Faction A Show of Strength

[Iasha Rha]

TOURNAMENT OF RECOGNITION
​

Some were there to prove to their masters that they were worthy of their attention. Some were there to prove themselves worthy of a master to begin with, perhaps to steal the master of their defeated foe. Some, perhaps, were there simply because they desired to prove their superiority over other Sith Apprentices, finding their pain to be reward enough. Whatever their reason, they had all been gathered up in shuttles and taken to the Sith's ancient home-world, the dry and arrid world of tombs that was Korriban. Some were shipped together, some apart, but all were brought to one location, a remote arena in the depths of Korriban's canyonscape.

It was shaped like a bowl which dipped into the landscape beneath them. Supporting its rim were five, weatherworn statues of robed figures. Each statue held the stub of a once great sabre over their head. All of them faced inward, as if waiting for a chance to strike down the other four. Behind the statues, underneath the rim, was a labyrinthine ring of tunnels intersecting and diverting. Some dipped down underneath the arena itself, while others moved up to new exits or entrances, all terminating inward in the direction of same statue-encrusted bowl. The bottom of the bowl itself was covered in grey sand, perhaps ash and crushed coal long since cooled.

The apprentices and acolytes were lead to the rim, interspaced evenly so none would get an advantage. Each one would be able to see the others at this moment. Meaning, those who relied on staying hidden would have to find a way to hide later on.

They were all allowed whatever weapons they usually carried, whether they were guns or lightsabres.

However, they should know that they were watched for their skill, not their equipment.

A figure, robed in black and grey, stepped into the bowl below. He pushed back his hood to reveal his red skin and long facial tentacles. Black tendrils adorned his skin, and his eyes burned like embers in his hairless face. A hand shot up into the air, calling attention to himself. His voice boomed beyond natural measure.

"Those who gather here come to fight, to prove themselves worthy of the privilege of being Sith."

He turned slowly as he spoke, making sure they all heard him and that they all could see him.

"We are watching." He looked at one of the acolytes, then another "We will be passing you judgement."

His eyes fell on yet another.

"Do not disappoint us."

His hand swept down in a swift and purposeful action. "BEGIN!"

And just as they began, he had vanished.

​

OOC:
This is a thread in which Acolytes/Apprentices of the Sith Empire may duke it out in a free-for-all duel.

The thread is open for all TSE members, but I ask that you leave the arena to the Acolytes/Apprentices and instead spectate and interact with each other.

Send me a PM if you want to throw something in to make it extra interesting.

Let's keep this respectful.

 

[Iasha Rha]

Iasha was let her knee bounce restlessly as she stared into the opposite wall of the transport. The lightsabre-hilt felt strange yet familiar in her hand as she rolled it between her fingers. It was a recent acquisition, and she had yet to grow familiar with it. In some ways, the weapon felt like a person she had been partnered with. It still had some lingering feelings about its previous owner, and felt sceptical toward Iasha. Yet, she was certain it would accept her in time.

She would make it accept her.

The ship came to a halt and she was roughly ushered out by a Knight with a breathing apparatus. She looked at the tubes, considering for the barest moment to grab it and pull, just to see what would happen. However, she could tell he was stronger than her. She barely measured up to his shoulder, and his arms were as thick as her head, lekku and all.

So she complied for the time being.

The knight led her up a slope. There were steps hewn into the sandstone, but many were worn down to nothingness. To the left and right, she could see others heading the same way: Up.

They were lead to the rim of a bowl carved into the landscape. Weatherworn statues looked inward in aggression. The one nearest her had no arms, but she could see his hands in the sand further down when she peeked over her shoulder. This place had to be ancient, even by the standards of the Sith. The knight stopped her at the top, then took a few steps back to be out of the way. Iasha looked over the other acolytes as the Quarren master made his statements.

This was a test, and she was not inclined to fail it.

Iasha held her sabre in both hands, fingers tightening around the hilt. Her heart beat quickly in her chest, she could hear it, feel it in her fingertips. Her mouth was dry, yet she felt like she had to swallow again and again. She felt her nerves, yet, she had to do this. She had to fight, had to win. If not, who was she?

Iasha Rha - Sith.

The quarren in the middle yelled "BEGIN!"

