Sink or Swim [TSA Combat Training]

[Lark]

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

Lark felt his elbow graze skin, Ariealla was quick enough to dodge the brunt of his attack. But as Lark began to continue his assault, he once more felt an out of sight item lob towards him, just as fast as before. Did she redirect the second crate? No, she couldn't possibly have. The other being that she sensed must have sent his own barrage. Lark quickly jumped back, narrowly avoiding the metallic barrel. His feet slid on the sand, leaving a long skid mark trailing in front of him. He looked up to see the third figure dashing towards them with malicious intent, the three of them forming a deadly triangle. He rose from his crouched position, drawing his enchanted knife in his left hand as he stood. Now that a third variable had entered the fray he could safely rely on a second weapon.

All three of them might be acolytes of the Ascendancy, but none would hesitate to kill another to further their own story and root out whatever weak parasites infested their temple. Survival would prove their worth. And his immediate goals had been achieved, he had his reprieve to gather himself, at the cost of a new competitor. And despite the fact each of the other two wanted to kill him, his concrete heart did not beat a rhythm faster.

He could tell that the small woman had spent a lifetime fighting, and she spoke as though she was in complete control of the situation. Lark would continue to let that illusion blind her. He smiled softly when she mentioned how his mother must feel about him. Another asinine statement. Ashes could not feel anything.

The standoff continued as Ariealla made a weapon out of a nearby bone. But Lark did not worry about that. Sharp enough to draw blood, but his weapons would cleave through it like a butcher cleaved through meat. The triangular formation would turn into a chaotic show soon enough, and Lark did not mind being the instigator. He shot forward quickly, launching a decisive horizontal strike at Ariealla, in the direction that the new Sith came from, so he'd be able to have an easier time deflecting any attack either acolyte returned.

 

[Orion Darkstar]

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

Orion's attempt to separate them worked, unfortunately the other two acolytes were poised in there reactions. They were quick and concise. Such talents would be rendered useless once they met the end of his precious saber. Naturally, Orion came to a halt. The danger of following through with his assault could have meant death. Recklessness had no purpose here. Only precise and calculated tactics would be his savior. His feet split, each perfectly parallel to the other. His left arm fell dead, his fingers tingling from the previous display of power in the force. He observed the two. One thing was apparent, they were well equipped. ​

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Weapons. ​

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Orion knew how valuable they were in any fight. Still, he had yet to use the only one he had. One simple lightsaber hilt rested on his waist, hidden just beneath his robe. Orion waited, carefully placing his delicate fingers along the sides of his cloak. With one swift motion, Orion would go from defenseless to a destructive force. ​

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Once again, it came down to patience as the three formed a triangle. The triangle, he had read texts describing its significance. From where he stood, he was the blade of the trinity. A symbol of fire and most suitably wisdom. The witty banter that erupted from the females voice made him smile. Since he was a child, he had no mother. Nature verse nurture, nature always won. Then like a hot knife through butter, she singed the tip of the bone into a deadly visceral tool. Orion's emerald jewels glanced to the area around him. Pallets, scattered and broken along the edges of the complex walls. Taking note, he glanced to the next potential useful item. Before he could find something the crimson haired warrior snapped into action. A new dagger tightly held in the opponents hand as he charged. ​

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Orion had to gain his ground. He lowered his posture, bending forward as he bent his arms upward in front of him. Orion licked his lips and with a sudden twitch of his shoulder he rushed for the attacker. The stroke of the man's sword careened after the woman, unsure if it made contact. Orion fleeted across the ground like a swan on a lake. He was unerring about the arch of the blade, with enough time he would succeed in his attack. Orion changed direction, safe from the reach that the silver-haired sith provided and extended his right arm forward. His black cloak rose into view, a crease forming as it tried to correct itself. The fist that formed at the last second aimed straight for the instigators ribs. Carefully, Orion counted. Another attack, would surely come. ​

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His body had become a weapon itself, bending and twisting like the blades before him. With each breath, he became more comfortable. The fire in his eyes burned through to the core of his soul. A soul that calmed, just before the storm. ​

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

 

[Ariealla Vareldi]

• Location: Center courtyard

So the red haired boy would be the first to strike, followed by the other, who focused his counter on the other man. It suited her well enough, she was fond of playing the long game as it was. She counted her steps, as she slowly moved back from the man, she was out of range for the initial impact of the two, and would wait for them to be properly forced into conflict before making her move.

One, two, three, one, two, three.. the count kept in perfect time as she watched the two cline. No, she leaped into action on the third count, Hugh above the duo colliding. One, two, three, the bone was hurled, past them, out of sight. One, two, three, one, two!

Off beat, unnatural, she fell down upon them, her weapon hissing as she fell like a crescent sickle upon where the both of them were, as if to split them apart. From there, she took her first swing at Orion, a swift strike at his midsection, before she would finish the motion by igniting the second blade and thrusting it back at Lark.

The bone, sharp end first joined the fray by hurtling itself at Orion from where it landed beyond him.. Ariealla was quite the multitasking.

[[Cliff notes: leaped up in the air and threw the bone behind Orion.
Slammed down between them.
Swung at orion's waist, and stabbed the second blade at Lark.
Threw the sharp bone at Orion via force.]]

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

 

[Lark]

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

The masked man's attack came quickly, and Lark's teeth fanged out in a beast-like grin, completely inverse to his normally serene, aloof manner of carrying himself. The thrill of battle did not ignite his blood as it did with most others, but when it mattered Lark could become a beast in battle. He fought because he needed to, and for no other reason. The man's attack drew closer, and immediately possible counterattacks flew into his mind, and he filtered through his choices. But before he could act, Ariealla pounced, striking from above and separating the duo, igniting the second half of her blade in his direction. He hopped to the side, he might not have been able to cover enough ground to avoid the blade if he jumped backwards.

Both of his opponents had already used the Force as a weapon, and Lark saw no reason why he shouldn't do the same. Concentrating hard, a lifted shimmering particles of sand from the battle-worn ground. Slowly at first, but more and more began to swirl around his two opponents. He'd create a sandstorm, a whirlwind of dust to gnaw away at their skin. The man's mask might shield his face, but he'd be blind as the storm concentrated. The cyclone strengthened. and once Lark was finished the two would be trapped in their sandy cell, shedding blood as the sand buffeted away at their being.

