Watching water boil
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Thing
Necal
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Watching water boil
Currently incomplete, but enough for my posting it here. It is my version of a first draft.
Summarized back drop; Member of a secrative force group known as the Dark Jedi Brotherhood, currently in the year 32 ABY. Been locked in a room by master and forced to watch a pot of water boil.
Weird, I know. But about par for the course.
This is incomplete, but I always start to hit continuity errors at about this point. If you spot anything, altering me would be thanked.
Necal had to admit; his master was a good teacher. He may hate the man at times, chiefly every moment the man existed, but a teachers job was not to be a friend. It was to be a teacher. In this respect, the human succeeded. Necal looked around the room. It was decently sized. It would be a cell were it not for the hotplate, which rested upon the floor. The pot of water was large; easily enough to boil a small child. While this thought would make most beings slow down for a minute and consider if they should see a psychiatrist, it was par for the recent course in the Farghul's mind.
The Farghul's first instinct was the search for an escape rout; it was shot down almost as quickly as it appeared. His master was no fool. A man worthy of the Sarlacc, sure, but he was no fool. And pity be to his enemy who believed as such. He knew his master was trying to make him consider being a Sith. Several of his conversations were along those lines. Likely, the man was more making him think about his path itself; was it correct? Would he be better suited as a Sith? Or a Krath? Or did he choose his destiny right?
The Farghul continued his examination; besides the great, metal door, there appeared to be only several vents scattered around the room. The room was... darkish. Not too dark for his eyes, not by a long shot, but even with the lights active, it had a feeling of night about it. The lights didn't seem to come from anywhere. Then he realized why it seemed darkish; there was low light coming from everywhere. Not any one particular place, but it was varied enough to suit him well.
Since the hotplate had not yet begun to hum, not even to his sensitive Farghul ears, Necal figured that it had not yet started. This meant his master was keeping an eye on him.
“You can see me; I bet you can hear me too. Have you ever heard the expression 'staring contest with a rock'? There's another that my crew used; 'Staring contest with a Farghul'.”
Necal maneuvered himself to the wall opposite the hotplate, and directly under a vent. It would help with circulation, but he would not fall asleep; too uncomfortable. And there was no doubt in his mind, his master would not start till he was paying attention. Necal closed his eyes, took a deep breath, released it slowly, opened his eyes, and began to stare at the pot. His ears picked up the small hum of the electric device coming to life.
“All right, I get your game; I look, water gets hot. I don't, water gets cold. As you wish. You don't mind if I rant, do I? I get so few opportunities to speak my mind. I'll be describing a few of my fantasies to you, when they come to me at least.”
Necal decided to keep most of his thoughts to himself; they wouldn't creep him out that much. Which was the entire point of him doing this. He had the usual fantasies of death for those that pissed him off; impaling, death by slow cooking, boiling (rather coincidentally, actually), and shaving to death with a cheese grater. Of course, he had a few... exotic fantasies.
“Master... do you know some Farghul History? In ancient Farghul history, there was a warlord of the Katcha Clans, a group of nomads, who was known for two things; his anger, and his politeness. Strange combination, I know. At any rate, the Warlords name was Ten'chi'tan. Now, when he encountered a new civilization, he always sent some gifts, as well as some advice; 'if you surrender, you will live. If you fight me, your men will die, but your women and children will live as our slaves. If you betray me, you will die in the most horrible way I can think of at the time, your men will be used as shields from arrows, your children will be sold as slaves to those who wish, and your women will be used to sate the lust of my men.'
“Of course, the first few fought back. But Ten'chi'tan was a powerful man. Legends say that he was a great sorcerer. Probably was force sensitive. His enemies fell quickly. Most surrendered to him. They were allowed to live in peace, though their people had to pay extra taxes. Still, some resisted till one man decided to end the life of Ten'chi'tan. He surrendered, but asked that Ten'chi'tan come to his city so that the priest may bless him as the son of Alux, the goddess of war.
