First Reply To Teach Obedience.

[Serixibis]

Spoiler: OOC!

Fighting practice! Feel free to drop in if you can contrive a reason for your character to be on Korriban and rumble with my Acolyte so she can stop bullying this poor boi.

​

\\. Korriban, Circle of Trials.

The sky burns as Horuset sits high upon it's throne in the sky, A mighty hand cast upon the long suffering planet in waves of crippling heat that burns the long dead rock and lifeless sands of that benighted world.

Far beneath it's sight, insignificant in comparison a pair of figures struggle, the ground beneath their feet eager for the blood soon to be spilled. They circle one another in a rocky clearing far above the Sith Academy, the arena of sand and rock decorated with the faded gore of thousands of combatants who met their end here...

Agony, electric, exhilarating. Serixibis howls in the face of her adversary, a student of the Academy who had been bold enough to open his mouth. To question, to mock. He was a year her senior in terms of time spent in the care of the Sith but that did not matter to the Pureblood. Her people were born to conflict, molded in struggle, bred to slaughter. He was no match for her in this struggle, but that did not mean the fight would end quickly...

...And why should it?
​

An artists's work should never be rushed.
​

The Zabrak was already bleeding from a cut along his chest where Serixibi's spear had been thrust past his defenses, blood pooling against the heavy cloth of his tunic and dripping to the thirsty earth beneath. He faltered, it is not a fatal wound but the serrated edge of his adversaries spear had savaged the flesh. It certainly didn't ~look~ good and the pain was...extraordinary. Indeed, it seemed that Serixibis's goal was not to fight, but to punish. Every strike was meant to harm, but never to kill.

"That's a wound, Uevrak, but not all I am going to do to you."
​

Her tone is mocking and cruel as the spear is turned around in her hands, slender fingers wrapping against the worn leather hilt of the weapon like an old friend. Serixibis lunges toward her fellow Acolyte, springing forward as their spears meet high in the air! Uevrak was stronger, to be sure, but that was not her game. Dipping low the smaller woman uses the Zabrak's strength to lure his weapon downward, a booted foot springing up in a spray of sand as her heel slams in a sideways kick into the open wound on his abdomen!

The spear in her hands follows a moment later, twirling around with remarkable dexterity as Uevrak falters and a second slicing wound was added to his tortured form, the flesh of his bicep clawed open and feeding the earth anew with his blood...

This will not end quickly.​

 

[Darth Voracitos]

Voracitos was a name above all who squandered in the dirt, a name which carried not only the history of the modern Sith, but a legacy of a man who would last so long as to one day become immemorial. Voracitos was also a place, which immortalizes the very precepts of his being, such that all who come to it shall find themselves becoming him. The glutton of gluttons, a figure of corpulence none could truly hope to match, a creature of his own name.

Yet despite all these lofty titles and descriptions, their still existed in the universe a fragment of his mortality, or rather fragments. Living effigies of the man who once lived among them, puppets of flesh and bone who wandered the worlds most dear to the Sith Lord. Korriban, his birth place and birthright should he ever see fit to claim it in defiance of his cousin's rule, was one such place that these false-lives wandered.

The eyes and ears of Darth Voracitos existed most often in perfect replications of his once infamous image, but in rare instances the Chaos-God of Gluttony at times fancied a rarer time than that of the face of the Shadow Emperor. As if dreaming, the one eyed two-mouthed demon had crafted on Korriban a face he had not worn in two lifetimes, the face of the boy who would one day become so feared for his size and the story it told across his skin.

A portly young adult walked to the arena, where the combatants traded blows, splattering blood to the sand.

"You weaken yourself toying with such food," The voice was youthful, but deeply baritone, full of pompous nobility and arrogance. "If they cannot fight back, you waste your energies." The Young Voracitos said with dismissal towards Serixibis , as if to challenge them.

