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Proof of Their Fall

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#1
Brukhalian

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It was a far cry from the Airine na Comhrac Dorchadas on Togoria, but the sand still blasted across his form with that same familiarity. A lifetime had passed since the days where the blood sport of the Dark Jedi Order had defined their ranks and placed a collective of the rest of the Galaxy beneath them, but the pride still swelled within Alkor as the heat washed over him. This was another world, another time, but they were the same. They would always be.

He wore only the normal bandages that littered his body at any given time and a pair of dark trousers, nothing that would inhibit his motion. They had decided no armor, and only lightsabers for this occasion. It was to see if they had rusted, and if so, to alleviate the problem. It was also a chance for the Knights Obsidian to see something they might normally never have a chance to.

Petranaki Arena had stood for hundreds of years, beyond the Gulag Plague, back to when the original Confederacy of Independent Systems held Geonosis. It had tricks and traps to rival some of the most devious and infamous venues in the Galaxy, and yet, they had requested only sand, air, and sunlight.

The heat was staggering, enough that without the controlled atmosphere the onlookers might succumb to it. Water and food would be provided for anyone who wanted it, and there would be plenty of time for mingling between the non-combatants.

Alkor let his sabers remain at either hip for the moment, turning to face Bedrovelse Hevn with a slight smirk. "You're going to have as many fans as Eversio did by the end of the day, Brother," he jeered playfully.


Edited by Alkor Centaris, 05 July 2019 - 01:30 AM.


#2
Asaraa Vaashe

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The name of the Knights Obsidian was one that known throughout the galaxy, whispered in the dark corners of the galaxy as combatant's par excellent, fighters who you never wanted to face on the battlefield. Warriors of great renown...and there was her a young Jedi Knight, here alone amongst her allies, these killers and warriors. She'd ended up facing the knight commander himself in a recent tournament, the unothodox thinking and capability of hte man had made it hard for her to just defend herself, let alone keep up with him in the fight, he was actually the one who had invited her here. If that wasn't a terrifying enough there was the planet they'd been called to, an almost palpable wall of heat slamming down on her, like a wall she had to push through. Asaraa had already discarded her usual black tanktop, her white top loose enough to afford her some protection from the heat while not impeding her from moving as she slipped her thumbs through her belt, turning her head as the sun beat down on her bared skin, sand blowing across her flesh like a thousand dancing caresses as the wind swept past them. The reassuring weight of her lightsabers rested at her back as she turned slightly, tilting her head backwards, hair blowing around her face and eyes closed as she took a moment to enjoy the peace and the feeling of the heat before it became oppressive.

 

Alkor Centaris



#3
Kurenai Yumi

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Fighting, to her it was a life style, from a very young age all throughout her life Kurenaihad been fighting, be it someone, someone or againstsome people. In the military, as a private contractor, mercenary groups or just at events like this. As such it would be no surprise to see the women here, even if she did not know much about Alkor Centaris, though when it came to arena, she was quite familiar with the events that took place here. So far nothing seemed out of the ordinary, save for an insufferable heat that washed over the plant, times like this Tapas was extremely useful, least she need to discard any clothing. Somthing a certain pink haired girl was not so capable of, Kurenai's gaze falling upon the Jedi knight called Asaraa Vaashe. A person whom she had not really talk to, but had heard quite a bit from her children when they had worked along side what she assumed to be a Zeltron, the details were not clear on that, something about not being their body.  Walking over the tall Navey haired women gave a small bow to the Jedi, slightly shifting the pole arm on her back in the process, "greetings Vaashe, I was not aware you'd be attending this event, I'm kind of interested in your skill sets and what the Silver Jedi has to teach".

 

Asaraa Vaashe


Edited by Kurenai Yumi, 05 July 2019 - 07:42 AM.


#4
Djonas Vile

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Each step into the arena came with another chapter in the venue's history. Countless lives taken by blood sport all for the sake of entertainment of brutish beings. It was many years ago, but Djonas could still feel the empty voids of lost souls trapped in this dimension because of the Petranaki Arena. Any other day, he'd scoff at any invitation to such a place, but this situation was a bit different. Instead of a weak unfortune soul being trapped in the arena to defend their life against insurmountable odds, one combatant versus another as part of a training exercise. It wasn't often that Djonas got to see how others within the Knights Obsidian trained so he found it hard to refuse the chance to spectate.

