Looking inside (Wargrave, open)

[Morgan La Fonte]

She was one of those schoolkids that you didn't know what exactly they were thinking. You know. The quiet ones. She kept to herself mostly, not really talking to many of the other students in her classes. She wasn't a recluse, she simply never made any excessive conversation. Of course she had her friends, but it was a small group. She wasn't one of the popular girls; but she didn't care. She was pretty, yes, but it was the kind of beauty that seemed to contain a streak of underlying violence.

And in the privacy of her journal she would often let that violence show. The notebook contained scrawlings of circles; over and over... stick figures as well as fleshed out drawings that while they were artistically done, one couldn't help the sense of plain creepiness crawling over their skin. Her room itself was plain; the walls were white with few decorations. She spent little time in it as things went.

Underneath it all, Morgan La Fonte was sadistic. Not the kind of sadist that would torture bugs and small animals, no. More along the lines of silent anger at the world, and knowing that without something stronger than her, she wouldn't be able to make those that had made fun of her pay. She was often careful to not let that particular side of her show, but every now and then, she couldn't help it. And so she'd retreat to the Balmorran countryside to let herself go. To cope the only way she could. She was torn inside; from what she didn't know. There was something in her begging to be let out, but she was at a loss as to what it could be; whatever it was though, she knew it was strong. It had power.

And so, once again sitting under a tree up in the hills north of Bin Prime, she had her journal open... stylus scratching furiously at the paper as she drew page after page of nothing but eyes... eyes on fire, eyes frozen by cold, fear, hate... eyes that weren't human, eyes that bled. She knew there was something within her; watching her; waiting to be released. Something she knew that wanted to give her power; to give her strength and superiority.

She just knew it.

[Maester Wargrave]

Morgan wasn't the only being out on this plain. A shadowy figure watched from a grove of trees about 200 feet away. Maester Wargrave was out...and he was hunting.

Three days before, a man named Kolchar Haltiz had surfaced, after almost a year in hiding. Haltiz was a round man with a big brain. Smart yes...but foolish as well. He'd been one of the first members of the Balmorran Council to side with Tyrel Kiterix during the Civil War. After the destruction had ended, Haltiz had disappeared...assumed in hiding up in the poles of the North.

The Balmorran Army had sent several troops up in the mountains to find him, but they'd all reported back negative. Wherever Haltiz had gone...he'd shut himself off from the world.

But Wargrave had remained vigilant, knowing at some point the traitor would come back from hiding. No one could remain alone forever. So he waited...and watched...training new students...watching Millard expand his Empire...watching the Black Hand expand their fingers into the New Republic.

And Haltiz had finally returned.

He was meeting with various allies...former contacts of his...who Wargrave assumed, wanted to either A) get him off of Balmorra and into New Republic Space or B) mount up a resistance.

Wargrave bet on A...but didn't throw away option B either.

Haltiz was there...somewhere...the Dark Jedi Master's eyes narrowed as he waited in the grove.

And Haltiz would feel the wrath of Maester Wargrave and the Justice of betrayal when he showed his overstuffed face.

Wargrave had forseen it.

The Dark Jedi watched...and waited.

[Morgan La Fonte]

"Eyes, eyes, eyes, eyes... what's inside that's looking at me... waiting for me to find it... ?"

He hand had paused midstroke, leaving one half-drawn eye unfinished, and lazily, she brought the stylus across the paper; the line it made through the drawing making a strange effect. She stared at what she'd done then, silent and brooding. Her eyes became dark then, and with renewed fury she began anew... this time though, instead of eyes, she drew mouths. Mouths full of sharp fangs; some covered in blood, others bared in anger. Whatever it was inside of her was trying to talk to her... she was just not able to listen... not in tune with the thing yet.

Eyes half-closed, she let her hand do whatever it wanted, and soon enough something was taking shape... the face of a man. She watched, entranced as the man's face became more fleshed out. She wasn't in any way in control of her hands movements; she was merely watching. It was a normal occurance, but this time she could sense the importance of the drawing now. It was the power... talking to her.

Morgan gave out a slight gasp.

She recognised the aquiline features, the regal countenance, the piercing eyes. He was known by many names, but to her, she'd always heard him referred to as Herne. The Hunter... the God of Death. She let out a gasp as the stylus fell from her hand, and reached out her fingers, gently letting them run over the fresh marks.

"... it's you; you're inside me..."

[Maester Wargrave]

It shouldn't be long now...Haltiz was told the meeting would be right after dark.