“Naturally, someone like him would have a great ego, and he accepted. What happened them is still a matter of debate. Some state that he was attacked immediately when he entered the city. Some believe he was attacked while walking to the temple. Some still believe he was attacked during the process of the blessing itself. It doesn't matter; all turn out the same. He knocked the traitor out, and killed all other attackers. The priest was left alone in the final version; Ten'chi'tan was a follower of that religion.
“Ten'chi'tan kept the traitor under careful watch for the next seven days till he figured out what to do with him. He had his men strap him into iron restraints so he couldn't move at all. First, Ten'chi'tan burned out his eyes with a red hot piece of iron. The, after he re-heated the iron, the shoved it down his throat and through his stomach, then pulling it back up just enough to let the acids within spill out. This had the effect of burning his throat, choking him, and spilling acid into his insides. After doing this for about twenty seconds, Ten'chi'tan pulled the iron out, and instructed his doctors to keep him as long as possible so he can feel the penalty for betrayal as long as possible. After, he kept his promise; the men were used for labor, most children were sold; some of them were kept for his men with unusual interests, and all the women were raped to the satisfaction of his men.”
Necal's vivid description of the traitors death was not even disguised for what it was; an attempt to state how he wanted to kill his master. In the entire history lecture, he had blinked once; during his first sentence, and not for a moment had his eyes wavered from the slowly heating water.
“I wonder Master... what does the force allow you to do? I don't mean the obvious things; I mean the subtle things, things that would have made Bane proud. I know that you could see me, even without the cameras, which I have no doubt you have somewhere. Can you hear me, with just the force? Can you hear my breathing? Can you hear the beat of my heart? I can. Its slower than a humans, normally, but I think even a deaf man could hear it right now. Can you? Can you hear the rapid beating of my heart, as I so vividly described the death I would love to give you?”
Necal paused for a moment, then seemingly chastised himself for actively displaying his insanity, or, much more likely, the lack of control he had. This seemed to bring another thought to his mind that he wished to speak.
“Now, I know you have a question about me; why don't I try to kill you? You are trying to make me angry, but you know that I refuse to let my emotions rule me; my emotions run free, yes, but not once in the past five years have I been motivated by hate or anger or love or lust... are you trying to make me lose control, Master? I admit, if you can, it would be impressive. Provided you stay out of my mind. I know how to control my body. My mind runs free, though; free from restrictions of the body that I place upon myself. I admit, its the one thing I have true pride in. Control. A man who is in control will never fall to emotions. There is nothing wrong with your emotions; only surrendering to them. That makes you a slave, and all the power in the galaxy is useless to a slave.
“Master... are you free? Or are you a slave? Does your mind run free, keeping your body under such a tight set of restrictions? Do you say 'I can do this, but I will not'? Do you say 'I would love to do this, but I will not'? Or does your body enslave itself willingly to its emotions for that rush that comes with giving it. I admit, I loved it at the time. Now... I hate it. I cannot stand losing control. That is what I fear, Master. That is what I hate; the thought that one day, I will slip. The thought that one day, my control will be broken. That one day, I will be a slave. Doesn't that thought come into your mind, Master? That you are weak? That your control is just an illusion, and so easy to shatter... just the lightest touch, and you are gone.
“Is that not what all of us fear? Certainly the Grand Master himself fears it... who would not fear an enemy within? An enemy who wins by waiting, and watching, and just sitting there, more patient than anything else in the world... certainly, it is good training. You are always on your guard against this enemy, and you become so worried that anything could cause your control to shatter... it would be difficult indeed to surprise a man like this; always watching, always vigilant. Some surrender. Some fight till their mind breaks. But some survive. Some would say they are the only ones worthy of life. Perhaps. They might have had use at some later point. Insanity breeds fanaticism. See example one; Me.”
This was apparently extremely funny to the Farghul, who broke out in a hysterical laughter. As he took his eyes off the water, he noticed the hum stopping. Necal stopped practically at the same instance, turning his eyes back to the water, with the Farghul equivalent of a grin on his face, though would probably make him pass for a monster in a nightmare.