 

At Djonas' side was his recently acquainted fellow Knight Obsidian, Executor Alwine Lechner. He felt that they were slowly, but surely, becoming good friends and times like this were good to strengthen that bond. It's this kind of bond that strengthen the Knights Obsidian as a whole. Each sect was different but they all fought for the same cause.

 

"Executor, follow me. I can see a spot that should have a good view of the arena below." Djonas suggested. He began walking up a flight of stairs until he reached the second section of the arena. This section resided in the middle ring of the stands, thus giving a better view of the entire arena without being too close or too far. He maneuvered himself past a few seats before deciding upon a pair for himself and Alwine. "Best seats in the house. What you think?" he asked as he began tog et comfortable in a somewhat reclined pose.

 

Alwine Lechner


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#5
Bedrovelse Hevn

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To Bedrovelse Hevn, this place was more than just history. This circle of justice was a tool he most certainly enjoying employing against his enemies to watch them struggle and suffer. He and the Geonosians would take turns, summoning champions of blood sport and reveling in the shed of hated blood. More often than not, the gladiators would valiantly sway the favor of the crowd to their cause for survival, only to find Hevn descending upon them from his throne. A final foe to any unlucky enough to face him.

Alkor’s words, while jeering and playful, were found scathing upon Hevn’s prideful ears. Truly, Eversio had the capacity for charisma and showmanship that got a crowd to roar as they wound for any champion. Hevn was a very different kind of fighter. He was direct and ruthless against any that took up arms against him. He silenced crowds. He ripped the breath from their chest as his exhibits of brutality stunned all but the sickest of minds and humors in the galaxy. A bitter memory trickles to the forefront of his mind.

Hevn’s legendary skill and prowess as a duelist had led him past the most vile and vicious the galaxy could throw at him. He stood in the sands of the arena as the second finalist, Skolios stood across from him. Skolios was a Sith of impeccable skill with a blade that Hevn had fought along side as a Ronove. He watched the dark haired man enter the arena and toss his sabers to Hevn’s feet in forfeit. A refusal to engage in a battle he would surely find death in. Eversio descended in swift rage upon them. He did not raise Hevn’s fist and declare his victory in front of the entire universe as he did the victorious brothers before him. No. Lahash, William Reign, and Leto Bestial fought their enemies head to head at the end, and were given the celebration of kings. Showered with cheers, women, and rum of course. Eversio threw the crown of champion at Hevn’s feet disgusted. Was not terrifying an enemy into submission also the victory of a champion? Such fear inspired that a dark man could not find the will to battle him? He was the fourth galactic battle arena champion, carrying on the legacy of his kind by carrying the torch for their fourth consecutive domination of any and all who were brave enough to test the Jen’jidai.

Alkor was not to be underestimated by any degree. He was an S tank adversary in Hevn’s books and his skill sets made a datapad squeal at the prospect of meeting him in battle. Hevn felt Alkor was sorely underrated among the Dark Jedi in their prime, if only because he was quiet. He never pursued glory or renown in the same fashion that led Hevn and the others succumbed to vanity and pride. Alkor was a disciple of their Order’s absolute strongest melee fighters. His ability to misdirect a foe and savagely slay them was a work of art. Alkor’s signature dance of death had an erratic and graceless impression, yet Hevn was wise enough to know that it came from a killer of his caliber tapping into an expression of his primal instincts. Alkor fought like a wild animal. The most troubling part now, was that while Hevn had been exploring new depths of the force, Alkor had continued to hone that ability. Continued to struggle, grow, and evolve. What he faced now was likely Alkor at his prime.

‘When was the last time you felt it brother? The blood storming in your veins as an opponent worthy of your wrath stood against you?’