 

[Serixibis]

\\. Korriban, Circle of Trials.
\\. Make the Fat Man sing.
\\. Darth Voracitos

"You weaken yourself toying with such food," ​

The Baritone voice was unsuspected, and Serixibis quietly scolded herself for being unaware of the portly young man's approach, so focused was she on the suffering to be inflicted on the unfortunate Zabrak. Already his motions were growing sluggish, the defense he attempted to put up growing more and more frantic and sloppy as a second cut is added to his wounds, and then a third. In pieces he is chopped, sliced and carved at, each strike coming short of lethality...

Instead the suffering Acolyte's defeat comes in pieces, here a muscle torn, there a tendon cut. It's certainly impressive how much care Serixibis put in her work, the wounds inflicted were survivable, but it was quickly becoming clear that the man would never be the same. Never would he walk again, never would he hold a weapon with any force.

"What do you know of my work, boy? Tell me what is greater, to quickly dispatch a foe with no finesse or...this! Look, see the way he bleeds, the way I cut. This was never a fight, simply my sport... and who are you to interrupt?"
​

Her tone was confident, questioning. It was clear that to her, this was just another wandering Acolyte. Serixibis doesn't even deign to turn to the new arrival, focused instead on her supposed "work". Uevrak pales, unsteady on his feet as she slips out of his range, a gloved hand raised to the lurking services droids and waved off toward the faltering combatant.

"Take him from this place, and make sure he does not die. He will be made to suffer further."
​

Only then does she turn to the portly arrival, puss yellow eyes narrowed to study him from head to toe. She bristles for a moment, the thin bone spikes along her jaw flaring outward as warm gore drips from the head of her spear and onto the back of her neck.

 

[Darth Voracitos]

"What do you know of my work, boy?"
​

The dramatic irony so heavily dripping into his ears was enough to crack a knowing smile across his wide face. Even as his eyes and ears across the galaxy demanded his attention, this dreaming of the past in the present brought amusement to the demon behind the face, and thus the flesh responded in kind.

"Tell me what is greater, to quickly dispatch a foe with no finesse or...this!"
​

The flesh knew enough of itself that the eyes of Jonathan Boke would roll at such messy displays, a comment such as this lacking the wisdom he felt he held above all others. A missing truth left unshared.

"Look, see the way he bleeds, the way I cut. This was never a fight, simply my sport... and who are you to interrupt?"​

Again the dramatic irony eked within the consciousness of the dream-flesh and made itself heard by the greater creature sleeping deep in the Netherworld. Laughter emanated softly from elsewhere, left unheard to all but the dream.

"Your ignorance is almost too much to bear," The flesh rumbled joyfully, but quietly, before saying more clearly, "If you lack finesse, it is no fault of the speed in your technique, but your technique itself." The amused look the flesh held until this point fell away to a face of neutral disappointment. "Play your sport upon me, and we shall see if you are worthy of a name." The mirror of the past gestured towards the acolyte with degrading dismissal.

The corpulent youth was simply robed, and carried naught but a simple dagger hanging low below his protruding waist. The figure made no further gesture or stance, and awaited the first blow, if they dared.

Serixibis

 

[Serixibis]

\\. Korriban, Circle of Trials.
\\. Make the Fat Man sing.
\\. Darth Voracitos

Why was he laughing? The absurdity of it made Serixibis's generally serious composure crack and her expression shifted to one that was...puzzled, to say the least. And so she stalked, the spear tap-tapping against one shoulder as she listens to the boy gloat. How was he speaking and still laughing? Was it his tone that made her think that is what she heard?

Was she being mocked?!

That alone was enough to drive Serixibis to action, the spear flipped once around between nimble fingers and held in a reverse grip as she turns briefly and faces the assorted weapon racks along the far wall. To her credit her emotions were held in check enough to not betray herself in her stance, her voice level and without intonation as she speaks now.

