Star Wars Roleplay: Chaos

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Round 1: Robot Parade (Warok the Defiler vs Darth Valdra)

sinemora_factory_assembly_by_tonyholmsten_d4rd6i.jpg
Location: Ran-shok Droid Factory, Fresia
Fresia, a planet recently conquered by the One Sith, was a haven for industry. Not only was the Core World planet the headquarters for Incom and its many factories, but also home to many new upstarts, smaller companies that hoped to take advantage of Fresia’s many skilled workers, and of course, cheap labor. One such company was Ran-shok, a maker of droids. Today, Ran-shok had graciously allowed one of its droid factories to be the location of a match for the One Sith Tournament of Knights. After all, if Ran-shok could grease the wheels in order to score a contract to produce droids for the One Sith’s many armies, what did a bit of wanton destruction of one of their factories matter?

The foundry itself was a massive dome-like structure, about a half a mile long, and highly automated, using machine and droid labor exclusively. Ran-shok saw no reason that the daily droid manufacturing shouldn’t take place around the two Knights. In that sense, the opponents would have to navigate around the hundreds of conveyor belts and moving robot assembly arms, all amid the deafening roar of the burning forges and the clank of metal hands sorting disembodied parts. The finished droids were kept in storage alcoves adjacent to the factory floor, and deep underneath the factory was its energy core. Surprisingly, no part of the factory itself was off-limits to the opponents, the foes could fight anywhere inside, and cause as much mayhem as they were able.

The two tournament contestants would be escorted into the factory at opposite ends, cuffed by One Sith soldiers, until they were safely locked inside. Once the two Knights were on their marks, they were uncuffed and set free to find each other, and to go to war, the only warm bodies among those of the cold metal soldiers.

[member="Warok the Defiler"] | [member="Darth Valdra"]​
OOC Info
Official rules are here.
OOC thread is here.
Kindly tag Sage Bane in your posts, as I will be judging the match.
 
The shackles barely fit around the Ewok's wrists. Not that it really mattered. The idea that such restraints on a Force user could be anything more than symbolic was laughable. Even so, Warok's fur had stood on end since the moment the shackles had clicked into place. He had been chained once before, on Ziost. Taken by slavers. He had sworn he would never be taken again. Warok had to remind himself that these paltry manacles would prove little hindrance should he choose to be unbound.

Panting with emotions as loosely fettered as his paws, Warok entered the factory. Black eyes squinted, adjusting to the lack of natural light. The clanks and steady hums of machinery reminded him of one of Adekos' haunts. He chewed on a lip, glaring about in the red illumination provided from the hot foundries. This place stood in defiance of nature. But then again... so did he.

Warok turned and accepted his gauntlets from one of the soldiers before they left. Gauntlets, you cry, outraged! GAUNTLETS?! Oh yes, gauntlets. The echani shields had been uninstalled for the fight. These implements could not be called armor. At least, no more than a lightsaber. Their usage harkened back to an older time, when the feel of bone and tissue giving way beneath bare hands was a more common euphoria. The Ewok had foregone blade in favor of these cestuses. Brutal pugilism had grown to be Warok's hallmark of combat.

Ready to turn his foe into a bloody pulp with steel-backed punches, Warok cast his senses about in search of the quarry.

[member="Darth Valdra"]
 
The aging Echani was being escorted by four One Sith guards. No words were being shared and the Echani's head was still held high like a man with no shame or problem with the situation. The binding on his wrists did not bother him and he did not dwell on if he could break them or why he was bond. What his mind did choose to focus on was the battle to come. He had opted out to not know the identity of his opponent nor did he appear to bring a weapon. All that he had was his black robes and a black cane with the head of a lion. He walked in silence, letting his mind clear of what ifs and doubts until the door opened and he was unbound. He was handed his staff and simply replied with a soft nod.

He then turned as the doors closed and saw he was in a factory of sorts. He closed his eyes and searched around him with the Force using it to create a sort of map. The only life form was a great distance away so he had time. He would not seek out his opponent, instead he would learn where he was so if the time called for it and a fight began, he could use the environment itself to fight in his stay. Why should he dirty his hands in the first fight anyways? He adjusted his robes and then dropped into the Art of Small to hide himself. He then began to stroll through the factory. His cane tapping the ground for support on every off step and his steps moved with a slight limp; truly man of age.


