Blood on the Sands: Free for all Tournament (Audroti's Pupil Hunt)

[Apollyon]

Korriban, birthplace of the Sith and home to the Temple where Titians were forged by the hands of Gods. The tempered heat of Korriban provided the perfect atmosphere for the bloodthirsty to train their Acolytes in a practical manner that would keep them constantly on guard. However, Acolytes on Korriban had more to fear then the constant leering threat of dehydration, here on Korriban, murder was common place among Acolytes and was often encouraged to weed out the weaker aspiring Sith. But today, a Sith Crusader known as Audroti has selected four Acolytes who he has deemed worthy enough to receive his teachings to clash in the elements. These four Acolytes will be taken deep into the Korriban Desert via transport where they will be locked in mortal combat and only two will return to the temple with the honor of learning from Audroti; the other two will either die or face the Korriban wastes utterly alone.

As the transport touched the ground deep in the Korriban wastelands Audroti turned to the aspiring Acolytes, each filled with Passion and Pride. His red eyes scanned over all four of them, all held great potential as tools for the Crusader, but only two of them would prove themselves worthy to carry his crest, his approval, and his lessons. Audroti would address the Acolytes before they were forced into hell, and forced to slay, maim, or disarm one another in combat.

“Acolytes, today you will prove yourself as superior to your peers. At the Academy all four of you stand as peers, but here in the wastes you are just obstacles to one another. Each of you agreed to fight here in an attempt to gain power over the other Acolytes, your Passions guided you to this point, and either those Passions will grant you the Strength to overcome the roaring winds, the harshness of the heat, and the tearing of the sands…or you will fail and die as nameless corpses upon Korriban’s unforgiving sands.

If you surrender you will be cut down.
If you retreat you will die.
If you show weakness you will perish.

The only way for you to survive this is by utilizing your training, trusting your Passions, and destroying two of your opponents; that is the only way you will survive, that is the only way you will return to the Academy in this transport. So Acolytes, rise up and grasp your fate from the stars as both Lord Vereor and I once had to do or perish.” Audroti spoke as he faced the Acolytes from his seat in the cockpit.

With a press of a button the side doors to the transport slid open with a hiss and instantly the Acolytes would be buffeted by the howling winds of the Korriban desert and forced from the transport, into the eternal desert of Korriban. Once the Acolytes had been forced from the transport Audroti would turn to face the Sith he viewed as his mentor, Lord Vereor.

“Shall we join them my Lord? I wouldn’t subjugate my own prospective pupils to something I was not entirely sure I could withstand myself. Plus what are the howling winds of Korriban to true Sith? My ancestors broke this planet; it will still bow to my will.” Audroti suggested as he pressed the button to seal the transport once again.

Audroti would pause to hear Vereor’s response, but whether the Sith Lord chose to stay within the safe and cool climate of the transport or not Audroti would exit. He wished to witness his prospects clash first hand; he wished to see which would be true Sith with his own eyes. Audroti pulled the hood of his cloak over his head to protect himself from the raging winds and buffeting sands and then stepped out of the transport and onto the Red sands which was his by birthright.

(OOC: Allow Rom to post after mine, I will be setting up an “Observatory Thread” for him and I to interact in while we monitor this thread and the OOC thread for reports or any signs of Meta gaming/God modding. Once his post is up feel free to immediately begin cutting one another down, MAY THE BEST SITH PREVAIL!)

 

[Rom]

Vereor silently observed the proceedings from his place in the Transport, his sanguine eyes narrowing as he measured the acolytes that would be fighting for the approval of the Sith Crusader that stood before them. They were an.. interesting group. Scored well in evaluations, and they were still living; the only true judge of success on the Sith world. The howling winds of the desert buffeted the room, sand swirling and agitating everything it touched. The Desert of Korriban had become a home to the reptilian Sith Lord since his return from the Jungle World he had been stranded on; he feared nothing in it, and was unbothered by the harsh environment so like his home planet.

The Warmaster glanced around, his form hidden by the voluminous cloth of his tattered and travel-stained cloak, the deep hood keeping his face cloaked in shadow. Normally he would prefer to be in his cave or have ridden to the site on Salaazar, but the Crusader Audroti had requested his presence, and the Barabel had decided to honor that request. The red-skinned being had helped to return him to Sith Space; viewing a gladiatorial battle between acolytes at his invitation was the least he could do.

"This one doez not care about the weather; Korriban iz a grave world, and like the dead it'z harsh nature has no effect on one such az this one. Let uz watch the blood-letting with our own eyez."

