My Name Is Axion
Posted on Sat Jan 25th, 2020 @ 9:05pm by Bomoor Thort & Mentis & Axion
Edited on on Sat Jan 25th, 2020 @ 9:05pm
3,454 words; about a 17 minute read
Chapter:
Chapter VI: The Last Bastion
Location: Andrevea Gap, Naboo
Timeline: Afternoon, Late Week Two (After "A Trial of Resolve")
OLD
Suddenly Bomoor opened his eyes and shot his hand forwards. The pebbled dropped down, clattering and clicking away across the stony plateau, while a new prey fell victim to the Ithorian’s powers: Mentis’ mind.
The former cultist groaned and motioned to pull away, but he seemed unable. Bomoor had him immobilised but he strained out a few words, “What… are you doing?”
“This is your duel,” Bomoor answered, this is your test, “Resist me and show me your mental power after you have strained so hard to reach this summit.”
Bomoor watched the man’s face for a few more moments, seeing him physically resist, straining his face and torso to break free before starting to focus more inwards to fight back the attack. Closing his eyes again, the Ithorian pressed his own attack and sunk down through the physical mountainside and into the confines of Mentis' mind.
NEW
Given the surprise of his initial assault, Bomoor had already managed to breach several layers into Mentis’ subconscious: he saw flickering emotions and familiar images of recent events. Most powerful was their recent encounter with the cultists on Korriban. Bomoor saw the face of Nala again and again, but each image showed something different about the Nautolan woman. Whether it was real or imagined, Mentis saw Nala in a different light to the other cultists. He watched her like he would a reflection of himself: invested in her successes and failures, her flaws and virtues were important to him. When she had faced him and Zenarrah, he had seen her scared for the first time and he was still processing what this made him feel.
For Bomoor, this uncertainty was a crack in his defences and a chance to delve deeper. He went towards that feeling and found himself travelling further back in time. Way back to the start of Mentis’ journey towards the dark side. He found himself seeing images of children of various species running through dusty streets under the watchful eye of a tall, skinny Siniteen who barked orders at them, he saw those same children fighting with each other in an arena while small crowds jeered and cheered while holding fistfuls of credit chits. He felt a surge of anger watching one battle where an adolescent Mentis sliced across the chest of a young Vollick, leaving him bleeding out into the dusty ground.
Then, there was darkness. Bomoor opened his eyes to find himself in the corner of a dark cell looking down at his hands: they were small, pale and still stained with dry blood. He was inhabiting Mentis’ memory more physically than he had ever done in any other attempt at breaching a mind. He could feel everything: he felt betrayed by his master and by the ideals he had been taught his whole life. He wanted to be a noble warrior but, when the time came to prove himself in battle, he was the furthest thing from nobility. He was the same brutish street scum he had always hated in others and now everyone had seen it just like he now saw the brownish-red stains on his skin.
He was startled by the sudden scraping of the old cell door and he flicked his head around to see a dark Humanoid figure sweeping into the room. The man seemed at home in the darkness but also somehow above it, as though he were gliding across the filth of this city without touching it. The light of the small window in the room shot across the face of the visitor revealing he was a Human male of uncertain age, but certainly much older than the adolescent Rattataki on the ground. The Human's dark hair was kept short and he had a neat beard encapsulating his mouth. Two bold, tribalistic tattoos reached around either side of his face, bringing his features into a sharper focus on his tanned skin.
The man's footsteps were silent, compounding the apparent illusion that he had arrived within Mentis' cell without so much as stepping foot upon its grime-ridden stone. The thin light from the window appeared to shrink away from the Human as he halted within arm's reach of the young Rattataki, minimising Mentis' ability to properly examine his visitor. The scent of pleasant, delicate perfumes had carried along the air with the man, and whilst these were a welcoming and startling contrast to the usual stench of Mentis' surroundings, it felt as though the room grew colder as the man had drawn closer.
Surprising the young faux gladiator, the man knelt down, bringing his face down to the same level as Mentis'. A warm smile decorated his handsome patrician features, a contrast to the chill and darkness that seemed to otherwise envelope him, and even his tribalistic tattoos did not diminish the kind expression. As soon as the newcomer spoke, more of Mentis' uncertainty and fear was dispelled, like the man's silken words carried some hidden power within them.
