Two Different Brands of Darkness

[Darth Abyss]

Unknown, ???

It was a rare occasion that Abyss ended up somewhere so far of the map that even he lacked any knowledge about the place. He had been following a trail for days now, hopping from one uncategorized world to another, with almost half a dozen already behind him. Yet on each of them he had been greeted by the same scenery, a abandoned campsite and another handful of clues to continue his search. Honestly the where wasn't nearly as interesting as the why. Said simply he was following a bounty, but those that knew the Prophet were well aware that he had very little in common with a bounty hunter.

So why had he set out to hunt this man down anyway? The man had been an agent of his intergalactic network of hidden eyes for years, but a few weeks ago he vanished. That alone wasn't to special, people in such a line of work lived a dangerous life, not to speak about the psychological stress of passing on sensitive information under the nose of someone that would happily kill him for such an action.

The real news wasn't the disappearance, but the bounty that followed. Several million credits placed by an anonymous source for his man, dead or alive. That had caused him to act, had given him the intention to find him before someone else would. Whatever his agent had discovered was obviously worth quite a lot, and he needed to know why.

On the surface this world wasn't much different to those he had visited before. Empty or abandoned, with nothing of true worth left for those that visited it. Yet there was something that stood out. Other than those before the world was neither a desert nor a lush jungle, but instead a barren wasteland. What little traces of civilization could be found weren't buried under tons of sand or overgrown by wild plants. Instead they still stood, empty and derelict but still telling the stories of this world.

The hollow metal husk entered into the half faded church, passing by the collapsed clocktower towards an altar at the end of the room. Dim green light fell through the broken glasses that framed his path, a odd mirror of his home on Malachor.

[member="Nate the Bounty Hunter"]

 

[Nate Phantoms]

As the wind whispered through the nooks and crannies of the old school building he resided in, flaming gaze looked down from the second story, a eroded desk holding his rifle, the overcast sky making his surroundings even harder to see, sand from the constant wind covering the charred remains of the floorboards.

Hands clasped behind his head, he moved to a bit more comfortable. With his back against the "wall", he stared out into the graveyard of a town, a rumbling sound being heard as he focused on one of the buildings beside the school, targeting the already weakened supports, willing the Force to push against them, the entire structure groaning as rusty beams after beam snapped, the first floor collapsing under all of the strain from above, the second, third and fourth floors following suit, the building leaning forward before colliding with the ground, dust and debris billowing throughout the streets.

That was how he spent his days recently, preying upon the crumbling buildings,and thinking to himself. Except, today was slightly different; something was off, A new card thrown into the stack he was used to dealing.

There was someone else nearby, a presence he did not know, nor did he want to know. Other than finding out whom was with him, he had no desire to communicate with them, even though he just gave his position away with the influx of raw power anything could have felt.

[member="Darth Abyss"]

 

[Darth Abyss]

First he felt the surge of darkness that suddenly echoed over the empty wasteland, then he heard the sound of one of the buildings in the half faded collapsing into dust. In merely a split second the sith lord turned around, heading out of the church without wasting a second thought on the abandoned campsite he had found there. Someone else was here, and that someone had just revealed to be powerful. Remaining inside another brittle, derelict building certainly wasn't the wisest course of action.

Metal feet stepped out into the dirt that hadn't been touched by anything that breathed in ages. The hollow creature he was obviously didn't counted. His ragged black robe drifted slightly in the wind as he extended his mind in search for whatever else was residing on the long dead world. Then the distorted echo that was his voice waved over the wasteland, a disembodied sound that clearly didn't came from the unmoving metal jaw below his mask.

"Show yourself, or I will simply erase what is left of this place."

His mind was ready for a fight, the strange sensation of danger calling for him trough the force. Yet his figure stood perfectly still, no weapon in either hand. Not because he didn't used one, but merely because he had every tool he needed for killing neatly hidden in one of various places on his hollow armor.

"Hurry up, I have more important things to attend to."

Mockery. As always words were the first weapon that he used, part of his mastery of the ancient sith art of Dun Möch. Mental warfare was his greatest strength, but it didn't simply stopped at the ways of the force.

[member="Nate the Bounty Hunter"]

 

[Nate Phantoms]

No longer sitting, he too was on the hunt, the presence pulling at his curious side. With his rifle now in his hand, he searched over and through the ruins around him, ready to pick off whom or what ever was following him.