 

[Sterling Malory Archer]

As the wind howled and the elements raged against the transport, Caden could not help but to smile softly to himself. Korriban was the Definition of hostile work environment, and such trials against your peers were common place. However, the fact that the being who had brought them together was actively encouraging them to slaughter each other... That was something which he found most interesting. Stepping out onto the sand and taking a deep breath through his facemask, the being drinks in his surroundings. Every advantage would be his, every weakness accounted for. His calculations would be flawless and he fully planned on walking out of this with a smile on his face and blood on his hands.

Caden takes five paces out into the sand and turns on his toes, tilting his head to the side and unclipping his lightsaber from his belt. He thought it almost a pity that he had to face down so much garbage out on the dunes. His only real danger was one getting cocky and singling him out. Otherwise, he would control this battle in its fullest. "May the Sith win. And the rest of you garbage burn..." His words are masked by his voice modulator, giving them a high electronic growl almost as if he were speaking into a cup. Igniting the red blade and giving a salute, the white haired being takes his stance and lightly plants his toes on the sand. This would be most interesting...

 

[Core]

The wind-blasted scorched earth of the Korriban deserts was not the place that Yakiya had envisioned his dying moments in. Still, there was something brutally familiar about this cracked and forsaken landscape, something carnal and pure. The hot wind buffeted his face and he squinted his eyes to chance a glance towards the unforgiving sun, knowing in that moment that being left stranded in these wastes was as good as a death sentence, or perhaps an even more fitting trial than any combat between two acolytes. To best such a beast as this planet would truly be a feat indeed.

Knowing full well the circumstances of the situation and, unaware of the intentions of his peers, unwilling to give them any advantage, Yakiya stepped into the desert with his hand clasped to the hilt of his heirloom blade. He faced each of the other five as they stepped off the craft, albeit with more care given to presenting the three known foes with a defensible front and a distance of no less than eight paces - he would not be taken by surprise. He unsheathed the blade by an inch, ready to perform a sudden strike at whoever presented himself first. The revealed blade glowed with faint power, a nexus through with he channeled the Force. He was a warrior, honed to listen and dance with his weapon, it was only natural that the Force spoke loudest to him through it.

Yakiya Seiji looked at each of the three foes that faced him, watching and analyzing them. It was clear that each of them were worlds apart - the platinum haired human was haughty, cavalier, and unnecessarily considered himself superior. He did not fight for a purpose, he merely fought because he did not deem others worthy of any other interaction. Yakiya judged this man to be of questionable integrity. The next, pale-skinned and bearing raven black hair, was a man who seemed to share a commonality with himself. A capable warrior with a dark and shameful past, and a life bent on avenging it. This one, Yakiya surmised, was an honorable man. The final foe, a skeletal creature with spines protruding from it's jaw, seemed to have little more than a thirst for flesh. Yakiya did not need to know more than this to realize that this creature could not be trusted, and that it could not be allowed to survive. The only trait Yakiya could assign to this creature was that of selfish honesty - it could be relied upon to act in it's own interest.

When the white-haired human spoke, Yakiya's frown deepened. The true master here was not the "Sith", but death, a peerless master few could best and none could outlast. Respect was to be given to those who met this timeless facet of life. Yakiya spoke no words of response to the human, words that were easily given were not worth being spoken.

 

[Butler]

These are the nameless, the faceless, the dead. In their hearts, there is no pulse. Shown to the light, they vanish from its embrace. Unique characteristics are not but words blown into stone, achievements lacking in mark and merit for them. They are the dogs, these wicked creatures whom claw and bite at each others' throats for but an inch of freedom; of aerated space. Nothing is what they deserve, and nothing is what they are given. Within their cages hides themselves, cutting away at their own flesh so that what was taken could be received as prize. Meaning is what they desire, hope their bane. For in their darkness they see too much, starved for all life in everlasting. Take away the sky, and they imagine a world full of stars so close they can touch them. Without reach, their bounds are limitless. They are the grown, the barren wastelands that have twisted from green and turned on itself; pecking out what might bloom to maintain its malnourished norm. Their blood isn't their own. It is in those they seek, lifting through his wrist here and his neck there. They're attuned to its taste, its smell; flicking on their erogenous fixations bathed in red. They are the damned, the unfortunate and the tragic. All of them are worthy of the breath they rape.

None will escape this day unharmed.

Stifled were his breaths, their musk wafting in through his nostrils in such closed quarters. His patience knows no end. Their shoulders touched beneath their coverings, their eyes averted or fixed depending. It mattered little how they portrayed themselves in this prologue. Any attempts at early advantage were needless. This day was no different than any other.