He saw it appeared to be a droid factory, with forges and droids still being made even with a fight being had. This was a good thing, he had an army at his disposal. He kept walking around until he found a terminal that he approached resting his cane against the wall. With both hands he began typing, using sikills he picked up during his time as a spy. He began slicing into the factory command mainframe, but it kept kicking him back. He wiped some sweat from his brow as he began scratching his head wondering how to bypass their security. He kept fittling with it until he found something that intrigued him, the droid controls. His lips curved into a smile at such a discovery. He looked through the list and found the attack options, he selected life forms within the factory radius and then let the terminal take a DNA sample of his wrist and added his DNA to the exclusion. As the battle droids became complete, they would now seek out intruders. He took his cane again and began to stroll around looking for other ways to seek a quick end to this fight without the need for him to directly be involved.


[member="Sage Bane"] [member="Warok the Defiler"]
 
Waiting? Warok had no such plans. Prior to the Darth using Art of the Small to hide himself, he blazed in the Force like a candle in a dark, empty room. That was all the guidance Warok needed. Channeling the Fanged God's power, Warok drew upon the speed of the Rakazzak beast, summoning forth the essence of the arachnid with a simple incantation.

Foreign desires uncurled within him as the spirit of the spider sought to hunt, to feed. Warok let it have full reign over his senses, only fighting back when terror crept into his gorge at the sight of a nearby forge's molten metal. Ursine feared neither flame nor ember, but the channeled arthropod quailed.

Guiding the alien fear, Warok took three running steps forward before bounding into the air and sailing through the factory in an enormous leap. Upon landing he took another three steps before leaping again, racing full-tilt with preternatural speed until he'd crossed the intervening distance between himself and his opponent.

By the time he reached the spot where he'd last felt the presence a bare handful of seconds had passed. Warok released the spirit of the Rakazzak. The blinding swiftness left him, along with the fear of fire. The Ewok padded along a corridor, eyes narrowed in the dim-light of the factory.

He found his foe just leaving a terminal. An old man, with long white hair, his presence absent in the Force.

Warok gnashed his teeth and joined battle without a word. Stretching out a paw, he reached into the spirit world and channeled the Winged Goddess. The green smoke of spirit ichor coalesced in his paw, taking the shape of a javelin.

Warok hurled the ethereal dart at his foe, seeking to impale him through the lower torso.

[member="Darth Valdra"] | [member="Vastatio"]
 
Many things surprised Vastatio; the speed people advance in ranks, how a Jedi void of emotion could claim such a thing with their unmatchable desire to end the Sith and even how a whole Sith army could function without the Dark Lord even showing himself. One thing that didn't surprise him was the power of an opponent or presence. He turned slowly to see the little fuzzy bear jumping like a kid in a toy store and spoke very matter of factually, "Having fun?" He then saw what appeared like nightsister magic make a javelin. If it was anything like Darkshear it would require much energy.

Vastatio was not a stranger to using too much power early on and had learned the consequences of such actions, but today it worked in his favour. At the distance, Vastatio did not have to move all that fast to step out of the way and watch the Javalin strike near him. He did however move a yard away incase it would explode. It was at this moment that the B2 Battle Droids that he had reprogramed began to arrive. There appeared to be 25 of them, a lot less than he intend. It had appeared that he only changed the programming of one batch of droids. The battle droids began to open fire on the Ewok as Vastatio merely stood there with his cane directly in front of him and both hands resting on it as he watched what the little guy could do.


[member="Sage Bane"] [member="Warok the Defiler"]
 
No kin to nightshear, the javelin of pure spirit ichor dissipated when it struck the solid floor of the factory, leaving only a fading cloud of verdant smoke. Warok narrowed his eyes in disappointment, but a sudden shift in the sounds of the environment drew his attention. He whirled toward the sound of clanking metal feet and scowled at what he saw. A cadre of battle droids stood clustered there, their brand new carapaces glittering in the dim-light of the forge.

Warok sprang even as they opened fire, cartwheeling high over [member="Vastatio"]'s head (and well out of lightsaber range) to land three meters behind the white-haired Echani. The Ewok unabashedly used the humanoid as a meat shield to the droid's relentless blaster fire while he concentrated on a means to counter them. He looked up.

Overhead hummed a conveyer line of enormous pots filled to the brim with molten liquid, on their way to a series of molds for droid parts. Warok pointed a paw at one of the pots and gestured violently. One of the clamps holding the pot in place gave way with a sudden shriek of rending iron. The entire pot tilted to one side and a cascade of molten steel poured forth. The deluge of orange liquid bathed all twenty-five of the battle droids in a searing bath of over two thousand and five hundred degrees fahrenheit, turning them all to melted slag in an eye-blink.