"You fought bravely today, my young friend," he said kindly from his kneeling position, pleasant twinkling eyes searching for Mentis' to lock onto them, almost drawing them to. "My name is Axion." He extended a hand to the young, pale warrior.
Now fully absorbed in the memory, Bomoor found himself speaking with Mentis’ tongue, feeling the confusion and intrigue that came along with the adolescent’s words, “Why are you here? Where is my Master?”
He looked at the outstretched hand and then back up at the face of the dark-haired man. A quiet fear threatened to creep in with the assumption that this newcomer was the owner of the other slave boy, now dead at Mentis’ hand, and he was now to be executed as punishment. But everything about the man whispered that this was not the case. He found himself unconsciously extending his own hand, even before his questions were answered.
The moment the young man's hand clasped Axion's, a wave of warmth and security washed over Bomoor-as-Mentis, and with it came a familiarity with the dark man, like he was an old friend, or some well-trusted family member whose presence offered a homely feel, like a cherished uncle that visited with thoughtful gifts on Life Day, and offered sage advice and understanding when all others offered nought but scorn.
"I am here to take you away from this life," Axion said in an inviting tone, still smiling and still clasping the young man's hand. "Someone as talented and thoughtful as you is wasted here, mistreated as the slave of a cruel master that cares nothing for you or your dreams." His eyes then looked down briefly. "You certainly will not need that any more."
The Human released Mentis' hand and waved it towards the manacle shackled about the Rattataki's ankle, which itself was connected to a chain affixed to the cell's grimy stone wall, and it came undone from some invisible force. Axion then turned the open hand into a fist, and the wrought iron manacle crumpled into itself, as if were made of just flimsiplast.
When Mentis did not yet say anything, Axion simply offered another kind smile to the Rattataki and rose to his feet, offering him his hand once he was back at his full height. "I know your mind, my boy. You dream of adventure and purpose, of having meaning and power. You are like me."
As he stood over Mentis, his hand still extended, two more figures entered the cell. Both were instantly recognisable to Mentis: one was the malicious Siniteen slavemaster that was responsible for Mentis' treatment, as well as that of at least two dozen more slave warriors, whilst the other was a Weequay, one of the quartermasters that had an equally cruel streak, and that was also known to take an unpleasantly involved interest in certain slave younglings.
However, neither wore their usual wicked expressions. Instead of the simply but twisted dark intellect that usually accented their haggard faces, they both seemed dumbfounded, eyes askew and unfocused, as if in a trance.
"You are free now, good child," Axion said encouragingly, pushing his open hand slightly closer to Mentis, and that inexplicable sensation of warm familiarity could once again be felt filling the Rattataki, willing him to take his mysterious benefactor's hand.
The mind of young Mentis was opening to the Force as well as many other new sensations and an awakening could be felt within him, leading him to arise and stand before his odd saviour. He rose up, as if lifted onto the same floating plane that Axion walked upon. Even knowing the Axion of the present, Bomoor could barely recognise the dark master through the eyes of the impressionable young Rattataki.
The adolescent’s eyes drifted over to the two slave masters, watching them with disturbing tranquillity. Any moment, he thought they would snap back to normal and reveal some cruel punishment was afoot.
“Why are they like that?” was all he could ask.
Axion slipped around to stand behind the young Mentis, the motion altogether too fluid for a normal physical man, and his two hands came to rest upon the boy's shoulders, a gentle but firm grip kneading into the taut muscle lightly. A dark essence, grim and powerful, seemed to flow from the mysterious Axion as he held the Rattataki.
"There is a great power in this universe, beyond the comprehension of mere mortals and the masses. It can allow one mastery over the forces of nature; it can tame the minds of the feeble and even bend death to the will of those talented enough to wield its might. I am such a being." The man's grip became slightly tighter either side of Mentis' neck, but the gesture was not alarming. Instead, it seemed to carry confidence, and exuded a peculiar power of its own. When Axion spoke again, his lips were now by Mentis' right hear, the Human's voice a mere sinister whisper, causing the slave to shudder from the unnatural sensation. "You have this power. You are like me."