 

[Orion Darkstar]

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

​

He knew the other threat would want to get involved. What he didn't account for was her speed. Before his punch could connect it was retracted. The muscles of his back shifting comfortably into a relaxed position as his arm hugged his side. Stiff and ready to preform his next action. He tilted forward placing weight onto his hand. His eyes stretching upward as his handstand held true. His fingers played with the ground for only a moment until he pushed off the ground and to the side. His body arching like a dolphin slipping back into the sea. His exhaled, a sharp bone whizzing passed him. She missed, or so he thought. As his feet made contact with the ground, the large thick cloak around him fell in line. His arms raised once more. The stance showing no acknowledgement to the weapon on his waist. It would be a reservoir of to reach into when he ultimately needed it. Orion wasn't here to impress, but being able to fight others gifted like him. Meant a lot more than winning a simulated battle scenario. It meant testing his limits, gaining a resource that was scare in the ranks of the Ascendancy...​

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Experience. ​

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The moment he landed another crease of the woman's saber came for him. This time a handstand wouldn't set him free. He was forced to dodge, as he leaped over the blade. Flipping barely burning the top half of his hood off. A smile reaching him as the fire in him roared louder. However, this time. Orion was made a fool. He'd forgotten about the sharp bone, dug into the ground behind him. In fact out of everything, it was the last thing on his list to take care of. Pulled from its misplaced attempt to strike him the first time is zipped towards him from behind. The force ruptured through him, his sense making him snap his neck to the right as the white pale tool of death darted for his skull. ​

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A millisecond. ​

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His mind processed everything extremely fast that fate had already been decided. another arm stretched out ripping broken pieces of the pallets in the distance to him. Spikes a shards flew through the air. There was no time to duck and just before the bone dagger ended his life, a splintered piece of wood knocked into it. Ricocheting off of it like a whetstone to a knife. The bone dagger dipped as it still found blood. The sudden pain that shot through his thigh made him let out a cry. The searing pain radiating to his knee. Almost losing his stance, he clenched his teeth. His jawline popped out as he sucked in. Saliva building up as he caught his breath. He didn't have time to think about the pain that would come after yanking the sharp bone out of his thigh, instead without hesitation he ripped it out. An ooze of green fluid seeping out from his skin. Tossing the bloodied dagger to the side he huffed. Gain composure, the assault wasn't over. ​

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He had to remain tough, a swift string of particles rose around him. Beads of tiny dust and sand mixing as it began to violently turn. It enclosed on him, inch by inch he lost sight of both around him. The rough grainy sand scratched at him. It began to lightly tear his attire and right before it finally tried to eat him completely he closed his eyes. Sand spilling in as he held his breath. He wouldn't allow it to end, not here. ​

​

The force gifted him, in more ways than one. The surge of pressure that grew below him foced him jolting upwards. Free of the deadly storm. He glided across the sky like a bat soaring for its prey. He had become the hawk to the snakes on the ground ready to pronounce them dead. The sand slipped off of him and with a light shake his eyes became open. As he reached the peak of his jump he waited for the descent. Honing in on the red haired warrior, that clearly wanted to fight dirty. This was no contest, Orion would prevail. They were strong, but Orion was stronger...he had to be. ​

​

Like a vulture he released the hilt from his waist. Careful not to activate the blade at the last second, before contact with the man below. The force behind such a blow would break any defense and if the boy below dodged, Orion would find reprieve. Even as the blood continued to ooze from his thigh, he wouldn't stop. The dark side chose him, as he chose it. They were one and as Orion dived for his victim. His eyes glazed over, a deep hint of red flashing in and out. Another mental image searing into his brain. An image of his father. The anger swept over him, almost snapping the calm that graced him once before. His father's voice taunting him before he made contact with the helpless target below.​

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"You can't run from me. You are my blood...fool."​

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Orion's eyes turned, the deep pitted red sinking into the emerald green irises of his own. A shimmering yellow slightly formed as Orion finally ignited the red saber and violently swung downwards. The blade hissed, whistling through the air. As the force allowed him, he hung in the air for a moment. He yelled towards the man he aimed to kill. ​

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"I am not a fool!!"​

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Orion, while displaying a blind rage was still in control. The sheer mental fortitude that resided in him was astounding. Still, the vision continued to flash in the back drop of his mind. Confusing the man he went to strike with his father. ​

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A father that was already dead. ​

​

[member="Blake Morrigan"] | [member="Drios Rapux"] | [member="Darth Ophidia"] | [member="Satia the Cruel"]​

 

[Ariealla Vareldi]

• Location: Center courtyard

Oh these two! For acolytes, they set such a delightful tempo, the pace perfect for this trio of sith to combat one another. Oh she almost spun in delight and called to the heavens they were such the musicians. But alas, the red haired man chose to begin a crescendo, bringing the might of the force to bear. He played loud, building the sandstorm, to rend her flesh from her home.

He was clever. But she was powerful. She began to laugh, a sickly sweet, musical note, as she deactivated her weapon and held her arms in. She bowed her head, protecting her face as she pulled the force about her, aware that both men weren't within danger of her needing the weapon itself. So she could focus, gathering more and more power, until finally...

She sent it outward, force Repulse. The sand shot all away from her, having torn her purple robes apart quite a bit. Even so, the queen like attire still covered her where it needed to, and only looked more powerful in her mind. Lark had only helped to fuel her lust for this deadly dance.

She began the dance anew, both blades igniting. They wished for a faster, grander pace, and so they would get it. With grace of several lifetimes, both blades were brought to beat against Lark in a flurry of blows shortly after Orion landed with his own Arial blow. She would be a fool not to take advantage of his blind anger, even as she was careful not to get in his way.

Juyo, the aggression form. Perhaps this masked man could stand to learn a bit, assuming he survived.