“Oh, my dear master. You're no fun whatsoever. Just lie back and laugh. Its fun, isn't it?”
The grin faded from his face.
“Do you see what I mean, dear Master? Do you see what happens when my blessed control slips? Such is the Brotherhood. We are all standing with one foot on a cliff. It is quite a long way down, my Master. Some would deny it. Such are liars. It is an understandable lie, of course. But the dark side does not bode well for the psyche. Any who have lived here for a decent amount of time are completely coo-coo bug fuck.”
This was not as funny to him as his earlier comment, or he had just gotten better control over himself in his anger.
“Ah, but my master, I have a feeling this exercise is not for me to rant. Perhaps its what you told me earlier; perhaps its the fact that it seems to be increasing in temperature at the rate of one degree every minute or so. Probably less than that. Still, this does not surprise me; you are patient, my Master. It is part of the reason why I accepted you. You knew things I did not. I knew you were insane when we met, it is obvious to anyone who looks. And yet... you have that control that I so aspire to. Perhaps you would not call it insane, but when we are speaking of the meaning of words, are semantics not all we have?”
The Farghul suddenly stopped, apparently having no more desire to speak anymore; he had said his piece, and seemed more or less determined to pass the time in silence. He had more or less figured that this would be a psychological experiment on the part of his master, and felt that his part had been fulfilled. Of course, his actions might attribute to such an experiment, but... Necal stopped himself. That was a dead thought, hanging around even in its death throes.
Summarized back drop; Member of a secrative force group known as the Dark Jedi Brotherhood, currently in the year 32 ABY. Been locked in a room by master and forced to watch a pot of water boil.
Weird, I know. But about par for the course.
This is incomplete, but I always start to hit continuity errors at about this point. If you spot anything, altering me would be thanked.
Necal had to admit; his master was a good teacher. He may hate the man at times, chiefly every moment the man existed, but a teachers job was not to be a friend. It was to be a teacher. In this respect, the human succeeded. Necal looked around the room. It was decently sized. It would be a cell were it not for the hotplate, which rested upon the floor. The pot of water was large; easily enough to boil a small child. While this thought would make most beings slow down for a minute and consider if they should see a psychiatrist, it was par for the recent course in the Farghul's mind.
The Farghul's first instinct was the search for an escape rout; it was shot down almost as quickly as it appeared. His master was no fool. A man worthy of the Sarlacc, sure, but he was no fool. And pity be to his enemy who believed as such. He knew his master was trying to make him consider being a Sith. Several of his conversations were along those lines. Likely, the man was more making him think about his path itself; was it correct? Would he be better suited as a Sith? Or a Krath? Or did he choose his destiny right?
The Farghul continued his examination; besides the great, metal door, there appeared to be only several vents scattered around the room. The room was... darkish. Not too dark for his eyes, not by a long shot, but even with the lights active, it had a feeling of night about it. The lights didn't seem to come from anywhere. Then he realized why it seemed darkish; there was low light coming from everywhere. Not any one particular place, but it was varied enough to suit him well.
Since the hotplate had not yet begun to hum, not even to his sensitive Farghul ears, Necal figured that it had not yet started. This meant his master was keeping an eye on him.
“You can see me; I bet you can hear me too. Have you ever heard the expression 'staring contest with a rock'? There's another that my crew used; 'Staring contest with a Farghul'.”
Necal maneuvered himself to the wall opposite the hotplate, and directly under a vent. It would help with circulation, but he would not fall asleep; too uncomfortable. And there was no doubt in his mind, his master would not start till he was paying attention. Necal closed his eyes, took a deep breath, released it slowly, opened his eyes, and began to stare at the pot. His ears picked up the small hum of the electric device coming to life.
“All right, I get your game; I look, water gets hot. I don't, water gets cold. As you wish. You don't mind if I rant, do I? I get so few opportunities to speak my mind. I'll be describing a few of my fantasies to you, when they come to me at least.”
