Private Chasing Shadows

[Kasir Dorran]

Tag: Soah Ty’Jyn

While it required constant effort to remain discreet and hidden, it appeared that those who did seek him out always knew just where to find him. Whether it be on the training grounds of Faldos, the hidden enclave of Mustafar, or just outside the walls of the academy on Jutrand, Kaisr was always sharpening his skills, dedicating himself to the blade with determination. For him, there was a simplicity in this life, a sense of purpose, though it wasn’t to say he was without ambitious desires of his own. While a mere assassin to some, and despite presumptuous claims of superiority from those in other doctrines, Kasir was clearly unfazed in terms of raw prowess, as he could not distinguish any difference between himself and the so called Lords within the Sith Order.

The training ground stretched out before him, an expanse that he had come to know all too well. It was a place where he could often exist without interruption. The sun reigned in the sky above just at midday now, the rays harsh to any who were exposed, as there was no form of shade. Here, he returned to hone his talents, guided earlier by the presence of a former training partner, perhaps the only one to stand by his side even after a decade since their academy days. It was a place where the sparring droids on Mustafar could never compare to the unpredictable nature of sentient beings, ones who had their own emotion and strategy.

From the hooded figures who already wielded their own crimson lightsabers, to the young acolytes who were swinging their training swords, there was a diverse array of Sith there. Still, he felt strangely at ease, not finding it odd to train alongside different levels of power and experience.

Kasir was clad in a simple black tunic and pants. The high collar was just below a pale and emotionless face, making his high cheekbones even more noticeable, with eyes just above glowing intensely. It felt strange to not be adorned in the usual black cloak that clung to him like a second skin, or encased within the armor provided by the High Priest, Darth Strosius . It also stood in stark contrast to the rather pompous attire of the academy, which was anything but appealing to the eye, and mocked the reality of war and death.

The pants were snug, allowing for better movement, and the overall simplicity of his attire was a choice, a statement to those who didn't know him. Having completed their training session, he now yearned for darker depths to explore alone, without his companion's assistance. The saberstaff was now an extension of his arm. Sweat glistened on his brow as he executed complex sequences with precision, a display of skill from countless years of both practice and execution.

 

[Soah Ty’Jyn]

Interacting with: Nearby Kasir Dorran

​

Not far from where Kasir trained a commotion stirred. Two acolyte's spar had moved close.

Soah moved like a shadow, a blur of sharp instinct and hunger. The training grounds, with their harsh edges and flickering lights, became a hunting ground the moment she pounced. Her opponent barely had time to register the danger before she was on him, claws sinking deep into his flesh. They tumbled to the ground, a chaotic mass of muscle, claws, and rage.

Her tattoos rippled in excitement, twisting and curling across her skin, forming shapes that matched the predatory thrill racing through her veins. They pulsed in time with her heartbeat, dark tendrils of shadow that were alive, feeding off her intensity.

Her opponent grunted, muscles flexing in an attempt to throw her off, but Soah had already won the moment she moved. She felt his blood burst beneath her claws, warm and metallic, trickling over her fingers. The pain in his eyes was brief, quickly masked by the resolve of a fellow acolyte, but it didn't matter. He was prey now, and she was the predator.

Her Felacatian physique had served her well, the power in her limbs coiled like a serpent waiting to strike again. She leaned in, her weight pressing down, her dark eyes narrowing as she held him there. His struggles grew weaker, his breaths more ragged, and the sentient shadows across her skin slithered and twisted in victory.

"Yield," she hissed, her voice low, feral. Her hazel eyes narrowed as the multitude of thick braids whipped against her shoulders and back.

The other acolyte groaned but made no move to surrender. Foolish. Soah's grip tightened, claws digging in deeper, her tattoos flaring as if feeding off his pain. She didn't mind prolonging this -- after all, the hunt was always more fun when the prey still fought back.

Now, would the Overseers stop her? Encourage her to continue? Or make commentary?

 

[Kasir Dorran]

Tag: Soah Ty’Jyn

He began to lose track of time; every movement was performed with precision. Each strike flowed effortlessly into the next. With a flick of his wrist, he spun the saberstaff overhead, then bringing it down in a deadly arc, cutting through the invisible foes he envisioned, each one falling before him. There was more to it than just training; it was an act of discipline and pursuing mastery. It was no different than a hand-to-hand fighter falling into rhythm and sharpening strikes with their limbs.

It was as natural as breathing for the Darkseeker. Amidst a sea of molded weapons, Kasir’s bloodlust stemmed since birth, born to be an instrument of destruction.

There was then another twirl in the air, followed by a thrust before crouching low; the blades moved just above the ground. It was an art of its own, displaying his brutality, with a touch of elegance. His mind soon called out to give in to the growing fatigue, but he refused to stop, instead pushing through it for as long as he could. The sequence would draw to an end with a series of spins, and when he finally came to a stop, sweat was pouring from his face, with dampness clinging to the back of his tunic.