"You talk in circles, boy. And miss the point entirely. My intent was to teach a lesson here. He was leading a sort of insurgency against me. Him, and several of his little lackies. How will they then react when they see what became of him, the man who decided to stand against me? And what will they think when they see ~you~?"​

Right foot forward. Hips pivot. Lean. Throw.

Serixibis's right hand comes up, tucking over her shoulder as she turns in place with all the potential of a coiled spring! The spear in her hand is held horizontally before dipping back further and being launched at the portly lad with a fair amount of force. The projectile snaps and contorts in the air as it seeks out it's target, the lower abdomen of the mouthy boy!

At the same time her hand twists,the fallen spear of Uevrak wiggling before flying toward her outstretched fingers. She manages to catch it but her use of the force was...sloppy, in truth. Sand whipped around her and even some other weapons on the far wall across from the fallen spear rattle and drift toward her.

...But who was still laughing?

 

[Darth Voracitos]

The acolyte babbled, and then athletically pivoted, bringing to bear the kinetic energy of their turning onto their spear and propelling it as a projectile. It was artistically done, but all the same foolish to release their weapon towards an advisory of the Sith who one knew nothing about. Luckily, there was an ounce of wisdom between her shoulders as she rearmed herself - clumsily - with the force.

Jonathan Boke had never been one to partake in the martial arts, but his eye could still admire the rippling movement of muscle and sinew, particularly in a fine caricature of the Sith. It was in this way, however, that the pair of them were diametrically opposed. With an outstretched thumb, hanging at his waist, the flesh pressed it downwards, toward the blood stained sand, as if to show disapproval.

Gravity seemed to find the airborne spear with a bit more mirth than Serixibis likely expected from such a powerful throw, and shortly the tip of it embedded itself into the loose gravel. The energy impacted and reverberated through the rest of its shaft, swaying as if a reed in the wind. Voracitos offered a short tsk.

"Your sport must be tiring. Again," The puppet gestured softly, "With feeling!" The mouth snarled and the eyes glared.

 

[Serixibis]

\\. Korriban, Circle of Trials.
\\. Make the Fat Man sing.
\\. Darth Voracitos

Serixibis was furious. Who was this bold sack of meat, to chirp and chide so proudly? Who was this man who sought to stand before her and seek to judge ~her~ merit?

Nobody, No one. This was a dead man and she would make it so.

Rage, white hot and bubbling through the force like a pot of maggots boiling in bile swells within the slender Acolyte. Her grip tightens on the spear, a hiss of fury sees her drink in the dark side of the Force as she sweeps the weapon left to right...and reality is forced to comply. The wave of pressure rips across the same direction of the spear tip, a wall of power that digs foot deep claw marks in the sand and sends the thrown spear sailing off to the side of the chamber.

She was strong, her connection to the Dark Side of the Force was almost impossible to distinguish from the latent power upon Korriban, such was it's presence.

And yet, her might was undirected, unfocused. She was no Master, not even a Knight. Her connection to the force though omnipresent could not be manifested with any sort of finesses. Completely unpracticed it comes as a crushing wave of invoked feeling, her rage made manifest. Like a child, throwing bombs instead of toys out of the proverbial cradle.

With a guttural snarl that sounded more animal than man the Acolyte lunged forward, War-spear lashing in a series of deft twirls as she reverses her grip several times during her hurried advance! Sand kicks from her dark boots as the slender figure ducks low, right shoulder tucked forward as the fighting edge of the weapon was driven forward in an attempt to impale the portly pretender in his fat gut!

 

[Darth Voracitos]

The flesh of Jonathan Boke was certainly capable of stoking a reaction out of the Sith Pureblood, much to his satisfaction. Control the emotions of your opponent, and you have already won. Rage was the easiest of the emotions to manipulate, particularly among the servants of the Dark Side, even he was vulnerable to it in rare instances within his life time.