Warok's attention immediately shifted back to the white-haired one, who was no doubt planning something vicious.
 
No one would count the Ewok Warok as foolish, but Vastatio did believe his moves to be a bit rash and not well thought out. While he did consider jumping high enough to avoid a lightsaber he apparently did not consider the Force. Vastatio lift a hand and shot a Force Push to prevent the Ewok to getting behind him. Not that it metered, they were droids, they could stop firing once a non target was in the way, but it was the principal of the matter.

He watched as molten metal began to fall and considered saving the droids, but they were merely pawns just like everyone else. Instead he watched the droids burned and then looked at the opponent as a soft curve came to his lips making a sinister grin. "At what temperture do Ewoks cook best at?" He then harnessed the Force, his Art of small, an ability he wasn't very good at, already long deactivated, and used the Force to harness the molecules of the molten metal on the ground. He also made more fall to add to the molden metal. Speeding up the molecules to keep them burning he began to focus his energy to do shape the lava like substance and a head began to emerge.

The head had fangs the size of the Ewoks arms along with a neck that just kept going as the lava beast rose to life. Vastatio was using Fire Shaping to make a lava-like snake. The beast had glowing orange eyes that faced the much smaller Knight with death in its intentions. Vastatio was very curious how the Knight would fair and wanted to see what those gaunlants could do and where their power came from whether it be the Force itself or electricty or something else. The snake lunged down at the Ewok with it's fangs coming right at it. Luckly, while this took a quite deal of power, Vastatio was very use to fire shaping and because he did not create this fire, merely manipulate what was already there it didn't leave him drained or tired. It would also at least take some time to stop the beast if the Ewok could which was enough time to let his body prepare for what was neck. What should also be pointed out is that when Vastatio lifted his hand to use the Force Push he revealed his belt which revealed that Vastatio had no lightsaber on his person, merely his cane.


[member="Warok the Defiler"] [member="Sage Bane"]
 
The Force Push served to carry Warok's body higher mid-jump. The landing was the same.

Still behind the Echani, the Ewok narrowed tar-black eyes at the coiled magma serpent as whats-his-face formed the creature. Hmm, a fire spirit. Warok had never been good with fire. The element was in some ways, the antithesis of nature. Where the forest gave life, fire destroyed. But only the short-sighted and ignorant failed to see how the circle completed. Fire left naught but charred soil in its wake, yet from that ash sprang new growths. And where nature gave life, she also killed. Ruthlessly.

The shaman's eyes did not fasten upon the white-haired one's belt. Whether or not the foe had a blade was of little concern to him. What was, however, was the intervening distance between them.

In a burst of blinding acceleration that proved twice as fast as the magma snake, Warok crossed the space between himself and his foe and launched a gauntleted punch straight for the man's kneecap.

Miners who had to work with hand tools preferred to use a power hammer. Warok had never met a miner, nor mined himself, but he had been told that the power hammers could shatter through rock with ease. An interesting factoid, considering that the same shockwave generators that gave the power hammers their might were also installed in his gauntlets. And he was quite sure of their capabilities. On more than one occasion he had obliterated a human's kneecap - armor and all - with a single punch. The effect on humanoid anatomy was quite interesting. Their legs had looked more like that of an avian's... bent ninety degrees in the wrong direction.

Ah, but what of the fire serpent? Well, due to the fact that Warok was close enough to [member="Vastatio"] that his tiny Ewok arm was in punching range, bringing in a massive flaming serpent didn't seem a terribly wise idea as the heat alone would cook the both of them. Magma was a messy substance. Vastatio was as likely to get a gob of lava in the face as was the Ewok.
 
He had to admit, the Knight before him was full of surprises and talent. Vastatio had to wonder that because of his species and his size the Knight had faced much hardships trying to become a Sith. He had clearly earned his right to stand among the Sith. The only downside was he was facing Vastatio in the first round. He was not a god, nor was he all powerful, he was merely experienced.

Vastatio had spent almost 30 years of his life training to be a warrior. His own rival was the Jedi Grandmaster who he had recently dueled and ended in a draw. He had since then gone before the Dark Lord seeking the power to kill his rival. It was there that he had learned he had not mastered himself and was only a master in, but a few abilities; speed, fire, and senses. Vastatio then was willingly stripped of his title of Lord and his chosen name and given the name of Vastatio. Now he had to learn how to master himself. Regardless of this, he had many wars under his belt and many deaths and this Knight would soon learn why.