Axion brought his head further forward, so it was now within Mentis' periphery vision. He could narrowly see the smile on the tattooed man's face grow wider. There was an audible crack, and the Weequay slumped to the floor unceremoniously, his head and neck contorted at an unnatural angle. The Siniteen, still standing, seemed not to notice the sudden and gruesome death of his comrade. "Join me, Mentis, and this power will be yours - eternally." Axion's eyes fell upon the Siniteen, and he somehow ensured that the young man's were also locked upon the slaver. "Break free of your shackles."
Mentis’ body communicated no shock at seeing a man so suddenly die before him. Something about Axion’s presence made it expected and not frightening; in fact, there was something of an excitement brewing at the prospect of carving his own destiny, under this Human’s tutelage. His eyes rose up to his slave master. The Siniteen who had brought much suffering to him and had continually denied him the future Axion saw within him.
But no longer.
Mentis raised his hand and instinctively felt for the delicate windpipe within the slave master’s throat and could feel himself manipulating the cartilage, urging it to collapse in on itself. The blank eyes looked back at Mentis’ own and, for the briefest of moments, seemed to flicker with fear.
At that moment, the vision began to break down and Bomoor found himself flung onward through Mentis’ mind. In mere moments, he saw the young man’s life within the cult. A new master and, for a long time, a strong purpose that drove him to improve himself and hone his abilities all for a day of recognition that never came, becoming more and more the object of ridicule for his very devotion to the order and structure of the cult.
The face of Nala re-emerged: she was younger than Mentis but had been in the cult for longer: a Force-sensitive child liberated by Axion and brought into the fold. While unspoken, she clearly saw herself as the Human’s adoptive daughter and there was an immediate rivalry between the young pair who were so close to their Master and vying for his attention.
Despite this, Bomoor could feel that Mentis developed an affection for Nala; she had different but complimentary talents to his own, which suited them often working together. The fog of the Rattataki’s mind lifted slightly and Bomoor found himself once again inhabiting Mentis’ body. He was older, in his early 20s and he sat across from Nala in a cabin on a transport ship, heading back from an assignment.
Bomoor could not quite tell the emotion Mentis was feeling, but he suddenly found himself asking of Nala, “What is your earliest memory of the master?”
"All of my memories are of the Dark Master," Nala crooned, making a flourish of swapping over the positions of her crossed legs.
She wore a seductive smile, a common expression for the vivacious Nautolan, who had never been afraid of making cunning use of her natural assets. Indeed, it had been encouraged by their lord, who commanded untold followers with his unique macabre charm. Of all of those under his tutelage, Nala Sao most resembled Axion in terms of dark talents.
The seductive whimsy that was her norm - not that she ever dallied with her fellow cultists - then appeared to slip slightly, the sharp smile faltering to give way to a slightly absent expression, not entirely unlike melancholy. This had happened very occasionally between Nala and Mentis. Whilst the young woman was usually very quick to amend her demeanour, such displays of personal emotion between the cultists was rare and usually heavily admonished. Their affections and insecurities were to be reserved for the Dark Master alone; weakness would be punished - culled.
"The master saved me. From the war. From the death of my birth parents," she said in a hushed, reflective tone, her dark aquatic eyes boring into the bulkhead behind Mentis. "From the Republic occupation." The membrane over her eyes then shifted, and the peculiar crimson glow that always seemed to simmer unnaturally within their cores returned, as did Nala's sharp smile. "I am his chosen, Mentis. I have been spoiled by no other existence but the dark purity of Axion."
Bomoor found it increasingly harder to sense Mentis thoughts, but heard him continue, "We have grown powerful under his guidance and I owe him a great debt for my own salvation from the fighting pits. I only ask because, at times, it seems I know so little about the master. How can it be that, the more I draw close to him, the less I seem to know?"
He looked into the deep, swirling eyes of Axion's closest disciple and considered his next word's carefully, "I just wonder: how much do you know about the world the master wants to create?"