As his weapon deactivated, he drew in a cool breath of air. At the same time, his senses were heightened to a nearby duel. Several steps brought him closer, drawn in by the clear domination of one opponent over the other. In what should have been a spectacle meant to end in death, his chin tilted in a way that oozed arrogance, and it wouldn’t take but an instant for the academy’s flaws to be revealed; though, it was not the girl at fault here.

The hesitation in going for the final blow caused him to question their teachings, just as he had done so many years ago. Primal instincts were not meant to be shackled; they were to be unleashed and even encouraged.

Sparing the inferior was a futile gesture to Kasir, for in the annals of Sith history, there had been countless instances where the weaker would work together, only to kill those who were truly worthy. He carried a keen understanding of both the politics and structure of the academy. Whether or not she would be allowed to escape for her actions if she decided to kill her opponent would depend heavily on her ranking within the cohort.

The Sith traced the dark lines of ink that adorned the Falacatian's skin, a rare sight even for one as well traveled as himself, who had ventured across countless spaceports in the galaxy. It appeared as if they pulsed with a promise of violence. His gaze then shifted upwards, glancing at the Overseers, attempting to anticipate their next move and read their emotions as they approached the scene. Still, his thirst for death remained, eagerly awaiting what fate would befall the defeated acolyte who was now bleeding.

 

[Soah Ty’Jyn]

Interacting with: Kasir Dorran

​

It didn't seem like anyone was going to stop her. Soah could feel the heat of the moment, her claws poised to slice in deep, ready to end it. The feral energy within her surged, the inky black tattoos that slithered across her skin pulsing with anticipation, urging her on. The acolyte beneath her squirmed weakly, trying to break free, but there was no escape. Not from her. Not from this.

Just as she prepared to press down, to let her claws carve through flesh with lethal precision, a voice sliced through the tension.

"Enough."

The command was sharp, cutting through the din of the training grounds with undeniable authority. One of the Overseers stood, eyes locked on her, unmoved by her savage display.

Soah's face twisted into a scowl, her lips curling back in a silent snarl. She didn't want to stop. Her claws itched to finish what she'd started, to prove her dominance. But she wasn't foolish enough to openly defy the Overseer. Not here. Not yet.

With a snort of contempt, she glanced down at the writhing acolyte beneath her, blood dripping from her hands. Her claws slowly retracted, sliding back into her fingers until they were nothing more than black-tipped nails. It was over. For now.

She rose to her feet, ignoring the blood splattered across her skin. It didn't bother her. In fact, it felt right -- like a mark of her victory. Her tattoos shifted again, swirling in subtle patterns as if sharing her irritation at being interrupted.

Around her, a few other acolytes had gathered, watching her with a mix of wariness and curiosity. She ignored most of them, but one face caught her attention -- a figure she didn't recognize. Taller, sharper, with an air of confidence that suggested he wasn't from her cohort. He had the look of someone from the upper ranks, someone who thought they were above her.

Soah's eyes narrowed. A challenge.

Lifting her chin, she fixed her gaze on him. "What, do you want to spar next?" she asked, her voice sharp, daring.

The other acolytes shifted nervously, but Soah didn't care. She'd already proved she was the predator here. Now, she wanted to see if this new face would be brave -- or stupid -- enough to step up.

 

[Kasir Dorran]

Tag: Soah Ty’Jyn

The Sith's hunger thrived on the conflict and suffering before him. The beast within craved the taste of despair, a sweet nectar that fed his dark power. Kasir's black heart raced, not with the pulse of empathy, but with anticipation. In his opinion, these duels were not only displays of strength, but also a means of weeding out the weak.

Unfortunately, his satisfaction would be short-lived, as the Overseer finally intervened. And while he found no surprise in the action, there was still a twinge of disappointment felt, for he had hoped to witness more torment. A single glance flickered with disgust towards the authoritative figure helping the struggling student. The inferior acolyte, insignificant now, would not register a single hint of interest from the assassin. Already as good as dead, their fate sealed by the cold gaze of Kasir, who saw the future creation of just another useless Sith.

Surprise was nearly a foreign word for Kasir, for his years of traveling the galaxy left him desensitized to many things; but the audacity from the young Falacatian now had his full attention. While he had even crossed paths with others of this academy recently, from a battle on Eiattu 6, to his temporary home on the Bailiff Station, neither displayed such fearlessness as the one before him now.

The words were like a lightsaber blade, slicing through his ego. There was a hint of amusement that sparkled in the Darkseeker's eyes before he quickly masked it with a stoic facade that made him appear as cold and firm as a marble statue. Seconds passed as he stared her down, displaying no uninterest in the other acolytes surrounding her. Returning the saberstaff to his belt, both hands then came behind his back, making it clear that he was the one in control of this situation. "You think yourself worthy of my time?" he questioned, his own words equally sharp, "Perhaps I will just slap the spit out of your mouth and teach you your place.”