 

[Darth Athora]

Darth Athora walked onto the stands of the arena, keeping her gaze upon the ground where the tournament was soon to begin. The Sith Lord was clad in her Akute combat armor and strode with her current apprentice following close behind her. The young Pantoran apprentice looked in awe as this was her first time seeing a combat tournament in the Sith Empire. Athora eventually found her seat and took it while her apprentice stood at her side.

"Pay close attention, Anila. This would have been your fate were I to not choose you myself. Watch as these rodents fight to the death to prove themselves to their lords." Athora commanded of her apprentice. The Pantoran's demeanor quickly changed to a more serious one as Athora mentioned the deaths that were sure to come. "Do not get me wrong. I find this tradition barbaric, but it is tradition nonetheless. To know one's strength, they must prove it. And the only way to prove it, is to put one's life on the line. That is when one is at their strongest and most ruthless. Strength is survival. Remember that."

Anila nodded in response to her master. Athora crossed a leg over another and got comfortable as the tournament was just beginning at the command of the announcer below.

 

[Marcis Sorr]

Unlike the little talent show, this was traditional, brutal, familiar. Power against power, blade against blade. How many would die here today? Eyes seeking out a terrified-looking human, Arrik's eyes glowed a deeper shade of orange. Weakness. That one's fate, at least, was all but sealed...

... but then there was always the slim chance that the rat would live long enough to hide in the shadow of a lion.

Dismissing the man for now, his eyes slid across the competition one by one, stopping at a red Twi'lek ( Iasha Rha ). Nervous, but determined. So very determined. Full of anger, burning hatred, delicious hatred. Someone to keep an eye on, perhaps.

A pair of long knives emerging from hidden sheaths, he went still - perfectly still - as the more powerful red one, this one betentacled, spoke.

"BEGIN!"

Quirking his head for a moment as he tried to figure out how the betentacled one vanished, his attention soon returned to the battle to come.

 

[Scion of Darkness]

K O R R I B A N​

From above the cauldron's vast rim stood a cloaked figure in blackened robes, hood drawn up over them so that only the bottom of their face received the warm glow of Korriban's single sun. Bright orange eyes watched as the acolytes were assembled piecemeal by the Overseers, assessing each with but a simple glance. They were of the typical lot, a myriad of species plucked from obscurity by the graces of the Empire and granted a rare opportunity to prove themselves worthy of being called Sith. It was a sight seldom witnessed, for only the Sith could walk the hallowed sands of Korriban beyond the perimeters of the meager settlements that dotted the tomb-world's surface.​

​

"A new generation to replenish the old." Spoke the hooded figure, their voice a grotesque amalgamation of masculine and feminine features. The wind ripped across the arid landscape, causing the figure's cloak to billow and reveal the lightsaber strapped to their hip.​

​

"We shall see their worth."​

 

[Iasha Rha]

With the go-ahead given, Iasha jumped down into the pit without a second thought.

Not everyone was as quick, and in hindsight she could see some advantages to maintaining the high ground. However, the deed was done. Her feet hit the ashen ground and propelled her into a protective shoulder roll before she stood up in her full height. The fine powder was kicked into the air, forming a small cloud of grey around her as she gathered the Force to her.

If they would not come willingly, she would make them.

Her eyes quickly surveyed the opponents. A frightened human, a cocky human, so many humans.

Her lips turned into a sneer as she summoned the anger within, let go of the sabre hilt with her right hand, and reached out to seize Marcis Sorr in the Force and throw him into the nearest statue. The movement was raw more than it was refined, a wild show of strength and an attempt at throwing blood in the water. Iasha was never the most cautious, but she had the chops to make up for it.

Activating her sabre might have been a more potent sign of aggression, but she had an idea.

 

[Kaalia Pavanos]

Fortune Days​

Darth Avacyn often wondered how things would've ended up like had she not been brought into the Sith before the foundation of the empire. Her rise to power looked very different compared to those who were brought up within the Order as it existed now. The woman herself was spotted by a Lord of the Sith out there in the galaxy, then was taken under his wing. Never was she surrounded by competing hopefuls or anyone who sought to claim her spot under Krest. It hadn't made her apprenticeship any less brutal, though; both physical and psychological trials had thoroughly tested her limits over the years.