Necal decided to keep most of his thoughts to himself; they wouldn't creep him out that much. Which was the entire point of him doing this. He had the usual fantasies of death for those that pissed him off; impaling, death by slow cooking, boiling (rather coincidentally, actually), and shaving to death with a cheese grater. Of course, he had a few... exotic fantasies.
“Master... do you know some Farghul History? In ancient Farghul history, there was a warlord of the Katcha Clans, a group of nomads, who was known for two things; his anger, and his politeness. Strange combination, I know. At any rate, the Warlords name was Ten'chi'tan. Now, when he encountered a new civilization, he always sent some gifts, as well as some advice; 'if you surrender, you will live. If you fight me, your men will die, but your women and children will live as our slaves. If you betray me, you will die in the most horrible way I can think of at the time, your men will be used as shields from arrows, your children will be sold as slaves to those who wish, and your women will be used to sate the lust of my men.'
“Of course, the first few fought back. But Ten'chi'tan was a powerful man. Legends say that he was a great sorcerer. Probably was force sensitive. His enemies fell quickly. Most surrendered to him. They were allowed to live in peace, though their people had to pay extra taxes. Still, some resisted till one man decided to end the life of Ten'chi'tan. He surrendered, but asked that Ten'chi'tan come to his city so that the priest may bless him as the son of Alux, the goddess of war.
“Naturally, someone like him would have a great ego, and he accepted. What happened them is still a matter of debate. Some state that he was attacked immediately when he entered the city. Some believe he was attacked while walking to the temple. Some still believe he was attacked during the process of the blessing itself. It doesn't matter; all turn out the same. He knocked the traitor out, and killed all other attackers. The priest was left alone in the final version; Ten'chi'tan was a follower of that religion.
“Ten'chi'tan kept the traitor under careful watch for the next seven days till he figured out what to do with him. He had his men strap him into iron restraints so he couldn't move at all. First, Ten'chi'tan burned out his eyes with a red hot piece of iron. The, after he re-heated the iron, the shoved it down his throat and through his stomach, then pulling it back up just enough to let the acids within spill out. This had the effect of burning his throat, choking him, and spilling acid into his insides. After doing this for about twenty seconds, Ten'chi'tan pulled the iron out, and instructed his doctors to keep him as long as possible so he can feel the penalty for betrayal as long as possible. After, he kept his promise; the men were used for labor, most children were sold; some of them were kept for his men with unusual interests, and all the women were raped to the satisfaction of his men.”
Necal's vivid description of the traitors death was not even disguised for what it was; an attempt to state how he wanted to kill his master. In the entire history lecture, he had blinked once; during his first sentence, and not for a moment had his eyes wavered from the slowly heating water.
“I wonder Master... what does the force allow you to do? I don't mean the obvious things; I mean the subtle things, things that would have made Bane proud. I know that you could see me, even without the cameras, which I have no doubt you have somewhere. Can you hear me, with just the force? Can you hear my breathing? Can you hear the beat of my heart? I can. Its slower than a humans, normally, but I think even a deaf man could hear it right now. Can you? Can you hear the rapid beating of my heart, as I so vividly described the death I would love to give you?”
Necal paused for a moment, then seemingly chastised himself for actively displaying his insanity, or, much more likely, the lack of control he had. This seemed to bring another thought to his mind that he wished to speak.
“Now, I know you have a question about me; why don't I try to kill you? You are trying to make me angry, but you know that I refuse to let my emotions rule me; my emotions run free, yes, but not once in the past five years have I been motivated by hate or anger or love or lust... are you trying to make me lose control, Master? I admit, if you can, it would be impressive. Provided you stay out of my mind. I know how to control my body. My mind runs free, though; free from restrictions of the body that I place upon myself. I admit, its the one thing I have true pride in. Control. A man who is in control will never fall to emotions. There is nothing wrong with your emotions; only surrendering to them. That makes you a slave, and all the power in the galaxy is useless to a slave.