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

 

[Lark]

Like some mythical creature from a children's fairy tale, the masked man soared out of the storm of sand. He hung in the air for a moment, and dove down at Lark like an eagle swooping low to hunt it's prey. But Lark was no easy quarry. Anger that the man possessed could serve to make one strong, Lark had experienced this fact on few occasions, when his inner demons awoke. But if one could not keep their primal instincts in check, their eyes would be closed off, blinded, and could become single-minded in their goals. If Lark had ever had an angel on his shoulder, he killed it long ago. But he did his damnedest to purge all of his demons as well. What right did they have to him?

But they persisted longer than the angels did. Lark would grant them that.

As the the man plummeted down full of rage, yelling absurd words about his foolishness, Lark grabbed his ankle with the Force. He was not so strong as to brush him aside without a thought, and even his own grasp on the man was faint. But Lark knew he couldn't defend against this strike, it would be far to powerful. He spun the man's ankle lightly, hopping to force him off balance and cause him to miss his strike. Going to the air during battle might have it's advantages, but was it worth a loss of control?

Such a small change can make all the difference. What was once a small ripple might soon become a ruinous tsunami. Lark had to hope that such a small push was enough to spin the man out of control, causing his ire to miss it's mark and connect with the sandy ground, or if there really were deities perhaps they'd guide his strike towards Ariealla instead, for the little woman posed another problem. The sand erupted from within, the force that pushed outwards could rival the most powerful bombs from the Sith Armory. His arm covered his eyes instinctively, but he couldn't stop the sand from shedding a bit of blood. That was good. The stinging pain would help him focus.

Ariealla flew into Lark's vision as the sand cleared striking like a serpent with the ferocity of a rancor. He managed to block the first strike as he quickly raised his sword, and through some miracle he managed to deflect the second. But she was clearly the superior swordswoman. Her third strike grazed the side of his torso, burning his skin and drawing a bit more blood. Lark barely felt it, his adrenaline and extreme resistance to pain numbing the blow. He remembered a technique taught to him by Master Krest, one that boosted his strength and speed beyond that of a normal being. He had drawn from the pool of power during the fight, but he dove into it completely in an attempt to escape the flurry of attacks. He ducked underneath a swing, and jumped to the side, narrowly avoiding decapitation.

He had a brief reprieve, and needed to use it wisely. Ariealla was undoubtedly the superior warrior, which reaffirmed Lark's belief that dangerous monsters could lurk within the most unassuming bodies. And the masked man was another beast entirely. The end of a fight might be brought on by a blade, but Lark could only win using his mind.

Words had their place in battle, but at times they served as a warning, a clear distraction for trickery to flourish. Lark could speak to Ariealla with his silver tongue, but that might only serve to tip her off, and Lark would give her no forewarning. She was fascinating, but Lark intended to slaughter her. The dagger that struck the flying man lay discarded on the ground, and Lark tugged on it, causing if to lift off the ground and shoot directly towards the silver-haired woman. Lark gifted her a lyrical smile, and looked at the man as he fell from the sky, directing her attention to another danger, hoping to distract her from the sharp white dagger that glided towards her back.

[member="Ariealla Vareldi"] [member="Orion Darkstar"]

 

[Orion Darkstar]

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

​

The images ran rampant through his mind. His father's mere appearance blinding him from the battle in front of him. The vision snapped him out of reality entirely and what felt like hours playing along in his head, were seconds. The scene played out like a dim movie. ​

​

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A tall young male stood at the end of the dark wooden table. The strokes of engraved symbols making out tiny crosses, a symbol of the Kovani family. A stiff and cultured man stood next to the teenager. A butler, one that had served him since he was a child by the name of Sam. Intricate in everything the butler did, one of his most important duties was advising the young Kovani. A light creak came from the inner hallway, two large doors opening inwards before a bith in long, golden robes greeted them. As the bith approached he found a chair at the table and sat down. The lights from above highlighted his yellow skin. ​

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"Epharam, everything is prepared as you wanted it. Of course, there were some...complications, sir."​

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Epharam looked at the man with disgust, a wicked look washing over his face. ​

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"I told you to take care of it quietly, still you make noise." Epharam said, tossing a piece of paper across the table for the new guest to read. "I will not allow this to get back to me. One more mistake, Grethith. One more...and I'll kill you myself." ​

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Grethith looked to the butler for only a moment. He stood and with a bow, he turned away. Just before he slipped back into the hallway he turned toward Epharam, two words escaping his mouth. ​

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"Yes, Master."​

​

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The vision swept away as a sudden spark of pain ruptured through his ankle. What was once the old Kovani manor, became the courtyard once more. The tendrils of the force wrapped around his leg, twisting in a vicious manner.. His saber ignited and swinging like a beast hungry for blood. the trajectory of his blade that once careened for the red-haired warrior, violently shifted towards the silver haired maiden. In the midst of the barrage she preformed against the other combatant his saber slipped through her pattern of strikes. The blade would only wound her left shoulder, if contact was made. As the the strike sliced forward, Orion met ground. His boot pivoting away from the both of them before he was caught off guard.​

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His second leg tapped the ground, a stinging burn filtering through to the core of his ankle. He tested it for a second as the weight from his body made it hard to stand on. It must be sprained, the boy's smart. This other one is far to adept at saber combat...I'll have to be careful. Orion had to ignore the other thoughts running through his mind. Mainly the ones about his father's vision. The anger that showed through on the previous assault still lingered. Orion's calm should have confused the others, if they weren't familiar with the practice of Juyo. Still, he would feed off the visions, making him stronger the longer he fought saber to saber. He would be unpredictable with every movement of his blade. His patience in such form is what made him a deadly practitioner. ​

​

He sucked in a sharp breath, before ignoring the pain entirely from his ankle and thigh. The blood that seeped through his pants subsided as he continued. He bolted forward, his saber lightly held to the side as he charged for the woman. His eyes shifting to the liquid that spilled out from the barrels minutes ago. The splintered wood that was scattered across the floor of the battlefield. The loose pipes from above, ready to be plucked and sent into the heart of his adversaries. Even down to the little nuts and bolts left to the side of a four wheeler. Everything around them was a tool used for strategy, tactic and control, control of the fight. His mind filtered through everything, before the blade lifted upward and struck, not from above, but at waist level as his dipped lower. His agility was fueled by the force for only a moment and subsided as the blade hopefully struck true.​