In his mind, he saw them all. And in theirs, he was black hair, black cloak, black boots. Underneath, he was more.

The transport stopped, settling with a distracting beam of yellow that pierced in through the crack of the hinge. Or perhaps it was centering. Their host turned and addressed them. His words wisped through the drifting speckles, drafting their deaths with a quilled tongue. Speak and see it done, thoughts given sound prophesized this Acolyte's future deeds. This Acolyte's pale green eyes were awash without blood to feed their passion. He yearned for 'test' and the Mountain's judgment. He yearned to cut out that piece of himself that it might mean something to him then. The doors broke away, letting the daylight in and letting the Acolytes out. Two of his peers were already exiting while this Acolyte acknowledged the only two recognized Sith with a subtle tipping of his crown; dipping slightly lower to Vereor, yet giving them both the respect of eye contact and mistrust. This Acolyte expected the shadow of the Dragon to fall on him everyday, its presence felt here now. But he would crack open its ribs and birth himself a new day by the forging of his own hands and fate to lace these fingertips. He would fight to his last breath, and seek out death as his next victim. For this one, this Acolyte, was to be known as Noster Eden.

Noster stepped out into the sand, his crunching steps leading him towards the other Acolytes. His arms retreated from his sleeves, still beneath his concealing cloak, as he made the clear choice to form a circle of utterly equal standing in special relation to the others. In this, every Acolyte faced an equal opportunity of danger. An empty slot waited for the final Acolyte to fill, all three watching for even a twitch of movement. Noster faced his back to the current, the sandy wind whipping to and fro on his hair over his right cheek. Unbeknownst to the others, he had already taken two steps into the battle while they waited. And finally, he dared not rebut the words of the other Acolyte until he had earned the right to speak; a right he would not squander until standing over his corpse.

Noster stood in silence, three pairs of eyes on all. They stood a double arm's length away from each other. The Dark side raged here, in all of them. The void now under, awaited their souls.

 

[The Derp of Hooves]

(Woot just got back from my gramps funeral so now we can get this thing started XD)

Dep looked at everyone with disdain evident on his horned face, especially the human acolytes that were on board the ship. While he had only been a member of the Sith order for a short while, but he still despised all living things. However, even he could tell the power inherent in the only two non humans on board. The red skinned one, who had called them all together was strong, however it was the other that caught his attention. How he would've loved to fight the hulking lizard in a duel, to taste its blood upon his lips, but that would have to wait for another time. For now his only concern was the feast before him, the pathetic humans would fall easily to his brute strength. They soon arrived at the wasteland that would be their battlefield.

As they got out, the red one started to speak, Dep only half listened however and kept silent. He knew the score, a battle royal to the death was something he was used to and enjoyed quite thoroughly. Being a former gladiator from Sleheyron, he had risen from the depths of darkness and gloried in the thrill of battle and drew solace in the death and pain of all the other lesser beings. At the conclusion of the speech, he let out his battle cry.

"Ko Nakaza!" he roared, 'Glory in the kill!' in his language, before he leaped out at what he felt was the weakest link in the group. He was frail looking human with a face mask on and three long scars across his eye and he seemed to really annoy him. Eight feet and three hundred pounds of pure rage with the full intent of destroying his victim came at the human. He lashed out with his right fist, being wary of the lightsaber lit in its hands. As he lashed out, he simultaneously extended the dew claws on his on that arm to their full extent, aiming to brain the piece of trash.

 

[Sterling Malory Archer]

As the combatents took their places, Caden watched with vague interest. His lightsaber sagged in his hand as he gave each of them a formal assessment. The older human was no doubt a warrior by trade, capable of utterly destroying someone in single fair combat, at least someone of his level, by skill alone. The physically and metaphysically black being exuded the kind of lethal confidence which only the seasoned sith seemed to be capable of displaying without waving their genitals around. He was the most dangerous, and was fully capable of destroying all three of them. And lastly came the beast. While Caden usually hated all non arkanians equally, this abomination was no sith. Its crude biology suggested species, as if its violent air didnt give it away. This would be a most interesting fight. Now, to see if someone made the first move.

The sith did not have to wait long as the lumbering beast sprung into action. As Dep bolted headlong at the acolyte, all he did was focus. His breath stilled and he called back to his training in both Makashi as well as tactics. The moment the being's shoulder muscles tensed to deliver the killing blow, Caden made his move. The power he had been building in his body was channeled into his right leg and his senses. The Lightsaber blade flicked straight up through the air with inhuman quickness towards the outstretched limb even as Caden stepped forwards and to the left. In one smoothe movement, he saught to take advantage of blatant weakness and delimb the monster. However, The blade would not stop there. On the follow through, Cadens blade whipped across the being's chest, intending to bifurcate the abomination who was foolish enough to bumrush a makashi user. Reguardless of the outcome, Caden stepped past the being, Pivoting to glare both at it and the group.