Then he heard the voice, one like something out of his nightmares as a child. Shivering slightly, he muttered to himself, something about enough hellspawns in his life. Moving his cross-hairs to the right, he lay eyes upon whom had spoken, more so a what than who. No movement whatsoever from the jaw, a inhuman thing that gave him shivers.

"Might want to get that checked out, you're supposed to be able to talk with your mouth." Moving to prevent the... It from finding out his whereabouts, he kept moving, attempting to conceal his Force signature as he circled back around to appear behind the man. Treading lightly, he slung his rifle on his back, sitting and letting his legs dangle over the edge of the roof he was on.

"I would sure hope going to the infirmary was on that list, cuz you're a mess."

[member="Darth Abyss"]

 

[Darth Abyss]

"You can not hide from the all seeing eye."

There was a mocking laugh as his opponent made a misguided effort to hide his darkness from him, a sound hitting the same note as the voice of the Mindeater, twisted, empty and without even a glimpse of humanity in it. His words were more then hollow phrases, even if all "seeing" wasn't the exact term. It was rather a all hearing ear, but that just didn't had the right ring to it. Empowered by a spell learned from the witches of Dathomir he had mastered the art of translating sounds into images, from footsteps to things as silent as a person's heartbeat. Even the greatest assassin that currently lived, his master Darth Ophidia, had been unable to hide from him.

"As for my condition, rest assured that I am in better shape then your flesh prison could ever be."

There was again the laugh, only even slightly more sinister than before. Many assumed that his state of being was a terrible curse, and not the blessing of almost unlimited power that it actually was. He was one with the dark side, his spirit free from chains, undying, eternal, and transcendent. How by the force could that be considered a curse, even considering the hunger for knowledge and minds that raged on within?

"Now this farce has gone on long enough. Come down here instead of hiding like a little insect. I have felt your power, and I am sure you can do better than this."

[member="Nate the Bounty Hunter"]

 

[Nate Phantoms]

The flames in his eyes flashed brighter, scoffing at the figures remark. Jumping down from the tops of the building, dust billowed around his combat boots, a few small hairlines in the ground from his impact. "Easy there shorty, I know of some bugs that will come back and bite you right in your nonexistent ass." Pulling his cloak from around him, his notorious black fatigues with matching black t-shirt tucked in under his belt. Resting upon his thighs were his two sabers, his pistols holstered firmly on the small of his back. "And I'm one of those said bugs."

Tossing his cloak away, he began to walk to the right, circling around the figure slowly, the grin leaving his face as he stalked around the hooded figure. "You made a mistake following me, and I will show you exactly how powerful this 'flesh prison' is."

No longer in the joking mood, his hand moved to his waist, thumb hooked in his belt as he stared into the empty pits of the mask that was few meters from him. With a thought, more rumbling could be heard from behind the man, creaking and groaning being heard over the deathly silent town.

"Boo."

From behind the Sith Lord, the remains of the church building lurched forward, the spire ripped from the roof and hurtling at the robed figure, along with the rest of the building. Of course, he had no doubt the opposing figure could stop it, but he did have a slight advantage with surprise.

[member="Darth Abyss"]

 

[Darth Abyss]

The eldritch husk simply shrugged as an answer, a motion that looked oddly peculiar when considering the strange being that stood in front of [member="Nate the Bounty Hunter"]. His fixed grin couldn't show any emotion, but the mockery that was eternally engraved into his sharp, toxic teeth was hard to miss. Slowly he raised his left into the air as the building behind him began to fall apart. He was slightly surprised, but he had seen, or rather heard, the plan of his adversary the second the first cracks appeared in the brittle stones. The book that was chained to his belt suddenly jumped into the air, hovering right besides his hand. Echoes layered upon echoes as the ethereal voice of the Prophet began to weave spells empowered by the ancient language. At the same time black smoke began to emerge through the hollow eyes framed by his mask.

"Tnamli ra ir Svistuis ra." ("Unbend and Unbroken")

As stones and debris rained down of the empty entity, a bubble of protective force formed around him, the figure slowly walking backwards until he was fully swallowed by the dust. The only thing that remained was the black smoke, still slowly rising from the shroud that obscured the sith lord.

Suddenly a pale, long claw emerged from the smoke, or rather the smoke seemed to be called into order, forming the strange creature that was born of from the arcane darkness. Zarchas Kizta, Abyss familiar was a being born of shadows, obscured by smoke and mirrors like its creator. As the sharp teeth held by the demonic skull returned from their home of smoke, the being released a mind shattering telepathic scream aimed at Abyss opponent.