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Even in the midst of the battle and seeming unnerved. One question remained in the backdrop of his clouded thoughts. ​

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Who is Grethith?​

 

[Ariealla Vareldi]

• Location: Center courtyard
• Current combatants: Orion and Lark

How... perfect. She wanted to applaud the duo, despite being her enemies of the evening. She could sense the bone dagger hurtling towards her with fatal intent, and the man's blow from above being sent cascading down at her. Despite having the goal of killing one another, they knew well enough to work together, even if unintentionally, to fell her before she could them. Her flurry of blows that had come at Lark were avoided almost entirely, only grazing him, and Orion's overhead strike had been redirected at her. The timing with the bone was perfect, she could only avoid one. Oh what to choose...

Naturally she saw the lightsaber's poor path, and opted for the path of least risk. She twisted her body, letting the dagger fly past her, but allowing the saber to graze her shoulder on the way down. The searing pain in her body elicited sweet laughter from her lips, as she felt the tiny portion leaking blood, not entirely seared shut as it was, begin to drip down her arm. She took a moment to step back from the two of them, and dipped her finger in the sweet red nectar, licking it clean. It had been far, far too long since last she tasted her own blood, and she would be remiss to let such a chance pass her by. The two should fee proud, she rarely let herself get hurt in a fight if she could help it.

She smiled, not quite a cruel smile but almost, and began to advance to Lark again. She felt Orion engaging her, and she wouldn't allow Lark to escape direct conflict in turn, not entirely. She spun the saberstaff to block Orion's mid-waist strike with one blade, then swiping at his neck with the other. Though a defensive strike, the unmistakable aggression, swift and violent, marked them both as Juyo practitioners, amusingly both very collected practitioners of the form.

She began something similar to a velocity, striking violently at Orion a second time before dashing towards Lark to deliver a follow up swing. For several moments she began cutting at their necks and torsos, one after the other, in random fashion, sometimes twice or even three strikes before the other had to worry about her aggression shifting. The whole while, the blood from her shoulder lingered slightly on her lips, as she kept perfect time with her feet.

One two three... one two three... one tw-

An alarm rang from her hip, and she suddenly disengaged, leaping back several meters and turning her weapon off, frantically looking at her hips, her pockets, anywhere. She kept an eye on both, despite her position she was not going to be an easy prey, but she had to find it. Between Orion and Lark, however, was the object of her frantic search, a small, orange pill bottle, rattling with the last vestiges of today's medicine.




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

 

[Lark]

Lark's plan, no matter how improvised it might have been, worked out in his favor. Ariealla gracefully dodged the bone dagger, but in doing so was forced to take a hit from the man's lightsaber. The man himself landed hard, but he was so fueled by adrenaline Lark doubted whether or not the man even felt a twinge of pain. Lark wasn't surprised that when it came to the Force, he wasn't the most well-versed. He had a few tricks up his sleeve, he always made sure he did. But these two were clearly superior in that regard. That was good. Only by fighting those with equal or greater skill than him would he improve.

What did surprise him was that he wasn't the most skilled in combat, although he didn't let it show. Whenever little Ariealla attacked Lark was forced to adopt a more defensive stance, which he wasn't familiar with. Growing up he had always been the aggressor. And the masked man's emotions fueled his strength. Maybe Lark could match him, but he wouldn't walk away without a few bruises.

As always Lark's wits were his greatest strength. The other two acolytes fought for a moment, giving Lark a small reprieve to regain his energy. But Ariealla was not content to let his break last long. She assaulted him with another barrage of fast-moving attacks that were nearly blurs, trails of purple were left in the trail of the strikes, blinding and shrouding where the next attack would come from. Lark dodged to the side, and the woman turned and attacked the other man before shifting back towards Lark. How are you so good, Lark thought with a bemused chuckle. You're not what you appear, are you?

But no one ever really was.

Suddenly and without warning, Ariealla jumped back, legitimately surprising Lark, which was a feat not so easily accomplished. Had the man in the mask done something to startle her? No, she patted around her waist frantically, looking for... something. The sun's rays shined on a small orange object, the shimmering drew Lark's attention. Curious, he pulled it towards him before the others could reach for it. A small capsule, with a few drugs inside, some kind of medication. "This yours?" Lark taunted with a mocking smile, holding the object between two fingers. Now, what to do with them? It was clear she wanted them, her wild eyes and frantic behavior told him that much, what would happen if she didn't get them? Death? Something else?

"Looks like these are pretty important to you," he muttered softly. He shook the small bottle, he could open it and send the pills soaring off in random directions. But that could result in a tirade of violent actions directed in a similar manner. Best for Lark to control where the chaos went. That's what came naturally to him, anyways.

"Fetch," he teased, pushing the bottle directly towards the masked man.

[member="Ariealla Vareldi"] [member="Orion Darkstar"]

 

[Orion Darkstar]

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

​

There was no denying the talent that presented the courtyard. The three acolytes were exemplary in their fight. The spectators would surely be pleased as it continued to play out like a symphony. The resounding clash of Orion's saber against Ariealla's played it loudly, the strings of their instruments performing well. Strike after strike, Orion defended against her barrage of counters. She too was well gifted in the arts of form VII. Then like a change of wind, her saber headed for his chest. It was violent and fast, stiff but loose. His eyes followed it narrowly, before his own crimson savior knocked it wide. Before he could reengage Ariealla, planted herself forward. Striking at Lark in a attempt to prevent him rest. Only as she went to strike him, she also went to swipe at Orion. ​

​

Leaning backwards and pivoting off his back foot he dodged. Ducking and sidestepping, careful not to obstruct her saber the wrong way with his own. It was smart, but once an opening came he would gradually poke like a fencer testing the mettle of her defense. The straight lunges came in sequence as her arcs began to tire. Then like a feather she managed to back off. Orion's eyes shifted to Lark. Did he get her? Frantically, Ariealla looked for something. This was his moment to seize the opportunity. Turning off the beam of his saber, he secretly ushered the force. The weak pipe from above ripped from its home as a railing above. ​

