The Rebel Faction

"In calligraphy," Arkan proceeded out, opposite of Darth Zeta, bringing out both lightsaber and lightblade and compelling the creatures to wrap their tongues around his index fingers, "each stroke is a reflection of the person's focus and skill, precision and control that graces the page like a blade through the air. A person's mastery of calligraphy could also be displayed in their mastery of the blade, their passion a key in this.."

It came from behind, and seemingly from all around him, the blizzard wrapped him, consumed him, in its cold, icy embrace. Held in its strength and devouring darkness, Arkan closed his eyes and allowed this dark force to numb him. From this numbing, he released the need to believe he was mortal and filled his mind with the potential scenario ahead...

With Zeta's blade ignited, Arkan quickly processed through all the combat routines, instinctive defensive and offensive strikes, and any Force-enhanced moves. The momentum inside this numb shell was building, his will and being drawing from the stored and reserved energy which he had obtained from Ruusan. As though Arkan was extremely agitated, sparks of electricity started exploding off his form, an extension of the growing tension within him. And when he felt that when his precision and focus was at its zenith--

Arkan's eyes flashed open with a silver glaze, silencing the sparks that sprouted from his form.

The blizzard seemed to have become silent to him, the snow slowed almost to a standstill for him and he utilized this. Arkan ran toward Zeta, the snow dispersing into water droplets that suspended in midair as they brushed against his skin, he put forth his inactive lightsaber handle in his left hand, his right hand behind him. At his speed and grace of movement, the slowed pace of the blizzard began to open before him, like curtains they began to part and show Darth Zeta beyond just the glowing blade the Sith held. And in that moment of visibility, Arkan pulled his left back down to the side and slashed forward with his telekinetics activated lightblade whose blade left a long red trail because of the delay of time around him.

Both sabers passed closely over one another, making a strong feedback sound that put Arkan out of his enhancement trance and into a more versatile state of mind. He deactivated both of his sabers and rolled away, stopped by his right leg out behind him and left leg bent before him. With both arms out wide to both sides, he looked to the glowing blade that was only a short number of feet before him.

On-Off. On-Off. On-Off. Arkan practiced the timing of the activation of his blades in his mind. Then in application to reality, he started wheeling his lightsaber handles around with his index fingers as the hub. Many weeks of practicing this, Arkan seemed to have perfected this cyclic lightsaber combat style. Each time the blade switched on, it passed outward, then deactivated as it neared and passed by his arms and body. Round and round the blades went, on and off. Until Arkan held both sabers offline and in his hands.

"Impierna," Arkan's eyes flashed silver as a circle of fire began to form twenty feet away from both of them. The precision of this formation was just assumption, it passed under the ship they had boarded and continued until both ends connected.

Following this, Arkan darted at Zeta. His lightblade went out first, wheeling outward with the blade suddenly ignited then as it came back under Arkan's arm, off-on, it passed through without severing a limb. Split-second precision. And Arkan wheeled it away and off, allowing the lightsaber to wheel vertically forward with the same precision activation and deactivation method, then pulled it away and off as well. And in the final action of this quick attack, both blades wheeled forward as Arkan pushed himself back with his feet.

With the sudden surprise of strength put against him, Arkan fell back. Yet due to quick reflexes, he rolled backward instead and closed his lightsabers off beside him. Through the flow of the Force that flowed within him, Arkan felt as though his heart were sinking. Not because of Zeta's tactic or the environment around him, it was something else.

Clipping the sabers to his side, Arkan did not feel all too well in spirit. Clapping his hands together before him, he focused the Force forward towards where he believed Zeta had been then started parting the snow. He began to make his approach.

"Zeta!", Arkan called out, "I cannot go on just yet. My spirit has waned at this time. I do not feel I may be able to go on. Perhaps the Force is calling me elsewhere, I do not know... but it grows heavy on my heart so strongly, that I may not continue...

"Perhaps it is because of an issue that has plagued me in my journeys. It has come to my attention that each individual has a set perspective on what they feel is polite and just, this perspective was trained into existence because of people and the environment. But because of this, it has considerably hindered my search for knowledge, because along the way, I also must understand the people in this galaxy. Because I am only mortal, I cannot complete this task. Does this mean my mission is futile? Or is this the intention of the Force that I follow?"

Arkan nodded and continued to reply orally to Zeta, feeling a sudden pull inside his form. His body began to emmit an electrical discharge on its own, no part of his own will but the will of something more.

"Thank you Zeta, you have helped me more than most. I do not know what begins to plague me, but I do not feel we may meet again..."

Kneeling down in the thick snow, Arkan cringed as that pulling inside him started draining his Force energy, sapping him of strength and soul.

"But, you may never know when it comes to the Force. I would rather not depart like this, but I am compelled elsewhere. It is quite a challenge..."

Arkan's eyes emitted a beam of light, piercing the obscuring currents of snow, stretching his arms out to the side as both raw and focused particles of the Force gathered unto his palms. A roar was thrown upon the wind, eclipsing the sound of the storm, and Arkan strained to pull his arms to his chest, enveloping himself in the light of the Force.

Then nothing. In an instant, Arkan was no longer there. Only the imprints of his steps that were quickly fading remained, taken into passing history that perhaps, was never meant to exist. There was no clear reason for Arkan to depart, no reason for him to disappear as he did. But many things in the Force were unexplained, it was perhaps, the faith of those in the Force that kept them in balance and were not put into critical conditions that Arkan had undergone.

Zeta was alone.

Arkan was still there, he could feel it. But in another way, Arkan was not there. An anomaly. There was no sentience the Sith Lord could feel in Arkan's place, just the Force signature that steadily scattered across the churning storms of this world of ice.