 

[Nate Phantoms]

Surprise was apparently not on his side, nor the sun as the shadows grew. His brow furrowed at the book, the spell, and of course, the black smoke that was coiling onto the ground. He knew that the figure before him was a user of arcane arts, but he was not prepared for what came from it.

"Hm." Noting the meter and a half piece of metal impaled into the ground beside him, along with half of the building that now resided on the dusty covered earth, and idea sprung into play.

Calling forth on the anger and pain that resided deep within him, he outstretched a palm, not at the creatures, more so in front of them. Knowing very well that this could either hinder him, or completely level the playing field. Moving with a long stride, he shot forward towards the pole, spraying flames pretty much everywhere in front of him, which would happen to be the two creatures of darkness.

Tearing the piece of metal from the ground he used the distraction to leap onto the fallen wall beside him, running along the edge steadily spewing fire to obscure his newfound opponents line of sight as the rod heated up in his hand. In the cover of flames, he watched as part of the church went up in flames, soon spreading to engulf the entire collapsed structure, now a "ring" of fire around them from all the buildings catching flames.

Gripping his makeshift spear tightly, he leaped from the few story high ruin, aiming directly at the thing that had been summoned, his red hot spear of nearly molten metal whistling through the air.

[member="Darth Abyss"]

 

[Darth Abyss]

"Kraujas bnigeai, likasi pezeje, tave jena'tes buti slona." ("Blood frozen, limps stiff, the darkness is cold.")

From the dust and rubble a figure emerged as fire began to lay waste to the already derelict ruins around the two opponents and the strange summoned creature. The Mindeater was unharmed, a few scratches and cracks running over his hollow shell but nothing that would hinder him. On his left was still his spellbook, hovering in the air utterly unfazed by the chaos around it. Like before the words of the eldritch entity were carried by a otherworldly echo, as he began to repeat the incantation in a rhythmic fashion, the spell slowly becoming a blurred, distorted noise that lingered over the battlefield.

His opponent was still making his run over the higher ground, while ice began to form around Abyss feet, slowly creeping from there to speared over the whole structure. It would take time to freeze the complete place, and it would also require him to be able to repeat the ancient words over and over again to make it more than some brittle frost.

That was why he had summoned his familiar, a diversion to keep his opponent occupied while he had time to cast whatever dark spells he desired to bring death. Against most beings the spear would've been a tool for certain death, but Abyss familiar was a twisted version of a starweird, beings almost fully inoperable in nature. The heat of the spear brought it some pain, but the weapon itself simply passed through it without even a cut. Again it released a scream, this time with the combined force of its pain and its master's obsession.

[member="Nate the Bounty Hunter"]

 

[Nate Phantoms]

Passing though the creature without any resistance, he rolled onto his feet with a sigh. Moving to strike again, he felt something cold seep through the soles of his feet.

Again, with the freaking spells, I nee-
Sadly, his great thoughts were interrupted as a taloned claw of shadow slammed into his side, tearing through his shirt and sending him into the side as his mind melted from the powerful scream that obliterated his thoughts. Colliding with a burning beam of wood, ash and sparks showered him, the smell of burning flesh apparent.

Rising from the nearly three meter high flames, he brushed him self off, the burn marks fading away to pink scars as he pulled the piece of wood lodged in his shoulder out, the scorched flesh returning to it's original color within the minute, the flames in his eyes intensifying like those around them.

Tearing his burnt shirt away from his chest he locked eyes on the book that hovered over the now frozen ground. Bingo. Lunging forward, he went back to the demon, his thoughts slowly returning to coherent. That would be good for him, but slightly unfortunate for his adversary.

Now more sure of what the creature was, he had many ideas on how to destroy it. Not all would work, but most could. By no means was he a Lightsider, but he was close to it once. Using a skill he had practically mastered, he summoned a ball of light in his palm, except, it was volatile and destructive in nature, like him. Ducking another claw, he swung back at the creature, his closed fist of light swinging at the spawns chest.

He too had a reason for everything, and the bright flash and explosion that he had hoped would come from his strike would be more than enough should he succeed in shoving his arm through a creature of night without getting mauled.

[member="Darth Abyss"]

 

[Darth Abyss]

The brittle ice at the edges of the spells current reach faded as quickly as it had come. Abyss saw through the eyes of his familiar what [member="Nate the Bounty Hunter"] had planned, and he knew that his creature would not only be crippled but destroyed, not to talk about the effects on him due to the connection between the two dark beings.

