Sink or Swim [TSA Combat Training]

[Blake Morrigan]

This compound was once a facility geared towards the production of arms several years ago until it was closed down for unknown reasons. Today it will serve as our battleground. Complete with close quarters corridors, open sandy beaches, and everything in between. Surprises have been added to keep combatants on their toes and traps are littered across the compound for anyone foolish enough to fall into them. This is Phase One, combatants start on opposite sides of the compound. Weapons are reduced to a Lightsaber, force powers will be permitted and small land vehicles are enabled. This is a training program design for sparring in near lethal conditions. Some of you may die, or come close to it. Fight, WIN! Survive...​

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Good Luck​

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OOC Thread​

[Location | Beach]​

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A faint chill crept over the quiet, desolate land, causing the baking earth to clash with the coolness, and send out heat rays; forming a humid atmosphere Blake could barely suffer.The damp smell left a tangent taste on anyone's tongue; even the oldest of men. And as those golden eyes wandered over the sandy beach and the reflective waters the girl sight deeply. She knew that soon she would come across the others that had also been thrown into this combat simulation, and frankly she was pretty sure they were far more skilled than she...​

Still, she needed to get better and punching a low hanging back in an empty room with motivational music was going to get her nowhere...

And so she moved cautiously through the sands, her gaze glued to the environment around her as she took in the area in which she begun. Her thoughts cataloging every meticulous detail of her surroundings. She may not of been able to fight very well, but she could formulate plans and schemes efficient enough to prevent her from doing so. There was no doubt in her mind she would have to fight, but if she was able she would like to have a potential plan B...C...all the way down to Z. And as her boots kicked up some of the sand as she approached a monstrous four wheeled vehicle the woman examined it closely. Kneeling down to look over the rubber tires and then the interior before scoffing, looking back over at the two speeders beside the four wheeler.

"Mmm...probably best to leave these be for now." She muttered, her gaze looking to her right only to see what looked like a great stone wall with a staircase leading upward into a dark tunnel...judging from the architecture of what she had seen so far, it would likely lead to a vantage point for her to get her bearings...probably the best place to begin.


The dark haired woman made her way to the stairs, leaving the beach area and quietly moving up the stairs, and once she reached the interior corridor she looked both ways to check if the coast was clear...leaning down into a crouch, she approached the exit across from her, hugging the wall and peering out to see a giant turning wheel in the center of the area and a large facility beyond that...

She could sense others nearby...but for now she would wait to see if anyone would show up or begin fighting. No need to jump into a situation she had no control over...

[member="Lark"] | [member="Drios Rapux"]​

 

[Darth Sibilus]

Drios was sandwiched between two menacing Herglics as he was escorted along a beaten track toward the arena. Before him was a grand gate of iron, marking the only entrance and exit from the place where his battle would commence. Upon arriving at the entry zone and being buzzed in by the Ascendancy security droids, the Acolyte stepped into the arena.

Immediately, the arena door slammed shut, sealing Drios inside with whatever terrors the Lords had hidden for them. He had no idea who else had been selected to 'perform' today, and so he figured that stealth would be the best tactic until he had determined his opposition.

The Force propelled him into the air and onto a stack of containers like a puppet, allowing himself a brief moment to examine the 360° view of the area. From his initial sweep, he saw nothing except a jumble of buildings and an odd wheel like apparatus in the centre of the complex. Drios figured that the designers of the arena had been attempting to drill the Acolyte's on their skills when in a factory or a industrial setting.

Something else was here, other than the woman who stood sheltering next to a wall, yes, he had spotted her the moment she revealed her face from behind a corner. Now, his eyes scanned over the beach, a beautiful one with rolling white sands, azure waves lapping gently upon the shore. A part of him wished to head over there, where he had an inkling of another, non-sentient foe and the other, more logical section of his conscience urged him to get to higher ground to escape whatever was lurking in the arena.

[member="Blake Morrigan"] | [member="Lark"]​

 

[Ariealla Vareldi]

Ah, the advantages of being well over six thousand years old, even weakened you still had the knowledge of people's inner workings to manipulate your way into whatever you felt like doing. In this case? Using other sith organizations training facilities to root her power more and accelerate her return to power. The Songstress would make music once again, she'd be certain of it, even if she had to break a few children to do it. Of course, there was a single, small problem today that would make it nearly impossible to fully realize her goals, if she relied on her most usual, comfortable tactics.