“Master... are you free? Or are you a slave? Does your mind run free, keeping your body under such a tight set of restrictions? Do you say 'I can do this, but I will not'? Do you say 'I would love to do this, but I will not'? Or does your body enslave itself willingly to its emotions for that rush that comes with giving it. I admit, I loved it at the time. Now... I hate it. I cannot stand losing control. That is what I fear, Master. That is what I hate; the thought that one day, I will slip. The thought that one day, my control will be broken. That one day, I will be a slave. Doesn't that thought come into your mind, Master? That you are weak? That your control is just an illusion, and so easy to shatter... just the lightest touch, and you are gone.
“Is that not what all of us fear? Certainly the Grand Master himself fears it... who would not fear an enemy within? An enemy who wins by waiting, and watching, and just sitting there, more patient than anything else in the world... certainly, it is good training. You are always on your guard against this enemy, and you become so worried that anything could cause your control to shatter... it would be difficult indeed to surprise a man like this; always watching, always vigilant. Some surrender. Some fight till their mind breaks. But some survive. Some would say they are the only ones worthy of life. Perhaps. They might have had use at some later point. Insanity breeds fanaticism. See example one; Me.”
This was apparently extremely funny to the Farghul, who broke out in a hysterical laughter. As he took his eyes off the water, he noticed the hum stopping. Necal stopped practically at the same instance, turning his eyes back to the water, with the Farghul equivalent of a grin on his face, though would probably make him pass for a monster in a nightmare.
“Oh, my dear master. You're no fun whatsoever. Just lie back and laugh. Its fun, isn't it?”
The grin faded from his face.
“Do you see what I mean, dear Master? Do you see what happens when my blessed control slips? Such is the Brotherhood. We are all standing with one foot on a cliff. It is quite a long way down, my Master. Some would deny it. Such are liars. It is an understandable lie, of course. But the dark side does not bode well for the psyche. Any who have lived here for a decent amount of time are completely coo-coo bug fuck.”
This was not as funny to him as his earlier comment, or he had just gotten better control over himself in his anger.
“Ah, but my master, I have a feeling this exercise is not for me to rant. Perhaps its what you told me earlier; perhaps its the fact that it seems to be increasing in temperature at the rate of one degree every minute or so. Probably less than that. Still, this does not surprise me; you are patient, my Master. It is part of the reason why I accepted you. You knew things I did not. I knew you were insane when we met, it is obvious to anyone who looks. And yet... you have that control that I so aspire to. Perhaps you would not call it insane, but when we are speaking of the meaning of words, are semantics not all we have?”
The Farghul suddenly stopped, apparently having no more desire to speak anymore; he had said his piece, and seemed more or less determined to pass the time in silence. He had more or less figured that this would be a psychological experiment on the part of his master, and felt that his part had been fulfilled. Of course, his actions might attribute to such an experiment, but... Necal stopped himself. That was a dead thought, hanging around even in its death throes.
Necal- Join date : 2010-02-10
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Re: Watching water boil
Um, I don't think fuck is a word in Star Wars...
Thing- Senator - Forum Enforcer
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Re: Watching water boil
well then, "pie" and "it" aren't either if fucks not a word in starwars.
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Re: Watching water boil
Fuck isn't, they use Stang, Kriff, and Fierfek depending on how vulgar you wanna get.
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Re: Watching water boil
Just because it has not appeared does not mean it doesn't exist.
Besides, its used in private IC things when ages are appropriate. So, it exists in the brotherhood at least.
Besides, its used in private IC things when ages are appropriate. So, it exists in the brotherhood at least.
Necal- Join date : 2010-02-10
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Re: Watching water boil
Necal wrote:Just because it has not appeared does not mean it doesn't exist.
Actually that IS what it means, especially when used in place of the word. Like I said, kriff is the most common substitute, with Fierfek being in the case of extreme vulgarity.
Aardvark- Prime Minister
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Re: Watching water boil
lol just saying.... i would like to see Luke Skywalker and Darth Vader have a flame war... and drop the F-Bomb. just a thought.
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