The True Test of a Warrior

[Flamjetxx]

Participants: Audroti, Arkteleus Krayzen

The True Test of a Warrior​

Ziost was a place of tranquility. It was in fact quite relaxing for Ark. More than 90% of his training had been spent on the planet's surface. For Ark it was more of a home than even Kashyyyk was. And with all the excitement of War and his recent promotion, Ark needed a place of familiarity.

Thankfully, Ark had time to meditate on the ship ride to Ziost, because it seemed he'd have virtually no time to settle in. Ark had just enough time to set down the majority of his gear and head off to a place he'd never been called to. The arrogant side of Ark would say that he was going to be commended for his actions at Fondor. After all, defending the shipyards, in a severely weakened state, from a full scale invasion of the Rebellion is by no means an easy feat for someone as new to the job as Ark was; But something deep down within him told him that if he was going to be commended, why in the private quarters of a Darth?

It wasn't unreasonable to believe the Darth wanted to privately congratulate Ark on his success, though the depth in the pit of his stomach told him there' be some sort of interrogation, being more likely. Either that, or he'd like to have Ark perform some sort of task for him, because of the accomplishment. All Ark wanted to do for now though, was get in some much needed rest. He'd almost no sleep up until the ride to Ziost, because if there was going to be another attempted attack at Fondor, Ark was going to be awake for it.

Either way, rest was what he needed, and running off for another immediate mission wasn't at the forefront of his mind. There were a few things he'd like to do until then; Visit his child on Kashyyyk, train himself in a few more Force abilities, and simply meditate on his thoughts. Ark had grown fonder and fonder of his meditations through out being a Crusader, and now that he was a Master, he almost required them to keep his thoughts in order. It was War out there, and there was a lot to keep track of.

Taking only the armor weave vest and his lightsabers, Ark quickly made his way to the directed location. Ark was always one to make a good impression through punctuality, though summoning one to their chambers was usually an action that didn't require a sort of punctuality as much as it simply required the effort to arrive as soon as hearing about the summons as possible. Ark would attempt to make it seem as if he'd already known of the summons the moment he'd given the order to summon Ark in the first place.

Coming to the entrance of the Chambers, the doors slid open, allowing Ark in immediately, and though Ark didn't see anyone in side, he could certainly feel someone. And Ark dropped to one knee immediately after he was within the chambers, lowering his head so that the only thing he knew of the individual was his presence. Ark suddenly became more aware of himself. His own Force signature was miniscule in comparison, though perhaps for a lack of trying, but more so because the other Sith's was immense and rather specific to a particular kind of individual. Ark's facial fur was covered in the Wookie-tribal beads that hung to the braids, and his white, with black-spotted fur was a symbol of his ancestor's origins, and it give reason behind the length of his fine fur. in fact, Ark could see now how one particular Acolyte, Kathrin had once called him fluffy.

"My Lord, Darth Kova. Arkteleus Krayzen," Ark would almost whisper upon the wind of his presence, allowing him to pick up the message of honor, loyalty to the Sith as a whole, and above all, respect.

The presence weighed down on Ark, in which Ark gave only the necessary resistance to it, keeping it at bay more than anything else. If there was anything similar to it that Ark had ever encountered, it was the holocron's opening of Force Repulse that literally repulsed the users of the Holocron; And though it wasn't exactly the same feeling Ark had gotten, it was something that was felt tenfold. If in the heat of battle, someone would feel Fury, Hatred, Determination, Repulsion of the Gore, the very essence of Death, and Aggression. There are too many words to describe it, but Ark could feel it as it slithered into his claws, up the vest he wore, and even filled his nostrils with the nearly tangible stench. How could he describe it in words?

Raising his head, Darth Kova managed to appear in front of Ark, dressed in full Battle Armor. What was this?

 

[Apollyon]

“My Lord, Darth Kova, Arkteleus Krayzen.” The kneeling Kushari spoke, introducing himself from a place of submission instead of strength.

It was not a quality Kova admired in a Sith, kneeling before a superior was a sign of respect but to lower the eyes and change the vocal patterns into that a lesser being would hold? That was unacceptable in Kova’s eyes. But the Darth did not speak, instead only the sound of air being filtrated through his helmet would echo throughout the room.

Slowly, the sound of powered joints moving towards the newly minted Sith Master would be heard, Kova approached wearing the armor that had become a symbol of fear on battlefields, the Colossi-Class battle armor. Kova had not summoned Arkteleus to simply congratulate him, nor share pleasantries with the Sith instead he had summoned the Kushari to test him, to see if he was worthy enough to become a tool wielded by a Darth.

As Kova drew closer to the kneeling form before him, he allowed his full presence to be unleashed. It took form as the chaos of battle, the screams of a thousand dying souls, and the scent of freshly spilled blood. It personified the intent of the Darth, the plans he had in store for all who opposed the Might of the Sith Imperium and the Dark Side. Kova’s form would come to a complete stop before Arkteleus as he knelt between the first two pillars inside of Kova’s domain.

The dim and flickering light from the chandeliers would reveal what stood before Arkteleus, not the plainly dressed Warmaster, but a being ready for battle. Golden eyes hidden behind the faceplate of the helmet gazed down at Arkteleus with burning contempt. Audroti’s right hand pulled free his lightsaber’s hilt and allowed it to snap into life. A burning red beam extended from the weapon, its blade pulsing, bits plasma not held in a perfect cylindrical shape wandered off slightly from the majority the blade. The weapon was as unruly and unpredictable as the Sith who wielded it, yet another personification of the Sith’s demeanor and warlike tendencies.