Her darkness, her pulsating aura of death and evil, it stuck out like a sore thumb. Even a... what were the lowest of the low called? Whatever they were, even they would sense her if she attempted to hide herself away. One of her old tricks, diminishing her force presence, was still being worked on, as her newest body still struggled to contain her mind. Speaking of which, the little secure vial of pills on her back hip were quite the comfort. She'd been ushered in before having a chance to take her medication, and finding the time to do so would be vital to retain her sharp edge.

Though the unbridled delight of fighting would be quite delectable in her deteriorated state. They had best hope her little cocktail of meds were available when she needed them, little was more dangerous than someone without a care in the world.

AS to her acts as she was lead inside? Well, with her pulsating, sickening aura (thanks to her unusual dining habits) she couldn't hide correctly, especially if even one of these acolytes were remotely competent. So instead, she simply found herself a nice, high place atop one of the buildings, and sat herself down. If she were fortunate, perhaps they would mistake her for a knight, or a Lord, watching quietly in the best of first row seats. If not, well, though an assassin by skill and talent..

She still remembered her mastery of the blade.

[member="Drios Rapux"] | [member="Blake Morrigan"] | [member="Lark"]

 

[Lark]

Lark sat on the pale beach, which shined like the moon as the sun's rays reflected off it's grey surface. The golden white sand burned hot underneath Lark's hands, torching his palms. A cool breeze blew against his skin and through his scarlet hair, and he closed his eyes, relishing in the delightful sensation of soft, chill air kissing his skin. The waves lapped towards him, the melodic rhythm threatened to lull him into an unfamiliar, peaceful slumber. Is this what peace feels like? No, it can't be. All manner of unknown beasts could hide in the dark depths below, the possibility extinguished whatever concept of peace this place offered. He rose, shaking the radiant flakes of sand off his clothing. The icy water rippled against his ankles, and he stared into the infinite horizon, wondering what could be hiding past infinity.

Such thoughts must wait until another time. He was not here to philosophize, he was here to train. To fight against other members of the Sith Ascendancy, yet another test to prove his worth. By the time the tests concluded, only the worthy would be left standing, only those who survived would ascend the ranks and obtain more power. Lark gave the tranquil sea one more wistful gaze, and went off to find his quarry.

[member="Ariealla Vareldi"] [member="Drios Rapux"] [member="Blake Morrigan"]

 

[Darth Ophidia]

'A master without an apprentice is a master of nothing.'
- Darth Bane.

Thus spoke a Sith, millennia ago. The words of Darth Bane never quite lost its weight, even now the tradition of master and apprentice, albeit warped, persisted. These were not hers, but the legacy of Sith was still in her interest. These acolytes were still mere hopefuls in the ways of the dark side of the Force, but among them there were those who would bring forth the future of their order. Some would die or give up, most certainly, but that was the key she had imparted in those she had trained and that she had hoped others would impart in theirs; there was no quitting, no giving up nor backing down: In the end, it was success or death.

So she watched, observed these hopeful young minds. Her form was not hidden, she stood in plain sight, yet blended with her surroundings by the mere stillness of her mind and body: A form draped in the tattered blacks of the Sith. The hood was cast down, revealing the ashen crown of her head, patterned with tattoos of her kind and scars of her past: Lightning reaching up her neck and grasping the root of her skull travelling as far as her cheek. Her eyes, like embers burning against the grey of her skin, surveyed the situation as it unfolded; her lips turned in a thoughtful frown.

"Nagajj, tadi', ki nutnusi."
Nagajj, come, my pet.

A white serpent rolled its neck out of the folds of her robe, wrapping its head around the Pale Assassin's neck and caressing the skin with its scales. She leaned her head to the side, returning the affection given by her familiar. However, her eyes did not stray from the arena. She did not even blink, but kept her eyes on the playing field almost as though she expected to see something none others would.

Three champions on a field of abandoned industrialism. There was blood to be spilled and futures to be forged.

She watched.​

 

[Blake Morrigan]

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[Location | Intel Building Interior] ​

It began with the sweetest of whispers, the faintest of hymns; the first string to be sung in the moment between silence and creation. In those passing seconds, when the breath was held faltering against breast, a croon beneath which the heart was cast aflutter, Blake was but a moniker for the sorrows of day break. Night would come, a winding mandala with many edges, a curving masterpiece where even in the darkest of moments, light could be found, a softened tone, a chiming bell vibrating where a passerby laid down their hesitant touch to strum the silent cord. With the going down of the sun, the cold began its forward assault, the war waged since before they dared remember, rising in a faded crescendo. It was a story so few remembered the words to, the passages written on faded parchment by candlelight, lost to the gluttony of those who would keep the knowledge for themselves. When there was life, there was the balance, night and day, moon and sun.