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Orion looked to Ariealla, careful not to give away his intended target, Lark. The pipe that quietly floated above, began to lift. Orion's two fingers slightly twitching as it did. The rattle of something new on the battlefield made him look back to Lark. A small bottle of pills curiously held in his hand. Did I miss something? He wasn't sure what the pills were and as they were tossed his way, he heard the tease from Lark's ignorant mouth. At the exact same time the pipe that hung over head, plummeted towards Lark. The sharp broken end waiting to claim his life. Orion returned with his own clever words. ​

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"You first."​

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As the pills reached him, Orion realized they were Ariealla's. The capsule was caught, swiftly and tightly. Why the woman had medicine mattered little to him, in fact, if it meant another shot at the white haired duelist, he wanted it. Orion stepped forward, his saber reignited. Ready to challenge both of them once more. Even with his injuries, he stood. A victor in toughness and a heart of anger. ​

​

[member="Blake Morrigan"] | [member="Drios Rapux"] | [member="Darth Ophidia"] | [member="Satia the Cruel"]​

 

[Ariealla Vareldi]

• Location: Courtyard
• Opponents: [member="Orion Darkstar"] and [member="Lark"]

Lark's voice swiftly tore her gaze, as she realized he held her pills in his hand. She resisted the urge to unleash her collective force power against him, for fear of destroying her vital stabilizers, and opted instead to slowly begin moving forward. She let him finish, taking a deep, deep breath, slowly reigniting the blades of her lightsaber as the pills were tossed to Orion next. She still could see reason in her mind, it would be a while before her bloodlust would envelop her mind completely, as her darkness surged and begged her to partake in her base desires once more. No, she had to remain herself, just a bit longer. She held up a single, pale hand, and pointed at the masked man as he held onto them. "You... hand it over. I cannot promise you will face the duelist you see now if you do not."

She waited for his answer, a full measure of silence. Then his answer, and she felt a cruel, vile grin corrupt her lips. She expected it, but her disappointment was hidden by a surge of violent, eager delight. He'd made a mistake, if he wanted to fight Ariealla. She shifted, and lifted a hand above her head. She mustered up the force she could, eclipsing her earlier demonstration in raw power as she gathered numerous fragments of pallets, broken and sharp, from the ground. With them, more pallets and crates began to lift up, crashing into objects and breaking into more and more fragments. She wasn't holding back anymore, as the whirlwind of sharp wood began to accelerate around her.

"Then bleed, wretched curr! Sing for me!" The collection of sharp wood fragments blasted ahead, straight at him. Like a wall of swords, really, though not all were deadly of course. Some would likely only cut if they made contact, and others would be more blunt than anything else. But she had little doubt that her display of violence would have some effect, even as she panted from rapid exertion. She clearly spent much energy to muster up so much energy after her violent dance. And it took her several moments to recouperate, she had to rely on Orion's large pipe to distract Lark.

After both force attacks were finished, she made her move. WIth her purple staff, she engaged Orion with a violent pair of slashes to hid midsection, followed by bringing the weapon back at his neck with each blade in turn once more. She wanted her medicine back, and her violent hunger that yearned to rip them apart and devour their flesh was directed at the one holding that which belonged to her. Her aggressive strikes become more what one would expect from Juyo, as she became a dark reflection of herself, of the beast that resided in her. She was swinging with more force, intent to bring him down swiftly, or retrieve her possessions.

 

[Lark]

Current foes: [member="Ariealla Vareldi"] [member="Orion Darkstar"]

Lark had always been fascinated by the human heart and mind when at their most desperate. He toyed with individuals, breaking their spirits and crushing whatever notions of normality they held. He liked to see how they reacted to negative stimuli, considering himself a puppet-master of sorts. In the past he had slaughtered all but one member of a family and observe how the survivor coped, whether or not revenge, suicide, or lifelong grievance would be the answer. He tormented children at his orphanage to see how far he could push them before they broke. Out of all the mysteries that hid in the galaxy, the human mind was undoubtedly the most fascinating. So immaterial, and yet influencing nearly every action that had ever occurred. Like Ariealla's berserker-like attack launched against the masked man. With the rage of a thousand suns she assaulted her opposition with a storm of debris similar to Lark's previous strategy, but far more intense. She quickly followed with another stunning display of sword work, Lark's eyes could barely keep track of the rapid strikes.

Enthralled by the battle, Lark barely noticed the large metal pipe plunging toward him. Using his enhanced speed he dodged out of the way, but even with his agility it was to late to avoid all contact. The pipe collided with his left arm, underneath his clothing there would likely be a nasty bruise. Damn! I let myself get distracted. But if there was anytime to take a hit, now was the proper time. Orion had his hands full with the little woman, and her feral gaze was focused entirely on retrieving her medicine. He didn't feel the blow landed on him, not because of adrenaline or excitement, he didn't feel it because of his complete disregard for pain. But if pushed enough, he'd become a monster. He knelt and massaged his arm, making sure it wasn't broken. He rose with a vainglorious, otherworldly smile, and his eyes burned like the heart of a volcano. He didn't envy the masked man, but he was certainly no slouch. He had survived this long, after all. And the energy used by little Ariealla would take it's toll. Lark was in no rush to enter the fray, instead enjoying his moment of reprieve. As soon as he sensed an opportunity, he'd pounce, and whoever was left standing after the battle would be in prime position for Lark to hunt.

