Battle of Empress Teta - Temple Entrance

[Mars]

Empress Teta Temple Entrance, 1300 Hours

The Sith have infiltrated the Deep Core.

Using information ripped from the captured Councilor's, Ebberla Daw's, mind, the Sith have managed to sneak a sizeable attack force past GA defenses and to Empress Teta. The planet is home to one of the Jedi's main training temples and many of the Jedi here are among their most talented with the Force. Warmaster Vires and his apprentice are at the helm of the assault, storming the entrance to open the way for the rest of the invasion force.

FORCES:

Alliance: Trell and Apollo Ratler

Imperial: Mars and Arcturus

POSTING ORDER:
- Mars
- Arcturus
- Ratler
- Trellhelm

 

[Mars]

THEME

Empress Teta. Jedi Temple.

This fortress of all the Jedi stood for would serve as the site of their greatest defeat. The great temple of Empress Teta would serve as the canvas for the masterpiece that would define the military career of the Sith Warmaster. Of all the battles fought thus far in the war, this would be the most meaningful. Past Ossus. Past Tanaab. Past Konstellan. Past the Will of the Force. It was this battle that would kick the Jedi into the pit of despair and defeat.

Despite their best efforts, his will would not be denied.

A black-painted Carrack-class cruiser optimized for stealth landings entered the atmosphere of the planet without issue, alongside a fairly large amount of similar such craft, near the temple. Each ship was filled with war-hungry Sith anxious for the battle ahead and brave Imperials ready to die for their nation. Emotions ran high in the assembled legions. The ships would not do well to conceal the massively dark presence of the approaching Sith forces, although it would cloud the Jedi's sense for more than enough time for the assault to begin.

The fell legion's leader sat at the rear of a transports unloading bay.

The Warmaster sat upon a chair that was largely the same as the countless Sith arrayed before him, his arms resting on the rests of the chair next to him. The power of the Dark Side coursed through his veins and fed upon the depth of the Sith Lord's hatred of his coming opponent. The Zabrak was an eye in the center of a storm of emotions. Inside his phrikite chestplate lay the infamous Shard that extended his powers, granting him access to additional stores of energy and a method to flay the minds of his enemies around him. The man now known as Vires wore his usual armor, with his personal lightsaber clipped to his side and a modified one Weiss had given him prior to the battle hidden inside a concealed container on his thigh, inside one of the phrikite plates. The Warmaster's voice would be heard within the heads of all those about to assault the entrance alongside him.

"Today, the Jedi fall, and with them the Alliance. Show no mercy for you will be given none. The Jedi are the false protectors of the galaxy and the Alliance it's unrightful rulers. Victory or death, for the Empire."

Varek Rayth had spoken, and so it shall be.

The cruiser's ramp fell and hit the dry earth with resounding thud as the Sith warrior spilled out from the various ships alongside their Imperial brethren. Varek and his apprentice were among the last off the ship but would lead the charge from the front line. A group of Jedi had assembled to stop, or at least slow, the Sith but their efforts would be in vain. The Warmaster felt his choler rise at the sight of the brown-robed false guardians and let loose a Force-aided roar that'd send the fear of the Dark Side into their minds.

So began the slaughter.

Varek was the first to make contact, leaping nearly thirty meters and imbuing his lightsaber with an amount of energy so potent, his first strike on the Jedi in front of him sent the poor bastard flying backwards into the blades of his allies. Within seconds the group had been descended upon by the Sith assault force and scattered fights broke out and ended quickly, even a strong Jedi would be hard pressed to fight off three Sith. Another stepped in front of the Warmaster, seeking to run him through, only to have his lightsaber caught and to be promptly decapitated. Three more Jedi fell to the crimson blade of the Warmaster before only bodies littered the way to the temple, each failing to compensate for the sheer power Varek hit with, his strikes smashing through their defenses as if they wielded sticks.

With the speed bump removed, Vires and his team continued their advance. His aura in the Force combined with that of the Shard beneath his breastplate would serve as a small nexus of dark energy, calling the most powerful Jedi to him.

It was the siren call of the Warmaster.

 

[Mr. Teatime]

Arcturus was silent and still, seated near his master. He wore his Immortal combat armor, saber staff on his belt and Sith sword in hand. He had left his silver-bladed saber back in his chambers on Ziost, refusing to use it for the temple assault on personal grounds. He was eager for the coming fight. He was eager because it was another step to removing the corrupt Alliance from power, and bringing order to a galaxy full of needless chaos.