“True Sith are born in the flames of adversity…” Kova muttered, his voice filtrated by the vocabulator in his helmet.

With that Kova brought his lightsaber overhead and brought it crashing downwards in a single powerful strike. The blow was reminiscent of a standard Djem So powerstrike but held the ferocity and speed of a Juyo practitioner. It was designed to utterly crush any defenses an opponent could muster, to force both the defender’s own blade into their body.

Kova would force the fledgling Master to defend himself; he would test his might and mettle with lethal force. Kova would not hold back until the final blow was about to be given and only then if Arkteleus had proven his worth, would Kova spare him. This was the ultimate test between Sith, one that tested not only the physical bodies, but the minds, spirits, and convictions of each combatant. After all, Kova knew the only way to truly know someone was to face them in the heat of battle.

 

[Flamjetxx]

Battle armor? It was something outside of a holoclip of some tank-like Sith that domineered the battlefield from its very core. The briefest of a thought flashed before him of a battlefield, smoking, the horror-filled screams of what would be the last breaths of dying combatants, and even the smell of blood wafted to Ark's nose. So much for a single moment, but it revealed, even if willingly, the intent of the Warmaster.

Before the lightsaber was even unclipped, Ark could tell it what was going to happen, and it was of the mere presence of the Darth before him. Yet, Ark was yet knelt before him, even as he approached, in the very notion that it was merely a mistake caught from a misread sign given to Ark. Such things never ended well, when a Sith of higher Rank picks a fight with that of a lower, or vice versa. It was how limbs were lost, or worse.. lives. Ark only had one good limb, and nine lives was simply lore regarding felines.

Worst of all, Ark was both mentally unprepared- or as unprepared as he could ever be, because even when a Sith is unprepared, they are in fact only less prepared than they could be - and physically unprepared. Ark's joins could still hear the reminiscent whispers of his last battle on Fondor. He'd not stayed put in his position after defending the shield generators, but rather he'd pushed on across the vacant Hangar, and went on to aid his fellow Sith and Imperials in warding off the remnants of the Rebels, failed in their plight; It had exhausted him at the time, and there is only so much time he was given before arriving on Ziost to recover.

Mentally, all Ark wanted to do was rest and meditate. And his choice in bringing only his lightsabers was reflection of that. Such weakness he must have portrayed, but Ark always thought himself a better combatant when he had everything to lose. No armor though didn't necessarily mean anything when the weapons of choice were lightsabers. It was certainly not ideal, but there were always worse times in which the Darth could have done this. But it also begged the very necessary question of... Why do this?

The feline Master had his own fair share of traitorous behavior since the beginning of the War. The invasion of Korriban and the instantaneously subsequent attempted over throw of the ship Fantasea were only the beginning. Since then, Ark had flown into traps set by turn coat Commanders, come into contact with Coterie members, and eve been forced to lose friends to the Coterie. None was fair, but it only fueled Ark in a way that was misunderstood by most in the Galaxy. Where one would look at Ark and see honor and loyalty to be a weakness, it was in fact Ark's greatest fuel. Naturally, Ark was a Kushari, souls born of the very substances that made up Loyalty and Honor, and Ark wore it as chips on his broad shoulders. Where everyone else seemed devoid of such things, Ark saw the empty husks of men with a mental aptitude long lost for such concepts.

Ark had been raised by his father, and soon after abandoned by him to the cruel grasps of the darkest grasp of death with only a final notion, Loyalty and Honor for the Sith. And so it would be so that Ark's greatest concept would be caught in conflict by the ugly side of traitors... It burned Ark in a way unimaginable. No blaster bolt pierced Ark's flesh in such a way. No light saber seared his flesh in a more painful manner. And no idea bit his tongue harder than he himself bit it in reaction to such a thing as showing themselves as mutiny's manifestation.

Red coals would burn in Ark's eyes. The realization boiled from deep within him. What work put forth into a concept, the Sith Order, for someone to throw it all away upon whatever justifications they had. Ark wouldn't tolerate such things, and it would show, though the mental barriers of Teras Kasi, long erected since Mastering it as an Acolyte would hide the reasons that infuriated the Kushari. Ark was the one that controlled emotions as opposed to allowing emotions to control him. It seemed to be a concept long lost to the Sith order, allowing only Masters of the craft to be able to direct the shunt of his fury at a target. Ark rarely let himself feel such emotions, but this was a moment unique in circumstance, and hiding such emotions away were, ironically, a thing of self control at its worst. Self control at its best, on the other hand, was when in the eye of a sh**-storm, and knowing which steps to take and when. Ark was the eye of the storm, not the person walking within it. That job fell to Darth Kova, and one false step would mean being swept away.

Even as Ark continued kneeling in front of the Sith War Lord, Ark remained focused. No, not on the Darth's reigning omnipresence, but on his own presence. The gears ground at Ark's very teeth, and every reason to explode in random fury was funneled. Ark wasn't a practitioner of Juyo, nor did he ever have the slightest of intention to become one, and releasing such pain in a pattern-less sting of attacks would benefit him not, especially when he had yet to draw a lightsaber.