And the sun had just now started to set and darkness began to take its rule on the Balmorran Plains.

Wargrave's blue eyes remained at their narrowed posistion and he shifted his position from one armored leg to another. His black gloved hand slowly moved up to stroke his grey face and he continued to watch.

There...movement...four men. All armed with blasters...one with an Imperial Repeater Rifle.

Wargrave kept watching...at some point...Haltiz would show.

His hand moved from his face to his lightsaber and he kept watch.

[Morgan La Fonte]

Morgan could only stare at the drawing. It was Herne... she was sure of it.

And if it was him that was inside of her... she focused. Closing her eyes, she sat stock still. With the notebook still in her lap, she lifted a hand to let it run over the drawing... focussing her mind on the features depicted.

For a long time Morgan had known she was different than the other girls at school; even different from her friends. Sometimes she did things without thinking... things that she only attributed to what she now called 'the craft'. Things like lighting candles without a lighter, or even moving her pens across her room into her hand. The small things always came first, and now that she knew what was truly inside of her, she could almost see herself exacting her revenge.

The power; Herne, had never once before been so strongly felt within her before. But this evening, she could feel him. He pulsed in her veins, drove her senses wild with the thought of his strength. She wanted it so very badly.

Her fingers froze.

She could almost see him now... she could feel his actions, and mimiced them. The hand that'd been lightly grazing over the drawing came up to gently run over her face, then fell to her side, clutching something invisible. She could feel his thoughts... his emotions...

He was about to kill...

[Maester Wargrave]

Kolchar Haltiz was there. Wargrave could see his fat face now. The man had just come out of a speeder that pulled up next to the waiting men.

Wargrave knew the time was almost right. A few minutes more. Take them as a group, not individually. He could handle them all at once.

He was that powerful.

And he needed to send a message to anyone who thought about betraying Millard or the Balmorran Empire.

Do not mess with us.

Haltiz had shaken hands with the lead man now...who wore spectacles and looked shifty. Haltiz was wearing a dark jumpsuit and looked good for a man who'd spent almost two years in the northern poles.

As the former Balmorran Council Member looked around...Wargrave reacted.

He leaped in the air, heading right towards Haltiz. A punch to the face and he fell.

The world slowed as Wargrave sped up.

And somewhere...the yellow saber came out.

[Morgan La Fonte]

She felt it... the suddeness of action, the muscles of her body being put to the test. And yet, she didn't move at all. She was watching through his eyes; entranced by his calculated blows, his controlled swings and actions. He was exactly what she wanted; wanted to be.

She was inside of him now, watching everything as it happened through his own eyes, watched how his thought processes worked their ways into actions... actions that brought about death. And then everything seemed to slow down, as if Balmorra and everything on it was caught in a state of slow motion... everything that is, except for Herne and herself.

She revelled in the carnage he was creating; the need to exact revenge for past grievences.

It was then that she acted, trying to reach out to the power within her; to touch it.

Eyes still closed, Morgan was oblivious to the spectacle going on not 100 yards before her; oblivious to the screams. Instead, she lifted a hand... her fist was clenched tightly, and small rivlets of blood were starting to trickle down her wrist from the pressure her fingernails were putting on her palms. She could feel one of the victim's neck in her grip though; feel it through Herne's grip. He was holding the man up, as if talking to him... chastizing the man for some long ago wrong.

But Morgan was impatient. She could feel Herne's power as she tapped into him.

And with a vicious twist of her wrist, acted on her desires; killing the man with Herne's own hand.

[Maester Wargrave]

Wargrave's saber blocked the hail of blaster bolts as they shot towards him. He deflected them back at the traitors firing, sending them down to the ground...some dead others simply wounded.

The Dark Jedi turned towards Haltiz, then pulled him up into a Force Grip.

"Kolchar Haltiz," his voice was dark and full of menace, "Your Angel of Death is here for you.

"Do not beg, Haltiz," Wargrave did his best to shut the almost pleading man up, "It is unbecoming of you."

The man hovered in the air, grasping at his throat. His bugged out and suddenly, Wargrave felt something else. As if something were enhancing the grip...making it stronger. It began squeezing Haltiz's neck with more force and power. It wasn't overwhelming the Dark Jedi Master, but it certainly was unexpected.

He let it enhance his grip and Haltiz went limp...dead by a crushed throat.

Wargrave's blue eyes looked around. Something had helped him kill Haltiz. And it was Morag...no...

"Show yourself...I can sense you are here."