Blake bared witness now to that edge where parallels met, the heat of invictus upon his back, the cooling embrace of her tumbling Diane upon his cheek. The dry stone beneath her feet was set into a cast of heated metals, molten gold and silver clashing, creating a band of alloy where she set down his wandering steps. The silken clothe of her scarf fell in sweet sighs among the breeze, The oceanic waves whirling in the air...She could hear them crashing even now, the air damp from the spray of white water, salty and sharp against her senses.

And as her golden gaze wandered over the distant environment before her the woman quickly spotted a man who seemed rather bold to be walking out and about...gathering a vantage point above most of the facility, Blake simply scoffed, pulling her head away and turning her back upon where she had previously stood, heading into the hallway opposite to where she stood to try and change scenery.

The young woman moved quietly and with purpose, quickly peering out to see the mans back was turned as he examined the area...Blake took this opportunity to move to a separate interior area just ahead of where she was, quickly and silently moving down the stairs and venturing into the dark room with her Saber in hand...her movements slowing and her gaze flicking back and forth to listen to her surroundings...

She knew where one of them were...but where were the others?

[member="Darth Ophidia"] | [member="Lark"] | [member="Ariealla Vareldi"] | [member="Drios Rapux"]​

 

[Darth Sibilus]

The girl he had spotted had vanished and that meant one of two things; she was hunting him, or she was opening herself up to be hunted. Whatever her intentions were, Drios was not willing to allow himself to fall prey to a girl, especially one who deemed walls sufficient cover from a Force-user. His legs had propelled him from his vantage point and to the concrete floor below, a small cloud of dust rose from the sun-baked compound, and his supple, leather boots noiselessly crossed the centre of the arena, past the odd circle thing and to the wall where his prey had been sheltering from.

Rapux could see only two directions the girl could have fled through. A set of steps leading to the beach bordering the facility, he highly doubted she was foolish enough to corner herself on the beach, or through a doorway leading into a hallway, probably into the dormant arms factory. Perfect.

With a wave of his hand, the door was pulled open by the Force and he made his way through the passage. It was illuminated by a series of spotlights coming from the floor, casting an ominous shadow around the corner where [member="Blake Morrigan"] had ventured, his movements slow in an attempt to muffle the sounds of his footsteps and breath. His lightsaber was gripped tightly in his hand, thumb hovering other the ignition.

"Come out, come out wherever you are, little girl." he goaded, his voice laced with poison and contempt, his final words being projected down the hallway where they would hang in the air in the form of an echo before dissipating into the darkness.

 

[Orion Darkstar]

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Tests.​

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That's all it was. A long series of grueling assessments and constant devotion to the dark side. It's what Orion had come to find out in the months he spent in solitude, listening to the whispers of the force. His training seemed to never end and with it came growth. With a steady pace of sith teachings and insurmountable orders to be carried out, for the Ascendancy, there was always time for more tests. Today, was yet another example of the tired ways to improve the future of the order. The only thing that really mattered, at least to Orion, was he was getting stronger by the days. His mind had been molded by his studies and his freedom brought him success. His achievements while little, still meant something. Few within the confines of the arena may have heard of his efforts on Ossus, others not so much. Either way, achievements wouldn't grant him an edge, only the force. ​

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Orion stood, towering over the metal banner in front of him. He reached the tower an hour ago, scanning the area for any threats. The only thing that prevented his toxic, green eyes from falling onto a potential threat was a rotating cylinder in the center of the complex. To his right were steps leading up to him, below him another room much like his own, only more concealed and providing cover. Although, it seemed better to be on the first floor, there was still only one way out and being cornered like a dog, would be unwise. To the left of the tower was another platform with steps and supplies. When Orion looked forward, besides the ever constant metal clanks and clunks of the gyrating wheel, he'd be greeted with a large open area to his right and left. In the distance to his left sat a ground filled with sand and patches of loose grass, along with a stone wall with few windows. To his right was a large building, a warehouse or armory, judging by it's size it could have been anything. Above him and a little ways out was a tiny bridge between the mechanical wheel and the building to his right. Still, there were no signs of any opposition. ​