Because Ark's focus wasn't on the battlefield not combatant, didn't mean Ark didn't know what was around him. That was satisfied in the initial moment of entering the room, and he'd caught the only necessary glance of the Darth and his chambers necessary to formulate the equation of Ark and combat. Ark's mid had long been a restless metropolis for simultaneous ideas and thoughts, and it was since his every day in imagining combat scenarios that gave him the ability to nearly unconsciously find himself day dreaming of what everywhere would become as a stage for combat. This room was quickly becoming the reality of such a dream. The pillars on each side of the door were quickly filled in by the daunting physical presence of the Darth, but all Ark could see was the imagined traitor, nothing more than a turn coat, and jus another Coterie bastard that wasn't satisfied with what was more than enough. And to think that Ark had once looked at the new Darth council and thought that they were the most powerful Loyalists to the true Sith Empire that Ark would lay his eyes upon. Wrong and foolish was all Ark got in response by the actions of the Sith before him.

And almost in the blink of a moment, the lightsaber was ignited and soaring down at Ark. The ignited saber rung in Ark's ears as if a wake up call of some severely deformed monster, the red in its own light arguing its darker hue than the color only briefly mentioned within Ark's own eyes, now subsided to gold, a reflection of Ark's control on his emotions. The lightsaber the Warmaster held would win its only battle against Ark; Yes it was in fact a darker and more radiant shade of red than anything that Ark would allow to surface within his own eyes.

I fell onto Ark like the very fine tip of a whip, creating a hum that screamed in Ark's folded ears, and Ark had only his mind to stop it. However, there is one more weapon Ark has against the red blur, and it was the Kushari form, folded beneath the Darth, it wasn't kneeling as much as it was coiled up, like an impossibly keen spring of pure energy.

There was a door behind Ark, closed, tightly sealing him within the private quarters, a stink of death hanging in the air, it was only fought back by Ark's own furies, pulsating slowly above Ark, the feline would hold his own presence unhindered, and it was powered by nothing short of Ark's every intention. No more Traitors. He was not yet an enemy to the true Sith, and Ark intended him to stay that way, even if he had to be dead to be loyal to the Sith still. No act of treason was complete until Ark's body laid on the floor of the battlefield.

The two pillars weren't protecting the sides of the walking tank, but they were to hinder him. The reflexes afforded Ark by the Force and the natural athleticism of the alien, Ark unleashed the spring in his body all fours bouncing up by the sheer will of Ark's own strengths, he left no leg trailing behind, nor no tail. Ark was simply gone, not toward the Sith, but it was to the side, where the pillar stood in his way. Ark's left paw was already occupied by his lightsaber. Not physically grabbing the saber fro the already near hip, but it called the extended hilt to the large paw in which it rotated in life from center outwards to Ark's left. It didn't fight Kova's blade, but rather it simply guided it safely away from Ark towards the ground, redirecting the power while it fully extended in a clapping red light that fought the other, two beams of similar, but vastly different colors of red. Both were born of the same idea, but grew into things far different from what was currently at work here.

Ark's momentum was safely on the far side of the blade and out of pivot by the pillar of unknown stone, but as Ark's right leg fully extended, the coiled spring fully unleashing the power of the crouch, Ark was stopped at the pillar, where a mechanical fist, empowered by Ark's hatred, the Force enhancing what was already an impossibly strong bionic, afflicted the pillar with a shattering punch that held the weight, unleashed power, and even the technique of the Kushari. As Ark struck, everything was in it, his torso twisted, a bit of his furies dropped to the floor, shed by the violence of the strike. And on the other side of the pillar was the Darth Kova, likely recovering from the deadly-empowered lightsaber blow.

Ark could recognize a power-duelist when he saw one, and it wasn't likely that he was the one to encourage feats of mobility from the suit of armor. At last he'd be showered by the large chunks of stone that was torn from the room; And even throughout that, Ark's blade, held far of to his left side, would have been intended to follow the strike down, resting on top by arriving at the stop of the rotation, but intended to temporarily pin the blade to the ground throughout the act of the punch.t would Force him to exert more than necessary power into hoisting his lightsaber up after Ark or his punch's effects.

And all throughout the attack, Ark would growl in discomtempt, only to be fully drowned out by the crashing screams of lightsabers that licked at each other, and the disembowelment of the pillar. But still remained the notion of Ark being angry.

 

[Apollyon]

The Dark Side, Kova’s relationship with it was far deeper then Arkteleus could possibly imagine. While the fledgling Sith Master drew upon his hatred and aggression to combat the Darth, Kova simply fed upon his opponents own emotions to enhance himself further. All of the hatred, the disgust, the betrayal, and aggression that fuel Arkteleus fueled his opponent as well. This was Kova’s Ace in the Hole, it was what fueled him to unimaginable heights on war fronts and allowed him to dominate his opponents in duels.

Kova has slowed his lightsaber by fractions of a second before it struck Arkteleus, he wanted to Kushari to avoid the blow, he wanted to see what the Sith had in store for him. To Kova’s delight he hadn’t failed to impressed, the Kushari have bounced into a pivot, looped partially around the circular pillar in Kova’s chambers, brought his lightsaber downwards on top of Kova’s own, and sent his fist deep into the pillar that was between them. The Sith Master hoped to crush Kova under its weight, a brilliant strategy but he was underestimating the power of his opponent, a Darth.

The blade of Kova’s lightsaber flickered from existence as he drew upon the Dark Side for a fraction of a second. Kova grasped the pillar and forced it to teeter back towards his opponent, a complete reversal of what Arkteleus had been hoping to accomplish. Kova didn’t bother to stop and admire his handiwork, instead he reached out yet again with the Dark Side and drew the countless weapons from their racks. The myriad of swords, spears, axes, knives, and all other sorts of bladed weaponry would rush towards Arkteleus without hesitation.