With the simple gesture of a single hand, he motioned towards a nearby rack of training swords. "I accept your challenge," Kasir said, as he calmly took one into his grasp, twirling it with fluidity, and testing its weight. His body shifted into the Makasha stance, inviting her to attack, so that he could test the full extent of her courage.

 

[Soah Ty’Jyn]

Interacting with: Kasir Dorran

Good.

Satisfaction rippled across Soah's olive-skinned face, her inky black tattoos shifting subtly over her cheekbones like living shadows. The Felacatian teen couldn't help but lift her chin, defiant, as the sharp panes of the pale-faced man cast shadows over hiim as he questioned if she was even worth his time.

Fine, she thought with a spark of teenage arrogance. Underestimate me. All the better when I claw my way into you.

Her confidence wavered, though, the moment he strode over to grasp a training sword. A flicker of unease shot through her, a warning pulse she tried to smother. The faint flesh-colored fur at the nape of her neck, usually hidden beneath thick black plaits of braids, stood on end. She cursed the involuntary reaction, willing her body to betray nothing. She couldn't let him see any weakness.

Shifting into full cat mode would not be beneficial here. She refused to embarrass herself that way and change involuntarily unless it was by her own decision.

Soah moved quickly to retrieve her own sword, the one that had been knocked aside in the chaos of her last spar. That fight had ended more physical than her partner had expected -- because Soah never fought fair. Cheating, using every advantage, that's what kept you alive. She had to be ready for anything.

Her hand, slick with blood, made the hilt slippery, so she wiped her palm across her leather jerkin, leaving a dark smear of red across her chest. The sight of it sent a thrill down her spine. The shadows on her skin swirled in response, as if sharing in her excitement.

Kasir stood across from her, looking too clean, too composed. A pretty boy, no doubt about it, with the kind of confidence that irritated her. He was upper cohort, clearly expecting an easy victory, the girl unaware that it was a fully fledged Knight that stood in front of her.

A twitch of a smile curled at the corner of her mouth, her feline hazel eyes narrowing with predatory savagery. "We'll see whose teeth get slapped out of their mouth, pretty boy," she taunted, voice laced with a growl.

Before he could respond, Soah launched herself forward, her body a blur of speed. She didn't care about sword skills -- his wasn't going to be a duel. It was a hunt. She aimed to knock the training sword from his grasp, using her raw, feral quickness to close the distance. She didn't need finesse. She just needed to get close enough to fight dirty.

 

[Kasir Dorran]

Tag: Soah Ty’Jyn

As dark energy coursed through Kasir's arms, his muscles clenched and then released, bringing forth an all too familiar sensation and allowing fire to ignite within his core. The training sword in his hand felt foreign, lacking the hum of his saberstaff that had been like a companion for many years. He gave it another twirl with his wrist, this time in a more experimental manner, noting that it also felt heavier.

He watched with a keen eye as she retrieved her sword, coming as no surprise, having witnessed her last duel only moments ago; still, he found her lack of urgency to be intriguing. But as she finally took hold of it, his instincts finally kicked in, along with the pump of adrenaline. His finely tuned senses extended beyond their physical realm, feeling the pulses of the Force in the air around him. For a moment he attempted to detect the emotions of the younger acolyte who radiated unwavering confidence. And for a split second, he caught a hint of caution. But as quickly as it appeared, it was gone. He wouldn't waste any time trying to decipher the meaning behind it.

Kasir had been called many things in his life: ruthless, heartless, cold. Pretty boy was certainly one of the more interesting monikers given to him.

As she charged forward in a move that he may have almost considered reckless, Kasir remained composed, already shifting weight to the back of his foot. While smaller than many of his fellow Sith—most who were oddly built like Wookiees–he was a master of speed, his lean body built for agility rather than brute strength.

His body shifted in a single movement as he leaned back with the grace of an acrobat, redirecting her attack with a flick of his wrist, and causing the blunt blade to harmlessly pass him by. With a pivot on the ball of his foot, he would create space between them, an opening that seemed to pulse with the promise of violence.

But the Darkseeker wasn’t always one for impulsive actions, duels allowed for a rare moment to bide his time.

Instead of using the opportunity to strike back, though the chance was ripe, the Sith’s brown orbs glimmered with amusement, shifting in the direction of the Felacatian. A corner of his lips curled into a smirk. Keeping his voice to a low murmur, his words were for her ears alone. They dripped with mockery. "I've seen wampas with more grace than you.”

With another spin on his back foot, Kasir feigned retreat. He appeared to draw away, as if giving ground, and hoping to lure the acolyte into a trap. Just a heartbeat later, he lunged forward with his enhanced speed. The strike wasn’t directed at her exposed flesh, but towards her own training sword; it was not a move in an attempt of crushing her spirit in front of the others watching, but rather aiming to knock the weapon from her grasp, as his well trained eyes often sought to use calculated moves to expose weaknesses any openings.