Already the adrenaline flexed and courses into his every muscle. His brain began working on over drive. His icy glare focuses upon Alkor. The weather was unkind to Hevn’s Ensolican anatomy. The heat and sand were enough to choke him, and his body would struggle to perform at peak condition. None of these factors were enough to deter him. An unusual sight on Hevn, a breathing apparatus is placed over his mouth and nose, connected to a tank on his back. They were to keep him in top shape instead of trying to battle the heat full force. Hopefully it would serve as a lesson to onlookers not to bite on obvious weaknesses when the target in question expected you to devote your attention to it. He did not believe Alkor fool enough to fall for the gambit, but was interested in whether he’d get to punish that mistake. Hopefully his time since Muun had not dulled Alkor’s abilities.

Inhale. Exhale. Suck. Hiss. The tears of Hevn hang from either hip. His right hand snatches one up and ignites it with a wail. It’s blue blade crackles as dusty orange sand whips through it.

“I’m going to show them what you’re made of, Commander.” Hevn’s cool mechanical voice is muffled by the breathing mask, creating a menacing declaration that most likely only Alkor could hear.

#6
Brukhalian

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Muunilnst had been a display of decadence. A show of power and wealth that cowed the rest of the Galaxy into meekness, all while the Jen'jidai hoarded their drink and revelry, growing fat and sick on their own pride. The truth of it was, Alkor hated those men. He hated what they had made him, and what they had taken from him. But he called them Brother, because while they sucked the meat from his bones and left him a withered husk, they did so in a way that left him above the rest of a complacent Galaxy.

They were able to sit on their callous thrones and let the world waste away around them because they were untouchable. Harnaidan, the Villa Obscurum, it had been their Valhalla, and they had been the Aesir. Opportunities to sit at their table and sup with them had been given to Alkor, and Alkor had spurned them. The kindred spirit had never been why he stayed with the Order.

The Bastard son of House Plaga, they called him when they thought he wasn't listening. The unworthy heir. All of C'thulu's darkest magicks, all of the ancient secrets, and the Corellian Exile had refused to transfuse himself with any one of the rituals that might give him the power to take up the greatest of Mantles. While the rest of them taunted, jeered, and joked at his expense, it had been Bedrovelse Hevn who looked to him in a moment most dark and held out a hand.

There was no compassion, however. He flayed the flesh from Alkor's arm, a testament to his failure, but a promise to rise from it. Alkor never forgot that act. Hevn was the first of the Jen'jidai who the Demon learned not to hate with all of his being.

A chore, Hevn would soon learn, as Alkor pulled the wrappings around his neck away and revealed the scarred, bruised flesh that was his upper back. The Alchemist understood the secrets of Sith Alchemy- none better. He would see the runic curse left there. A grim reminder of Plaga's work.

Nikisosûti.

Carved in High Sith, it crackled and burned to life as for the first time in many years, it had tasted air. He could feel the inferno within him welling up unbidden, stirred to life by the Magicks stored in his very blood. He was to face a true opponent for the first time since before he could remember. He owed Hevn his absolute greatest effort.

"Before the Fall," Alkor replied to the question. "It has been a lifetime or more."

One of his sabers found itself in his hand, and it erupted to life with an electrical hiss. Alkor's own eyes succumbed to the poison of the Dark Side, stained a blood red color as the corruption filled him up. Held low, the blade danced across the sand and crackled as it superheated several grains, and rested diagonally in front of him.

"Show me," Alkor replied quietly, "what a real warrior is. I've almost forgotten."

There was no wasted moment between them after that. The way of the Order had always been to not waste air once words were ended. Alkor surged forward with his blade in his left hand, bringing it surgically upward in a diagonal from hip to shoulder. Thin- it did not appear to be committed, but it was more than enough to sear the torso of his opponent, if it connected.

Bedrovelse Hevn

#7
Alwine Lechner

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"I think it is a cynical use of one of the strongest symbols we have that the Confederacy still insists on clinging to ancient and barbaric ways that should by now have become obsolete," came the loving response from the short woman standing with Djonas Vile. Her face was as hard as she herself was in that moment, looking over the sunlit sands that made the arena.