While it would certainly appear dire in the Master’s eyes, Kova had ensured none of the blades would actually strike anywhere on his body that could become mortal or render Arkteleus useless for what he had planned. Instead the majority would cause nothing but less than inch deep flesh wounds across the arms, legs, back, and in none vital areas across the torso.

Then Kova’s lightsaber would reignite, signaling his approach once again. The sound of metal colliding with marble was masked by the vaulted ceiling groaning as it spider webbed from the weight shifting due to the lack of a pillar existing. This didn’t concern Kova, the structure integrity of the chambers hadn’t been compromised, and the other four pillars could bear the weight with little difficulty.

Kova would move to the foot of the fallen pillar, his lightsaber burning brightly as he waited to see if the Kushari would arise from dust that had built up around them. His golden eyes narrowed slightly before blinking once, instantly the darkness would turn green on Kova’s HUD. While Arkteleus would have to operate in near blackness, Kova would be able to see him, he would be able to sense his agony and rage, nowhere was safe for the Master.

“…They are purified by the heat of conflict…” Audroti called out to the darkness, amplifying his voice through the vocabulator so Arkteleus could tell his exact position within the room.

Now the Darth simply waited to see what the Sith Master would do to launch his counter offensive. Kova had to be sure that this was his selection for what laid ahead for him, he had to be sure that Arkteleus was prepared for his destiny. If he proved that fact to Kova, he would survive this spar but should he fail, Arkteleus would never make it to Kashyyyk to see his family, instead Ziost would be his final resting place.

 

[Flamjetxx]

Ark successfully avoided the downward blow, landing him in a whole world of realizations, but his strike to the pillar hadn't gone exactly to plan as he realized that almost the moment it had made progress, falling toward Kova, it began to regress back onto him. Of 'course, Ark never intended to leave his paw within the pillar, but it seemed that removing it became twice as important, unless it bring him down under the pillar. Coincidentally, The Darth deactivated his lightsaber from underneath Ark's own lightsaber, leaving Ark's alone.

Everyone's first reaction to removing their punched fist from a hole is to jerk it out backwards. Unfortunately, the pillar would have been easier to remove his fist from if it had completely shattered, leaving it in mostly one large piece, but Ark had yet to learn the Force ability that would aid him in finding such a breaking point, shatter point. But enough of the pillar had broken away upon the entry, allowing for a widened, cone-shaped divot where Ark could easier remove his paw from a greater angle, in which he fully used to his advantage, rotating his entire body backwards form his right arm, reversing the twist in his torso; The initial twist of his torso intended to empower his initial punch into the pillar having fully completed its extent upon completion of the punch was primed like a yo-yo to go back around the other direction. Returning the twist of his torso was only natural, as was attempting to remove his fist from the hole he'd created.

Twisting his torso, Ark actually fully turned his entire body into a rotation with his front (left) foot planting itself to the side into a sliding squat, where Ark would slide himself, shifting his weight, underneath the falling pillar that was coming back onto him. Thankfully, Ark was moving forward, between the pillar and the wall that propped up the door where Ark had only just walked into. Where his proximity to the door left him only able to move to the side in the first place, it became an aid in glancing the fall of the pillar, slightly backwards, where it would fall more behind where Ark was allowing Ark's sliding motion to carry him safely under the pillar's changing trajectory.

However, Ark also noticed the tug of the Force; He sensed danger targeting him, though it was distant, and it pulled from the pillar he was passing by now, leaving Ark to dismiss it for the most part. And when the pillar fell, Ark wouldn't have been able to see it, nor to thank himself for going back around behind the pillar, but he'd unintentionally used the pillar as a shield from the incoming weapons thrown at him from his side, where completion of his spin would place him close enough to the Darth that the weapons wouldn't be aimed as close to the Darth.

In sequence with his sliding under the pillar and his rotation, Ark's freed purpose for his lightsaber was used to switch it into a reverse grip, common in the Shien variant of his preferred combat style of D'Jem So. It was far from unfamiliar to him, though underused in preference of stronger light saber grips. The reverse grip would be used as a shield for Ark's simultaneous rotation, used only just as he came out from under the falling pillar. The end of the hilt and Ark's gripping (left) paw would slam into the falling pillar's base, as he reached across his chest with the spin of his body, allowing the full length of the blade to block across Ark's spinning back. Coincidentally, Ark's crouched leg, supporting the spin and hat slid him underneath the falling pillar would extend, aided by the planted hilt on the pillar, throwing Ark's weight upwards and towards Darth Kova, with the reverse gripped blade firmly in Ark's grasp, anticipating a strong connection between them. The blade would be used to clear the way for Ark's almost immediate kick afterwards, where the blade would swipe Kova's blade up and to his left side with the full weight of the spinning Kushari, or take the blade in the face.

Ark's unused leg would sweep underneath the pillar past his planted foot, with the rotation, where it would come out of the spin in a back kick from underneath the height of the horizontal blade Ark rose to him, aiming at his pelvis. The follow through of the kick would swing Ark's light saber all the way around his body, where landing from the kick would throw it around to his right hand, aiming the reversed blade upward into his right hand's normal grip, easily and completely freed from the pillar by that point.

By the time the blade would find its place in his right hand, he'd have it vertically in front of him in a defensive pose, dividing his face in two equal pieces, the left and right, but his right hand would be upside down, still holding it in a reverse grip as the grip of the blade would be transferred to Ark's right hand, but without leaving his left hand from the grip just yet, allowing the necessity to correct his left hand when he has time to see how his opponent faired against the kick.