 

[Soah Ty’Jyn]

Kasir Dorran

He moved so fast.

It was infuriating. Soah's eyes narrowed, pupils constricting into vertical slits as her irritation surged. Her enhanced Felacatian vision tracked the Knight's every movement as he pivoted on the ball of his foot, easily redirecting her attack with the smooth precision of a trained combatant.

But it was his words that truly stung. "Even Wampas move with more grace," he sneered, the taunt laced with condescension.

Soah's upper lip curled in distaste, her muscles tensing with aggravation. A low, throaty growl rumbled from her chest, and the faint fur at the nape of her neck bristled. She hated being mocked, especially by someone who thought he was better than her.

Well, he'd succeeded in provoking her -- for better or worse. Emotions surged inside her, boiling over like lava, and she lunged at him again, this time with reckless abandon. She knew she lacked finesse when it came to sword fighting, but she wasn't here to impress anyone with technique. Raw power was her weapon.

Her sword clashed with his, the force of her blow sending a shockwave up her arms, cold pain lancing through her muscles like ice. She skidded back a few steps, her white-knuckled grip barely keeping the blade in her hands. The pain was sharp, but she didn't care. She bared her teeth, snarling at Kasir, her sharp canines gleaming.

The Knight might've been more skilled, but Soah had something else -- feral, bone-shattering strength. And she wasn't going to play by the rules.

Ignoring the ache in her arms, she channeled all her frustration and fury into one savage move. She snapped her leg up, aiming a brutal kick straight for his stomach, her muscles coiled with the force of the strike.

She didn't care about winning by the standards of the training grounds. She didn't want to outduel him. She wanted to break him. Get him down on the ground where she could unleash the relentless, dirty fighting she thrived in. The tattoos rippled across her skin in excitement, twisting and pulsing as if they could taste the violence in the air, feeding into her desire, the thick braided plaits of her hair flying about her shoulders in savage disarray.

If the technique was his forte, savagery was hers.

 

[Kasir Dorran]

Tag: Soah Ty’Jyn

The assassin's energy reserves still hummed with power, for now. Yet, despite his lingering fatigue from his grueling training session earlier, Kasir found a strange sense of enjoyment in this duel. It was almost a foreign concept to one who spent almost every day of his life training alone, and this was an oddly fitting end to a long day of honing his skills.

His brown orbs gleamed with a mix of amusement and challenge. Constantly reading his opponent as though time itself slowed down, the color of her knuckles would be another indicator of the effort she was exerting. He felt the vibrations travel through his own training sword and into his hands from the impact, another subtle reminder that he was wielding a different weapon from what he normally trained with. The cool air seemed to heighten his senses; he could feel every drop of sweat tracing down his face, as the rush of adrenaline continued to fuel his muscles.

With his mind constantly churning with strategies, he was able to notice a slight shift of weight, no doubt a prelude to another strike, but this time with one of her limbs. Instead of sidestepping the incoming blow, or evading it on the back foot he so often found himself on, Kasir decided he wasn’t willing to give an inch of ground. Gathering his strength and power within, he tightened his core, bracing for the collision. The impact came with a force that sent a shockwave through him – It bit deeper than he anticipated, a sharp reminder of the acolyte’s strength. He absorbed the blow but refused to allow it to break his elegant composure. Unmoved by the pain, his countenance returned to being cold.

“You’ll have to do better than that,” he taunted again, the chilling smirk deepening, possibly wanting to even encourage the Felacatian to unleash her full potential. Just as the words left his mouth, his body dropped in a fluid motion towards the ground, focusing solely on his target before him. He would attempt to execute a more graceful sweep leg kick, his foot slicing through the air in a blur like motion and would be aimed at the space behind her with precision. It was like a dance, but with calculated aggression; his leg was like a wave, hoping to send her own flying out from under her.

Such a maneuver was typically reserved for those who shied away from close combat, making it more daring when faced with someone who shared a similar preference. But such concerns were irrelevant to Kasir now, as he was simply reveling in the thrill of it all, and his aim was not to end her life.

 

[Soah Ty’Jyn]

Interacting with Kasir Dorran

There was little time to feel the satisfaction of having struck him, because instead of felling the Sith Knight, it only seemed he was unmoved by it.

“You’ll have to do better than that,”

Kasir taunted, his voice dripping with amusement; and when that damable smirk deepened, it made Soah see red. That brown gaze daring her to lose control, to unleash everything she had.

Yet before she could respond, Kasir moved. He dropped low, moving swiftly and with precision. His kick sliced through the air like a blur, targeting the space just behind her legs, designed to throw her off balance.