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Of course, Orion wasn't naive enough to consider he was alone, in fact the force had already rippled through his body. A sign of danger that he was all too familiar with. The battlefield taught him many things and being in a scenario like this meant patience would bring him victory. As he scoured the area from his vantage point the sun slipped into the open frame of the windows. His chrome, metal mask gleaming back at it. The thick black blanket that shrouded the rest of his body, came from his cloak, a long and loose piece of clothing. Underneath the cloak rested a single lightsaber, its metallic hilt intricate in design. A grin reached his lips as he shifted his gaze to the top of a building, a sitting silhouette sparking his interest. It seemed that he wasn't the only one getting tired of the repetitive trials. ​

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Placing his hand onto the banner in front of him he tightened his grip. His sighed and with a quick movement lifted his body over the bar. His black cloak lifted to the air, the image of a ghastly smoke descending onto the concrete floor. ​

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It was time...​

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[member="Drios Rapux"] | [member="Blake Morrigan"] | [member="Darth Ophidia"] | [member="Lark"] | [member="Ariealla Vareldi"]​

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[Ariealla Vareldi]

• Location: Center courtyard

Oh, delightful already! One went to the facility, followed by the boy, and she could sense (and indeed see) a rather imposing Sith not too far off. Of course she could see her, ARiealla was not idly sitting atop a building twiddling her thumbs, the assassin's eyes were always scanning, searching for the next victim, and the next threat. However, there were certain things you could pick up on. For instance, she noted that the lady (Ophidia) was uninterested in moving and far more powerful than an acolyte if her stature and familiar were much to go on (white did stand out quite well in darkness).

And she could tell that someone had to be bored to tears. These trials, while excellent for her growth, are hardly the most original activity one could deal with. So naturally, one had to work to make it fun, enjoyable. Something that actually tested one's capabilities in some way. For Ariealla? Today was hardly a day she could expect stealth to work, as her signature was still sickening and repulsive even for one's average dark sider. Without her diminishing powers she'd never successfully hide. And most of her powers she still had at the moment weren't well suited for direct conflict, making that useless strategy her main tool.

So naturally, she'd just have to work on recovering some of her more, direct powers. To that end, the purple-clad woman slowly rose from her seated position, stretching her neck and arms as she stared over the ledge. Not too far to be honest, a floor or two. She hummed, before calmly stepping off the ledge, managing to land on a number of slight outcroppings to slow her descent until she landed safely on the ground. She then uncliped her lightsaber staff, holding the dormant weapon calmly as she began to walk forwards.

Perhaps the woman and the boy (Blake and Drios) would be more than a little occupied... she smirked to herself as she bent light around herself, forming her Force Cloak. Of course, the other two combatants (Orion and Lark) could've spotted her, or sensed her, and complicate things. Ah well, whatever came, would come.

((OOC note: Orion and Lark feel free to intercept Ari. She can handle a little surprise!))

[member="Drios Rapux"] | [member="Blake Morrigan"] | [member="Lark"] | [member="Orion Darkstar"] | [member="Darth Ophidia"]

 

[Lark]

[member="Ariealla Vareldi"] [member="Orion Darkstar"] [member="Drios Rapux"] [member="Blake Morrigan"] [member="Darth Ophidia"]

Lark walked around the facility idly, but keeping a wary eye out for any possible ambushes. He wasn't quite sure how many others were thrown into this industrial arena, but he could feel formless figures wandering around the stadium. Some might wait inside the buildings littered around, some might hide atop a tower, or the moving wheel if they felt a bit more daring. Lark's enchanted sword was held delicately in his pale hand, a lightsaber in all but appearance, it could deflect blaster fire and lightsaber strikes as easily as the more traditional weapon of the Sith. A dagger with the same properties was strapped to his belt, a backup in case he lost his sword, or perhaps he'd use it as a counterbalance to his longer weapon. Fighting was an art Lark was intimately familiar with alongside his gift of a silver tongue and crocodile tears. Growing up he learned the barbarous style of street fighting, that of pure physical power and aggression. While training with the Sith he had slowly learned more elegance in his style, and how to be more unpredictable. The Force was a weapon that still proved elusive, having only ever summoned small sparks or a light nudge as opposed to storms and dynamic pushes. He could summon it into himself and become stronger, faster, a technique taught by Master Krest. But he had only used it occasionally, and it's usefulness was fleeting when Lark could not fully control when he wanted it to take effect.

It was like the Force rejected him, for he was that foul, his deeds that atrocious.