However, the clouds of the fallen pillar left it difficult for Ark to see, only giving Ark a blade through the falling dust, though the vast majority of his spin was aimed at the point in which Ark had been able to see the Darth before the pillar had completely fallen and risen the clouds of dust. Where he stood now was dangerously in the clouds, if his kick hadn't connected with the Darth. However, what disturbed him most was what he'd heard the Darth saying. What purpose did he have for reciting the words? Why was Ark the target of those words? Or were they meant for Ark? Either way, Ark's mind was as exhausted as his body was, and he didn't have the energy to spare in figuring out the real meaning behind them, or who they were really meant for.

In fact, it was Ark's rotating maneuver, though flashy and even effective, it caused him a great deal of physical strain to propel himself upwards with one leg and arm, and he certainly felt the energy physically draining from him as he joins felt the small burns where they threatened to give out on him. Ark was tired, and at his current rate, he wouldn't last long, let alone make another move like that, because it would be his left leg crashing instead of the pillar.

"What would make a Darth.. Betray his Order?" Ark stated with the briefest breath snuck in between the sentence. Ark hadn't intended to reveal how tired he was, nor how he was in a weakened state, but it slipped. It would have even been better for Ark to simply use the Force to communicate the message, because Ark caught the dry taste of stone ground up from the metal prosthetic, coat his tongue as he uttered the words. However, the question was even unnecessary, because Ark cold only imagine that it was the same reason the rest of the Darth betrayed the Order... him. All Ark wanted was a confession.

 

[Apollyon]

Arkteleus had impressed Kova yet again, narrowly escaping both of the obstacles he had placed before the young Master. He even risked his own life by choosing to slide underneath the pillar and coming up near the front of Kova instead of rolling into the weapons that Kova had sent soaring at him. This told Kova that Arkteleus was willing to risk his own safety to accomplish what he had set his mind to, a valuable trait for a Sith to hold.

However, his next move was one of pure folly, Kushari brought his right leg up towards Kova’s right flank. Kova was not worried about the damage it would cause his torso, as the chest, sides, and back of the Colossi-class armor was composed of Duranium, a tough and durable metal that many blasters were designed from. With Arkteleus’ saber held in a reverse grip, horizontal with his back there would be little way for the Kushari to defend against what was coming next.

Kova reached downward with his cybernetic left arm attempting to snatch the Kushari up by the nape of his neck. Sharp metallic claws would dig into the soft flesh at the base of Arkteleus’ neck, penetrating the skin and coming to a complete close. Kova expected the pain to be agonizing for the feline Sith Master, blinding him enough to not recognize Kova’s armored right fist on a collision course with his face.

Kova flipped his lightsaber as the punch flew, reversing the grip and he would use the hilt of his lightsaber as a form of brass knuckles, strengthening the blow further as it collided with Arkteleus’ face. The blow itself would be devastating, splintering teeth and causing small fractures along the front of the Kushari’s lower jawline and the facial portion of his skull. As for the Kushari’s blade, even if it were to come full circle despite Arkteleus’ leg suddenly colliding with the thick and hard duranium it would simply clash with Kova’s own lightsaber beam which was angled slightly downwards to cancel out Arkteleus’ own strike.

Once this accomplished, Kova would jerk the likely stunned Kushari’s head back with the grip on the nape of his neck. This would force Arkteleus’ leg to fall back in line from Kova’s side, if it hadn’t already and in response Kova would bring his armored knee upwards towards Arkteleus’s gut as he slammed the Kushari back down upon it. This blow was aimed to wind the young Master and possibly cause some deep tissue bruising making it difficult for him to continue acrobatic assaults as his core would be severe pain and drawing breath would be a difficult task for a few moments.

With that Kova would toss the younger man back towards the downed pillar. Kova would listen for the sounds of life from the direction he had thrown the Kushari before turning to face him. From the darkness Kova would hear the muffled questioning from the Kushari, he would be impressed that Arkteleus could even speak with a mouthful of blood and likely a broken jaw.

“What would make a Darth…betray his Order?” He asked confusion filling his voice.

“So that is why he fights with such ferocity?” Audroti mused internally before allowing a deep throaty chuckle to escape his lips.

If the part of a traitor fueled Arkteleus to fight the way he did, Kova would play it albeit indirectly, never confirming nor denying this fact. Slowly Kova would make his approach towards Arkteleus once more, this time the audible sound of marble shards crunching under the weight of his boots announcing his proximity to the Kushari. Kova used the red blade of his lightsaber, still held in a reverse grip, to light the path towards Arkteleus, allowing the Kushari to clearly see the armored form that approached him.

“…They are tempered through the pursuit of their passions…”

Even as the words left Kova’s lips the effect of the kick Arkteleus suddenly made itself known as a dull ache along his right rib. While the armor was not dented or compromised by the force of the blow Arkteleus had given him it had caused some deep muscle and bone bruising but it had likely left Arkteleus with a broken leg in return. So far, the young Sith Master had impressed Kova but the Darth had to continue to push the Kushari, he had to see how far he was willing to go in the face of defeat.

 

[Flamjetxx]

A key rule to any practitioner of any unarmed Martial art, is to keep a guard up. With Ark's kick, it was pure instinct, seeing that he's long Mastered Teras Kasi and practiced many other Martial Arts. Even with the claws of the Darth's armor in the back of Ark's neck, it didn't change that fact much at all. IN fact, it only made Ark angry to the fact that something... anything, had pierced his flesh. It was even more so frustrating that the angrier and more emotionally explosive he became, the more that icy feeling seemed to melt away... sucked off into some unseen vortex. And even more disturbingly, the Darth showed no signs of slowing down, or backing off.