"The fun Begins."

 

[Core]

The lumbering creature, spikes seeming to gush out of its skin, acted exactly as Yakiya had suspected it would. The animal did not seem to exhibit any sense of consciousness, it merely shambled forward aggressively like an animalistic predator. The elder Acolyte knew that more skill and focus would be required to triumph here today, the question was just whether or not the arrogant platinum blonde boy was capable of withstanding the beasts violence. He could not determine the outcome of that battle, believing the beast would focus solely on its target. He turned his attention to the warrior cast in shadows, knowingly looking into man's eyes. This man, he sensed, was far more skilled in the Force than he; Yakiya drew his sword, the blade glowed with a yellow incandescence as he channeled the Force through it. It was an aged blade, crafted centuries past by his ancestors in a technique he himself couldn't replicate, two different steels had been meshed together with crystal, a crystal that connected him, he thought, with everything around him. It was a nexus of his life, of his past, of his shame, and it would be drenched in blood.

"My name is Yakiya Seiji," he announced himself in his own way, assuming a neutral stance, the blade angled away from his waist before him, "will you honor me with your sword?" He permitted his foe time to defend himself, taking his time to center himself. Keeping his eyes open and aware of his surroundings, he drew himself upon the moment which generated so much rage within him. The screams, shrill and distant, resounded in the back of his mind and boiled his blood more than any hot wind summoned by the damned deserts of Korriban could. He clenched his jaw and advanced towards his foe.

 

[Butler]

First was the white-haired hybrid. To his left was the black-haired human. To his left, and also across from the aforementioned hybrid, was Noster. And to Noster's left was where the Yevetha would come in. By design, they had formed an equally spaced circle of four. There was no discrimination towards any particular Acolyte. Noster had been presented with three opponents, all of which had unwittingly positioned themselves so in relation to each other. The challenge in his mind was not to survive, nor was it to face one other Acolyte in a one on one duel. If Noster was meant to face 'one' opponent, then Audroti would not have seen fit to give him three obstacles. Noster would not determine who lived or died. He was not burdened by such decisions. The decision was left to them.

In the prolonged silence, the tension built. Then it snapped.

In an instant, only three participants sprang into action. In that instant, Dep leapt out at Caden and Caden responded. In that instant, Noster's arms spread; left hand shooting forth and right shooting back, the right arcing over and hurling forward. In that instant, two would die.

His cloak had flung out from over his shoulder and into the wind at his back by both the physical and Telekinetic cast of his left claw, sent out over and onto Dep's head and arms as an eight-legged sea creature of the night snatching its prey just as quickly as Dep could swing his punch and Caden could dismember it. Unseen by the others, an Acolyte's version of a Spear of Midnight Black had already been formed by the will of his right hand hovering just behind his back and was hurled straight through the center of Dep's spine between his shoulder blades and out his sternum straight into Caden's sternum and out his spine just while they were engaged with each other for the first time. The angle had been set up perfectly by Dep, Dep presenting his back to Noster and concealing Caden's view of Noster. And Yakiya had chosen not to act and instead to speak, thus removing himself from the equation.

From the start, it was over. Noster had learned from his mistakes. Audroti had taught him to use every advantage he had. It would be dishonoring to the others not to use his every dominating power to kill them. And all the others he had fought up till now had taught him the value of the words, 'through power, I gain victory'. He who attains the greater knowledge, also attains victory over his peers. For he was not here to demonstrate his skill with the sword. He could do this any day. Today was a demonstration of his ability to succeed quickly. He simply wielded more experience and training than the others. Acolyte was a term soon inapplicable to him.

And while this first act seemed flawless, a quick one-two punch resulting in a double knock out, the cautious Noster was not one to leave any loose ends. He had acted just at the precise moment, when others had committed to their action just as he had. He had made sure to tug the very center of the very large cloak with the Force that that would land onto Dep's crown as best as statistically possible to entangle and distract and entrap the most area as statistically as possible. And he had made sure to have already crafted the Spear of Midnight Black while Caden and Yakiya chose not to attack instantly and Dep had. The others might have been able to feel Noster's power focusing, as all of them had done, but they would not have been able to see something which was invisible to both spectrums of a Force Sensitive. Noster was not given the respect of the threat level he imposed on them and minded his surroundings when they did not. But this was all said and done.