 

[Orion Darkstar]

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

​

The clatter of pipe and solid stone rang out, a slight smile forming underneath the sinister chrome mask. His assault from above was simple, yet in some way still effective. With Lark stuck to the wayside, Orion peered into the soul of Ariealla. She was furious, more so than before. As the pallets and long kindles of wood began to rise into the air, Orion shifted his back leg forward. His body slightly turning, narrowing himself to her. One hand fruitfully holding onto his cerise blade. The silent hum of it waving through the air before stopping warmed his heart. Then, like shards of broken glass they came, pallet after pallet breaking as they slammed into the area around them. Smaller pieces of splintered wood flew towards him. The first set he weaved in and out of. The next a few swipes of his saber and they were turned to ash. The last batch of rotted needles sliced at his wrist, his saber connecting with only a few, until a large pallet slammed into him. ​

​

It shattered, like a wrecking ball smacking into a wall. The pallet crumbled, a tiny burn reaching his shoulder. The dust from the impact formed a tiny cloud and when it dissipated, Ariealla was already striking. Orion would have been dead if not for the force. His instincts kicked into high gear, a rotating twist of his wrist and the red blade met with her own twice. This time, instead of her more precise and quick strikes, pure strength bared down on him. She was powerful. He could see it in her eyes, the very thing that fueled her intentions. The most pure sign of the dark side he had seen in a acolyte, yet, her eyes. Sure, like every other sith they took on the hue of a natural dark sider. Only Ariealla's eyes were more than that, they showed him what hid behind them; a beast. ​

​

She was magnificent in her efforts to fell him. In order to match the unpredictable monster that continued for him. He too would have to manifest the full power of Juyo. To kill a beast, you used a beast. The two of them were more alike than they cared to know and as her strike eclipsed for his neck, the sudden parry that came forced her strike backward. Like thunder, the arc of her blade came down with wicked force, but as she tried to break him, Orion only got stronger. He found time to retaliate between strikes, heavy and forceful much like her own. The thrum of their usual steps became a pace of aggressive dancing. There was no rhythm to their styles, only a crescendo of their emotions clashing against one another. Orion's eyes flared a bright yellow, finally breaking free from his repressed version of Juyo. Now was the time. ​

​

As he went to meet Ariealla's next strike he feinted, the sting from his thigh almost causing him to falter. He slipped through her strike, his foot slammed next to hers as he twirled along her back. A slight cry of tyranny escaping his lips as the violent hum of death descended from above. His execution was perfect, but at the cost of his back being singed during the maneuver. Ariealla's saber caught him, but not enough to claim his life. Regardless, she too would have to deal with a beast. A beast that used his pain to kill, but never felt enough to quit. ​

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[member="Blake Morrigan"] | [member="Drios Rapux"] | [member="Darth Ophidia"] | [member="Satia the Cruel"]​

 

[Ariealla Vareldi]

• Location: Courtyard
• Opponents: [member="Orion Darkstar"] and [member="Lark"]

Ariealla's blood boiled as she lashed out again and again, her hunger for this man's life becoming the fuel to enrage her inner demons. Oh how the sweet voices of eons past echoed, egging her on to more and more violent a crescendo, all grace fleeing her as the monster took more and more of her in its grasp. And for a brief moment, it seemed to work. She felt, smelt... tasted the singing of flesh, unmistakable as it was, yet Orion continued to live. It annoyed her greatly, and she spun the blade up above her to catch the falling death of his blade. Crimson and Violet clashed, hissing, screaming as the former slowly pushed her back. She was not physically as strong as Orion was, and the ever looming threat of their blades was obvious enough an indication.

In fact, as she took a moment to consider her options, her own blade began to graze her shoulder, singing flesh ever so delicately. Though not adverse to scars, taking injuries now would only be a danger, and the feral look she shot back at him was primal enough to chill any normal man to the core. Of course she expected him to take it in stride, it would be a disappointment if he couldn't handle a simple look.

Turning on her feet, she spun the staff, hoping to throw Orion off balance and cast his blade off to her right, where it would be in less an advantage spot for him, before offering her retaliatory strikes. First, she spun the blade swiftly, offering a flurry of swift vertical blows to attempt to push him back onto the defensive. Her shoulder ached, her energy was being spent swifter than before. Where once she seemed able to fight forever, this feral, beast like style was not as capable of lengthy combat. It also didn't seem she was thinking as smartly as before, using less and less of the Force to fight.

Regardless of if Orion went on the defensive or not, Ariealla finished her flurry of attacks by disengaging him, and taking a brief moment to step back. She needed to keep him in front of her, even consumed as she was she could recognize that. Let him come..

 

[Lark]

Lark had always considered himself to be a patient man. His plans were always carefully thought out and brilliantly executed when he had the time. If necessary he could wait for as long as was required. But sometimes waiting could just be so banal. Especially when a dazzling performance was being carried out directly in front of him. He had enjoyed his front row seat, a perfect spot to spectate his opponents. Little Ariealla fought in a frenzied state to retrieve her medicine, but the rapid attacks quickly took a toll on her body. Were a few pills truly worth that much? The masked man on the other hand was fueled by pure adrenaline, either ignoring his pain, or like Lark he simply didn't feel it. But whatever dangers awaited Lark, he had his chance to observe them. He had gotten to this position by overcoming tremendous odds, escaping death's fiery grasp when he should have perished in the flames. Now was no different. His challenges were laid out before him, and like the fire he would overcome them.

He looked to the pipe that the masked man dropped on him, it was to heavy, Lark was to inexperienced in the Force to hurl it. In one piece, at least. With a quick strike he cut the metal in half, and directed the pieces towards his opponents. One towards Ariealla as she stepped back from her assault, one towards the masked man filled with rage. As the pipes flew he charged back into battle, nearly keeping pace with the objects he launched, trailing right behind them. He smiled in a way unlike his normally tranquil self, baring his teeth in a tameless grin, launching his own devastating attack at the masked man, caught in the middle of a metal pipe, a scarlet gladiator, and an angry little woman, vying for more blood. He couldn't say which was the most dangerous.

Some called Lark a monster, but there was a slight error with that statement. There was not only one monster. There were several, all vying for control. He kept them in check, but sometimes it felt good to unleash his inner demons. To let them enforce their will.

To let them kill as they pleased.