He ambled into the center courtyard, and felt a formidable power standing nearby, nearly undetectable to his human eyes. Only a slight, wavy shimmer, betrayed the other's presence. Lark slid his knife into his left hand with a single, fluid motion. Can the rest of them pull of the same trick? Will I be fighting Sith masquerading as phantoms? The shades near lack of visibility was not the only peculiar aspect, it's Force signature was unlike any other. It was like a peasant dwelling among royalty, it stuck out and made those nearby uneasy and nauseous. It was damaged, broken, and hideous to feel. If Lark was bothered by that sort of thing, he might have gagged. He raised his sword, ready for a fight against his incorporeal foe. "You're different," he said with a clear, gentle voice. If he could hear his opponent he'd have a better picture of where he or she would approach and strike from. He kept an intent eye on the shimmering, ready for any sudden movements.

 

[Ariealla Vareldi]

• Location: Center courtyard

Oh well... her plan to sneak behind the male and play on his tunnel vision wasn't going to work out. Such a shame, but it lead to the new enemy. So many men, she chuckled as she dropped her cloak, revealing her form to the man. Instead of the usual dark garments, Ariealla's regalia hearkened back to royalty, further displayed by how she held herself with confidence. She slowly turned her head to face at the man, a pleasant smile gracing her lips as he could see her eyes, corrupted and completely yellowed. Normally she would wear contacts, to restore them to her usual color, but here she felt little need for such vanity.

Her voice came clean, calm for Lark to hear. "Am I? Aren't we all, though? Certainly you should stand out among the crowd." She chuckled louder as she saw the blade in his hand. A sith sword, it was obvious by the half nod of her head she held respect for his decision. Had she felt it herself, she would've brought her own as well. "Ah, but we did not come to exchange words, we came to cross blades. I am Ariealla Vareldi, heiress to the Vareldi legacy. I shall be your opponent today."

With a hiss, her blade ignited, the purple blade holding a black core to it. The woman licked her lips lightly, looking him over. "Delectable appearance, you keep yourself well.." she mumbled, almost under her breath as she held the saber staff with ease. Only a single blade was ignited for now, the front of course, but its length was all but an obvious giveaway for the weapon's purpose.



[member="Drios Rapux"] | [member="Blake Morrigan"] | [member="Lark"] | [member="Orion Darkstar"] | [member="Darth Ophidia"]

 

[Poe]

​I sat cross-legged atop a hill, ripping at the remaining raw, bloody flesh from the femur bone of the innocent child known only as Darcy. Next to me, begging for a piece, was my only true friend in the galaxy; Ostara​. Leaning over to allow her to sniff my hand to encourage her hunger, I dropped the bone at her feet; and watched with utter amusement as she cleaned the bone to a beautiful white sheen. Below us, in and around an abandoned facility, was a live-fire combat training session between a quartet of the Sith Ascendancy's new generation of Acolytes. Each one desperately trying to kill the other; oh how wonderful it is to be Sith.

​Taking significant time to observe each of the Acolytes, as they ran about engaging one another, some even taking the time to exchange banter, I watched with horrifying glee to witness someone's death; but not with so much talking going on. The conversations irked me beyond the realm of anger. Maybe I was growing old fashion, but I preferred the method of slaying my enemy without rifling out a single word; unless of course I wanted to play with my food beforehand, then I would distract them with demoralizing comments before engaging them in combat. Best practice was always defeat them mentally, before defeating them physically. There was no sharper, brighter, hotter blade than that of words meant to pierce one's ego; setting them in a gear of unsettled nerves. It was mistakes that took lives, not skills.

​As I began stretching my legs, I "accidently" kicked the bone off the hill top; tracking it has it bounced and skipped down the side, only to land on the hard surface of the facility. I pondered to myself if any of these Acolytes knew the first rule of combat; which was anything and everything could be used as a weapon. Shrugging my shoulders, I suspected not and went back to watching future events unfold.

 

[Lark]

[member="Ariealla Vareldi"] [member="Orion Darkstar"] [member="Drios Rapux"] [member="Blake Morrigan"] [member="Darth Ophidia"] [member="Darth Sarcophago"]

Lark hid his surprise as his opponent released her illusive veil, revealing her true form. Lark had believed himself to be one of the youngest members of the Ascendancy, but now he had doubts on whether or not that was still true. She stood nearly a foot shorter than Lark, but her royal posture was held with the experience and confidence of a Queen. Her pale skin matched his own ghostly complexion, as did her burning yellow eyes, a sign of the Dark Side's blessing. Her purple saberstaff was pleasant to look at, and her violet armor was oddly soothing to look at. Purple had always brought him some semblance of peace. Most people likely thought her to be beautiful, but Lark wouldn't know. He had never felt any sort of attraction to anyone else.