If anything was clear at this point, Ark let something happen that he's never let happen to himself. Worse yet, it was his own doing that unfolded him in such a way, and it had become something of a road block that prevented himself from continuing further than the mediocre pace he was already set within. How did he stuck himself in such a rut? Ark should have known better too... There was a very fine line between directing emotions in a controlled fashion and allowing them to pull you along in a singular direction; Much like how walking an overzealous dog makes it questionable as to whether or not it's you in control of the dog, or the dog just pulling you along for the walk. It was blinding to Ark, and the funniest thing for any outsider to see is that Ark actually thought he was in control of his own emotions. Ark was blinded... Blinded to the fact that his emotions actually fueled the Darth... Blinded to the fact that Ark had severe limits to his current ability to perform... Blinded to the fact that the Sith was in fact not a traitor... And blinded to the fact that there were many other methods about confronting Kova other than directly, and aggressively, combatting him. But how to stop himself, let alone realize exactly what he was missing?

The full weight of the Kushari flew up towards Darth Kova, the blade, a horizontal shield behind him, and fully prepared for the purpose it served. It wasn't simply a swing, but it was a physical strike, using the strength of the Kushari's leg and weight of his body to empower the strike, and it waved the reverse gripped lightsaber off to the side, hindering his attempt to strike Ark in the first place, and putting his own lightsaber dangerously close to his own armor, but not yet close enough.

Ark's motion was already set, acting more upon instinct than actually thought and planning anyway, it would be hard to stop him; An advantage the Darth, should he realize it, would be wise to take advantage of. Ark's, right prosthetic, arm was up in guarding motion, his teeth bared in pain of the grip the red Sith had on him, and his kick already rising to strike him, where the guard would strike the bracer of the punching hand before it would land anywhere near Ark's face, causing him to miss his attempted strike. Incidentally, the guard would push the enemy's reversed grip back into his own armor, even if only barely touching the metal. Regardless, it was the touch that would be felt, showing him that Ark wasn't here just for kicks and chuckles... well, maybe some kicks.

Ark's kick, had free reign over its target, and rightfully so, because with the enemy's reversed lightsaber pressed into his own armor, the kick was relatively safe, and hit the pelvic girdle of the armor, causing the Darth to buckle under the force of the kick, coincidentally hindering the grip it had on Ark's neck. And as a result of the pain and anger Ark felt, the feline let out a burst of telekinetic energy towards the bending over Darth, the blast aimed for his face, his helmet.

Though Ark aimed for the face, the blast of energy would become far more generalized, unable to be focused by either Ark's own blinding anger, or by the injuries he'd recently suffered in the duel or in the Battle of Fondor. All in all, Ark was seeing the effects of his current condition, and the only thing that could describe it was a single word, "Frustrating," unconsciously spoken out loud.

After all was said and done though, Ark stumbled backwards in a weakened attempt to keep his own balance after the skin from the back of his neck had been ripped open, catching a bit of muscle as well. He was weak and wasn't going to be able to continue on much longer; He was even too weak to follow up on the Darth. It was exactly Ark's strategy in combat to cause his enemy to retreat, and to press an offensive, but even now, Ark was incapable of it. His Force reserves, though barely even touched in the duel so far, were nearly completely drained even. And Ark's lightsaber was still in his left arm, barely aware that he'd failed to switch it over to his right arm in light of the way reality showed the events unfold before him, against the will of his fantastical vision of how the confrontation would go down already.

Ark could feel the blood trickling down his white-furred back, and if anyone could see it, it would be a, single, thick streak of red growing longer along the length of his back. Ark's right leg was sore, bearing the weight of his entire body, even going as far as to weaken his stance, though not yet visibly. Was he losing his first fight? The thought enveloped himself, fluttering about him as if a distracting insect that was designed for the singular purpose to bother him for the insignificant moment until it was squash. The only problem was that Ark couldn't focus enough on it to catch and kill it, and so it would reign in the personal space that was Ark's mind, doing its exact job.

 

[Apollyon]

Darth Kova anticipated the strike to collide with Arkteleus’s face long before it did, however this was never coming to pass. Kova felt his gauntlet connect with not flesh and bone but solid steel. Underneath his helmet, Kova cocked a single eyebrow as his cybernetic eye scanned the arm Arkteleus had used to defend himself with. Data fed into Kova’s mind, and was filtered by a neural implant that translated the raw data into understandable information that wouldn’t overwhelm the Sith’s brain.

Yet again Kova couldn’t help but smirk at his opponent, Arkteleus was filled with tricks but it slowly seemed like the prosthetic was the final card Arkteleus had to play. This thought was ripped from Kova’s mind as he felt Arkteleus’s leg connect with his pelvic girdle. The sheer force of the blow forced Kova up onto the tips of his toes for the briefest of moments, something his armor wasn’t designed to do. For a split second, it was only Kova’s toes that bore the weight of his armor and he felt the bones in his large toes give way, snapping under the intense pressure put upon them.