Speed, speed was the core factor of what was unfolding within these few seconds. Speed was what Warok relied on with his punch to Vastatio's knee. The non living serpent relied on speed to capture his prey and Vastatio relied on speed to evade. It was then that by all appearances the punch connected, but if the Ewok could feel through the gauntlets he would find nothing there, but air. The image of Vastatio vanished and reappeared 3 yards away with a techniche known as flash step. The serpent, who had not been countered in anyway, now came down the Ewok causing and eruption of fire everywhere including where Vastatio, the former Darth Valdra (translated Inferno) stood. Fire was his ally and loyal allies never turned on each other.

The fire was merely absorbed into Vastatio where he would not relent on his target. He release another blast of Force, this one a sort of Force Destruction, but made mostly of the Fire absorbed which had a large radius and long path. The Ewok would be hard pressed to dodge both attacks. As the attack came to an end, Vastatio panted heavily from the amount of energy he needed to release such a blast. He caught his breath and stood upright again watching in anticipation. While the Force Destruction took a lot of energy, the Fire helped him conserve it and not have to add too much. He needed to be careful, it was possible this Ewok had a way out of this, he had no idea how, but he never under estimated his enemy, but even at Vastatio's inhuman speed, this much fire and destruction would prove troublesome.



[member="Warok the Defiler"] [member="Sage Bane"]
 
Confusion addled Warok's brain as he stood dumbly, fist held out in front of him, touching nothing but air. He looked from his fist and up to the opponent who now stood out of range. Instantaneous teleportation? Such a feat required exotic training and massive amounts of energy. The only beings Warok had ever heard capable of such a feat were the Aing-Tii, with their 'fold space' technique, but everyone knew that they were impossibly unreachable... and they would never train a Sith. The warlock's befuddled thoughts were cut short as his opponent's machination roared toward him.

The flame serpent lashed out, fangs snapping closed. Warok leaped backwards, but too slow by half. The fur on the left side of his body caught fire and he could only scream in wretched agony as the hungry, red-orange tongues left charring licks. The pain nearly brought him to his knees. Warok's paws curled into trembling fists. No. This could not be how it ended, in some fool duel. He was prophesied. His fate was written in the sun and moon, the Shaman of Shamans who would lead the people of Tana into an era of galactic fame such as they had never dreamed. He clung to that, for what else could he hold? Mother and father dead. A grandfather who had banished him. Betrayed by his own people. Labeled a "defiler." Only his faith in destiny remained. And a man powered by faith, however small he be, is nothing to be trifled with.

Wide eyes blinked away a haze of tears to see the impending attack. A rippling wave of pure ruination surged toward him like a fast-approaching mirage. Warok leaped again, somersaulting over the wave. He landed unsteadily, flames still steadily eating their way through his fur. Uttering a foul oath in his native tongue, Warok drew away the air spirits from the area surrounding the flames. They went out instantly.

Trembling with pain and primal fury, Warok glowered at his foe while he immersed himself further into the Fanged God's realm. The boar-wolf came to him, a ruddy, red spirit. Warok revitalized his body, dampening the pain, then turned his attention to the foe before him. So the adversary wished to dance with the spirits? The Ewok let out an unstable giggle. Fine.

No doubt this pompous git was some noble who'd been born into respect among the Sith for his position of power. Warok had trod a different path. He had had no training from the Dark Lord, though tutelage from a man who had been slain at least once was dubious at best. Every inch Warok had climbed among the Sith he had gouged out with his bare hands. [member="Vastatio"] would find just how tall Warok's stature truly rose.

Among the Sith, agony was fuel. Warok channeled that emotion as he would any other spirit, feeding the embers of his hatred for all who stood, like this Echani, on pedestals they had bought with coin rather than blood. They sneered down, thinking him a small, primitive savage. It was high time Warok tore down their pedestals to build his own.

<Air.... Leave.> he growled, gesturing.

The air spirits suddenly left the vicinity around the white-haired one's head. Deprived of oxygen, he would succumb to unconsciousness in a few minutes. Perhaps less. The wanton expenditure of energy from the man meant that any reprisal could be readily slapped aside. Teleportation, Force Destruction and the creation and control of a massive fire serpent... Warok was no mathematician, but he was guessing that the steady addition of such exhausting powers would leave his opponent scraping the barrel of his reserves for a counter.
 
Lord Sabastian stood there amazed. He was truly facing someone of worth, someone of power, but the Knight was blinded. Sabastian could not teleport, though he was trying to learn the ability. He had merely practiced his speed over and over and over through sweat, blood, and tears until he could become something greater than a Force user. He could not move at the speed of light, or even sound, he was merely able to move faster than sight. His lasting image was actually created by the one who perceived him unable to comprehend his movements. Though, he assumed if someone of great concentration precieved his movements he would not 'disappear.'