Nala's smile did not break, giving the impression of looking at an image that had become stuck, unchanging and unmoving. As her expression remained solid, the queer twist of her lips not shifting, Nala twisted her body and raised her two hands up, placing them on either side of Mentis/Bomoor's head, eyes boring into him. Her face still smiling and hands clamped down at either side, Nala rose from her sitting position to stand over her companion, not once releasing her hold. Finally, the smile fell, and the woman's face was contorted by rage and hatred, malice seething from her in body and soul, sharp teeth bared as he howled in his face.
"No!" She screamed, gripping at the head ever tighter, claw-like nails sinking into flesh. "That is not for you! Not for you! Get out! Get. Out!"
Her cries were uncomfortable and unnerving, almost like a physical assault and it made him hard to retain focus on the vision. He looked down to find he was looking at his own body again in the weathered wraps he had taken on their trip up the mountain. He raised his gaze again and was shocked to see that Nala had transformed into Mentis who wore a stern gaze along with a set of gritted teeth that spoke to the effort he was exerting in his mental form.
"Bomoor. This has gone far enough! Leave my mind!" came his voice as he cast both hands forwards as though he was thrusting an opponent with the Force.
Wide-eyed, Bomoor flew back into the dark void that had replaced the starship's interior. When all had become pitch black, his eyes opened and he collapsed backwards against the cold rough mountainside.
The real, present Mentis was before him, panting and turning a shade of pink that looked almost human-like. He had managed to claw back some control of his mind from Bomoor's assault; enough to throw the former Jedi back into reality. It was an impressive show of mental power from someone that had spent most of his life being manipulated by a dark master. Although, in many ways, the Ithorian could have already done much damage to the man's mind by this point if that had been his intention.
Collecting himself and rising, now more acutely aware of the cold air and the lack of warmth from the sunlight, Bomoor shuffled over to his new student, "I apologise for that violation, but it would not have been much of a test were you to have been prepared. In truth, such abilities are still new to me but I suspect I had a distinct advantage in this case. Well done for resisting me as you did."
"But..." Mentis still caught his breath, "...you had no right..."
"No right to your memories?" Bomoor completed the thought, "Perhaps not, but then perhaps no master has the right to turn his blade against his student either. But sometimes the role of the master is to oppose the student, even if that means a degree of suffering. I am sure you of all people should not be surprised that the greatest progress is made during adversity. If you do not wish to suffer, then resist and we shall both learn and improve from each other."
As he spoke, he wondered if he had absorbed a bit too much from Krayt's holocron. But he spoke only what he himself had observed both during his time with the Jedi and since. Every mountain climbed and every foe faced added to his abilities and the purest motive for self-improvement was a defence of the self. He was certain Krayt had learned as much from his own lifetime of adversity, rather than some corrupt Sith philosophy.
"Besides, knowing your past as I do now means I no longer question what you told us when you first arrived," reasoned the new master, "I can now be more open and honest with you from this point onwards."
He struggled up, realising he too had been significantly weakened by the journey in and out of Mentis' mind. Extending down an elongated brown hand towards the Rattataki he suggested, "Shall we make this alliance more official. I pledge to impart my knowledge of the Jedi arts and other teachings to you if you, in turn, pledge to support me and my companions in our struggle against the man I saw in your mind. Against Axion."
Mentis looked at the hand and then turned away, seemingly taking in the beautiful expanse of nature and the beings that thrived in this ecosystem: the Gualaar and the Tusk cats down below strengthened themselves through their cycle of predator and prey, growing only when the other presented a new challenge. A wind swept through the valley and chilled the two sentients who dared to climb Mount Irudara, almost pressing for a decision to be made quickly.
Without looking back just yet, Mentis answered, "I reaffirm my pledge to you now. Axion is my enemy and I will never have the strength to resist him if I refuse you now. If you must test me in such ways to see me grow, then so be it. So long as you continue to show me the merits of such tests and not use it for your own advancement as my old master once did."
He grasped Bomoor's hand and turned to him a gaze that spoke of just how much trust he was placing in the man, "Then I shall once again have a master."
END
BOMOOR
▬ Force Telepathy (Mind Trick) Increase
MENTIS
▬ Charisma Increase
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