Noster, having leaned into his left leg and crossed his right arm over his body, was revealed without his cloak as wearing his black pauldrons and gold claw. He'd immediately snatch up his double-bladed lightsaber with his left claw, thereby igniting the upper blade, and flourish the blade into his right hand, thereby igniting the lower blade. Both crimson beams of plasma would spit humming glory into intimidating conclusion. For if Yakiya felt so inclined to attack Noster, he would find himself just as dead as the others.

"That is up to you..." he answered to Yakiya with his affected and ill-practiced Basic.

 

[Rom]

The Spear of Midnight Black screamed through the air, an invisible spike of dark side energy that thrummed with power as it carried forward towards the exposed backs of the two fighting Acolytes. Without interference, it would blitz through their bodies like a lightsaber through flimsiplast. Their deaths were practically assured... but for those with attuned senses, a sudden explosion of power grew from the ridge above them, writhing and raging in its potency; an inferno of dark power sucking in and burning through everything it touched. The great power clamped down on the much weaker energy within the spear and with a small movement altered the angle of attack, sending the spear spinning up over the dueling pairs shoulders; the midnight black spear slicing through cloth and armor as if it werent there and gouging flesh as it whizzed by into the raging sandstorms of Korriban to fade away into nothing.

A low noise started from above them, drawing eyes to the cloaked Darth standing above them; he was clapping, a lightsaber floating lazily alongside his applauding hands. "Noster Eden... you, az alwayz, fail to disappoint. Pay attention to this onez wordz, Acolytez. Had this one not intervened, you would be dead. This is a tournament; but you are all strong. Pay attention, mind your surroundingz. Never forget that you are all rivalz in this dance... and learn from this mercy. This one will not interfere to save your worthless hidez again."

Activating the lightsaber with a muted snap-hiss after taking it into a armored hand, the Darth raised his in a salute towards Noster Eden; a sign of respect never before given to an acolyte. Nodding once more, the blade retracted into the fang hilt and Vereor stepped backwards towards Audroti, silently gesturing for the acolytez to continue.

 

[The Derp of Hooves]

Dep had anticipated an attack such as this. He would've died on Sleheyron long ago if he had not been able to see something as simple as the blade aiming for his hand then circling around to swipe at his stomach. It was a simple matter then to use the force to aid in his movements, first to change the direction of his initial strike to avoid having his hand sliced off, then his stride to leap back to avoid the blade. However, he was so solely focused on killing the thing in front of him that he didn't notice the cloak until it was over his head and trying to choke him to death. A powerful presence had stepped in to intervene however. With the Darth's interference, the spear grazed Deps shoulder and went on spiraling off.

The cloak blew off as he heard Veror's voice ring out, Dep was most impressed by the show of force there. He didn't even mind that Noster had almost killed him and Caden, he would've gladly died if that meant ending its annoying life. However, that show of force was enough to get him excited for the next bout. This was one of the few beings that the Yevethan could accept. As the Darth gave a rare salute to Noster, Dep gave an even more rare bow to the lizard and said, lowering himself to speak basic, "As you wish Etaias," honoring him with the use of the honorific for elders in his own language.

He turned to the one called Noster and looked at him more curious now then with contempt. The creature had just tried to kill him, but that wasn't what caused his curiosity. He also held a slightly higher respect for him than the other two, this was another who showed the beginnings of respect. Unless it decided to attack him again, he would leave it for last. He turned back towards the one with the scars on his face and unsheathed his other pair of dewclaws. He attacked him again, using his rage as a tool. His anger filled every part of his being, though his black eyes remained as cold and emotionless as ever. His attacks now being powered by his rage, were even fiercer and quicker than before.

He led with the same attack once again. However this time it was a feint. He was putting all of his attention on his leading arm to brain Caden once more, as he normally would do, but this time he went with a underhand strike with his left hand attempting to impale its stomach. This tactic had served him well before, all of the focus was upon the vicious punch to the head, thus if it was blocked it would leave the lower body wide open for attack. Even if it managed to block both strikes, Deps strength, being augmented by Force Rage, was greater than that of an angry Wookiee. His strength was far beyond that of any human acolyte even if he was using the force to augment his own powers as Dep himself was doing.

 

[Sterling Malory Archer]

As the creature avoided his strikes and expended even more energy, Caden simply stepped back. However, the searing pain of the spear slicing past his shoulder brought everything into abrupt focus. The pain sharpened his mind and made him lethally angry. Flourishing the blade and passing the tip over the injury, he cauterized his wound instantly to prevent blood loss and keep him sharp. His jaw muscles flexed as he eyes the lizard lord on the dunes who had intervened. On the one hand, he was happy to be alive. However, on the other he was furious that his target had escaped death so easily. He would have to simply try harder. Think like a sith, not like a mindless brute.