The Ewok had also been wrong in another area, Sabastian was never born a noble. He was born from the union of a Jedi and the Wrath of the Emperor, but neither lived now as Jedi Shadows had killed them. He then spent his younger years in isolation being trained by an exiled Jedi who had helped him learn Vaapad. It was this form that helped Sabastian to learn the speed he had now. He then was dragged into the war shortly after being made a Knight during the first battle of Alderaan where the Sith invaded. Since then he had been a warrior, killing many sith and becoming all the better. It wasn't until he found a holocron among the Jedi that revealed they killed his parents, not the Sith and then he joined the Sith and fought many wars in his name.

It was funny really, the two combatants were so different, but at the sametime so much alike, but whose inner rage was stronger? It was true, Sabastian had used a lot of energy, but he had trained to use vast amounts, but this did not help the situation. The air around Sabastian become lighter and lighter until he felt he was without it. It hurt him as he fought for air. His eyes went from light blue to redish orange as he harnessed his Wind Shaping instead of fire and began to make the air outside of the Knight's bubble react violently fighting against the Shaman's spirits until he broke through and return air to his lungs. His eyes burned like fire as anger filled him, if Sabastian continued to play, he would lose.

He looked at the Ewoks guandlets, the factor that kept Sabastian at a distance. He had an idea he wasn't sure would work. In his free hand he harnessed lightning and began to focus it into a ball, he needed it strong but small. He used the wind wrapping around it and concentrating it causing it to glow brightly making Sabastian look away a bit. He then shot it at the Ewok with the hope that no matter where it hit, the concentrated lightning would pulse upon contact and create a minor EMP to cover his move. He then used his speed and Vaapad to rush in and attack with his cane that was lightsaber resistant. The tip was covered with silver. As he unleashed a flurry of attacks he waited for and opening and then with the tip went in for a stab to the gut while a small pointed tip came from the silver. The tip was made of a concentrated Devaronian Blood poison.


[member="Warok the Defiler"] [member="Sage Bane"]
 
For someone who had just used a truly massive amount of Force energy, [member="Vastatio"] was looking pretty spry. The Ewok, however, did not appear too concerned, though his lips were turned down in pain and his eyes blazed like twin tar pits set alight. Irritation flickered within him. On top of shaping a giant, molten serpent, using art of the small to make himself invisible, creating a wave of destruction, and using a power that Warok had never heard of, the fellow could control the wind. And yet, despite it all...

Warok's lips compressed into a thin smile as his foe's defensive abruptly ceased. Finally.

A ball of lightning coalesced in the man's hand before zigzagging through the air toward Warok's chest. The Ewok sidestepped. The bolt of electricity sizzled past, leaving Warok's hair on end. The smell of burnt hair mingled with that of ozone. Warok took in a deep breath, filling his lungs, and listened to the vibrations on life's web. No matter how fast you were, you could not escape the future.

His opponent charged, raising a cane as if to lance Warok through the gut. The silver-headed stick whipped through the air with violent momentum, only to be arrested as Warok's gauntleted fist wrapped around it and stopped the black length of wood mere inches from Warok's stomach. The Ewok grinned.

Warok gave a sharp jerk on the cane, attempting to rip it from his foe's grasp with strength no Ewok should possess. In the same breath, his other gauntleted fist came up in a brutal uppercut aimed at the man's abdomen. Should the blow capable of shattering solid rock land, the fellow might find himself in need of a new ribcage.
 
Sabastian watched as his lightning ball zipped past the Knight and erupted creating a pulse, but it appeared not enough. A few down sides to speed, but one was momentum, there was no way he could stop this movement at his level. He felt his cane get ripped out of his hand and then using his Echani reflexs he saw the punch coming before it connected giving him enough time to summon wind to him and push against the fist.

The fist connected with his chest sending him flying back and crashing into a wall causing him to release a loud cry of pain. He laid there a moment in pain, those things were beauties and he hated being on this end of them, karking hated it. He slowly rose to his and winced as he felt his ribs were hurt, but the wind from receiving broken ribs thankfully. This Knight was making it difficult on Sabastian, but he would let doubt come into his head. His mind began to search the area around him, a plan, he needed a plan. He was weaponless, but an Echani was never weaponless, but those weapons would make hand to hand combat difficult.