Kasir's technique was flawless, and the sweep was perfectly timed. Soah didn't have the fancy footwork to match it. The Felacatian teenager relied on brute force, raw power over grace, dirty fighting to get what she wanted, and in this moment, it was her downfall. His kick connected, and her legs went flying out from under her.

She stumbled forward, barely managing to stay upright, her claws instinctively flexing in frustration through her boots that they cut through the leather, carving a path on the ground that left trails. The humiliation burned hotter than the pain, her mind reeling from the fact that he'd caught her off guard so easily.

Kasir was toying with her, and she knew it. It made her blood boil. The rage within her built like a storm, dark and wild, yet unfocused. Her tattoos rippled across her skin, shadowy designs shifting restlessly as if feeding off her anger. But that was the problem -- her fury lacked direction. It was powerful, yes, but raw and uncontrolled. It made her unpredictable, but also sloppy.

She bared her teeth, her hazel eyes narrowing as she lunged forward. There was no finesse, no calculated strategy, just pure aggression as she swung her training saber toward him. The strike was meant to hurt, meant to punish him for mocking her, once again trying to use brute strength to strike at his chest and at the saber he held.

Soah could feel the weakness in her approach, the flaw in relying only on raw power. But she didn't care. All that mattered in this moment was wiping that smug look off Kasir's face. She didn't need to be the best swordsman. She just needed to get him down -- to make him bleed.

Her tattoos twisted, alive with her fury, as she pressed the attack, even if part of her knew Kasir was always one step ahead.

 

[Kasir Dorran]

Tag: Soah Ty’Jyn

The sweeping movement, honed with the precision of a duelist, landed upon his target with force; yet despite the weight put behind the attack, she appeared unyielding with determination. As he regained his stance, watching the stumble but refusing to be taken from her feet, he couldn't help but be slightly impressed by the acolyte’s resilience.

It was strange, even for one such as Kasir, who reveled in the brutal beauty of close combat, to find what he sought in the Felacatian; it was an itch that begged to be scratched. For in some ways, it felt as though the very art was dying, as in a realm of deceit, most Sith found solace in their Force powers, keeping enemies at a distance like cowards.

But for the assassin, it was a primal need, an addiction to the adrenaline and bloodlust that followed, a craving that could only be satisfied in battle. And perhaps, in this brutal galaxy, it was the only way to truly feel alive.

Heat was radiating from his core, a tempest begging to be unleashed. His cool demeanor betrayed what was truly roiling beneath the surface, and he continued to remain observant of the acolyte’s movements; every twitch, every subtle shift in stance. The Sith's dark eyes finally narrowed, simply absorbing these nuances. His challenger was like an open book, blinded by her anger and unaware how to harness it properly; however, her inexperience was easily balanced by passion, true to the words of the Sith Code.

As the duel unfolded, he moved not with haste, but with purpose, merely a testament to his own mastery over the rage within. Her next attack was simple, yet fierce, as if threatening to crush sword and bone alike. The Makashi form, always elegant and precise, was often vulnerable when met with raw strength, causing Kasir's other hand to grasp the hilt of the sword for reinforced stability.

But the Sith was not one to be caught unaware that easily, his reflexes still sharp as he raised his weapon to meet hers in a clash, the reverberations of the impact echoing through the training grounds around them. With a twist of his wrist, he expertly deflected her attack, guiding its force away from his body, and instead redirecting its path towards her side.

Now he would be a dark storm against her youthful fervor.

Instantly shifting his weight onto the back foot, Kasir drew upon his power, and allowed the dark energy to ignite his senses. It surged through his veins like lava of Mustafar. With a feral intensity of his own, followed by a guttural growl, he launched himself from the short space that separated them, ready to unleash a counterattack. Every ounce of his concentrated rage fueled the strike, bringing the weapon above his head before swinging it down in a powerful arc towards her sword, cutting through the air with a roar. While her strike had been to cause harm, the true intention behind his own was to disarm her completely.

 

[Soah Ty’Jyn]

Interacting with: Kasir Dorran

It was infuriating how easily Kasir deflected her attack, sending her strike spinning uselessly to the side. Soah gritted her teeth, wanting to retaliate immediately, but before she could even think of a counter, she found herself facing the full force of Kasir's brutal counterattack.

He moved with a terrifying ferocity, his presence swelling as he drew on the dark energy that flowed between them. It ignited his senses, surging through his body like the molten rivers of Mustafar, making him more dangerous, more precise. With a guttural growl, Kasir closed the short distance between them in an instant, his eyes blazing with a feral intensity that mirrored her own.

His training sword, now charged with all the raw power he could summon, came crashing down in a powerful arc, cutting through the air with a roar. Soah barely managed to raise her own sword in defense, blocking the strike just in time. But the impact reverberated through her arms, the force behind it nearly buckling her knees.