While the beast wasted time showing respect, Caden sized him up once more before passing his gaze on to the others. The beast had height, weight, strength, and anger on his side. However, he was concerned only with getting the kill against the being he saw as being the weakest. That in and of itself was a mortal flaw. The older swordsman was an honor bound fighter of some skill. Not really a true sith, but he would make a useful tool if his honor could be manipulated. The dark one was, as he had originally decided, the only true sith. He had sought to eliminate two opponents with one strike and claim a place at the sith’s side. Brilliant and cold.

Taking a breath and conserving his energy once more, Caden pointed the tip of his blade at Dep just as he charged in with dewclaws extended. The pre extension of the second claw hinted at a two pronged attack, and Caden simply coiled the muscles in his right leg. His grip on his curved hilt shifted slightly to change the angle of attack and make it more unpredictable. The attack would come from the right fist as before, the shoulder of his opponent springing forwards already with the dark side cloaking it. The beast was burning through energy quickly. Leaping to the left and around the charging being as it swung, Caden’s eyes darted down for the follow through attack. As he thought, the left Claw curved across towards his gut. Foolish.

Flicking his wrist downwards and continuing his momentum around the being, Caden slices straight down at the being’s wrists. Because of the awkward positioning and the unconventional angle, he hoped to trap one of the being’s wrists under the other and cleave it off. However, he left nothing to chance and as he stepped by, he continued the slice through to cut through the back of the beast’s hamstrings and drop it onto its knees. As he moved, he spoke. His voice layered with the force and the power of raw fear.

“You attack me, But I am not the threat… The dark one nearly killed you, and he will do so whilst you faff about with me. End him… End him and I will be Waiting… End him before he destroys you!”

 

[Core]

A gaping chasm had torn itself through the Force, the utter blackness within it inking its wretched course through his mind's eye, filling his heart with dread and driving through his blood the desire to push forward. His eyes did not trace the object which he beheld in the Force as it lanced towards its target, nor did he give any regard to the Sith Lord atop the dune who intervened. The other two opponents were negligible, they were nothing compared to this one before him.

Yakiya could sense that the man before him had drawn upon a considerable fountain of power to manipulate the Force in such a manner, no doubt he would be drained. He knew better than to allow time to recuperate, and so he rushed forward, knowing that time was racing against him.

The burning red blades of the Sith neophyte rippled through the air as they exposed themselves to the torrid zephyr of wind, Yakiya's own white robes gusting in the strong current, the sand biting at his skin and his eyes. He clenched down on his jaw, envisioning his homeland and the lush meadows. The sand was nothing more than jasmine, carried aloft on the wind, its fragrance unmistakable. His hands clenched his blade more firmly and he continued his perilous advance towards his enemy, the grains of sand that threatened to consume him if he stood in place too long became soft grass, a good place to die. Though serene and calm, a picturesque symbol of a beautiful past, Yakiya was truly nestled in a cesspit of hate. Behind this picturesque scene, charred wood, bodies, unfilled graves. He looked into Noster's eyes and saw his dead wife staring back at him.

Furious, he let loose a cry as he charged forward, willing his blade to strike with ferocious speed in a quick, downwards blow that would cleave deep into Noster's torso, deep into the pith of his sorrow and vengeance. The force-imbued blade blurred into an arc of burning golden energy as Yakiya committed himself into a battle he was not certain he could win.

 

[Butler]

Noster had already turned to Yakiya and spoke before he realized the unanticipated. His Spear had missed. Sparing applause preceded Darth Vereor's compliments and explanation. Noster twisted his head up over his shoulder just in time to see the Darth's salute. Never before had Noster seen or heard of such a respect. Noster pivoted, dropping onto one knee and punching his clawed fist into the splashing sand with a bowed head. If ever there was a motivator to take everything he'd learned that much more seriously, that was it.

With his double-bladed lightsaber held back behind him, towards Yakiya, Noster shifted his eyes back to the warrior who would charge him. He had accomplished the first demonstration of succeeding quickly. Now was the time to demonstrate his skill with the blade.

Noster swiveled back around to face Yakiya and rose into two steps. From right hand into left - the double-bladed lightsaber swung up from his hip, crossing the back/bottom blade up to meet Yakiya's downward slice. But those blades did not connect. Noster's wrists twisted clockwise, tucking that bottom blade underneath and arcing the top blade over and down through Yakiya's forearms and torso as Noster stepped past Yakiya's right.