[Morgan La Fonte]

It was like being pulled back through a tunnel at an incredibly fast speed. Pulled from Herne, she was being sent back to her own body... Morgan almost cried out as she felt her head rock back with the collision of her soul with her body.

"No..."

She slumped a little, spent with her mental exertions. Herne was still there, but his strength had been curbed; placed into idle, if you will. She could still feel it, but it was being held in check. Her hands swiped the journal from her lap, letting it tumble to the ground as she bent over herself to rest her head on one of her knees. She took deep breaths, pulling in the evening air, letting it fill her lungs. She tasted his power. And it was wonderful.

And then she heard him speak.


"Show yourself...I can sense you are here."


Her head lifted then, and her eyes scanned the field before her. She took in the carnage, the bodies, and the lone man standing in the middle of it all. He hadn't seen her yet, but she knew the question was directed at her.

Quickly, she pulled her journal to her, closing its pages protectively while staring at the man.

It was him. It was Herne.

And he was very real.

[Maester Wargrave]

He sensed it...no...her. There was a woman...no...girl...somewhere. Wargrave's senses came to him...her Force signature was muted...as if it were shut down. But he could definately sense her.

There...by the tree was the girl. In her late teens...and she was staring at him.

Wargrave started walking towards her, his saber turning off and clipping back to his belt.

One of the men started to rise and reach for his blaster. Even with all his friends dead he could still kill their attacker. Even if it was Wargrave.

His fingers touched the cold metal.

And he was instantly thrown back as lightning erupted from Wargrave's hands. The man slammed into his speeder, his body turning black as he burned.

Wargrave smiled. Then turned back to Morgan.

[Morgan La Fonte]

Morgan was quick to her feet as he came closer, clutching her journal to her chest. He was tall, and she found herself transfixed by his eyes; they radiated a cold blue that seemed to hold her in place. So she stood, unmoving with her back to the tree she'd sought shelter beneath.

But he was here; now... and she found herself wanting to reach out, to touch him once more and feel the power he held.

And so she did. Her eyes closed a little, and reaching with her mind, she gently touched his...

"You finally came," she mouthed silently.

[Maester Wargrave]

He looked at her frame...under a meter indeed. She was wearing a black skirt and a mesh top.

Wargrave stared at her as he approached, his hood concealing his face.

He stopped right in front of her, cocking his head and looking into her eyes.

"Who are you? What do you want?"

[Morgan La Fonte]

She could only stare up at him, trying her best to discern his features from beneath the hood he wore. It was too dark. But, she could feel his power. It was like a carefully contained fire, and she wanted it for herself. She wanted him.

And now, in her mind, she had him. He'd come to her, after all. She hadn't chased after him across the fields... he'd walked right to her. She was overjoyed, though held her emotions well in check.

Carefully, she lifted a hand up, slim fingers reaching gently for the hood that hid his features.

"I'm yours," she began in a whisper, "... and I want you... "

[Maester Wargrave]

Wargrave's gloved hand shot to hers preventing her from touching him.

"No. No one sees my face."

[Morgan La Fonte]

A look of semi-shock and hurt passed over her face as he gripped her hand, and she let her journal fall to the grass. His refusing her this one thing was not so much a blow, but a rebuke. Her eyes, almost crystalline in color, peered into the darkness that was his face.

"But... I already know what you look like... "

Her journal, when it had fallen, had landed open, the page that held the drawing of Herne she'd made facing up.

It looked exactly like Wargrave.

[Maester Wargrave]

Wargrave's eyes narrowed. Something was wrong. A part of him...Millard...the part that was married and happy with s'Ilancy, stirred.

"How long have you seen me, young one?"

A pause.

"How long has my face been in your mind?"

[Morgan La Fonte]

"You've been in here," her free hand came up to rest on her chest, "... you're the one who speaks to me... I can feel your power in me... "

She could only stare up at him then, feel his presence and bask in it. Morgan had no way of knowing that what she truly had was the force; she'd always called it simply 'the craft', and left it at that. Yes, she knew of the force, but her family wasn't known to have any force users in it's family tree. And so, when she began showing signs of abilities, she kept them secret.

Truthfully, Wargrave's face hadn't been in her mind's eye until a month ago. But to her, it'd been an eternity.

"Please... I want to see your face... "

[Maester Wargrave]

She had the Force...Wargrave to sense it now. It was indeed more powerful than he originally thought.

The hood remained on.

He could not compromise his identity as Wargrave. Only those he trusted knew his real identity. This girl was not in his trust. Therefore he couldn't show her.

