tossed him through the air. Amarant flailed through the air and landed hard onto his back and skidded across the dirt once more. He felt like he would never get air into his lungs again as he desperately tried to regain his breath and get to his feet. Bodish was now pandering to the crowd, shouting war cries, and lifting his hands into the air for moral support. Great, they all wanted to see the outsider die, how fitting.

Amarant jumped to his feet, and in a dead sprint, charged Bodish to try and tackle him to the ground. His shoulder impacted with the huge frame of Bodish, which was like running headfirst into a wall, the man did not budge. Grabbing Amarant by the waist, Bodish lifted him high into the air, and brought him slamming down onto his back. Amarant groaned, his body hurt all over, and Bodish was not done yet. Grabbing Amarant by his long hair, Bodish lifted him to his feet, before smashing his fist into Amarant face once again. Then again, then again, then one more time for good measure, before Amarant crumpled to the ground.

Nose was broken, eyes were blacked, he was bleeding from both his nose, mouth, and one of his eye sockets. His vision was blurry and he could not think straight, what was happening, was he dying? No, not here, not after coming this far. He would not fail, he could not fail, he had to win. Not for Nessa, not for himself, not for Bodish, but for his mother. Bodish lifted Amarant to his feet once again, but this time by his throat, the powerful hands of the man clutching his neck and trying to suck the life out of him. Amarant struggled at first, but he composed himself, and he thought about everything he had learned. Running off the adrenaline that had kicked in due to almost dying about seven times now, he slapped Bodish's hands at the bends in his elbows and his grasp released.

Amarant fell to the ground, but he did not waste any time, gasping for air he back peddled and gave himself some space between himself and the giant. Bodish closed in, trying to clutch Amarant once more, but Amarant dodged out of the way and kicked him as hard as he could in the gut. Finally, something worked, Bodish flinched over. Not waiting to pander to the crowd, Amarant grabbed him by the back of the head and he slammed it into his knee with as much force as possible. One punch, two punch, uppercut, Amarant hammered away on the man who had once saved his life. Bodish swung back, but Amarant ducked out of the way, but not before grabbing his arm and breaking it over his shoulder at the elbow. Bodish cried out but Amarant was not done. Amarant smashed the palm of his hand against his throat, turning his scream into a weird gurgle.

Amarant spun behind Bodish and he planted his foot into the crevice of his knee and forced him down to his knees. Amarant grabbed Bodish by his neck, and with memories of their friendship flooding through his mind, Amarant snapped his neck without a second thought. Just like that, the man he once called friend, was dead. Their friendship severed forever, anything they once had, was now gone. No longer would Bodish force Amarant from his tent to train, no longer would he pat Amarant on the back and compliment him, no longer would he look out for him. It was over, Amarant was alone again, the way it was supposed to be.

Falling to one knee beside his former friend, Amarant gasped for air, the adrenaline wearing off and the pain setting in. His ears were ringing, his heart was racing, his face throbbed, but none of that hurt as much as the image of Bodish laying next to him. The pain it caused was deep, but the power that it fed to the darkside was great. "It......" Amarant started through ragged gasps of air. "It is done."   

Offline Nessarose deWinter

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She'd watched the whole fight from start to finish, her breath  threatening to hold itself in. No, Amarant was not the first of the  people she'd brought to Endelaan when the Sanguine Potestatem was made.  Far from it. But this was the hardest battle she'd witnessed thus. Amarant seemed to be losing at first. And whether he  would die or live, both results could be interpret in so many ways and  in so many different directions. How much did it matter?

It did not.

Bodish was dead. The fighting part of the ritual was done and over with. But the Circle itself was yet incomplete. "Honor the dead," Nessarose said, and her voice was harsh, lacking any gentleness. "Honor the dead," repeated the ancient woman behind her.

The  same who had held on to Bodish's weapons until this moment came  forward, placing the weapons upon the still warm corpse. Before as much  as a sound was made, a horse was pulled into the ring as well.

Kill the horse, she spoke into Angelo's mind, use Bodish's sword.

Offline Amarant deWinter

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Everything was moving in a blur and it was hard for him not to pass out from everything. Maybe it was lack of oxygen, maybe it was the pain, maybe he wanted to pass out and die so that he did not have to deal with this anymore, but even through all of that he forced himself to stay awake and finish what he had started. Soon, he would have plenty of time to rest, but for now the nightmare had to continue. Forcing himself to his feet, he grabbed the sword from the slave who brought it to him, and he looked upon the horse that he had ridden next to for so long. There was nothing let to feel, now, and killing the horse would not be difficult.

Lifting his sword high into the air, Amarant brought the blade down hard onto the horses neck, and with no other sound besides the sword hitting flesh was made as he cut clean through the horses neck. It stumbled over, and it was done, it was finished finally. Surely this was close to the end of his trial? The blade almost fell from his hands, but he held onto it, if for no other reason than this was the last living thing Bodish had to offer. This was the only thing that was left of him now. Would he be able to keep the sword?