He briefly questioned whether or not a girl like her was even capable of posing any sort of real threat, but then he remembered what he had done when he was only a child, and chided himself. You never truly know what the human heart is capable of in it's darkest moments.

As she introduced herself, her name pulled at the back of his mind, tugging at some forgotten thought. Had he heard it before? Ariealla Vareldi. "I shall be your opponent today," she announced.

Lark smiled compassionately. You shall be my first, he thought. He sheathed his knife, he had never fought against someone who wielded a saberstaff before and he wanted to use a weapon he was more comfortable with. Knives were like an extended limb for him, but against a weapon with a far greater reach it's usefulness would be near nonexistent. Only one side of the staff was burning a dark purple, he'd need to be wary of being caught in the path of the other side's ignition. She had the advantage in reach, ironic considering her stature. So Lark would need to be faster and stronger. He began stepping forward slowly, and without warning broke into quicker steps, like an accomplished dancer. He swung at her with a quick downward arc, and the first strike of the free-for-all was given.

 

[Orion Darkstar]

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Orion landed, the heel of his combat boots tapping onto the thick concrete block below. Crouched, his hand slid forward to catch himself from falling. Lifting his head the daunting image of his mask emerged from the shadows. Its chrome design slowly lurching upward as he began to rise. Only one thing truly defined the sith in his simple action; terrifying. ​

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Being scary didn't mean much within the confines of an arena with other sith practitioners. To them he was just another obstacle and rightfully so. The slits of eyes moved quickly to the right, the force vibrating through his body. It wasn't abnormal for the force to adequately warn him when potential threats were close, but this time his eyes had confirmed the threat. A young man slipped out from the centerfold of the courtyard, his red hair the only distinguishing feature about him.​

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Orion moved like water, his feet finding common ground with the new target. Moments ago he spotted a woman atop the building nearby, he had to be careful not to engage until he knew where she was. Then, as if a gift from the force, he saw it. A clear shimmer standing between the red haired boy and himself. Orion smirked, stealth would have worked for the acolyte, if not for the resounding aura spilling from her very core. Tilting his head to the side he watched the red haired man attack, a swift strike ripping through the air aiming for the hidden foe before them. ​

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Perfect.​

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Orion thought. Not only did he have the sly acolytes back, the other threat was forced to act in light of her being partially invisible. If not for Orion's angle, he would have walked right into her. He stepped back and watched the red haired warrior's graceful footwork. Then came the blade rising to the sky before it violently sought its prey underneath. Orion's eyes widened, he saw the same moves from his own master. He knew of the others that [member="Krest"] trained and while it mattered little to him, it also meant competition. This wasn't just a simple combat simulation, it was a test of worthiness.​

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Orion could hear them, the voices. The sudden spark of light and grey coming back to him like it had before. A vision, at a time like this? His hand reached for his mask as he bent over. The veins along the side of his temple strained. He shook his head vigorously and as his body relaxed he regained his posture. His fist clenched tightly, his black glove stretching to obey. Resisting such things would only last for so long. It was a gift and curse. The voices began to grow louder. Clear as day, it came.​

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"You are nothing."​

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Orion's teeth clenched, his father's words stinging his pride. Still, there were matters to take care of. His green eyes finally met the confrontation unfolding in front of him. His right arm fell from his mask and his fingers grazed the steel hilt of his saber. He wouldn't just be fighting the foes before him; if anything, he would be fighting the very thing that haunted him to begin with...​

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Orion.​

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| [member="Blake Morrigan"] | [member="Lark"] | [member="Ariealla Vareldi"] | [member="Drios Rapux"] | [member="Darth Ophidia"] | [member="Darth Sarcophago"]​

 

[Blake Morrigan]

Things were quickly escalating and it seemed as if someone was caught in the middle...the girl could feel the tension rising in the air and ever so slowly as she moved through the small boxed building her golden gaze flicked back and forth carefully. She could sense the tension in the air itself and she was fairly certain that eventually she would come across one of the opposition...that being said it was probably best to change to a more strategic position. Peering out from the exit opposite from where she had entered she checked to see if the coast was clear, upon doing so she spotted a strange hooded figure standing in the center of the area...

Blake could only assume she was no threat seeing as her very presence radiated a power beyond that of anyone else here...that being said it looked like things were fairly clear. And with that she exited the building she lingered in and made her way to the large center wheel in the center of the area which seemed to continuously rotate slowly counter clockwise.