The acolyte opened up with a telekinetic assault, waves of rippling intention bridging the gap between them. It was an excellent demonstration of strength, but unrefined, wasteful. Voracitos had been like that at one time, before in his Gluttony he became miserly with all uses of the force. It was one explanation why a master alchemist of the level the demon had become, had created constructs which perished slowly in their use of the force. The more that can accomplish without expending his energy, meant less of that which he owns is wasted to oblivion.

Once again, the figure before Serixibis would command the force as simply as possible, and rather than meet the white hot rage she exhibited, the puppet pushed its strings beneath the ground. It was here, that it decided, from which it would be unmovable. Sand whipped across the arena along with the embedded spear shaft, breaking from the tip as it was flung across the arena, but the fat man did not move from his place. Like a statue, it weathered the maelstrom of her assault, only his clothes ripping and tearing in certain sections.

Then, she propelled her spear with her body behind, seeking to embed itself into his immovable frame. All the while smiling, the hand of the flesh merely outstretched and caught the tip of the spear through the palm of its hand. No blood seemed to drip from the fresh wound that completely impaled the constructs hand, but it was unmistakable, the spear had penetrated through the hand and found its movement arrested.

"You waste your energies." The construct spoke, looking down upon the female. His free hand rose from his waist to connect to her gut and send her back. It was a simple blow, unamplified by the force, but packed with the full weight of the body behind it. It could be dodged or taken in either regard, but often the simplest actions were the most refined in combat.

 

[Serixibis]

\\. Korriban, Circle of Trials.
\\. Make the Fat Man sing.
\\. Darth Voracitos

She was wild, unrefined, savage. Her use of the Force was the same, a screaming rage that did not so much direct the force as attempt to catch it in one hand and launch it violently at her opponent. A wasteful and simplistic display from one still learning to direct that aspect of what it means to be Sith.

But when that spear kisses her opponent's flesh she entered her favoured arena. All of her life, even before she had come to know the Force, she had been a warrior. The practical applications of violence always came easily to Serixibis and now she decided to use all that she had learned on...whatever this creature was.

"KREEE-YAAAAA!"
​

Her defiance is roared in the man's face, the shout serving also to tighten the muscles of her core in preparation for his strike to her gut! The flesh's hand impacts against her toned midriff with a heavy ~THUMP~ but the Acolyte remains standing, and no less disturbed.

"I don't know what you are boy, but I will not be undone by a creature such as you!"​

Hate is spit through clenched teeth, both gloved hands grabbing at the spear shaft embedded in the boy's hand and hauling it to one side. Instead of attempting to extract the weapon the Acolyte pushes it forward, impaling more of the weapon through the flesh's hand as she spins it around in a quick circle. Unless the boy was capable of arresting its motion he would quickly find his arm twisted like a corkscrew...or his hand would be ripped open with the force of the motion.

 

[Darth Voracitos]

Voracitos smiled as the acolyte tanked the blow to her stomach, and he could feel the fire in her stomach, the burning spirit within hidden beyond toned muscle and taut skin. In a motion, the Sith Lord drew from this flame, the vitality hidden within, his touch leaving in her gut a lingering sense of weakness. Her spear twisted and spiraled, and the arm of the construct found itself contorted in ways that would be unnatural for an ordinary mortal creature. The hand would be ripped off after a few rotations, the damage to the flesh evident but leaking no blood.

"You will be undone by your ignorance," At that moment, when the final breathe left his mouth, the weakness in her gut would open up to the Sith Lord in acolyte's clothing. She would feel the strength within her leaving her body if she could find no means of stopping it. The power of a Dark Lord beckoned her strength to him, to drain at her very vitality into his construct, which at once appeared to be melting with the power it commanded, while simultaneously growing new flesh from the torn twisted arm.

It looked less convincing of a natural human of unordinary size at this point, and more so as the puppet of flesh it truly was.

"You have done well acolyte, if not for your apparent lack of study." The grin on its face was fading. "Know my name, and perhaps you shall survive..." Verdant green energy began to cackle at its finger tips.

Serixibis