[member="Ariealla Vareldi"] [member="Orion Darkstar"]

 

[Orion Darkstar]

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

​

​

The sound of searing flesh made his eyes widen. The yellow irises that glared through the slits of his sinister mask showed Ariealla his anger. What his eyes were saying, his body performed. The natural aggression of his saber clamping down onto hers aroused the sensation even more. As violet and scarlet melded into each other, he pushed into her. The purple tip of Ariealla's own, slid closer to her shoulder. This was it, the moment to force herself to take her own arm. he went to push but instead was greeted with a flurry of strikes. She reacted too quickly, saving her limb from being stripped away. Another agile attempt to mark him off guard was her spin, but as he pivoted to the left, his saber stayed inward, preventing it from stretching to the right. His stance became loose and as she jumped backwards for a moment, so to did Orion. ​

​

The second he landed safely back onto the ground, his knee trembled. His saber deactivated as he fell to a knee. The sensation of pure pain slipped through him. He counted, slowly. The burning roar that erupted through his spine finally becoming apparent. ​

​

PooDoo. I need to be careful. These two are exceptional...this...this feeling.​

​

Orion dug his hand into the ground as he winced, pushing off to regain his footing. Green ooze still leaked from his thigh. He could feel the sticky liquid drizzle along the linen of his pants. The tingle in his ankle continued to cause him minor pain. Lastly, as he took another breath and stood back up, his back felt like a scorched planet, stripped of it's rightful surface. There was no blood this time. The wound was different, in that it was dealt by a saber. The only thing he could feel from it's eternal burn was a sudden numb. If he had to react, it would be now, when his body allowed him to rest for only sheer seconds. Thankfully, the warrior left to spectate hadn't charged sooner. The force coveted him, allowing him the necessary time to at least prevent death, if not another wound. ​

​

Like a large nail soaring through the courtyard, Orion watched. He was calm, the anger that once showed through, only slightly lingered. Staying in a state such as before could have meant further exhaustion and with his body wounded, he needed to be wiser than the rest. Even with all the time Lark had to determine his assault, Orion ignited his saber. What remained odd was his motionless demeanor, Orion was frozen, so it seemed. Then as Lark neared him, Orion shifted his weight towards Ariealla. The metal pipe hurling centimeters from his face. The reaction was almost too late. The sinister mask was caught just enough to send it flying in the distance with the steel scrap. ​

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Yes. This is it!​

​

With the mask ripped from his face, a slight cut found his cheek. Tiny, but still another wound. His delicate face was pale. Untouched, much like that of his black hair, sticking upward by some odd habit. As his hood fell, the internal clock of his own whispered to act. In one quick decision, Orion batted the saber strike away with ease. He had Lark's flank, at the cost of his own to Ariealla. If he couldn't make it out alive, neither would Lark. Like a phantom in the night, his cloak slipped into the air as he spun, closer to his opponent. With a change of pace, his form differentiated, a vicious twirl of red, slashing dangerously close to Lark. This time, Orion didn't care if Ariealla attacked. If she did as Lark and Orion were fighting, it would mean exactly what he craved. A sudden smile reached him, almost as if he enjoyed the danger. ​

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Finally, a real challenge!​

 

[Ariealla Vareldi]

It took all of a few seconds for the pipe launched at Ariealla to reach her, though in her mind it felt much longer. She'd noticed it as she moved through the air, her darkness offering her brief moments of insight and clarity as she fought. The pipe was so perfectly timed, she'd land just before it hit the ground. So, she had to react on instinct, the beat and tempo lost completely, to spare herself significant injury. She deactivated her weapon and tucked it in, rolling as she turned into sideways rotation, allowing herself to slow enough to only hit the top of the pipe rolling. She felt her feet touch the ground, and immediately jumped into a spin to her left, turning a devastating hit into only a powerful glancing blow as she rolled over the top of the pipe. She slammed into the ground moments after, and gasped once as she felt the stinging pain through her body.

She'd let the beast run loose too long. Her vision had tunneled, that was never good. She did, however, get a chance now to think, clearly, as she looked at the other two in combat. Orion was foolish, leaving himself so open.. however.. She clipped her weapon to her side, and summoning her strength she bolted forward. Just before reaching them, she leaped upwards, over the two and plucking her bottle of pills from Orion's grasp as she passed. She landed safely past them and jumped back, downing the medication before they could retaliate.

One... two... three... She slowly seemed to sway in place as the medicine took effect, and when she looked back at them with a devilish smile, it no longer held the feral nature to it. "You have to watch your back dear, otherwise you might lose more than my medication." She laughed a bit as she looked over the arena. She couldn't keep up grand force acts, but she could do something.... Oh what's this? She smirked and held out a hand. It seemed someone had taken the weapon she left with them and placed it in the arena for her to take freely. That certainly helped make her choice of action.

The blade seemed to sing as it flew through the air, and into her grip. She wrapped her fingers around the hilt, feeling the familiar weapon in her grasp. She gave it a test swing, and her comfort with it was apparent as she made her way towards them. For her mastery of the saberstaff, this was her most beloved weapon.

And it once more sang as it cut through the air, calling for its target, Lark, to concede to its desires. A flurry of cuts, from left shoulder to right, and hips, and back, against the boy. She didn't appreciate how hard he'd hit her, even if it made for a more delightful fight. The fact that he was in combat with Orion already hardly mattered, she just wanted him to hurt.

[member="Orion Darkstar"] [member="Lark"]

 

[Lark]

As Lark charged towards his opponent, he nearly believed that he had decapitated the formerly masked man. As the false-face soared into the distance Lark made a mistake, believing the rest of the head to have gone with it. Not only was there no blood sizzling upon the scorching sand, there was no sense of fulfillment when the pipe struck it's mark. It couldn't have been that easy, and it wasn't. Lark should have known better, in order to survive as a Sith one must advance past such rookie mistakes. These two were as strong as any of the other acolytes he had met, it was with a begrudging thought that he admitted in terms of raw power, he was the weakest of the trio. Which was why he took that much more pleasure in being temporarily double-teamed.