"I'm afraid not, my dear," his voice turned gentle, "In time...I might...If you can trust me."

[Morgan La Fonte]

Her shoulders slumped a little. He wouldn't show her... but she already knew him! He'd been inside of her, begging to be let out, to be set free. And when she did, he refused her simplest request.

At his last words, she barely curbed her impatience. She wanted him now. She stopped short then. He was testing her, he had to be. Seeing if she was worth his time. I am...

"I've always trusted you... "

She stood still, her hand still in his grasp, and taking advantage of the physical contact between the two, let her mind explore; traveling through her body into his.

Ever so gently, she touched the very surface of his thoughts...

so wonderful...

[Maester Wargrave]

The girl was obsessed...Wargrave could tell. For some reason the girl wanted him...to be him...or something. Wargrave never had figured out women. That was Millard's job..and even he didn't know it all.

Wargrave's old face...the younger one...that might placate her. It was partially his true face after all...something he could reveal to her without worrying about Millard being compromised.

He let go of her, barely, the girl would not let go of his hand.

"If I show you...you cannot tell anyone. Now...who are you? What is your name?"

[Morgan La Fonte]

She pulled from his thoughts as he himself let go of her. Retreating back into her own mind, Morgan crossed her arms tightly, hugging herself. She looked at the robed figure; let her eyes wander from the top of his hood to his feet. At his question, she looked back up.

Another test. It had to be. Besides, he said he'd show her his face. She answered him.

"Morgan... Morgan La Fonte...

"... I've been waiting for you tell help me with 'the craft'; with the power inside of me... "

[Maester Wargrave]

"My name is Wargrave, Madame La Fonte," he said not unkindly.

He had a feeling she would want to be trained by him. He'd certainly been rather popular when it came to training recently.

And he wasn't against training her either. Another one whose legacy to pass on, he supposed. Perhaps even Morag might help as well.

"The power inside of you? How long have you felt this power?"

[Morgan La Fonte]

Morgan looked down, remembering how long it'd been that she was living with her abilities. It'd been a while, she knew that. Since she was 11-12 at least. And she was almost 19 now.

"Seven years almost," she began,letting her memories of those last 7 years wash over her. At times they'd been the worst years of her life. But still she'd pressed on. Still she'd never given up.

She knelt then, retrieving her journal and once more holding it to her chest, and rising once more, kept her eyes on the dark beneath the hood. Wargrave... the name was different, and she almost expected him to call himself Herne. But, now she had a voice for the thing within her, and a name to the voice.

Morgan inhaled deeply. It was getting late, but she paid the time no heed as she continued to stare up at the man before her, waiting to see his face.

[Maester Wargrave]

Wargrave stared at the girl, Morgan, his blue eyes dark with coldness.

He placed his arms on his waist, his hooded blood red cape fluttering.

Very briefly he touched her mind. She briefly thought of the time then dismissed it. Hmm...lateness was not a good thing. Not good at all.

"Are you expected any where? Any place you might be missed?"

[Morgan La Fonte]

Morgan shook her head. She wasn't late for any sort of engagement, simply noting that evening was quickly becoming night.

And then she felt him graze over her mind... she latched onto him, just as a small child would cling to its mother. It was like he was extending his power to her, and she reached for it. Morgan craved it.

"No... I'm not late for anything..."

She bowed her head, staring down at the notebook in her arms as she did her best to retain his hold within her.

"I have nothing to be late to."

[Maester Wargrave]

He felt her stir within her mind...grasping onto him as he lightly touched it. She was enamored with him...and it wasn't a good thing.

Obsession took many forms. This one...was not one to be ignored.

He turned, beginning to walk away from her.

"Come with me child," his voice came over his shoulder, "I have someone who can help."

[Morgan La Fonte]

"But... "

Morgan hesitated then. For the first time in her life, she finally had something that she'd truly wanted, and now she wasn't sure what to do. She'd reached a point of indecisiveness in whether or not to follow Wargrave. That he wanted to take her to someone other than him was a little disconcerting.

She still clutched her notebook to her chest, thoughts of her parents coming to mind. They'd be worried about her if she didn't come home... and yet, here, standing before her, was the one who she knew had given her the craft. She didn't know what to do. She backed a step away then, curbing her mad curiosity and pulling herself within her mind. Perhaps he was taking her to someone else because of her over-eagerness at his appearence; in which case she stopped her pryings.

And so, without thinking, she used another of the many names attributed to Herne the Hunter...