 

Aline Hilde Lecher was nothing if not opinionated. The way she looked at her surroundings at all times, behind that hint of a squint in those chocolate brown eyes of hers, gave that away almost instantly. She would not have made the attempt to hide it even if she had some kind of choice in the matter. For too many years of her life, she had cast her gaze away, told to look down and to the side so that they would not see. So that they would not see that the submissiveness she displayed was nothing but an act, so that they would not see the defiance in her soul, so that they would not see that she was not human.

 

There was almost nothing human about her save for her physical features. And as time progressed, and along with it the freedom she'd been granted by her removal from Stewjon, the less her expressions seemed to resemble those of a normal human. And although against all odds, Alwine was making more and more often the choice to remain in her human form, she relished in the subtle changes that marked her as other.

 

Sitting down at the edge of the seat Mr. Vile had offered, Alwine's back remained perfectly straight as she looked down at the arena. Why had she come here that day? Oh, she knew there would be no execution. In fact, she was more than certain that not only would she have rejected Mr. Vile's charming invitation to the event if it had, but he would also have received a verbal circumcision for even thinking to bring her there.

 

And still, the fact that this arena, this pit, was preserved, and still in use… Alwine could not fault the Confederacy for killing slavers in cold blood. But she questioned the method of using the pit for it. And to now hold a social event there to watch one of their Knight Commanders fight there as though this ought to be a normal event in a place that was so seeped with blood… If ever came a day in which Alwine found herself in the position to do so while able to withstand the consequences, she knew the pit would be the first and probably only place she would out right destroy on this wretchedly hot planet.

 

At least everyone else seemed to be enjoying themselves.

 

"I do not understand why they would do so here of all places," she admitted after a moment, taking a few hotdogs from a vendor that just walked by them, offering one to her… Friend? She had no inclination to give this any sort of official label at present, "There are plenty of places Knight Commander Centaris could have chosen to show off, or show his friend off. Many of those places have functioning air conditioning. Why flaunt here of all places?"


Edited by Alwine Lechner, 06 July 2019 - 08:55 AM.

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#8
Vigil Rostu

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"Who are these people?"

"They are called Knights Obsidian."

"Why not the other way around? Normally use use a descriptive term before the noun."

"You are talking to someone who can't change the name."

"But it doesn't make any sense."

"Anora, its just a name. We are here to meet some of the others."

"Alright, so then how are we doing this?"

"Just be nice. Smile, and don't show yourself."

"Kind of difficult when you aren't carrying a sword."

 

Turning to her, I gave her a clear look. My eyes staring directly into her own blue. We both stopped walking for a moment, as I reached down to my slugthrower. Indicating I would be fine. Plus, I had enough force capability to defend myself. If not, I could just rely on my cousin. Today, adjusting my nice leather jacket instead of wearing armor. There was no need when it was just a meet and greet. However new I may be. 

 

Walking out into this desired location spot. Seeing that there were already some who fighting. Not sure if it was sparing or not. However, the sight of others who seemed to be perfectly fine with this, only confirmed my suspicions. It was a friendly spar. Albeit with lightsabers and swords. It was interesting. As I began to walk closer, their taunting one another, as well as a girl with blonde hair raising the idea that this fight between the Commander who I was supposed to meet for the first time, and his friend were fighting. It was a planet that many did not like. Mainly for the sand. It gets everywhere. Its coarse and irritating. Either way, I simply walked up. Standing enough of a distance from most of the others. Simply watching the stances between the two. They clearly were master warriors. While they may have been clearly older than myself, I can easily see their power and strength with the nearly graceful actions they had. 

 

They were clearly people who would be difficult to fight. However, I could not gauge how well I would fair against them. Never seeing them fighting. As was my culture, I intended to learn more of them. Battle was how the Echani spoke. How we learned, and how we found a bond. Hopefully I could garner some idea of how these men operated through their skills of blades. However, my focus was slightly taken when Anora standing next to me spoke up. 

 

"Why the fight? If they are allies?"

"To learn. To teach, and to become stronger. Or show off. Much like our own culture."

"I don't think bandages here would be all that suitable though."