That would do...Blake quickly ventured across the courtyard, knowing damn well she'd likely be spotted and thus picking up the pace until she found herself before the massive turbine. Looking back and forth, she quickly jumped down into where the wheel kept turning. Passing through it to enter the area with the facility building.

This would be a better place to hold off an assault...

Now, she simply waited.

[member="Orion Darkstar"] | [member="Lark"] | [member="Ariealla Vareldi"] | [member="Drios Rapux"] | [member="Darth Ophidia"] | [member="Darth Sarcophago"]​

 

[Ariealla Vareldi]

• Location: Center courtyard

Ah, superb footwork, it was a delight to see the Sith hadn't forgotten their basics. Though she still felt the boy paled to her fellows, those of the past that was. Truly, if a Lord of the modern Era were a child to her master, Hord, then the boy was a stumbling toddler. As if to prove the point, his opening strike was a firm, Swift downward strike. Simple, effective, but so easily countered.

With slow, graceful steps almost more appropriate for the ballroom than the battlefield, she moved to her left and raised her blade, catching the side of Lark's and guiding it away from her body. The blade sparked violently, eager to cut into flesh and bone, to make the boy hurt. To make him suffer.

And she? She hadn't decided yet. Though to bring it to a swift end, she suddenly shifted, stepping in and past Lark, swinging the blade with aggressive force up at his neck. It would be easy to duck under, but the strike was as much a lesson as an attack. She was not to be under estimated.

She liked her lips, swinging the blade back around as she turned, first right to left, blade pointed down, and back from left to right. It was more to keep hher enemy back and bring her weapon to a safe place. Though, with each swing she grabbed hold of an object, a box or barrel, something not bolted down, and hurled them at the two men she saw.

The first box hustled at Orion, far in the background, and the second came at Lark from the side. As the boy would move to react, Ariealla would step in, swinging her blade with aggressive elegance at his legs. She would give no rest, no quarter.

She would make him sing for her.

[member="Drios Rapux"] | [member="Blake Morrigan"] | [member="Lark"] | [member="Orion Darkstar"] | [member="Darth Ophidia"] | [member="Darth Sarcophago"]

 

[Lark]

[member="Ariealla Vareldi"] [member="Blake Morrigan"] [member="Orion Darkstar"] [member="Darth Sarcophago"] [member="Drios Rapux"] [member="Darth Ophidia"]

You're just full of surprises, aren't you little one? Changing directions so fluidly, wielding her staff with a lifetime of experience. Lark had a sneaking suspicion the she was toying with him, a thought that should have angered him, make him feel belittled. But it was a refreshing change of pace to have his initial thoughts of the woman dashed, proven wrong after only a few moments of combat. She deflected his first strike with ease, which was to be expected. More to test the waters, so to speak. See what kind of depths he was going to have to go through in order to come away with victory. Lark ducked away from her immediate, decisive counterattack, perhaps she had wanted him to step away and regain the advantage of reach, but it couldn't be avoided.

Lark sensed unseen danger, some object being hurled his way. Turning to look would mean certain defeat, for Ariealla charged him with a graceful step, swinging at his legs, attacking both halves of his body. Perhaps Lark could tank the incoming object, his incredible tolerance for pain would allow him to weather a few more hits than could normally be taken, but he had to consistently remind himself that the pain was there even if he couldn't feel it. And why take a hit when you can avoid an attack? Sensing that his window for action was quickly vanishing as the object flew closer, he jumped over the low swing directed towards his legs, landing beside Ariealla from the direction she swung. He saw behind her that another object had been thrown elsewhere, had she sensed another hiding among the shadows? He'd need to keep a better eye out. Landing beside his tiny opponent, using her as a shield from the thrown object, he knew he wasn't in prime position to attack. But he could buy himself time. Throwing out his arm, he directed his elbow towards Ariealla's face, hoping to stagger her and buy himself time to gather himself.

You are intriguing, he thought as he attacked. But larks do not give up their songs so freely.