The book descended back to his belt as the spell was lifted from the ruin, fire again raging on to devour the place, while Abyss gathered all his focus to call his familiar back into his hollow prison. Like it had appeared, it faded by becoming thick, black smoke just seconds before his opponent managed to land a strike that would've probably ended the fight early. Force light was the greatest weakness that both he and his familiar shared. There was a slight stumble as the husk pushed forward, the presence of the light so close to the fading summoned being still strong enough to slightly disrupt the network of darkness that allowed him to move and act.

"Enough."

The word blasted through the derelict church like a storm, a loud echo that reached into this world from a realm far beyond. For now they both had mainly flexed their literal and metaphorical muscles, showing of their skills and obscure abilities to appear superior. Now the threat level of his enemy, thanks to the force light, was a lot higher so Abyss wouldn't play anymore games. Killing his opponent had suddenly become the most important task on his list.

From his belt the hilt of his crimson saber jumped into his right, the blade coming to life the second it touched his metal hand. In his left suddenly rested a small metal chain pulled out of his sleeve, with a pocket watch tied to it. While he slowly came closer the watch began to oscillate, a strange, yet gentle and seducing presence surrounding the object.

"Tu'iea akute gal buti gtukvi, chaosas buti visa anas valia buti imyeji." ("Your eyes can be deceived, chaos is all that will be perceived")

There was something special about the spells cast by the Everlasting Clockwork. They needed more time and required the target to actually look at the watch, but in return they slowly sneaked into the minds of his enemies. At first the spell only created a slight mental dissonance, blurring sounds and images, but with time it would transform the world of his opponent in a twisted vision of fear and death.

 

[Nate Phantoms]

So close, but not close enough. Stumbling as all of his weight had been in that fatal blow, he managed to move his arm quick enough so the Light he called upon didn't explode against his chest as he slid back onto his feet, arms raised as if he wanted to fist-fight the now armed creature that stood opposite of him.

Always killing the fun. Muttering under his breath, he caught a few words in the incantation that had been uttered, something more or less about eyes and chaos. Maybe. He hoped that was at least close to what had just been cast. Narrowing his eyes he cast a glance at the pocket watch that swung from his opponents wrist.

Instantly, multiple warning flags went off in the back of his head, using all of his will power to pry his eyes from the clock and keep his eyes off it. Growing angry with the spells and what not that had already pulled some of his fears from their deep dark confines, pain and hate boiled inside of him, the summoned Force Light crackling like electricity as its power was steadily ampped by his emotions. We'll see who's laughing after I cut off your damn wrist.

Refusing to look at the clock, or at least trying his best not to let the few seconds glance reduce him to defenseless, he lunged forward, moving with speed that came from years of practice and his strength in the Force. With a mere thought, the saber latched firmly on his thigh spun out violently as he took a bounding leap onto a elevated platform that was before him, tossing the sphere of light a few feet before him, he spun off the platform, a round house kick sending the ball of light screaming towards his foe.

Now, that was in now way his only move, just more of a back up plan. As soon as his feet connected back on the ground he sprinted at his opponent, hauling with long strides to make up for lost ground. Reaching up his saber ignited in his palm, his second weapon now in his left casting its orange blade mid stride.

With the light casting it's bright rays in every direction, even the caster had problems seeing, but it would nothing compared to his foe who had the ball screeching as it neared his head. With potential blindness, there was no way to see the two sabers singing their deadly song as they came down in an arc of purple and orange death at the metal wrist holding the pocket watch.

[member="Darth Abyss"]

 

[Darth Abyss]

When the ball of focused light came flying towards him Abyss reacted quickly. He had no option to evade the attack, so he once more called upon the book attached to his belt. The pages turned at rapid speed, searching for the same protective spell that earlier had shielded him from the falling rubble. Other than many gifted with the force Abyss had little talent for influencing the physical world without the use of incantations, blood and runes. Instead he had mastered these abilities like a true scholar, creating complex arcane arts to mirror these skills in a way where the endless reach of his knowledge and wisdom placed him at the advantage.

"Tnamli ra ir Svistuis ra." ("Unbend and Unbroken")

The husk was caught in a bubble of protective force, the rays of light blasting against the shield. Yet the attack didn't ended without an effect, his form of being simply to tainted by darkness to ignore the blinding light. The shield broke apart as quickly as it had been summoned, the Mindeater stumbling backwards as the power he had called collapsed around him.