"And you think I am just because we have fought together?"

"Well yeah clear-"

"Some kings don't wear crowns."

"The hell you mean?"

"Appearances can be deceiving. Watch, and listen to them." 

 

She did as I asked. We were cousins after all. While I may have been slightly younger, I had more experience in battle than she. To be honest, I was just glad she finally was quiet. 

 

Alwine Lechner, Alkor Centaris, Bedrovelse HevnDjonas VileKurenai YumiAsaraa Vaashe


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#9
Madalena Antares

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Wearing: Obsidian Strike Armor
Wielding: Dyntech Power Staff | Yrkaa Sidearm  | Meymad

Tags: Alwine Lechner, Alkor Centaris, Bedrovelse Hevn, Djonas Vile, Kurenai Yumi, Asaraa Vaashe, Auberon

 

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Dressed in her usual red armor, Knight Commander Madalena Antares entered the arena, knowing in advance to head straight for the VIP area. As second among the Knights Obsidian only to the Dominus himself and sharing that position with one of the men who was now battling it out upon the sands of the arena, she'd made her duty to know the ins and outs of anywhere she could tread, and how many heads she had to break to enter places where she could otherwise not.

 

Sitting comfortably in one of the very front lines, a booth covering overhead saved her from the direct sun of Geonosis, and air-conditioning made sure she was perfectly comfortable in her armor. It was good to be comfortable. And treated well too. A nod and a smile was given as a little droid waiter wheeled by offering cool refreshments and food that was cut into tiny shapes of… Fish? She didn't get one. But it was delicious.

 

Glowing green eyes eyed the happenings on the sands with open curiosity and interest. It had been a good long while since she'd attended anything remotely similar. And while a little time had passed since the Knight Commanders had been put in their positions, she'd yet to actually see Centaris fight.

 

This was going to be interesting.


Edited by Madalena Antares, 07 July 2019 - 12:17 AM.

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#10
Asaraa Vaashe

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The girl let her head drop down from the light of the sun she'd been enjoying, blue eyes flicking open to glance over at the woman who had approached her, brain scrambling to try to place her. She wasn't sure she'd ever met the woman before but there was something about her that was familiar, the way she held her head and the way she talked it reminded her of Sukai and Tana, there was just something the way the woman seemed to hold herself in the force. The girl's mind skittered backwards to previous conversations she'd had with her friends, "Kurenai?" she queried. They'd mentioned a mother before, and she couldn't think of anyone else who could fit the description. Reaching up, the Jedi ran one hand through her hair, fingers coming away covered in dust as she flexed her fingers shaking away the sand coating her, she was so gonna need a shower when this was done. "I honestly didn't think I'd ever end up here either but Commander Centris invited me. and a chance to see him fight, see any of you fight well I can't really turn that down can I?" Even if he had to choose the most Ashla- forsaken location to hold the fight. The girl turned to glare at the man for a moment, noting that he was approaching another man, seeing him preparing to fight, before inclining her head back to Kurenai, "I mean, if you're curious, I'm not sure if other people are allowed to spar now, but we can always give it a shot later."

 

Kurenai Yumi



#11
Bedrovelse Hevn

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Alkor Centaris begins the battle with a zip forward and a light swing. It was for all intents and purposes a jab, but secondly one of the safest attacks in dueling. Whatever counterattack he chose was what would actually dictate the beginning of this battle. When wielding a single lightsaber, Hevn likes to use his superior size and augmented strength to bully enemies up close. His mix up game was strong given his ability to wield close range, long range, and force weapons all with fluid ease. He was limited in this fight to a bruising style that he still found viscerally entertaining to employ.

As the red lightsaber blade darts from the sand up toward his hip, Hevn steps forward with his right foot, dragging his left foot back, and brings his blue blade down on Alkor’s. Hevn attempts to force it into the sand and charge him. Hevn dips his right shoulder and aims it at Alkor’s upper shoulder and jaw region, while keeping the force of his right hand firm against Alkor’s saber to remain safe while engaging the shoulder charge. Hevn keeps himself prepared for any snaking away that might require a quick adjustment on his part. A thump from Hevn’s augmented arms wouldn’t break anything, but would probably bruise enough to impair muscle as the match dragged on.