He needed more power, but even then would it be enough to end the fight? It then accrued to him, power, power of electricity is everywhere and he only needed to harness it. He fell to his knees and placed a hand to the ground breathing heavily. He needed to draw energy to him and become the EMP himself. Fire Shaping, for him at least, was speeding up molecules to create the fire or manipulating fire around him, but electricity was merely molecules moving even faster. He had not tried this before, but had done similar things so it was the same concept. He closed his eyes letting the Dark Side flow through him as he released his senses on the machinery around him. His body began to erupt in small amounts of black lightning, but he was drawing from the machines as the area slowly became covered in lightning that only continued to grow.

As the electricity left the macienes and drew more power from power cell below, he bagan to harness the power, layering it to his fists creating a sort of glove of his own made of condense fire and electricity. His arm began to pulse small, but clear waves of EMP as he once again rushed in. This time, with the Force power he had left he sent a powerful punch of his own with plasma infused into it, but mainly EMP that should attack the wiring of the gaunlets and make them no longer able to function and thus his punch would break through with the power aimed for his chest. If this did not work, he was not sure he would have much of a chance, but with all the information he had gathered up til now he was sure this was the finishing blow.

[member="Sage Bane"] [member="Warok the Defiler"]
 
EMPs, or electromagnetic pulses are common in naturally occurring lightning, albeit on a much smaller scale than that produced by fabricated, military-grade devices. Electricity is a current of charged particles. And a lightning strike is the product of rapid build-up and sudden release of these charged particles. When lightning strikes an area, the result can often emit a burst of electromagnetic energy which can affect any electronics in close proximity. Electromagnetic pulses do not simply 'emit constant waves.' Nor can human beings, or any animal for that matter, become an electromagnetic pulse, for the simple reason that if one is to tap into the power of science in order to produce an attack, then one must adhere to the laws of science.

Be that as it may, Warok knew little enough of physics other than that punching someone very hard tended to produce a certain enjoyable result. All he knew in the few moments after he yanked the Echani's cane away and sent him flying across the room with a gut punch was that his opponent was gearing up for some sort of attack.

At first, judging by the way every hair on his body stood on end, he thought the foe would shoot jets of lightning at him. He knew not how to absorb or redirect such an attack, nor did he bear a lightsaber with him. The Ewok scanned the factory, passing over jumbled bits of melted droid parts and scrap metal. His eyes alighted on a large piece of sheet metal. That would do nicely. He reached out in the Force and seized it with his mind, preparing to interpose the wide steel plate between himself and the lightning. Only, the lightning didn't come....

Instead, his opponent charged across the room, fire and lightning coiled about his fist. Warok narrowed his eyes. Was the Echani going to punch him?

A gesture of a paw and the sheet of metal suddenly floated in the air directly in front of [member="Lord Sabastian"], who would no likely slam into it at whatever absurdly velocity he was running at, likely breaking every bone in his hand.

Warok stood three meters distant, well away from any sort of resulting electromagnetic surge.
 
Clearly, to think human's could not harness EMPs was to be unaware of a certain power. While lightning was the main focus of destroying droids, it was not the only way. EMPs could be created in many different ways, but the one he was relying on was that when a large bomb went off it creating an EMP. With that in mind, humans in a Galaxy far far away had created what was known as a pinch suing lightning and/or plasma they could create an EMP without the bomb with a wide radius which required a large ammount of power. Sabastian only needed a small range to accomplish this which was what was being created by the slamming of lightning and plasma to his hand.

As the metal sheet came at Sabastian he would not be fooled again. He used his quick reflexes to jump slightly and push off the sheet. The quick change in momentum would propell him up and over the metal. He then harnessed the force around his fist to move the energy around his fist causing a vortex. Coming back down he sent a new punch for the Ewok, but this time it had a nasty effect. Even if he missed he would use the chao of the vortex to release all the energy in and around his fist to create a powerful shockwave and fire blast he named, Force Slam. It's range was a food 10 meters in every direction.


[member="Warok the Defiler"]
 
While [member="Lord Sabastian"] jumped up and over the sheet of metal, a slight smile appeared on Warok's face an instant before he too leaped. A hair sat on the ground in front of the Ewok. A single strand of ivory. Warok bent and seized the hair in one paw, then he channeled the power of the Rakazzak beast. Warok's jump carried him backward, away from his foe and high into the air. The electromagnetic pulse expanded below even as he leaped, barely keeping ahead of the blast. One of Warok's gauntlets trailed too far back. The gauntlet sparked and fizzled, now no more than a hunk of cortosis-woven durasteel. Cursing, he landed far up on one of the many support support beams that held up the roof. There, he planted his feet against the pole and drew forth the Touch of the Condor Dragon so that he stood affixed to the beam, with his body parallel to the floor, defying gravity.