Now, here the Sith Lady sat, a glass of red wine in hand, high above the bottom of the bowl in which the acolytes had just begun their battle for recognition. She had proven herself already, risen to the pinnacle of the Sith order before taking a step down to focus on her family. It was ever important to keep a close eye on the next generation, however, for one day there were going to be ones to carry on the legacy the Lords and Ladies of today continued to build. She had no plans to take in yet another apprentice, but that didn't mean she wouldn't watch this free-for-all with vested interest. Avacyn was curious to see how would succeed and who would fail today.

One twi'lek drew the redhead's attention quite quickly as she wasted no time jumping into the action. Strands of the Force gathered around another acolyte, but there was still time for her opponent to react. The intrigued Avacyn brought the wine glass to her lips, letting some of the dark red liquid run over her tongue, where it stayed for a moment before it was swallowed down.

This would most certainly be a good show.

 

[Lark]

Tags: Iasha Rha Marcis Sorr

As he was guided through a labyrinth of swirling tunnels and ascending stairways, Lark pondered his time spent as an acolyte of the Sith. He had been a vagabond prior to being admitted into the Empire, aimless and wandering the stars. But no matter where he went, from the slimiest den of pirates to standing beside the most corrupt of politicians, there was a constant presence that stayed by his side. The temptation was too strong for Lark, which led to that fateful encounter with the mysterious Erebos, which served to introduce the wandering youth into the arms of the Dark Side of the Force.

Nearly every waking moment on Bastion was dedicated to gaining the strength necessary to survive the next day. Krest's training was brutal, and though Lark had never been a stranger to pain, the Sith made him hurt in ways he had never thought possible, physically and mentally. But for each blow he took, he learned how to block the next one. With each turn of the page, he learned more of the Sith and their history, of their language, and their practices. He began to understand the nature of the Force, and immersed himself with more eldritch arts and sorceries.

And yet those years of training would not mean a thing if he fell today.

It was the proper nature of things. One could train and train for decades only to falter at the very last step, and all of their efforts would have amounted to nothing. The galaxy would move on and forget them and their story. No matter what one believed they were destined for, it could all come to an end at a moments notice, no warning whatsoever.

Lark hummed a soft tune as he finally reached the arena, and listened to the Quarren man gave his little speech, which seemed to be a tradition for the numerous acolyte-bouts he had been apart of.

After the overseer vanished, the conflict immediately began in earnest. Some jumped down towards the center, others remained perched on the rim. Lark's decision was made for him, it didn't take long for an eager apprentice to charge towards where he stood. Quickly drawing his enchanted blade but keeping his dagger sheathed, Lark's blade clashed with the opposing apprentice. The other man was taller, with a few more years visible on his weathered, scarred face.

Neither of them were strangers to battle, perhaps they had even fought on the same battlefield without realizing it. None of that mattered now. Lark pivoted from underneath the man's blade, a contest of physical strength would spell doom. Letting the Force flow through him, a callback to his very first lesson, Lark dodged and wove through the storm of strikes. All he needed was the slightest opening.

And there it was. The man swung downwards, and Lark immediately stepped forward and swung his own blade down to pin the man's saber to the ground. Then Lark stomped hard on the bit of exposed saber handle, disarming his rival acolyte. It was over after that. The enchanted metal tore through the man's chest, and he slumped over the edge of the rim. His neck twisted in unnatural, grotesque motions, and his story came to an end.

Continuing to hum a sweet song, Lark moved to find another opponent. He didn't plan on being a footnote in Sith lore. This tournament was another challenge, a test to ensure he deserved to call himself Sith.

Now then, let's see what fun there is to be had.

 

[Marcis Sorr]

As it turns out, the Twi'lek was worth keeping an eye on, something made evident when she reached out, grasped him with invisible force, and flung him towards one of the weathered statues surrounding the pit. Caught off guard, Arrik went with the flow rather than resist, tendrils of inky blackness leaping from his form to cushion the impact, rendering a devastating collision into one that was merely bruising.

A mad smile upon his features, an arm shot forward even before he hit the ground, one of his razor-sharp blades shooting towards his foe.

Landing in a crouch, he immediately surged forward, ignoring the petty complaints of the flesh, the hilt of a lightwhip sliding from his sleeve to replace the long knife he had thrown. If the crimson female wanted a fight then she would have it.

With eyes only for his chosen mark, he danced sinuously around a petty opportunist of some kind without sparing him a glance...

... skullduggery was all well and good, but he had no interest in the incompetent.