#12
Brukhalian

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The blue blade sundered downward and soundly stopped the advance of Alkor's own weapon. Thankfully, Alkor's attack had been thin and noncommittal, a feint to taste the reaction time of the Jen'jidai he had not seen in nearly a decade. Nothing had slowed. If anything, Bedrovelse Hevn was faster and stronger than ever.

Alkor took the opportunity, as his opponent drove the two weapons downward, to turn his own hips and take an exaggerated step out to his right. Their lightsabers, held in opposite hands, were effectively locked in a mirror image- on the same side of their respective bodies.

Centaris tapped the sand with his right hand as he circled away from Hevn, fully aware that the man was superior in the clench. It would not be ideal to let him assert his superior physical strength so early on and gain a clear advantage. For now, it was avoidable.

In several moments, it might not be.

While Alkor circled away, Hevn threw his shoulder forward. Alkor ripped his left arm backward, dragging it across the sand and out from beneath the Blue lightsaber, intent upon dragging the hot plasma across the other Jen'jidai's chest and face as he brought it back under his control.

The closeness made his skin crawl, but in a good way. Alkor felt a rush of anticipation- an opponent with not only skill, but with power to make it imposing- nothing had exhilarated him like this in far too long. He could feel the bloodlust welling up inside him, the inferno lashing out and seething him from the inside. Heat from the sun felt almost cold by comparison.

Bedrovelse Hevn

Edited by Alkor Centaris, 07 July 2019 - 07:57 AM.


#13
Bedrovelse Hevn

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The snaking Hevn anticipated began as soon as he intercepted Alkor Centaris blade. Quick feet shift in the sand and he knew that lightsaber was going to rip out and up like a flailing tentacle. Hevn decides to continue pressing. He passes his lightsaber from his right to his left hand, and turns it into a reverse grip. As the red blade burst from the sand to cut him, it was barred from doing so by his blue one, close to his body and preventing Alkor from grazing him. Hevn’s stride toward Alkor is meant to bunch them together, sabers clinched, while his right arm unloads a piston quick punch aimed at Alkor’s left rib cage. Always attack the body near the saber arm, as that arm is usually being kept busy, leaving everything it can not defend vulnerable to other attacks.

Edited by Bedrovelse Hevn, 07 July 2019 - 07:25 AM.


#14
Brukhalian

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Compact, concise. No wasted movement. Unlike a lesser opponent might, Hevn utilized the least amount of effort to mitigate the impending damage simply by switching hands. Alkor had drawn lines of heat across more opponents that way in recent history than could be counted on both hands.

But it did not end simply with a mitigated motion. Bedrovelse Hevn pressed the onslaught, driving back to a standing position and forcing Alkor into a blade lock. But for his clarity in widening his stance, the Knight Commander would have been bowled over by his opponent's sheer bulk.

But Alkor had accounted for that, and his heels dug into sand as his oppressor bore down on him. With his blade still angled cross body, it slowly righted to a rigid line perpendicular to the ground. That was when the strike came.

It was also when Alkor twisted his body.

Hevn pumped out with a quick, but sinisterly powerful jab intended for Alkor's midsection. Alkor felt the blow graze his abdomen, a pressure that both tore away bandages and created uncomfortable friction on flesh. It felt almost like rugburn, but cold and metallic, and much more unpleasant.

But he had avoided a full on impact.

He took that moment to bring the elbow of his right arm upward, across toward Hevn's nose, aimed for the underside as his body rose up sharply, spanning the short gap between their height- a quick hop step to the outside.

#15
Vytal Noctura

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Since the moment Vytal had arrived, the Nightsister far from home had smiled. Her golden gaze shone with the insufferable light cast upon the planet, and the Dathomiri woman's white skin all but glowed. This place felt more like home the closer she got to the arena. A welcome sensation to know countless cries of unfulfilled champions and butchered victims alike echoed through the Force. So many places in the galaxy were silent. Dead. Barren wastes filled with people whose greatest accomplishment was not being caught by law enforcement after selling death sticks or illegal weapons.