In truth, Arcturus did not consider the Jedi eternal rivals of the Sith as many of his fellows did. Instead, he saw them only as being on the other side of a war, protecting an evil government full of greedy men clawing for money, power, and women. The Jedi's Temples were proof of their inherent corruption, lavish and grand. And every time they just built a new one, as grand as the last.

SHE would disagree, of course, with his opinion and this course of option, but she wasn't here to stop him. She wasn't alive to whisper into his ear any more. He truly held respect for the Jedi as warriors and peacekeepers, but if they truly were as they said they were, they would keep out of this war and allow the Alliance and it's corruption to fall into dust.

Arcturus was moved from his thoughts by a telepathic speech from the Warmaster. His Sight beheld him as a being of great darkness, the men surrounding them less so but still significant. Arcturus himself stood out in that regard. While he was surrounded by black mists and burning fires, his own aura gave the impression of dark stormclouds, capable of releasing destructive lightning and powerful winds just as easily as life-giving rain. Just a few moments after the speech, ship hit ground and the ramp lowered. Arcturus stood, heavy boots clacking on the ground beside the Warmaster.

He was, perhaps, quite an intimidating sight. His six-eyed mask played upon his 'sixth sense', his Sight. The mask had no impression of a mouth, but it did have the faintest idea of a nose with serpent-like slits, which served as the opening for an air filtration system. Sensor tendrils dangled off the back like dreadlocks, falling across his shoulder. His gauntlets held razor claws, gripped around the handle of his six and a half kilogram sword, as heavy to him as any other blade. To top it off, he was two inches taller than the Warmaster himself, towering over the other Sith in the group. His Sith Amulet, hidden safely beneath his armor, thrummed with power as it was activated, channeling force energy to permeate his body and enhance his abilities.

When the battle started, his calm demeanor changed quite abruptly. His stride became long, betraying all the easy strength of a feral lion. A predator's grace, lithe and powerful. While Arcturus didn't have the Warmaster's impressive armor, he did have other advantages. The first Jedi to try and stop his stride attempted to block Arcturus' swing, expecting an ordinary blade, but instead was met by a far more powerful weight. The blade dug into his shoulder and was ripped out, sending the man, bleeding heavily, to the ground. His swung with power and precision, overwhelming his opponents. As the vanguard began to dwindle, Arcturus let out a loud and piercing roar, different from Vires' earlier use by a combination of increased volume, feral nature, and it's use as an attack to send his current opponent flying backwards with his ears bleeding and multiple lacerations across his front.

The Jedi's first layer of defense destroyed, the Warmaster was joined by Arcturus once again as they made ready for the real fight.

 

[Matty]

Jedi Master Tyrrek Gunlo stood in the now open entrance of the Jedi temple on Empress Teta. The whine of blaster fire sounded in the distance as explosions reverberated overhead. The temple shook slightly, causing bits of dust and debris to rain down. The Hapan Master gave a morose sigh. He knew this day was coming for far to long. The Sith kept growing closer and closer as the Jedi stood idle. He knew that isn't wasn't the fault of the Grand Master or the Council. The Order had lost the will to fight. This battle would have to change that or the Order could consider itself as good as lost. Donned in his usual armor, Tyrrek stood face as dozens of the temple's security officers ran forth to met the approaching Sith invaders in single combat. A volley of blaster fire was sounded, causing men on both sides to drop. one Imperial trooper took a bolt to the stomach while another bolt struck an Alliance soldier in the arm. Both collapsed to the ground just to find themselves trampled by their allies. Cries and curses filled the air as the amount of blaster fire increased. With a small sigh, Tyrrek undid the clasp that held his phirk laced war hammer to his back. He raised his right hand and with a simple nudge of the Force, he called the mighty weapon to his grip. He gave a small sigh as he lifted the weapon.