She blocked the next strike. Then another. But each one hit harder than the last, and the shock of each blow sent sharp pain lancing through her muscles. Kasir wasn't just trying to hurt her. He was trying to disarm her completely, and his strength was overwhelming.

Blast it!!

The final hit sent her sword flying from her grip. It clattered to the ground, well out of reach, and Soah's heart pounded in frustration. Now she was defenseless, and Kasir wasn't stopping. He came at her again, weapon raised, ready to strike.

But Soah wasn't about to be undone. Sword or no sword, she wasn't going to go down without a fight. A feral snarl escaped her lips, her tattoos rippling across her skin in wild, shifting patterns as they fed off her desperation.

If she couldn't fight him with a sword, then she'd use what she had. Her hands. Her claws. Her raw strength.

She lunged at him, claws unsheathing from her fingers as she threw herself into the attack, aiming for his throat, his chest -- anywhere she could tear into. She knew this wasn't going to end well, that his skill far outmatched hers, but she didn't care. Soah would fight until the end, until there was nothing left in her.

Because that's what she was -- a predator, even when outmatched. And predators didn't stop until they'd taken down their prey. Or until they were brought down themselves.

 

[Kasir Dorran]

Tag: Soah Ty’Jyn

Each strike with his weapon seemed to only fuel her drive, a relentless spirit that wasn’t so easily broken; for compared to the many foes he had faced, this one seemed to possess unmatched tenacity. And while he often reveled in the taste of frustration, Kasir could sense a different energy emanating from his opponent, a determination that refused to acknowledge any chance of defeat.

Yet, deep within the churning sea of emotions, there lay the potential for seeds that could one day blossom into a force to rival the most formidable of Sith. Though Kasir assumed the Felacatian to be unaware of such, duels were more than just mere displays of skill; they were often trials, where one would be reborn through the fire.

His last riposte sent her own training sword spinning to the side, like a discarded toy in the game of war. He stood tall, indifferent to the conflict, for this was a situation he faced on many occasions. A flicker of malice danced in the Sith’s eyes; though in truth, there was little glory to be had in defeating an acolyte, and there would be no satisfaction in humiliating her before peers.

His gaze was unflinching as it traced her every movement with intensity, watching as her fingers seemingly elongated, transforming into claws. The tips manage to snag the edge of his tunic, tearing through the fabric, and leaving a rip. Next, they narrowly missed Kasir's face in a blurring motion, instead grazing his chest. He could feel the warmth of blood seeping through the wounds, a sharp contrast against his pale skin.

Naturally, he felt reliant on his muscles, placing more weight to the back foot, moving like a dancer, and evading her onslaught. With every swipe she made, he was forced to readjust his stance, trying to anticipate the next move, meanwhile adrenaline continued surging through his veins. In an attempt to create space between them, he feigned a chop by raising the sword above his head, hoping to draw her attention away from targeting him, even if for a mere second.

Through the tendrils of the Force, his voice would slither into the acolyte's mind, but there would be no intent of corrupting or controlling her. It was to ensure that the others who gathered on the training grounds wouldn’t hear his words.

<<Submit now, and spare yourself the pain and humiliation. I will be merciful, but if you force my hand, I will make you suffer.>>

He then swiftly pivoted, always the shadow in their violent dance; his stance shifted once more, a new angle now created, but still defensive. The assassin was ready to unleash another counterattack if necessary. Immediately after, his mind wondered if the words would pierce her frenzied state, or if they would merely be lost in the ever consuming rage. He decided reach out one final time, just as he gave a push with his lead foot, moving back in a subtle retreat. The voice was more soothing this time.

<<You possess potential, but you lack the proper guidance to harness it. With the right teacher, the inadequacies of training here would no longer gnaw at your conscience. In this place, your true power will remain shackled.>>

 

[Soah Ty’Jyn]

Interacting with: Kasir Dorran

​

The coppery scent of blood filled the air, sharp and metallic, as it soaked through Kasir's tunic. Soah's eyes gleamed with satisfaction, her chest heaving with adrenaline. She could smell his weakness, feel it under her claws. But she knew better than to stop now. Hesitation was the enemy. One pause, and he'd turn the fight against her.

Kasir, however, was always a step ahead. Despite the injury, his skills as a duelist kept him sharp. So when he raised his sword high above his head, Soah diverted her focus for just a second, her eyes locked on his blade, ready to react.

And then she heard it. A voice -- not spoken aloud, but creeping into her mind through the Force, slipping in like a cold whisper.

<<Submit now, and spare yourself the pain and humiliation. I will be merciful, but if you force my hand, I will make you suffer.>>

Soah froze, her hazel eyes widening. She glanced at Kasir, but his lips hadn't moved. It was all in her head. How? How was he doing this? His voice slithered in again, oozing with a strange, unsettling calm.

He pivoted swiftly, keeping her off balance, and Soah did her best to swipe at him again. But even as he moved and avoided her strikes, he reached into her mind again, creeping her out even more. Was this more of the Force or something else? A curse more likely.