"Cernunnos... please. I'm sorry... it's just... I've waited for you; not someone else."

[Maester Wargrave]

Wargrave stopped.

It wasn't the first time he'd heard that name. s'Il had mentioned it before...and somehow, that name was comfortable with him.

"My dear child," he turned and looked at her.

"You might know what my face looks like, but I wear many faces. When I come to them...they see me as who they want to see.

"A Jedi might see his master descending upon him. A teenager might see his father coming for him. A man might see his brother returned from a long journey from afar."

His hands gripped the edge of his mask...

"If you wish to see who I am...then you cannot tell anyone...Do you understand?"

Her nod said it all.

The cloak fell from Wargrave's face...and she saw...

[Morgan La Fonte]

It was him. She knew it. There was no other person it could be but him.

Morgan La Fonte was staring at the one who'd; in her mind, resided within her. And now he was manifested before her. She stepped forward then, and reaching a hand up, cautiously stretched her fingers out, seeking to touch the stony lines of his face to assure herself that he was indeed, very real.

[Maester Wargrave]

He caught her hand again.

"Seeing me isn't enough for you, young one? You now know my face. Is that not enough for you?"

Wargrave asked her twice for emphasis. Morgan must be cautious...the same as Wargrave must.

[Morgan La Fonte]

Morgan quickly pulled her hand from his grasp, folding it once more around her journal before lowering her head to stare at the grass beneath her feet.

"I'm sorry," she mumbled, "I just... "

She left her answer hanging, not really sure how to answer him. She'd overstepped her bounds once more, and shoulders slumping, Morgan closed her eyes. She could still feel the muted strength of his power, and she was petrified that he would leave; that she would lose it.

"I'm sorry," she said once more.

[Maester Wargrave]

Wargrave's stone face smiled a bit.

"There is nothing wrong with eagerness child. You just must learn to control your eagerness."

The Dark Jedi strode around Morgan, his blue eyes taking her in. Measuring her.

"If you'd like Morgan. I can teach you how to control 'the craft' as you call it. Hone it...allow you to control it. There is more to it than using it to bend people to your whims.

"There is much more. Would you like to learn? Are you willing to have patience while you learn?"

He stopped in front of her and gazed deep into her eyes.

"Are you?"

[Morgan La Fonte]

He held her with his gaze, and Morgan found herself entranced almost. Of course she'd do what he asked; she'd do anything for him. He was offering to help her harness her powers; possibly make them greater even, and Morgan could only nod her head.

"I can be patient."

[Maester Wargrave]

"Good. The hour grows late young one," Wargrave said looking sternly at her.

"Go home. And come back here tomorrow. We will talk more then."

Wargrave pulled the shadows around him, giving the appearance he was disappearing.

"Tomorrow...we will talk more."

[Morgan La Fonte]

Morgan stared at him, watching entranced as he seemed to disappear. All she could do was nod, and drawing her journal closer to her chest, she turned to head back to Bin Prime. With another look over her shoulder, she failed to see Wargrave... he'd vanished.

The walk back home didn't seem as long, and as she stepped into the front door of her home, she headed straight for her room. Her parents were already in bed, as was evident that the lights had all been extinguished. Step after step she pulled herself up the stairs until finally reaching the top, and heading for her room, she stepped quietly in, shutting the door behind her.

The craft within her stirred, and Morgan knew that she was going to finally be allowed her dream.

Power.

[Maester Wargrave]

It was almost like talking with himself.

"I take it your mission was successful?"

A nod.

"Good. I will take over your part. If you will do mine."

Another nod.

"Excellent."

The training would begin soon. Morgan La Fonte would learn how to control the power within her. With the help of Morag Prime...it might help her even more.

Wargrave returned to his home. He had a meeting to attend to.

[Morgan La Fonte]

Morgan had returned t the same spot the next night, not really knowing what to expect. She was excited, yes. Nervous? Yes. A little apprehensive of what might come? Most certainly. But the need; the craveing for power was what drove her to return the next night.

Low cut black pants stacked down onto the flight boots she wore, and a leather top completed the simple outfit. She wasn't one for extra... 'things', like the other girls at school; she preferred to keep it simple; and it showed in how she dressed. She'd brought her journal once more, and her short black hair was slicked back.

She was ready to start; ready to harness the craft.

[Wargrave]

The knife *thunked* in the grass by Morgan's feet, quivering amoungst the grass.

Wargrave stood at the top of the hill, in the spot he'd been told to stand. He wasn't much of a talker, but he knew enough to convey what needed conveying.