Kova’s grip on the Kushari’s neck tightened as pain rippled through his body, this was his reaction to the agony Arkteleus inflicted upon him, to return the favor tenfold. However, before Kova could react and deliver a blow upon his opponent he felt Arkteleus drawing upon the Dark Side through his Anger and Hatred. The Darth knew he wouldn’t be able to react in time to mount a defense of some sort; their proximity was far too close to one another for that. Instead, Kova focused on both his own agony and the fount of emotions flowing from Arkteleus to draw upon the Dark Side of the Force and utilized it to empower his body, taking it to nearly indestructible levels.

As Arkteleus unleashed his potent telekinetic assault, Kova would simply stand firm. Between the power of the Dark Side coursing through his veins and the magnetic locks that he had activated in the soles of his boots, Arkteleus would be able to sense that Kova was unphased by his attack. That being said the sheer magnitude of the pressure unleashed by the assault caused extensive damage to the majority of Kova’s battlearmor. Electricity hissed and popped from its circuitry, the red stained transparisteel looking ports on the armor’s helmet had been spiderwebbed, and the front of the armor was covered in randomly placed and shallow dents. Kova knew that all the damage was completely repairable and none of the assault would have been fatal but he was impressed nonetheless.

Kova blinked once at his ruined HUD and slowly the helmet fell in twain. Twin pieces fell from the front and back of his head, revealing the Darth’s face to his opponent for the first time. The red skin of Kova’s visage was littered in scars, but most predominately was the large piece of his right cheek was torn away by what seemed to be a singular violent motion, and three claw marks that began where his hairline had once been and continued down the entirety of the left side of his face until the trio of marks reached the base of his neck. However, it was the corrupt golden eyes that bore down onto Arkteleus that likely would garner his attentions, it would seem like the eyes of this warrior were piercing the Kushari and evaluating his very soul.

Kova took in a deep breath, the Dark Side still sustaining him and allowing him to press onward into this fight. The Darth could sense the waning power of his opponent; he knew that the act of utilizing the Force to rip himself free of Kova’s grasp was not only painful but likely draining on Arkteleus already limited reserves. Kova determined it was time to bring this test to its conclusion. As such he extended his free hand towards Arkteleus, the Kushari would feel the Dark Side bend to Kova’s will around him before it clamped down on his torso, pinning his arms to his sides.

Kova lifted the extended hand slowly, almost as if he was toying his Arkteleus. Slowly the Kushari would rise up to the same level of the Chandeliers near the ceiling of the vaulted chambers as Kova lifted his extended hand. Once Arkteleus reached the peak of his ascension to the top of the room he would feel his body begin to turn around, away from Kova before he was forced into a laying position with his face gazing up at the ceiling.

“…They are shaped by obtaining unparalleled might…” Kova stated aloud, his deep and booming voice unmolested by the filtration of his helmet.

With those words, Kova quickly brought his hand downward, forcing Arkteleus’s body to follow suit. Arkteleus’s body would smash into the marble floor with enough force to bring him to the brink of unconsciousness but not death, Kova had lessened the speed and velocity of the collision a split second before impact to ensure the Kushari would survive. Slowly, Kova would approach the Kushari’s prone form; sweat dripping freely from his brow. He would stop just in front of the Kushari’s head and gazed down into his eyes.

“…They are honed through their limitless victories…” Kova whispered to the Kushari as he kneeled down to lift him from the floor.

Kova would take Arkteleus’s unconscious form towards one of his Bacta tanks; he would gently strip the Kushari down before placing monitoring devices on his body to track his vitals, and then he placed Arkteleus inside the room temperature healing liquid. Once this was done Kova would leave Arkteleus to recover from their skirmish.

While the Kushari slept the code Kova had been stating would repeat in his mind in an automated fashion. The tank had been programmed to endlessly recite every line of this code but the very last line, instead it left a sense of anticipation as it came to the culmination of the recital.

“True Sith are born in the flames of adversity.
They are purified in the heat of conflict.
They are tempered through the pursuit of their passions.
They are shaped by obtaining unparalleled might.
They are honed through their limitless victories.
They are perfected through obtaining absolute liberation…”

It would only be when Arkteleus awoke and escaped the confines of the bacta tank that he would hear the final line of the code Kova had given him.

“…But only the Dark Side shall truly set them free.”

The words would come from a recovered Darth Kova, who sat at the head of a lowly set, makeshift table, it was covered in various foods for the pair. He was dressed in a sleeveless white tunic, a pair of loose fitting black cotton pants, and a leather belt. On the other side of the table was a single sitting cushion and a rack that similarly looking clothes hung from, clearly for Arkteleus to put on before sitting to dine with the Darth.

“Sit and eat, Master Arkteleus…” Kova commanded. “…you and I have much to discuss.”

 

[Flamjetxx]

The force push was nothing. Sure, it made a good show, but the mere push was nothing, where Ark could feel, even as he performed it, that it did nothing. The brick wall of pure Force energy, having come from seemingly no where, stopped it as if a child blew on it.

What happened afterwards, was all a dark blur. Difficult to remember, harder to think about. All Ark knew was that he hurt. Of 'course, physically he hurt, but mentally more so. A lot of events had transpired before him, and none of it seemed to add up. Every effort Ark made against the traitors, rebels, and those furthest from his own likeness... Where did that effort go when one domino fell for another to rise in its place? Failure. It was all that haunted his dreams.. Nightmares.

Surprisingly enough, Ark awoke, with no recollection of the forceful grip taken a hold of the severely weakened Kushari. In fact, the bashing he'd taken by being smashed into the ceiling was completely gone, just a slight sore negligible to the ringing in his head. Etched, seared, and freed from his very brain, Ark could feel the flashes of the words that were somehow familiar to him. Though, all the while Ark couldn't recall them from before experiencing Darth Kova.