Iasha Rha || Lark​

 

[Lunasi Triyin]

It was only her second day at the Sith Academy as she was already forced to get into the ring to fight as one of the newest crop of hopeful. The first day she learned the hard truth that, she was nothing. She was stripped of her citizenship, stripped from her fancy dresses and necklaces and given grey rags as new clothes. She would have to re-earn everything. This didn't break the adolescent. She found it quite amusing as the spoiled child would call her daddy sooner or later to get her a rancor to get the overseers eaten up.

She was being lead together with a few other Sith initiate or rather candidates to a bowl like stadium. A figure in robed black grey robe started to speak. He spoke up and she listened. Her arms crossed over each other while leaning on a single leg, having her hip swayed to the right side. This tournament was to prove herself? Luckily she quickly gathered the facts that everything was about proving your worth.

Her whole reason to join the Sith Academy voluntarily was to show that she didn't need to lean on daddy's fortune. She could do anything she want by herself, without anyone else's resources.

This battle was unfair though that seemed to be with the entire Sith Academy. Her spoiled attitude wanted to came forward, "I have ..." No, that wasn't the correct way to act. Even though she was getting quite nervous, she would remain near the walls with her back and remain silent from the combat.

A battle that is won by a single strike was her only solution or her statement in her mind, Let those rats do the work for her.

 

[Darth Strosius]

Iasha Rha / Marcis Sorr / Lark / Lunasi Triyin

Alisteri had been on Korriban for about two hours in total when he had heard about this competition, and of course he felt obligated to attend. A bunch of Sith Acolytes and Apprentices fighting eachother in bloody combat in some forsaken arena; it was the perfect place to test himself. After all, he had a lightsabre to test.

He had noted the competition as they had waited for the signal to begin fighting, and he was rather impressed. He was but a mere Sith-in-training as well, so it wasn't as if he was looking down from some elevated position in a hierarchy.

"BEGIN!"

Still, the excitement burned deep in his stomach as the first wave hit the ground of the pit.

With a quick hop into the fighting area his battle had begun, only slightly after everyone else. His head swiveled around, one hand pulling the lightsabre from his hip while the other unsheathed his small vibroblade. This was going to be very interesting.

A scream a triumph left his throat as he pounced on the nearest adversary, catching his opponent off-guard with a swift punch. Said opponent was then quickly put down with a slash from his vibroblade right across the other's throat. One down, who knows how more to go. He didn't stay idle for long however, moving into a sprint after he had finished his kill.

Now on the move, his gaze flickered to the rest of the battlefield. For now he intended to stay on the outskirts and pick off whoever else had the same idea.

 

[Iasha Rha]

Acolytes of a multitude of colours, sizes and backgrounds now engaged each other in desperate combat. Not every engagement ended in death, and many of those who fell were pulled out of the pit by flying, white droids to clear the path for those who still fought. A certain death toll was to be expected, however.

Iasha grinned as her opponent slammed into the statue, but her smile fell when she saw him looking back at her, cushioned by some pitch-black matter.

She brought her blade up defensively when he threw the knife but, rather than parry it, quickly skipped to the side and let it pass her by. In her mind, she remembered the position of the knife. It could be useful later. She then quickly had to readjust as a volley of blaster-fire rocketed in her in direction. With a flash of her sabre she batted two bolts away, the third zipped past her side, leaving a smouldering tear in her robes. One of the bolts she deflected went roughly in the direction of Darth Strosius by complete accident, the other went up and collided with the face of one of the statues, leaving a black scorch mark.

With a snarl, she turned her attention back to Marcis Sorr as she lunged in to close the distance. Her blade moved up, feinting a strike from the right, then quickly coming in from the left.

Iasha's sabre training was far from complete but she had gathered some tools.

Lark Lunasi Triyin

 

[Marcis Sorr]

The red one dodged the knife smoothly, then proceeded to more or less protect herself from... blaster-fire. It seemed this was building up to be a rather unconventional bout - good thing she was still standing, overcoming a pushover would do little to improve his position.

Meeting her in the middle without a word, the experienced bladesman saw her feint for what it was, the long knife he held in his left hand snaking up to intercept, plasma sizzling against an alloy resilient enough to survive, at least for a while.

At the same time, a flash of sullen crimson marked the ignition of the lightwhip he held in his right, the unconventional weapon uncoiling then whipping forth like a hungry serpent, seeking to wrap her legs in a deadly embrace; lacking the power of a lightsaber, but nasty in its own right.