<<You possess potential, but you lack the proper guidance to harness it. With the right teacher, the inadequacies of training here would no longer gnaw at your conscience. In this place, your true power will remain shackled.>>

The words gnawed at her. Soah's breath quickened, her tattoos rippling uneasily across her skin. The voice was everywhere, murmuring from behind her ear, sliding through her thoughts, making her skin crawl.

"Stop that!" she snapped, her voice raw with frustration. Her spittle hit the ground as she spat out the words, her vertical slit pupils blazing in panic and fury. The anxiety gnawed at her, making her skin prickle as the faint fur along her body thickened in response. She could feel the sharp, painful shift of the spines along her back threatening to protrude.

No. She wouldn't let herself shift. Not here. Not now.

Kasir's voice lingered, his words twisting through her mind. Right teacher? Was he saying he was the one who could unlock her potential?

Fine. If he thought he was so powerful, he could prove it.

"Prove it!" Soah snarled, the challenge burning in her throat as she glared at him, her body tense and ready. Her claws flexed, and despite the confusion swirling in her mind, her defiance was clear, emotion lacing her conduit of the Force as she sent a telekinetic blast right at him. If Kasir thought he could control her, he was wrong. He would have to earn it -- through blood and pain.

 

[Kasir Dorran]

Tag: Soah Ty’Jyn

Kasir followed every single movement of his opponent; a reckless acolyte, constantly poised to strike. But he was no mere prey, and his feint with the sword served as a distraction, his true intention often hidden in the dark recesses of his mind, waiting to be executed when the time was just right. Strategies could often be as deadly as any physical attack. And still, as he had delivered his message with calmness, he continued to refrain from launching any further strikes of his own.

The Felacatian’s reaction to his rare offer of mercy, a flicker of his twisted sense of compassion, received the reaction he anticipated. For she, like many before her, had fallen victim to being delusional after delivering the first wound, as if a few drops of blood could stop the cold ambition that fueled him. But she would be mistaken, no doubt, for his path had been paved with countless beatings, leaving him battered and broken time and again.

The telepathic message seemed to have further driven her anger, but Kasir could not help the satisfaction that now curled under the bleeding cut upon his chest; for to submit so soon, would also prove her weakness. His reflexes, tuned to perfection, were usually one of his biggest advantages; as her words began to form another response, it allowed him just enough time to execute a telekinetic leap, his lithe form soaring through the air in a graceful motion. The blast of energy that erupted beneath him, like a gust of wind that tossed his brown locks, sent debris flying in all directions on the training grounds. It was still a testament to the acolyte’s own power, and may have potentially landed against a lesser seasoned fighter.

The Sith was now ready to demonstrate his value through pain and even bloodshed, as she demanded, for they were now in a realm where he thrived, where his ferocity knew no bounds when truly pressed.

<<Don't blink.>>

He then landed behind her, his training sword still in hand. A single heartbeat later, he began to initiate his counterattack, already channeling his dark power. Yet this time, his approach would be far from gentle. Kasir had no intention of simply testing her defenses; he wanted to break her entirely. As he drew near, he feigned another strike, raising his weapon as if it were aimed high, nearly identical to the one earlier. With a sudden shift of his hips, he redirected the momentum, pivoting slightly to release a brutal swing aimed at her legs. His knuckles whitened as he gripped the hilt with an intensity that mirrored what was brewing within. Every muscle in his arms coiled, and his teeth were clenched from rage, pouring every ounce of his strength into it.

The sword whistled through the air, aiming to knock her completely off her feet. In that moment, it was no longer just a duel, but him desiring to demonstrate his pursuit to dominate the one who dared challenge his power. He now wanted to leave a mark that transcended beyond physical pain.

 

[Soah Ty’Jyn]

Interacting with: Kasir Dorran

​

<<Don't blink.>>

Kasir was unrelenting.

Every time Soah lunged, every time she thought she had him, he twisted away with a speed that made her rage burn hotter. She had taunted him, demanded that he prove himself, but now she was starting to feel the weight of that challenge. His strikes weren't just skilled; they were feral, driven by the same kind of ambition and rage that burned inside her. She saw it in his eyes: the hunger for dominance, the desire to crush anyone in his way.

And yet, no matter how hard she fought, no matter how much raw power she threw at him, Kasir remained one step ahead. His training sword came down again and again, each blow meant to not just bruise but to break her. Soah's muscles screamed with each block, each deflection. Her arms shook, her grip slipping with sweat and blood, but she didn't yield. She couldn't.

Kasir's gaze was wild, full of contempt and something darker, something that twisted like a knife in Soah's gut. He wasn't holding back anymore. This wasn't a lesson -- it was an obliteration.