It was a code, and Ark was angered by it for what it brought with it, the relation that the words belonged to who Ark could only perceive as a traitor, and the reason he'd succumbed to... Succumbed to what? Defeat? Had he died?

“…But only the Dark Side shall truly set them free.”

With the words, Ark's eyes flew open in the bacta, the mantra having faded, but still ringing in Ark's ears. It was obvious he was awake, if not by the physical motion of his eyes opened, then by activity felt in the Force by his consciousness. For how long had he been completely vulnerable? And yet how relieving, as if a bandage was removed to let old wounds breath... heal a bit if you will. The pressure was released, and the anger Ark had felt towards Kova had long dissipated as if Ark was incapable of calling upon such an emotion at that time. However, his last intention to kill the Darth still lingered from his last moments of consciousness, as if his body instinctually wanted to continue where he'd left off.

Ark's paw was already at his hip, feeling for the lightsabers that were no longer present there, and eyes fixed on them from so far away it seemed. Outside the tank, and next to the Darth, but they never seemed to far away. Obviously the Darth would feel any motion Ark would make towards them in the Force, and it was what made them seem so far away. But even more disturbingly, the Force seemed to abandon him. If he was able to even use the Force, it wouldn't abide to his wishes now, if because something prevented him, or because of the stain he'd put on himself the last time he'd attempted to do so. The thought that would have otherwise flicked the lightsabers across the room with the slightest of ease, brought with it nothing in response. Lack of will, or incapable?

The tank Ark resided within was small, and Ark's paws were found on the walls with ease, pressing outward with his own strength. The bacta had healed Ark well enough that the soreness he'd last felt seemed to have dissipated during his absence from the world. The walls that held him within the fluid shattered, causing it to flood outward, surprisingly contained to where the tanks were stored, as if such an event was anticipated in construction of the room.

Ark fell from the fluid, falling onto class with his paws, leaving a shallow cut along the inside of his flesh paw, but the feet were unaffected by the glass they stood upon, likely a result of traversing upon the feet throughout most conditions. The act would seem clumsy to the viewer. However, Ark didn't linger on the ground long, even stumbling clumsily toward the Darth in an obviously futile attempt to finish the deed, but Ark must have been in the bacta for too long, where he'd managed to lose track of his dexterity, even if only momentarily. Ark fell upon the floor, his fur matted upon his body, showing the very rare glimpse of the true definition of the Kushari musculature beneath it.

Laying on the ground, Ark's paw somehow managed to clutch one of the feline's hearts, allowing the blood from the cut paw to soak the fur in front of him just enough before the copious amounts of excess bacta seemed to expedite the scabbing process that would have ordinarily taken much longer. the cut was practically already half way gone, and all the cat managed to do was flop around like a fish out of water. But as Ark clutched his chest, his fingers found the residual effects of something that perturbed him. A deep gash of scar tissue that ran all the way across his chest, he coudln't remember how he'd gotten it until the memory, so vivid, flashed before his eyes.

Held in the air, clutched tightly by the will of the Force, the Red Sith's face gazing upon Ark from the unwilling perch that held him at the ceiling of the makeshift combat room. Fury flowed outward from Ark in every feasible way, despair only a lingering possibility, though there was only one possible outcome for the situation. Death. And yet, the anger burned up every last ounce of will power Ark had when he was thrashed against the marble ceiling, knocking everything out of him, a daze barely comprehensible, but at the impact, the pent up energy in the Force, the raw uncontrolled emotion, and the last ounce of Force reserves meant to combat the grip unleashed in an arc of palpable energy that literally ripped through Ark's chest in recoil. A lasting reminder of the power that once clutched Ark's life in its grasp. One of nine lives, but the only one that mattered. The spirit of combat.

Ark was ripped back into reality, remembering the origins of the deep scar, the realization that Ark was indeed still alive. He had been placed into bacta, and this wasn't some sort of personalized hell. Why was Ark spared death? Why was he healed?

The rest Ark had gotten in the bacta certainly did him good for his analysis, and Ark furrowed his brow in response. Kova didn't want to kill him. Recruitment? No... there were certainly easier ways to recruit someone, and Kova revealing his true identity to Ark as a Coterie member didn't make sense, if he- and Ark expected he did -knew how loyal a Kushari was naturally. Then why was Ark here?

Calm washed over Ark, almost as if coloring him manic depressive, the contrast between the utter will to kill, melting away into realization of misunderstanding. Curiosity filled the cat. Eat?

Hesitantly, Ark realized he had no position of power here. the Darth's position, his control over Ark's lightsabers, far from Ark's clutches, and the offer of what could be perceived as peace... food. Ark was indeed very hungry. Between the time spent in the tank and his trip, what food had he come by? How long was it since he'd last eaten anyway? Too many questions filled Ark's mind, and hesitant was the only picture painted in his intentions.

The bacta had mostly dripped off his fur during his struggle, the mess of the tank having been drained away into some unknown location, and with a dry and cracked voice, Ark managed to croak out, "What am I doing here?"

It was a question long overdue, and Ark could have beaten himself silly for this being the fist time he'd asked the question. And Ark expected that the way he felt of asking the question had shown through on Ark's relatively unguarded thoughts. Never has Ark been so vulnerable. His Teras Kasi mind defenses were ordinarily at their peak, but now, Ark was barely raising them again.

"Why... am I here?" Ark asked, more asking why he was alive than seeking an answer to the first question.