 

[Orion Darkstar]

Current Foes: | [member="Lark"] | [member="Ariealla Vareldi"] ​

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Orion watched the two sith in front of him before he made his move. The display was truly a sight to behold as the female acolyte snapped into action. She was fluid and precise, clearly a well trained combatant. Her saber ignited like a wildfire in the dark, seeking the red haired challenger's waist. What was even more impressive was her sheer observation. Even while focused on the sith attacking her, she had time to manipulate objects around her and fling them at all threats, including Orion. ​

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The two large barrels flew across the courtyard. Each rusted and clearly filled with a thick gel that seeped out from the corroded sides. Orion couldn't allow such simple objects to collide with him, the weight from the two barrels alone would have been enough to crush him. He needed to react wisely. The distance between him and the silver haired maiden was enough to deduce his lightsaber useless. Orion didn't need his saber to shine, in fact, thanks to his studies and training he was capable of the force. His eyes followed the barrels and sidestepped the first. A loud crash ruptured from behind him as the barrel collided with the block of concrete he had emerged from. A thick black liquid leaking profusely onto the ground floor they all stood. ​

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The assault wasn't over, in the seconds it took the first barrel to collide with the ground. Orion lifted his left arm to the air. The pressure around him fell heavy, the tendrils of the darkside whisking him into a conduit of the force. His fingers split as his palm flattened upward. What emerged was a sudden burst of power, exuding from his hand. The small specks of dirt lifted to the air as Orion channeled the move with ease. An explosion of wind ripped through the courtyard. A wave of energy slamming into the deadly barrel seeking his life. His eyes shifted to the others, an evil grin growing underneath his silver mask. ​

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As the force push made contact, the cylinder was repelled backwards. Its wobbly sway was corrected as it gained speed. What was once a barrel now became a hundred pound bullet, aimed directly at the two clashing sith. It was amusing, the idea of killing two birds with one barrel. Of course, Orion knew it wouldn't be that easy. He pivoted and dashed forward. The barrel would eventually cause them to separate and when they did, they would answer for it. ​

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I will never be nothing...​

 

[Ariealla Vareldi]

• Location: Center courtyard

Oh how his dance sent her heart a flutter. He clung to instinct, and made him all the greater a partner for this deadly dance. The way he reacted, turning her into a shield from the object and striking at her head, why she could hardly ask for a better acolyte to test her body's limitations. She knew well enough she couldn't avoid the strike quite yet, and so turned her head, the strike grazing her instead of hitting directly. In the same fluid motion, her free hand pressed against the box thrown at Lark, stopping it dead in its tracks.

More concerning however, was the barrel hurtling towards them. Breaking off from Lark by leaping back, the barrel hustled through where her body had once been, and on landing she was staggered.

Breathing sharply, she took several uneasy steps, before her motion returned to even, graceful action. Already some of her tricks were revealed for those who paid attention. Each step, even, paced. While it was only apparent for those who saw her landing, it spoke volumes.

She was keeping time. Perfect, meticulous time.

She rubbed the mark Lark left on her cheek, allowing Orion time to approach before speaking to them both. "Excellent footwork, and a lovely counter to you both. Your mothers must be proud. I may have to give some effort." A sickly sweet giggle erupted from her mouth, as the ancient mind in her located a useful tool not far.

Reaching with the force, the bone thrown by a spectator flung into her hand, and with a swift cut of her lightsaber the end was made sharp enough to puncture skin. She somehow appeared even more comfortable as she approached them both, weapons at her side. "Well then, gentlemen, who would like to sing first?"

[member="Drios Rapux"] | [member="Blake Morrigan"] | [member="Lark"] | [member="Orion Darkstar"] | [member="Darth Ophidia"] | [member="Darth Sarcophago"]

 

[Darth Sibilus]

Spoiler

Last post is void.

Drios' tall and imposing figure landed silently upon the duracrete ground, a small plume of dust rising into the air before being whipped and twisted away by the draft the Acolyte's form created. He still held a reasonable distance from the quarrelling fools in the centre of the arena, eager to keep himself out of the way of any distractions to himself and his prey.

The reason for his leap from the high ground was simple, the girl whom he had lost sight of had re-emerged from some building or other and slunk beneath the behemoth of a wheel and into the underground depths of the facility. Lightsaber in hand, he sprinted toward the turbine with surprising speed and with a single leap he was gone.

At once, a crimson blade erupted from his lightsaber hilt, illuminating the dark chamber with a vermilion glow, and the sound of his kyber crystal's energy snapping into existence echoed throughout the room. A smirk crept it's way upon his face, an expression all too familiar to him as he caught sight of his foe, the Acolyte Blake awaited him.

At once, his feet shuffled into a stance typical of a Makashi user; feet shoulder-width apart and his blade by his side, slightly extended. "What a pleasant surprise to stumble across you here, Miss Morrigan."

[member="Blake Morrigan"]