His pause to seize the strand of hair had cost him the functionality of a gauntlet, but the price was well worth the cost.

Hitherto, Warok had used comparatively little of his shamanistic prowess. Aside from mitigating his burns he had only thrown a handful of punches, drawn forth a small amount of spirit ichor, commanded the air spirits once, and empowered his body with speed. By contrast, his opponent had used Force Destruction, fire shaped a massive serpent out of molten metal, utilized Tutaminis to absorb the fire, wielded an apparent use of teleportation, and called forth speed enough to make the wind weep. Along with whatever lightning and fire attack he called forth now. Warok, burned and thwarted thrice now in his attacks, was beyond himself with irritation.

"Enough of dancing with the wind. Now we play with a different sort of magic."

High above the adversary's reach, the Ewok held up the single hair that had escaped from the Echani's immense mane during their brief close combat. It was all he needed. Warok pulled out a very ordinary doll from his satchel and tied the hair around its neck, then he muttered a very unordinary spell, binding the essence of [member="Lord Sabastian"] to the doll. Any pain done to the doll would now be felt by the Echani Sith. The effort taxed Warok, though not so much as all of Sabastian's wanton abuse of power should have exhausted him.

Warok took the cane he still held in one hand and glanced over it. The end was needle-like. With a shrug and a wicked little giggle, Warok jammed the end of the cane into the doll's groin, intent on eliciting excruciating pain from the enemy. Unbenownst to him, the devaronian blood-poison would make the sheer anguish nigh on unlivable, possibly driving the enemy into babbling, drooling insanity, or merely rendering him unconscious from the pain.
 
This fight was becoming ridiculous to Sabastian. First trying his defence stance seemed to not help and then hitting him with moderate attacks seemed to not work ether. He searched the Force in the Knight before him to see what he could find. He sensed the Force, but something was different. The only way he could explain it was when someone used a tool like a hammer to pull nails out, but not to hammer anything and calling it a screwdriver. Not the best example, but still accurate. The being before him was using primitive beliefs to explain the Force and thus, in comparison, Sabastian's ability may have seemed like that of legends.

The truth was that the Force was all that Sabastian used and he had many years of using it and improving his control and power in it, always calling it the right thing and understanding it as the right thing. What Warok called the wind spirit Sapastian called wind shaping. While it seemed like more of a difference in semantics it did matter how you understood things because a half understanding left someone unable to fully use power.

As Sabastian scanned Warok he began to feel a sharp main in his lower abdomen. The pain only increased as he saw a doll being stabbed by his cane. He fell to his knees in pain and remained that way for moments with his head down. Then something that should not happen in the situation began to begin, laughter. At first it was hard to distinguish from the sound of the factory around them, but it only grew louder and louder. The tip of his cane was made of a retractable devaronian blood-poison. The keywords here being retractable and blood-poison. The poison had no effect seeing as it had no way to enter Sabastian's blood stream.

The laughter began when Sabastian used the Force like a key to retract the tip. He slowly ended his laughter and looked up to the ewok. "You're good and with the right training, you could be great, but whoever trained you left you naive. Magic does not exist, there is only the Force, your primitive beliefs have no power here." Using the Force he cripped his cane and pulled with the intentions to bring it back, but in the long run it did not matter. With his left hand he put it in the pocket, but did not remove it, "I will give you once chance, give up now and you walk away learning something just like I have learned from you. Continue and I cannot promise you will make it out alive. Pride will make you want to not believe my words, but being a warrior also means to be wise."


[member="Warok the Defiler"] [member="Sage Bane"]
 
Warok had spent six years with the Sith. In that time, he'd improved his control over more than just the language of basic. He chose to use a combination of Sith sorcery and shamanism as a matter of preference.... but the Sith had a long history of underestimating Ewoks.

It hadn't ended well the last time either.

A sharp tug nearly tore the cane from his grasp. The Ewok grunted. The gauntlets afford him a better clutch, more friction. Perhaps had the Echani not telegraphed his intentions with the hand gesture Warok might have been caught unaware.

While [member="Lord Sabastian"] monologued, Warok glanced at the tip of the cane, which had apparently retracted. The average person speaks at a rate of around 163 words per minute. Sabastian had just spoken 86 words, which meant that Warok had an entire 30 seconds, give or take a few, to act. For reference, a reasonably skilled archer can fire around ten arrows a minute, or five arrows in 30 seconds. And a determined individual armed with a knife could thrust roughly fifty times in seventeen seconds. All Warok wanted to do was stab a doll in the groin. Repeatedly.