The now unmasked man attacked from one side, Little Ariealla the other. There was no possibility of avoiding both attacks. Was this his retribution for the pipes? Lark had once read a book on military strategies, and recognized what he was caught in as a pincer attack. Both his flanks were exposed to the enemy, and were simultaneously being attacked. Options raced into his mind, but as he suspected there were none that resulted in coming out of this situation completely unharmed. Maybe he could dash forward quick enough to avoid the brunt of both assaults, but as he watched the man's strike he knew it would carve him in half if it connected. He looked up the the man's face with a smile that was, in every respect, utterly out of place in a battlefield such as this. He met the man's eyes, green like the forests of his home, with his own that shined like the stars. I suspect we're a bit more alike than either of us would care to admit, Lark thought. He lifted his sword, using both his hands to steady himself as he continued to propel himself forward. He deflected the dark-haired man's strike, instead of hacking Lark in half it it cut open the front of Lark's shoulder. Not to deep and overall a better outcome than loosing half his body.

But in choosing to block that blow, his back was left entirely exposed the the rapid strikes of Ariealla. He had hoped that as he sidestepped out of the barrage of strikes he might only be struck once or twice, three times at the most. But the attack was so quick and furious Lark felt like a piece of meat, helpless in the butcher's shop. He felt the new blade strike first at his shoulders, but before that blow felt as though it ended more sharp pain came upon his hips, his back, again and again. He could smell blood, feel the sticky red substance build up in his clothing, pasting to his skin. Most pain was mental, often times from shock. But even this would hurt.

Lark jumped out of the flurry of deadly strikes, much more red than he had been a few seconds earlier. Both his back and the clothing covering it were shredded in a mortifying, grotesque, gory manner. It was like he had fallen into a bramble of thorns, left there struggling to escape for days, the wounds growing larger and darker. Not many people realized how black wounds could sometimes be, even the physical ones. There was almost a pattern left inscribed by the blade, some unholy drawing meant to invoke fear. If the two of his opponents looked closely through his tattered clothing they might see glimpses of pink skin, reminders of the fire that he was born in.

By now all three had sustained wounds beyond that of normal cuts or bruises, and all three were set upon by exhaustion. And none had even thought of conceding. It seemed now as if the war would rage until only one was left standing, or perhaps it would be more plausible to say that none of them might be left standing. Lark listened to the distant waves of the ocean, rhythmically crashing against the shore in a constant harmonious melody. It brought him a sense of comfort, for some reason the sea had always been one of the few things capable of such a feat.

Ariealla had brought out a new weapon, and so too would Lark. His left hand, dripping with his own blood, reached for his dagger, enchanted with the same properties as his sword. It had always been his most proficient weapon, and now he coupled it with the sword he had grown so oddly fond of. He didn't care about the pain, it meant nothing to him. But he couldn't charge right back into battle after sustaining such grievous wounds. He didn't care about pain but the strikes dealt would have an effect on him whether he liked it or not. Entering battle so quickly would not end well. Instead he took a more defensive position, inviting them to come towards him, if they wished. He'd be ready if they did, he'd not let himself be caught surrounded again.

He looked towards them with kind eyes and a kinder smile. This has been...

So much fun.

[member="Ariealla Vareldi"] [member="Orion Darkstar"]

 

[Orion Darkstar]

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

​

​

​

Step after step, Orion's body formed a blur of black. With a stunning halt, he changed the direction of his body, twisting to send the humming laser of red into the red-haired man's shoulder. What once was a harmonious tune, became a song of pain. As the saber found its mark, the sizzle that sprung to life engrossed Orion more. Retracting the blade his free hand became empty. The once tightly held bottle of pills stripped from him. It was impressive to see the white haired maiden perform such a feat. She twirled overhead with a relentless appetite for success, success that was granted. Orion cared little for the loss, after all she was the one that needed them, not him. Ignoring such a thing he found solace in the chance to continue his onslaught on his already wounded opponent. Although, even when thinking you have the upper ground, war was fickle. Anything could change the tone of the outcome, always and forever changing. ​

​

For the wise man in front of him, it came with an irrefutable block, causing Orion to stutter backwards. The strength that was once granted to him was no more. His form had been more fragile and quick, as opposed to the monster he once was. Still, it caused pain to his adversary. Orion's eyes shifted passed the brave acolyte's wounded shoulder. The image of a vicious steel headed for the poor warrior. It was unfortunate, but better him than Orion. With speed, Orion leaped backwards. His body felt the weight of his actions and wounds. Exhaustion was apparent and keeping up with the pace became more difficult to maintain. He felt it in his breath, his chest forming a heavy mucus. His lips slipped forward, as he forced the mucus outward. Another breath allowing him to relax. Orion had thought of other acolyte's as a stepping stone, but such predicaments may have formed a inkling of respect for them. Cautiously he tiptoed forward, amused as he watched the barrage of attacks slice through his foe. Areialla painted a canvas of red, the ground stained with clumps of bloody sand. ​

​

Was this the end for one of them? Could this have been Orion had he not struck true? ​

​

It was like a meat grinder, created specifically for such an occasion. Even so, the unlucky acolyte made an escape. Bloodied and battered, he still stood. It reminded Orion of his own perseverance and in truth as much as he wanted him dead, the young man gained respect in that very moment. The two of them were unrelentingly willing to give up, nor would they ever it seemed. Orion understood it, faltering would mean to lose and sith did not lose, they gained, the grew, they flourished. Nothing, not even an assured death would prevent them from trying, finding some way to break free from the casual acceptance of failure. It spoke volumes that the woman was also much like him. Fierce, and quick to kill. She wanted it more and more, much like that of himself. Constantly wanting, but never needing. Everything about the duel answered to who they were. They had heart, but the deeper you went the more devilish they truly were. Each a servant of the dark side. ​

​

Orion had to take advantage of the situation, to attack the bloodied and scared soldier of the darkness or the other threat that seemed to be healthier than the two. He couldn't jump the gun and end the life of the red-haired acolyte, not just yet. Instead he would need her to bleed, feel the very pain she had inflicted on his previous target. He launched forward, his body obeying despite its condition. His eyes traced her movements, as the last of her strike met with his other foe he slipped in. Like a slick form of liquid he maneuvered around her, his tool of death careening for her waist and then her throat in such an orderly fashion. There were no tricks here and as he went to ruin her with his swift actions, he had one thought manifest into his mind. ​

​

Death.​