The grass beneath his boots made no audible noise as he walked down to Morgan's spot.

A smile from beneath the hood.

"Good evening Morgan," the hood came off, revealing a younger, more easily looked upon face.

But it was still Wargrave.

"Shall we begin?"

[Morgan La Fonte]

He was different, but the same. He'd said he wore different faces; most likely this was one of them. Morgan stared at him in rapt fascination, and keeping her eyes on him, knelt to pull the knife from the soil. It was solid, the weight easy to hold. It felt comfortable of all things.

She held the blade loosely at her side.

With nothing to say to him; Morgan could think of nothing to say, so she stood silent, waiting for his first instructions.

[Wargrave]

"Pick up the knife. I want you to throw it towards the tree you were...sitting against," Wargrave's robes weren't as flowing as they'd been the night before. Instead they tumbled down over his shoulders and chest. They appeared heavy as well and it was then the Dark Jedi released the clasp on the cloak and it fell with a *fwap* on the grassy plain.

He breathed the air around him deeply, feeling it empower him.

"As you throw the knife, picture it in your mind flying all the way into the try. Now...do it."

[Morgan La Fonte]

She looked down at the knife in her hand, hefting it gingerly. She'd never really held too many blades, but for some reason this one felt right. She listened as Wargrave spoke, and turning her head, looked back to the tree she'd been leaning against.

She remembered watching some of the boys from school, how they'd had knife throwing contests, and doing her best to mimic their motions, tossed the blade into the air, catching it deftly by the blade. Another few moments, to line her sights, and cocking her arm back, threw the weapon.

It sailed through the air, end over end and struck the trunk, actually sticking for a few seconds before coming free and landing in the grass with a soft thump.

With a perplexed look; and not a little aggravation as well, she headed for the tree, intent on trying again. And again. And again. Until she did what he'd told her to do.

[Wargrave]

He was doing his best to talk as much as Wargrave had in the past. It was difficult to, he normally preferred his actions to speak for him. But Wargrave knew he had to talk...and so he did, taking the form of a teacher for the young Darkling.

"When you picture the knife sticking in the tree, feel the air around the knife. Do that before you throw it. Feel with your mind the knife and its weight.

"Then throw."

[Morgan La Fonte]

She nodded, acknowledging what he'd said, and going back to stand beside him, Morgan stared at the tree. She opened up with her senses, feeling the life surrounding her; running through her. The air around her and Wargrave seemed to become tangible, and she narrowed her eyes to slits. Once more she drew an arm back, muscles tensing, taut, then in a blur of action she threw the knife. It flew straighter this time, more solidly, but instead of burying itself in the trunk of the tree, it glanced off to the side.

For a second she became frustrated. She felt the air; the rippling waves of life that ran through everything, and still the blade had bounced off the tree. Her face screwed up into an expression of disgust. At herself, and she stalked forward once more.

She was going to get this if she spent all day throwing a blade at a tree.

[Wargrave]

The blade rose from the ground before Morgan and floated slowly over towards her.

It hovered before her, the blade towards her, and started spinning.

"Take it...and let me guide you to the tree."

[Morgan La Fonte]

Gingerly she reached her hand out, catching the slowly spinning blade between slim fingers before bringing it to her side in a loose grip.

With a questioning look, she gazed expectantly up at Wargrave, ready for whatever it was he would do.

[Wargrave]

He walked around her, taking her in as he did.

She had potential, even he could sense it. But Wargrave wanted to see what she could do.

His hand came up, taking her smaller one.

"Focus...see the tree. See the knife...picture your strength increasing as you take the blade. And throw...now..."

[Morgan La Fonte]

His hand engulfing her own was almost exquisite, and Morgan closed her eyes momentarily. It was a moment she would never forget, and as he spoke, she felt her body open up; take in her surroundings and the environment around her. The very vibrancy of life seemed to fill her nostrtils as she inhaled, and it felt as though her whole body had absorbed everything around her.

Muscles tensing, she brought back her arm before snapped forward, the knife leaving her hand...

[Wargrave]

It didn't just hit the tree with a solid *thunk*, the blade completely penetrated the bark, leaving only the hilt in the night sky.

Wargrave appeared impressed, in fact, he was quite impressed with Morgan's abilities. She could be trained and taught to hone her strength.

Now...it was time for another test.

"Excellent job," Wargrave hid the accent in his speech, "Now...use your power and pull the knife back out. Without killing either of us.

"If you can put it in the tree, then you can remove it as well."