Then, without warning, he feigned another high strike, one that Soah anticipated -- but it was a trap. Soah saw the strike coming too late. The whistle of his blade filled the air, and she felt the impact before she could react. Pain shot through her legs as she crumpled to the ground, dust kicking up around her as she hit the dirt hard.

Her vision blurred for a second, but she blinked it away, her chest heaving. Rage flared hot in her veins. She snarled, spitting into the dust. Bruised, aching, and angry beyond reason, Soah tried to push herself up, but Kasir stood over her, sword in hand, unrelenting.

This was it. He had proven his point -- over and over again. He had shown her the gap between them, how raw power without skill meant nothing. But as she glared up at him from the dirt, there wasn't a shred of submission in her eyes. Her tattoos writhed across her skin, inky black patterns swirling, reflecting the storm of fury inside her.

 

[Kasir Dorran]

Tag: Soah Ty’Jyn

Kasir viewed ending the duel at hand as nothing more than another mission, a task to be completed with cold efficiency, leaving zero room for sentiment. As the blade struck against her leg, sending her to the ground, he felt no satisfaction, nor any sense of triumph. It was simply the most merciful option, for had he aimed for her head and succeeded, it may have ended in death. In a real battle, such kills were necessary in the game of survival. But to strike down what he saw as a mere child outside of that was a different matter; there was something unsettling about it.

The training sword had come back before his body as he naturally shifted back into a defensive stance, as it was a move ingrained within his being from years of training. Rarely were free shots given, for every block was often returned with a counterattack. His muscles felt tense, which was the opposite of what one wanted in combat, when relying on speed and power alike.

Eventually his arms fell to his side as the Sith remained silent, his mind still consumed by rage. His clenched fists slowly released their hold on the weapon as he attempted to collect his thoughts. He needed the anger to dissolve so that he could communicate with clarity. Inhaling a breath, he flicked his gaze up at the presence of other acolytes and even an overseer. Some resumed to their training, while others decided to linger. Kasir’s attention fell back to the Felacatian at his feet.

“You fought well,” he said, his voice steady. “But it isn’t enough. You need more discipline to harness your true abilities.” His eyes dropped and scanned over the wound on his chest. The bleeding was beginning to slow. His body was already a road map of scars, and the idea of another seemed to have little effect on him. "I see potential in you," he murmured, shifting his weight slightly, and leaning against the sword that now pressed into the ground. "I can offer you what this academy cannot–genuine training. I would be your sponsor, and you would be freed from the limitations of this place. You would rise beyond what you are now, and certainly above the others here.”

With a flick of his brown orbs, Kasir’s disdain became obvious, looking to the other acolytes again. "The same ones who will turn against you without hesitation the first chance they get." There was a pause. "And from what I gathered earlier, you've already gained one new rival today."

As the words spilled from his lips, he eventually released his grip altogether from the sword, and it fell to the ground beside him. His body language finally softened; he inhaled another deep breath. "I serve the Lord Inquisitor," he said, his voice carrying a hint of pride. Such was a rare emotion for one who had clawed their way up from a lowly position. It was the same Sith Lord who influenced his train of thought, back when he was an acolyte in this academy, many years ago.

"I will be here again tomorrow," he continued, his words now deliberate. “If you wish to join me for training, seek me out.” He allowed the weight of his words to settle. “In a few days, I depart for Kesh on an assignment. You could come along, should you wish it. But don't feel rushed--I tend to stop by Jutrand every few months. The choice is yours.”

 

[Soah Ty’Jyn]

Kasir Dorran

​

Around them, some acolytes resumed their training while others stayed to watch, their eyes flickering with curiosity or unease. Even an overseer lingered, observing the scene.

Soah saw Kasir drive his weapon into the ground. The hard edge of his stance softened, and he took a slow breath, the fury that fueled his strikes finally ebbing away.

Regardless, there was no denying she had been well thrashed. So much for getting the upper hand. At the very least, she drew first blood. Yet what he said next surprised her, even more as he continued.

"I will be here again tomorrow...If you wish to join me for training, seek me out.”

Kasir's offer lingered between them, heavy and deliberate.

Soah lay there, seething in her own frustration, teeth gritted,, fists clenched. She hated this -- needing someone else. But this was the reality of the academy. She'd seen enough acolytes fall away, those too weak to survive, too stubborn to adapt. She couldn't be like them. She wouldn't.

The Felacatian's tattoos rippled, subtle movements across her skin mirroring the conflict brewing inside her. Survival meant rising above Fifth Cohort, clawing her way up, by any means necessary. If working with this Sith Knight gave her a path to power, she'd take it.

Soah pushed herself to her feet, dusting off the dirt and blood without a word. The overseers were watching -- always watching. Exposing too much of her intentions here would make her a target. Instead of replying, she gave Kasir a sharp nod.

The choice had been made. She would see just what kind of training this Sith had to offer her.

And then she'd take him down herself!