 

The sun was not entirely pleasant, but Vytal did not scowl at the raging inferno above. There was no point complaining about the weather. If there was something to hunt the weather held no sway, except as a factor in how best to launch an assault. Heat exhaustion would be the primary environmental concern. Had she worn her customary black coat it would have been worse, but that had been left behind in favor of a sleeveless top. Sadly would not have to worry about exhaustion given today's role.

 

Observing the two men in the pit fighting was worth the disappointment of being merely in attendance. There was much to learn watching others, especially when they were Outsiders to the Nightsister. It was the very heart of why Vytal had left the darkness of home -- to seek out talent and material her kind denied themselves believing isolation would save them. Every day only served to reinforce Vytal's belief leaving home had been the best decision in her life. In her clan's life. The knowledge she'd return with would ensure their survival for generations.

 

In the audience, the white Witch sat at the edge of her seat, eyes riveted on the men below as their sabers cleanly sliced through air and flesh alike. Her dark lips peeled back at the impassioned sight. Their form was truly a wonder to behold.


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#16
Pom Stych Tivé

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Pomsty felt the darkside stir within Alkor, all the way into the stands. She knew his signature because she was close enough to him once before, when the different chapters of the Knights Obsidian worked together on a fascinating mission...of which the end result is classified. She watched him with an admiration. She wondered what the purpose is in regard to, or the intended outcome. 

 

'Men!'

 

So many people, so many signatures, one different from the rest, kindred. The Nightsister followed her senses. Closer she crept towards its concentration, when she noticed the familiar face among the crowd. For Pomsty it was as much as shock as it was a delight.

 

Pomsty smiled as she carefully rounded the stadium and made her approach unseen, so that her approach would be an equal surprise to her clan sister. She leaned down from behind her, directly over her shoulder. "Vytal Noctura, as I live and breathe!" she exclaimed. Pomsty threw her arms around her sister's shoulders and gave her a hug. She felt genuinely happy.

 

The crowd gasped and cheered, watching the spectacle take place in the arena. She hopped over the back of the chair and slid into the seat next to her fellow Nightsister. 

 

"Men! Am I right?" she said.


Edited by Pom Stych Tivé, 07 July 2019 - 09:14 PM.


#17
Vytal Noctura

Vytal Noctura

    Ardent Nightsister

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As Pom neared, Vytal positioned her feet beneath the seat and prepared for an arena battle of her own. It wasn't the Force whispering in the Nightsister's ear, but the instinct of a hunter suddenly become the hunted. A common occurrence back on Dathomir where the local fauna didn't care about honor or etiquette. Kill or be killed. A straightforward existence, which the rest of the galaxy did not share in.

 

The first word out of the person's mouth as they slid in behind her was her name, however, which at least earned a brief stay of execution. It took a second as the huntress instinct surrendered control to voice recognition. The Nightsister's radiant rings shifted to the side as Vytal turned her head to look back at the other woman.

 

With Pom dropping into the nearby seat, Vytal smiled and stretched her hand out to embrace the other woman. "Pom Stych Tivé," Vytal returned the full name recognition and greeting. "I never thought I would see you again. Especially this far from home." They had certainly traveled a greater distance than her youngerself had ever imagined when planning her daring venture.

 

With Pom's remark, the pale woman glanced back at the arena. She settled back in her seat, but kept close to the other woman. Pom's was a welcome, friendly face in a sea of offworlders. "Men," the Nightsister agreed readily. Not that such displays were without value. Even Nightsisters had to pick mates. Didn't mean they couldn't poke fun at the boys and their toys -- even if these were made of pure energy. So many breath-taking technologies existed throughout the galaxy; and so few of these offworlders seemed to appreciate what it was they had. Maddening.

 

"Which god or goddess should I thank for our reunion?" Vytal laughed.