It was how he preferred to fight - any foe not able to be overcome in a single fell swoop would face death by a thousand cuts instead.

Or defeat by a thousand cuts, the presence of hovering medical droids made it clear this endeavour was dangerous, but not wasteful.

Iasha Rha || Lark | Lunasi Triyin | Darth Strosius​

 

[Lunasi Triyin]

"Wanna be vornskr's" That's the only thing Lunasi could call the savage's that were instantly attacking, when the signal was given. They were chaotic and idiotic beings that thought striking first would make them winners.

Lunasi had no prior combat experience and is no combatant at the moment at all. This was why she decided to play the safecard game. Her first goal wasn't winning this fight. It was surviving it. As acolytes, apprentices and initiates were screaming in pain, her back stayed near the walls of the arena. Her eyes would look down at the fallen Sith Warrior that laid in front of her with his throat sliced open as the stream of blood created a beneath her legs.

Truth to be told, it was a pig, but the sight of this person and this battlefield did something to her. Already she was getting second thoughts. She bend her knees as she whispered, "Waste of space." It looked like a savage slave after all, more a barbarian than anything else, but she didn't want to have the same faith as them.

She still didn't want to fight and looked around observed the battlefield and looked at the areas with weapons. Those spots, she would go to. If a lot of bodies were laying around, that was the spot to be. She would move along side the wall and scan the area for a weapon. If she would need it, but she knew it would have to be surgical strike or she would have to be really lucky.

 

[Iasha Rha]

Iasha's blade met with resistance as it was stopped in its track by the resistant knife.

At the same time, she sensed the danger headed for her feet. The twi'lek didn't even see the whip coming, only glow and motion in the corner of her eye, but felt the fear spiking in her brain, warning her with a single piece of advice: Jump.

Almost as soon as her sabre had met the knife, she released the pressure and pulled the tip of the blade back in an attempt at making his block overextend and deprive him of the means to quickly counterattack. In the same motion, she jumped. Her knees pulled up to her chest before the heels then shot out, like cannons, both feet rushing into the gap between the knife and the whip, seeking to plant themselves square in Arrik's chest and blow him back. With her kick, unknowingly empowered by the Force for speed and power, Iasha let out a roar of effort. All her anger and ambition festered in her body, fanning the flames that fuelled her will to fight.

Passion - strength - power - victory.

However, all that went up had to come down. Hit or miss, she had dedicated herself to a trajectory when she jumped, and her body contorted to control her momentum and her sabre.

Marcis Sorr

 

[Darth Strosius]

Iasha Rha / Marcis Sorr / Lark

Alisteri kept on the move, instinctively ducking and rolling to make himself a smaller target as he heard the sound of blaster-fire go off somewhere in the arena. It was a good thing that he kept moving too, as a certain stray shot hit the wall just behind him as he ran.

Close call with that one.

Soon enough he came to blows with another combatant, one that was in his way and brandishing a vibroblade. The other was clearly trained to use said weapon, parrying Alisteri's strikes with ease. This put him on the defensive, his own small vibroblade barely keeping the other weapon from hitting him several times.

Finally he had enough, and with a quick movement of his other hand his lightsabre ignited and swung; slashing his opponent's hand clean off nearly to the elbow. A small growl left him as he knocked the other down with a swift punch in the gut. He didn't kill that one however, he felt that they had earned the right to survive this day.

As he maneuvered his way around the edge of the main battle, picking off another acolyte with a slash down their side, he eventually spotted Lunasi Triyin and paused for a moment.

She looked unarmed, although he doubted that she was the only one. His momentary pause however gave some other combatant plenty of time to rush Alisteri, the young man now in another duel with both his vibroblade and his lightsabre brought to bear.

This whole thing was hectic, but he had to admit that he was having some fun with it all.

 

[Marcis Sorr]

She was fierce, this fleshbag - where she lacked in the finesse born of training she compensated with fury in its rawest form and brutal efficiency.

With a larger, more momentum-carrying opponent he might have anticipated such a thoroughly unsubtle move, but not from her. His mistake.

Body screaming promptly-ignored warning signals as her boots met his chest, he was thrown to the ground - and worse, found the mere act of getting up annoyingly difficult. Something(s) broken? Such frustrating fragility driving him into a fury, he responded in other ways.