His vision also suffered from the light. While he had no eyes that it could blind physically, it still disrupted his ethereal sight, leaving him only with the sounds of his surroundings that were dampened by the chaotic cacophony of the eroding church around them.

Only in the last second he caught the two sabers closing in on him, raising his crimson blade to guard his watch and left arm. In the process he pulled his left back, disrupting the swinging of the clock that was vital for the spell he had casted. The mental tendrils that had begun to creep into [member="Nate Phantoms"] mind suddenly faded, leaving the two opponents locked in a battle those blades that had meet only moments before.

 

[Nate Phantoms]

Saying he wasn't upset that his foe had created a shield again would be a flat out lie, he admired the metal figure's reaction time, along with being a worthy adversary, but nothing else. There was a bit of respect thrown on top too, but he knew that's not what Abyss wanted. If he was looking for a handout, he'd need to head to a more populated planet.

The explosion that resulted from the light and shield colliding was more than enough to blind him, but he had already created a mental image to go off of, keeping his aim straight until he met resistance, the sounds of their weapons clashing in the epic battle of Dark versus Darker.

Luckily, his vision returned to normal, the light from the three blades casting his face in unnatural colors, the flames in his eyes intensifying. Now this I can handle. None of that fancy smancy magic stuff. By no means was the man an expert in lightsaber combat, but he was more than proficient enough to stand his ground and give anyone a run for their money. Yet, this time, he realized that he was facing a soul bonded inside of a metal body, and strength become a slight concern.

Standing at his full height, he pushed against the crimson blade that was before him, he declined the notion that appeared in his mind; there was no way he was giving any ground.

[member="Darth Abyss"]

 

[Darth Abyss]

Like his opponent Abyss had never truly mastered the ways of the saber, not even under the tutelage of Darth Ophidia, one of the most fierce duellists the sith had to offer. That didn't meant he wasn't capable of standing his ground with the trademark weapon of both jedi and sith, that he wasn't more skilled and experienced than many, only that it was a field were he had clear weaknesses that could be exploited. One such weakness was his lack of versatility, as he only ever trained the sequences and movements of form two. It was the most well suited for dueling, but an opponent with two sabers still could balance out the advantages due to the rapid series of strikes both weapons could unleash.

His physical strength was only limited by the durability of metal, which was both blessing and curse. In theory he could call upon a ridiculous, almost unlimited amount of strength, but the risk of bending his armor and therefore himself still placed certain boundaries upon him.

Instead of calling upon that strength the Mindeater rather focused on the techniques of form two, namely precise, quick footwork and the ability to shape the flow of combat. Additionally he was well versed in various more obscure, unorthodox styles of combat which he intertwined with his mediocre bladework.

While the small trinket in his left returned back his sleeve, the crimson blade suddenly turned of, breaking the link between the two opponents. Instead his left pushed upwards, the already claw like fingers now twisted talons forged out of cortosis, reaching for the blade in [member="Nate Phantoms"] right hand. At the same time he took a sidestep back, using the momentum of the blade that seconds ago had pressed against his own to stand in an borderline perfect ninety degree angle from his opponent. Then the crimson saber reignited, releasing a quick, swift stab aimed at the feet of his adversary.

 

[Nate Phantoms]

Damn.

One word summed up his entire thought process as soon as he realized what had happened, which was still a millisecond too slow. This may very well turn out to be one of those situations where the man looked like a oaf fighting a more intelligent foe if he didn't at least rethink his approach.

Peripheral vision was good for a lot of things, something his eyeless friend lacked, or somewhat lacked thereof. It would be impossible this close to try and bring his arm back, as all of his momentum was already unbalanced as that crimson saber deactivated, so he let those nasty looking talons wrap around his wrist, his saber still humming its low song. "Aw, look, we're holding hands. How sweet."

He was naturally quick on his feet, and that did save him from losing a foot, to which he made the best of, planting his boots deep into the ground. While his wrist was being slightly crushed, he had already been galvanized into action, releasing his grip momentarily and letting the saber spin freely in his palm, reversing his grip the purple blade now swinging downward like a pendulum at the metal wrist that was seemingly in control of his own.

Bringing his left hand up, the orange blade cast a fiery shadow across his face as he returned a forehand strike at his foes feet. Time to see if tin man can dance.

[member="Darth Abyss"]