The single circular flourish, from start to finish, would look as a tight propeller; but would have initially deceived as an intended block. And the twist of his torso in the end would have tucked his right shoulder in and avoided Yakiya's downward slice. If not, the pauldron would defend well enough.

Yakiya had charged hastily and put too much strength into one downward strike. If Yakiya had moved any faster out of some sudden insight to Noster's deception, then Yakiya's right thigh would be cut by Noster's bottom blade as it swirled down. If he followed through with his attack as intended, Noster's top blade would cleave through both Yakiya's upper wrists and his side - carving in as deep as his spine.

Continuing on through the motion, the bottom/back blade would arc up behind him as he pivoted left to face Yakiya and swirl the weapon in a reversed figure eight. Noster would ideally end facing the back of Yakiya's right shoulder, and would see Caden and Dep within his right peripheral.

 

[The Derp of Hooves]

The vermin was fast, that was true, nearly cutting off one of Deps claws he managed to avoid the critical blow by the skin of his teeth. The crimson blade managed to barely scratch his leg though and sent a jolt of pain through it. His normally cold, emotionless eyes burned with rage as the attack hit. Then the vermin spoke once again. However, before he made his decision to attack Noster, Yakiya had beaten him to it. Afterwords he realized what it was trying to do, and anger flared up in him once more.

"Your words are pontless," he said, voice dripping with venom, "Death is to be welcomed." As he spoke he gathered the abundance of dark side energies around him and used his never ending rage to attack. This time however, electricity flew from his hands instead of him charging his foe as he had done before. Black lightning arced towards Caden, fueled by darkness, powered by rage, it was enough to cause serious harm to the acolyte before him if it managed to hit.

 

[Sterling Malory Archer]

Caden simply raised his lightsaber upon feeling the being prepare its attack. His plan had worked to his advantage, just as he had forseen. The being was far too enraged to worry about noster, but it would lash out now with its full rage in the most cliché way possible. Sith Lightning. Rotating his lightsaber in a slow circle in front of his body and catching the electricity in the superconducting arc created by the weapon, the Hybrid simply stood there. No matter his strength, No acolyte could keep this amount of exertion up for much longer. He just needed to outlast the abomination whilst Yakiya dealt with noster. It mattered little to him which of them won, only that they were tired. Now, as for the Monster…

Caden turned his attention back to Dep before beginning to speak calmly and quietly. “You are Tired, weak… You lack conviction… You lack Discipline. You are not more than a tool for one such as me. Now…” Turning his mind on Dep’s like a battering ram and injecting the full force of his terrifying will, he resumes speaking. “You can not kill me, creature. You may not fear death but if you wish to cause some… The older being will soon be dead at the hands of the dark one. Lash out and get your fill. Get your fill before I finish it myself. Do it!”

 

[Core]

((Alright, edits made, let's do this!))

With less than eight paces separating him from his foe, Noster had committed a mistake by kneeling and taking his regard away from the most imminent threat. Yakiya had closed the gap between Noster and himself, the mystical metal slicing through the air towards his foes pauldrons. But Noster was more lithe than Yakiya had surmised, his size deceptive; the block rose up to meet Yakiya's blade, but the two weapons did not touch. Unable to change the vector of the blade quickly, Yakiya watched as Noster's sword withdrew from his own, swirling about to change the angle of attack even as the younger man moved about his flank. Experienced with the way of the sword, Yakiya was not taken by surprise, but instead grunted in disapproval. Not of his foe, but of himself - he had not the proper experience necessary to understand the weapon of his foe, and as such victory here was beyond him.

His next move was instinctive, drilled into him by decades of training with his blade, part of a fluid form of swordplay developed by his clan; Yakiya's left leg moved forward and he pivoted his hip to face Noster as the foe flanked him, his sword separating the two still. Pulling the sword back towards himself and towards the space above his right shoulder, he barely caught the saber of his foe in time. His eyes burned with anger and begrudging respect for the warrior he faced, for the younger man had quickly put Yakiya at a disadvantage. Unable to defend in this exposed position, he pivoted again clockwise, withdrawing his right foot to place it behind himself, bringing the hilt of the sword back down to his waist, raising his guard. Yakiya could not go on the offensive again so easily, or he would over-extend himself.