Opening his mouth as if to speak, tendrils of rippling smoke as black as the vilest pollution but tinged with sparks of amber leapt out in place of words, snaking towards his foe with malicious cunning all but unheard of in the petty incantations of novice sorcerers.

He was more than her - more than she could ever be - and it was well and truly time she learned that.

Iasha Rha​

 

[Iasha Rha]

Her boot-heels collided squarely with her opponent's chest and knocked him back. What remained to be addressed was her own imminent fall as the energy she put into the kick expended her forward and upward momentum, thereby causing a predictable plummet toward the ashen ground below.

Nevertheless, Iasha was a crafty one.

She pulled her knees to her chest and arched her torso back. Due to the withdrawal of her sabre, she was able to get her hands over her head as she turned in the air, contorting the plummet into a sudden handstand. The ash and sand hissed when her blade touched them, carving a streak of black glass as she caught her weight, pushed off and swung her legs down to sweet, sweet ground. As her feet touched the ash, it kicked up a grey cloud around her, which turned a vibrant red as she pulled up her blade into a ready position.

A smirk coloured her lips as she saw her opponent sprawled on the ground with difficulty getting up, but she did not enjoy the tendrils of smoke suddenly shooting from his mouth. Panicked, she gathered the Force in her. Instincts yelled in her mind, telling her to defend herself.

Instead of shielding herself, she lashed out. Her hands shot out to meet the rippling smoke with a wall of invisible force, seeking to ragdoll him across the field.

When it came to the supposed superiority of others, Iasha was a very slow learner.

Marcis Sorr

 

[Marcis Sorr]

Oily smoke clashed with invisible force in the space between the two combatants, the later briefly glowing a deeper amber as it was pushed back only to slither past, surging towards the source of the latter even as the grounded Changeling was battered further.

If only she knew.

Seeking to coil itself around her uncaring of any mortal weapon, an alien mind simultaneously assailed her, seeming to emanate from the strange cloud as much as the body from which it had erupted. Chances were, it would feel entirely different from any Acolyte she had battled before.

<Submit, insect. Submit and live out your fleeting existence in what passes for meaning among your kind.>

Iasha Rha​

 

[Lark]

Bouts such as this served two main purposes: To put on display the acolytes who showed promise and deserved to be honed into something greater, and for Lords and Knights to scout out potential apprentices while ensuring the future of the Sith was in stable hands. But there was another insight that was afforded to the acolytes involved, aside from true combat experience. Though they all fell under the same banner and ideology, their backgrounds were all wildly different. In some sense, a novice amongst the Sith could learn tactics from their fellow students. Not as much as under a fully-fledged Lord, but one should always be searching for new tricks to use. Such inspiration could come from the most unexpected of places.

It wasn't lost on Lark that those who survived this challenge might go on to be close allies once they ascended in rank. It would be wise to learn from their own perspective in any way he could. He wasn't here to kill. He was here to prove himself and find allies amongst those who could withstand the carnage. Today they entered the crucible to fight for their spot, and tomorrow they'd train together with no personal grudges.

Well, Lark wouldn't hold a grudge. Envy was such a pitiful thing to waste time on.

So he observed almost as much as he fought. A slight shift in step that let one duck underneath a strike, a wonderfully entertaining airborne kick that took some guts to attempt. Some sort of smoke that deserved investigation once the battle was concluded. All of this was catalogued in his mind. There was always something one could learn from.

Alas, watching the other acolytes would only get him so far. It was time to form his own test, both for himself and whoever he fought against. One particularly headstrong, masked warrior had caught his eye, one that showed promise. Lark sensed enjoyment from Darth Strosius , but not because of the violence. No, it was a true desire to grow in strength and distinguish himself from his peers. An admirable shift from some of the more bloodthirsty, arrogant trainees.

The other that caught his eye was a woman only a few years younger than he, calculated and wary but perhaps a bit out of her element. But Lark could tell Lunasi Triyin had keen eyes and a cunning mind. Such traits were just as dangerous as any lightsaber or tendril of lightning. Sometimes those who didn't know how to survive a battle invented the most creative ways to overcome their struggles.

Yes, they would be fine opponents. Reaching out with the Force, Lark lifted pieces of rubble from broken statues, cracked rocks and other rubble. "You both have spirit," he said cordially before sending half of the pieces of shattered stone towards each of them.

"Let us see if that's enough."

Marcis Sorr Iasha Rha