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#18
Bedrovelse Hevn

Bedrovelse Hevn
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Clipping Alkor with his fist was disappointing enough without the insult that followed it. Crunch. Like a true warrior Hevn stands fast against a wave of wave of pain as Alkor Centaris punches his elbow hard and true into his breathing mask. The impact busts it to pieces and leaves his nose busted and crooked.

Hevn drops his right elbow immediately to his right hip, knees bending to pounce. A terrible sound rips from his mouth as the sudden shock of searing hot air enters his lungs. A croak of pain combined with getting swatted in the face. The wound was twofold. A genuinely gorgeous attack that smacked his pride for giving up the first proper hit. The pit of darkness within him opens up to feed on that darkness and anger.

The wail turns into a roar of anger as his body snaps to retaliate. Alkor left his feet and it wasn’t something he intended to leave unanswered for. They were trained only to leave their feet as a last resort to maintain maximum control of the body. It was a short quick hop but enough time for Hevn to throw his right hand out in an uppercut toward Alkor’s ribs. His legs extend into the motion as fast as he can to unleash as devastating a punch as possible before Alkor can regain control of himself.

#19
Kurenai Yumi

Kurenai Yumi

    I'm too old for this

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She could see the slight confusion on the women's face after the short introduction. perhaps some sort of explication would have been ideal before talking to the girl but bit by bit she could sense them thinking. A raised eyebrow appearing on Kurenai's face as she watched with a small amount of anticipation, seeing what reply the Jedi would come up with. A small nod came upon the right name uttered from the pink haired girl, well the one she went by as of current anyways, "correct you are, I guess investigation training is really apart of the Jedi training programs". Either that or she just connected the dots, why else would she have approached the Jedi if not having some sort of connection with the Silvers. "You should always be prepared to wind up in the most inhospitable environments while apart of any military like organisation, it was a lesson I learned very early on in my own military careers, though I would assume a Knight like you would know Tapas". It wasn't a hard skill to learn, both her children having mastered it already, perhaps it was just personal choice, or lack of knowledge on Asaraa Vaashe's part. As they talked her attention somewhat focusing on the fight at hand between the two Obsidian knights, internally critiquing their moves and styles, noting flaws to possibly exploits if she were to face either one later on at some point. "We do not have to fight today, perhaps when I come around to visit my children we could spar".



#20
Brukhalian

Brukhalian

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He knew Bedrovelse would not let such a thing go unanswered.

Control was everything to a Jen'jidai. Control of oneself, of the situation, and ultimately- when possible- control of one's opponent. To leave one's feet was a sign of either brazen arrogance in one's own ability, or a telltale sign that they knew there was no other option. In the case of the nearly two meter tall Ensolican Enigma, it was more than obviously the latter.

Alkor did what he could to maintain a safe distance, but with no boots on the ground he was severely limited in his options. He had scored the first influential strike- take away your opponent's strengths, leave them weak, then lay them bare. The first things they learned in single combat. Exploit every weakness. Dominate the foe. There is no such thing as cruelty in warfare.

The shattered apparatus lay in part as shards in the sand and some still dangling from his Brother's face as the man howled his rage in no uncertain terms. Blood spewed from the ugly wound. Hevn came nonetheless.

Fortunately for Alkor, he had angled his body away from Hevn. So when the other man turned to face him, they were square, and Alkor ripped his blade across Hevn's own and pulled the arm back, over top of the right arm so that they crossed in front of his body, the blade of his lightsaber resting parallel to his right shoulder.

He sucked in a fast gulp of air, knowing it would be difficult to fight for more the moment that the impact came.

And it did.

Alkor braced for it, but the punch landed square to his abdomen. With his muscles poised to offset the brunt of the impact, he exhaled loudly and accepted the full force of the uppercut. Both his feet slammed into the sand a meter and a half back, sliding and slipping to gain purchase as he hacked up a gobbet of blood, then peppered the ground with visceral spit. Bloodstained lips split into a wicked grin as the taste of his own pain genuinely excited Alkor.

Blow for blow was a fun enough game to play, but it was hardly a show worthy of these two combatants. Alkor cracked his neck, rolled his shoulders, and nodded once, slowly.

The warm-up was over.

Bedrovelse Hevn