"I wish to carry his body," Amarant said, knowing full well the practices of the dead on Endelaan. His body was defeated, but he wanted to at least be the bearer of Bodish's body. "If I may."

Offline Nessarose deWinter

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Another nod was all she had to offer him. Carry the horse and the corpse to the graveyard, she said, you can use the Force now.  Bring his weapons too. The crowd was already parting, creating the way.  The graveyard was not far away; a mere few minutes of  walking. Bodish's family members remains closed to Amarant, though she  didn't know if he was aware of it. Weapons were always inherited; Bodish was the Warrior of his family. Having no children of his own as  of yet, the sword would go to his younger brother, who'd recently  become a Gladiator.

A headstone was already set in place, as the  only way for such a Circle to end was with the death of someone. Yet  knowing not who would die, there was nothing written on it, and nothing  would be for a time to come. You will be expected to give him proper burial, she told Amarant, and saw Bodish's brothers come even closer, and worry not about his family. This was an honorable death; no one will demand or attempt to extract blood payment.

Offline Amarant deWinter

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Amarant nodded and he loaded Bodish onto his shoulder and he reached out with the force to lift both the horse and the weapons with them. Though it took concentration, it was a relief, he could focus on something else besides the corpse on his shoulder and everything that had just transpired. The journey was short, but felt like an eternity, as he dragged his feet every step of the way and never broke concentration. The grave was already dug and a tombstone already there. Bodish's family followed along behind him, his brother matching every step of the way. He felt a tinge of sorrow for Broauka as they went, Amarant knew they were close, and he did not mean for him to see this on this night. He would be forced to give the sword to the younger brother, and if anything, hopefully he would grow from this experience.

Once he reached the gravesite, Amarant gently placed Bodish into the grave, followed by his horse. A shovel was near by, and Amarant took it into his hands, and he began to toss dirt into the grave. A feeling of intense sadness welled over him as the dirt slowly covered his body, and eventually, his face. Memories seemed to invoke strange emotion in people, and though he was usually great at stuffing things down, he had never done something like this. He was having to face the fact that his best friend was dead, that he had killed him, and it was considered the noble thing to do. Such stupid traditions! But, it was the way things were, and Amarant knew this coming in. His guilt was strong, but his desire was much stronger, he would get over this.

When the grave was finished, Amarant planted the shovel, and he turned to Broauka. Grabbing the sword, Amarant gave it to the boy, whose eyes were filled with tears. Knowing he was probably not the best person to do this, but not caring, Amarant dropped to his knee and he handed the sword over. "Bodish died with honor, Broaka, and while it may not make sense to you now this was what he wanted. He would have never let me live this down if I did not give him the honor of facing me in combat, you know that." He did not know what else to say, so he handed the sword to him, and he stood up, brushing past the boy with a slight pat on the shoulder.

"My Queen, the burial is complete."


Offline Nessarose deWinter

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And so it was done. A collective nod was heard, and eyes moved towards  Nessarose and the Ancient One. The two of them nodded as the Markom of Clan Manasseh stepped forward. Whenever one belonged to a clan, it was one of its leaders that did this part of the ritual.

"I, Markom, il-Khan of the  Manasseh Clan, with the blessing of our Khan, do hereby swear Gladiator Amarant into the ranks of our Clan. Kneel, Gladiator."

Of course, clan-adoptions were never final and completed, until one advanced in the ranked, and ceased being a Warrior or a mere Acolyte.

"You are now one of the  Manasseh. Your glory in battle reflects no longer on yourself but also  your Clan. May your sword strike true upon all of your foes. With the  blessing of Queen Nessarose, the Ancient One, and the Warrior Markom, you are now  pronounced a Gladiator. Glory to the Ancients! Glory to Endelaan!"

Offline Amarant deWinter

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Amarant dropped to his knee, and the words of Markom seemingly fell on deaf ears, his head was throbbing at a terrible level. Though he knew it was praise, and he knew he was now an official member of Manasseh, and he also knew that he now held the rank of Gladiator. Any happiness he should be feeling had been washed away by the events that had already happened. He wanted nothing more than to find his tent, pass out for days, and worry about what was to happen next some other day.

"It is an honor, il-Khan Markom, I will do my best to serve the clan and all of Endelaan with everything that I have. I will live for the clan, I will die for the clan." Amarant didn't know where the words came from, but apparently it was alright, because he was lifted to his feet and met with a chorus of cheer and congratulations. He did not remember much after that, everything seemed to blow over his head, the next thing he remembered was waking up in his tent with a bruised face, bloodstained clothes, but no Bodish.