Yakiya's mind was, however, still centered in the Force. He could hear the whisper within the Force telling him where to move and where to act, it spoke to him with the voices of the lost. In the Force he could sense the other fives' intents, the Arkanian speaking words of hinted alliance against the dark human Seiji even now faced down. An alliance of the strong only forged greater strength, this was a fact proven through the might of the Imperium itself - only the short-sighted would seek victory today at the cost of victory tomorrow. If Noster were allowed to defeat Seiji, he would surely be able to best the other chosen pupil of Audroti another day. Only a fool turned down an alliance that enhanced one's personal strength, only the naive maintained an alliance beyond it's intended purpose. And yet, by the same token, the would-be mentor and his seemingly respected guest each in kind emanated a cascading surge of darkness. It seemed as though at any moment the elder lizard would lash out, and the acolytes battles would become pointless and futile. But these were the things of an unforseen future. Focusing himself on the battle at hand, amid the tainted clouds of dark umber that stained the Force all around him, he concentrated on anticipating what would come not in one minute, but in one second, for life and death were determined irrelevant of time. Only the Arkanian saw as Yakiya did - should Yakiya fail now, the other victor would surely fail later, if not today then surely some other day. They strove for the petty facade of power the lizard spoke of, for power was not achieved by slaying the weak, but by slaying the strong.

 

[Butler]

His eyes widened, savoring the thought of victory before it had been seized. But the overturned blade tapped on Yakiya's retracting sword by his pivoting retreat instead of carving through flesh, and Noster ferociously swirled the double-bladed lightsaber through the reversed figure-eight with greater aggression than intended as he turned left to face Yakiya once more in their separation.

He would have overextended himself as well if he had tried to continue so. Instead, he kept his mind attuned to his surroundings, stepping left as he circled around Yakiya and kept the other two combatants in his view. He would not allow Yakiya to outmaneuver him and force his back to the other two, as Dep had done.

Noster had claimed three steps to his left, starting and ending with his left foot, while he kept his blades whirling and grip precise. Then he lunged forth with his angled right foot for an intended quick triple tap - sweeping up the left beam at Yakiya's right knee, then immediately shifting back and beating down the right beam at Yakiya's upper left arm, then finally swinging up the bottom beam again at Yakiya's gut with a slight twist of the torso.

 

[Sterling Malory Archer]

As Dep collapses onto the sands, Caden simply scowls and flicks his wrist to flourish his blade and work out his injured shoulder. The useless pile of fodder had tired itself out before it could be of use to the hybrid, and now it would be nothing but a liability. His sulfurous silver eyes darted up towards where Yakiya and Noster dueled. Sure, he could wait to see what the outcome would be. Or, he could take his lesson from Noster and take advantage of things. Darting forwards and using the pain in his shoulder to focus himself, Caden begins to think things through with inhuman speed. Skidding to a stop just behind and to the left of Yakiya with his blade at the ready, the Arkanian Hybrid speaks low and quickly through the distortion of his mask. " If we strike together, we can end this thing before it even begins and move on." As he speaks, however, his eyes are firmly locked on Noster and his blade is held at the ready. The sly smile under his mask is invisible to everyone else.

Even as he speaks, Caden begins focusing the force through his limbs and his legs. Its clear to anyone paying attention that he is building up for something big.

 

[Core]

Yakiya's focus was almost entirely upon Noster, watching him as he paced left. The only appropriate response would be for Yakiya to move likewise, but as he took his first step he could not help but detect another presence there, behind him. His eyes flashed away from Noster for but a moment and turned to Caden. The mutt had managed to defeat the larger creature, somehow, and was signalling that he was ready to attack Noster. Still, Yakiya could not but hold suspicion that Caden indeed attempted to strike at them both at once. It was not the way of these people to readily ally with each other for selfless gain, Yakiya knew this. Yet, he could not help but detect an ounce of treachery in Caden's mind.

A lack of trust such as this would surely lead to Noster's victory. Gritting down on his teeth, he shifted direction to the right, attempting to prevent Noster from overtaking him from that flank while also keeping Caden from aligning the two warriors for a single coup de grâce. Then, the flurry of attacks was launched against him. The first, towards his right leg which, because of his shift to the right had been forward, was now exposed. Yakiya bounced off his right, leading foot, bringing the knee towards his chest, lifting his leg away from the threat of the first strike. As it withdrew, to be followed by the other, he used the momentum of his forward movement to carry a stabbing thrust of the blade over the top of Noster's hilt and towards the upper parts of his sternum. As it were, the force-imbued blade would block the second strike, as it came down towards Yakiya's left side. Noster's third blow would strike simultaneously with Yakiya's, an unacceptable exchange for any but a desperate swordsman, and a gamble Yakiya was willing to take.