The shaman used a bit of telekinesis to re-extend the tip, then drove the point straight into the doll's groin. Of course, seeing as how last time it had merely elicited laughter he was a bit curious about what result it would produce this time around. Usually people who received an excruciating and otherworldly pain in their balls ended up fainting or vomiting. They most definitely did not cackle.

Unbeknownst to Warok, the tip was indeed coated in devaronian blood-poison. There were, however, two types of devaronian blood-poison. The first was an unrefined gem, which only took effect if it reached the victim's blood stream. The second was when the gem was ground into a powder and then forged into a metal. Since there was no gemstone capping the needle, it must be presumed that it was the latter of the two, which only needed contact with the skin to inflict unbelievable torment.

In any case, the difference between the two hardly mattered, for Warok had bound the doll and the man together in the Force. Whatever pain he administered to the doll should have been felt by the Echani. Meaning that when the needle pierced the doll's groin, Sabastian should have felt excruciating pain as if the devaronian blood-poison had indeed entered his bloodstream. One blow had not done it before, so Warok also stabbed the doll in each button eye, in the heart, and in the nethers again. The intention was to blind him, trigger cardiac arrest, and incapacitate him with the sheer, unadulterated agony of getting a spike driven through the family jewels. All phantom pains, of course - save for the possible heart attack. But pain nonetheless. If the body experienced too much it would simply shut down.
 
Almost instantly, Lord Sabastian dropped to his knees in agony. His throat erupted with the fire of pain as screams left his throat. Not instantly, but one right after the other his eye sight vanished from him. He then felt the pain of a sword entering his hear and his lower abdomen. His mind began to be consumed with pain and agony, it was all that mattered, nothing else could be felt or understood. His body shook is convulsions as it tried to fight off the pain, but there were no stabs, no actual damage in the physical sense, it was purely mental and through the Force.

His body fell to the ground, still trying to fight the pain, but only screams were being made. As the pain became the normal of his existence and all he could remember a whisper of a thought entered his mine, the Dark Side. In times of trouble, there was the Force. What little he could muster focused through the pain, like looking through a crack in a wall and threw from the Lignan ore in his pocket. His body, still fighting the pain began having assistance.

When he had joined the Sith he had been given the mark of darkness. Inspired by Darth Ferus who had a mark that changed the color of his skin when he entered Force Rage, Sabastian's was two marks in his eyes. His eyes became to take on the appearance of blood red as his skin, starting from the eyes, began to rip with thin red lightning scars filling his face, then his neck and trailing the rest of his body. His eye sight began to return and with everything in him he stood all of the sudden and made a fist over his head channeling this last bit of power to craft the hardest ability he knew, Darkshear. A spear, made of the Dark Side itself formed and was lunched just at quickly as it was made sending it ripping through the air and heading straight at the Ewok with speed and power that on his own he could not achieve.

His body fell once again, no longer connected to the dark side from the ore as that spear was every ounce of it. His body once again returned to the pain that consumed him, but screaming was no longer possible as he slowly lost touch with reality and soon his mind.

[member="Warok the Defiler"] [member="Sage Bane"]
 
Though blinded by feral rage and consumed by saccharine agony, [member="Lord Sabastian"]'s threw true. The inky, empyrean javelin hurtled through the air and tore into the ursine, pinioning him to the steel beam as though he were a beetle. Warok looked down, stupefaction in his eyes at the sight of the dart that now jutted like some strange appendage from just below the bottommost rib on his left side. Just two inches to the left and it would have missed him completely. His mouth grew dry as the spear dissolved.

He fell from his perch.

As Warok tumbled down he dropped the cane and stretched out his hand in a placating gesture toward the ground. A gust of air pushed him back aloft, cushioning his fall. Warok grunted as he impacted the ground feet first and something in his ankle wrenched. He collapsed to a sitting position, a sorry sight to behold.

A line of charred fur marked where the flames had licked at him along one side and blood oozed from his newest wound, though he did not feel it mortal. The flames of hatred flared in eyes the pallor of tar pits for a being who like so many others had stuffed him into a mental box labeled "weak savage." The possibility of being beaten by a foe so pompous galled Warok. He would not have it so.

Seizing the doll of [member="Lord Sabastian"], Warok wrapped a paw around each foot and pulled with all his might until the doll came apart along the middle, ripped cleanly in half from groin to head.

Few people could say that they had lived through the pain of being rent in two. Lord Sabastian could now count himself among that number.
 

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