"Let the gods have mercy on those who perish" He said to himself

The cry of blaster fire began to slowly peter out as it was replaced with the ever familiar snap-hiss of a lightsaber. Dozens of Jedi sprinted forth to meet the approaching Sith. Their blades flashed out in a spectacular display of swordsmanship and fireworks. Sparks lit up the early morning gloom as the two sides began to dance the dance that had held the two Orders at each other's throats since time immemorial. The Hapan gave one last sigh before starting to slowly pick up his pace. Knowing that the battle was still young, the elderly Master kept his pace to a slow jog, he would let the Sith come and meet him on his terms. Within seconds, his unspoken thought was answered. A pale skinned Quarren leapt from the fray, his deep crimson blade in hand. The aquatic alien gave a throaty chuckle before swinging his blade in a wide arc. Slightly startled, the Hapan shifted on the balls of his feet, narrowly dodging the strike. The Quarren gave another chuckle and proceeded to launch strike after strike. The alien swung left, right, down and slightly pivoted his blade slightly towards the floor to give a rough uppercut to the Hapan's jaw. Tyrrek soon found himself pushed back to the rear of the combat. His steps, graceful that they may be, were clumsy. The Quarren had the element of surprise and Tyrrek soon found himself paying dearly for it. The Quarren halted his series of strikes to extend left hand. A rush of pressure soon followed after as the Sith sent a wave of force energy towards the Hapan. Tyrrek could grit his teeth as he was buffeted time and time again by the aquatic alien

"Bastard..." the Hapan grumbled through gritted teeth as he felt his footing slip

The Quarren let out a throaty chuckle as he slowly stalked forward to make a final thrust. The alien held his blade high in an attempt to bring it right down and through the Hapan's chest. Tyrrek clenched his jaw once more and slowly began to shift his footing. His feet slid further and further apart until they are slightly shoulder width apart. He held his ebony colored hammer with a loose one handed grip. The Sith chuckled once and began to bring his blade down. Tyrrek could only shake his head at the Sith's confidence. The Quarren was clearly a new recruit. He lacked the composure that the Darths held. They could wait a millenia if it meant a pristine strike. The Hapan shook his head slightly and shifted his weight to the right, waiting until the last possible second of escape. He dodged the blow fluidly, a shower of sparks erupted in his wake. He shifted his body weight around once more turning him to directly face the Sith. He let his war hammer slide out of his head, it's speed picking up with every second, only to be caught at the base of the handle. The Quarren could only gasp in astonishment as the spiked tip of the hammer entered his upper left rib cage. The blow was both non-lethal and debilitating. If this battle was won, the Jedi would need every prisoner they could muster


(OOC: I believe it's going to be warmaster vs battlemaster and me Arc duking it out?)

 

[Brand]

Spoiler: Theme

[youtube]ySXsFk3v-_E[/youtube]​

The tolling of war drums sounded in the Jedi's deep. Battlemaster Iril'dor Rai rose from his crouch on the cold stone floor, an impassive expression all the emotion he betrayed on his masked face. The Kel Dor began his march to the temple's entrance. Currently situated in the center of the temple, the Jedi had only been passing through but it appeared the Imperium intended to extend his stay.

Iril'dor welcomed them with open arms.

Rai's even strides were measured and purposed. A complement of Jedi rushed to the front to ward off the Sith's vanguard, but Iril'dor kept his pace steady. As the temple's massive gate rose to meet him in the distance he increased his speed until he was flying over the polished rock, his legs pumping furiously and carrying him easily over the sunny expanse. Light streamed into the enclave's courtyard as Iril'dor moved as a blur towards the entrance.

Anguished cries mingled with the smell of cooked flesh. The overpowering scent wafted from the temple's footholds, and as the Battlemaster crested the gate he took in the front in but a moment. Crimson sabers flashed against a sea of cerulean and green, and as Iril'dor's foot touched the top step of the entrance way he propelled himself high up in the air, coming down hard in the epicenter of the fray itself.

Dual lightsabers leapt into Rai's outstretched hands, igniting simoultaneously as the warrior came up swinging. The blue and red sabers evolved into a destructive maw, consuming the acolytes and marauders who fell into its reach. The Kel Dor fell into the battle's rhythm, his mind entirely focused on the rise and fall of his blades and the enemies surrounding him. The spurt of blood from a dismembered limb, the crunch of cartilage underfoot, Iril'dor took the information in and processed it with the aid of the Force to amplify his already hyper-acute senses.

The Jedi had been made fools of in past engagements with the Sith, fighting as an uncoordinated and indecisive unit while the Imperium had tempered discipline with skill. Master Rai had not held his seat on the Council long, but he was no virgin to battle. Waves of dark side power radiated off of the invading force, rallying behind an impressive visage of evil dominance. Iril'dor picked out the unmistakable presence of Darth Vires, Warmaster of the Sith and what many would call the Battlemaster's equal. This clash of the titans would pit quite possibly two of the most skilled lightsaber duelists alive in the galaxy against each other in a battle that would set the temple's ancient foundations quaking.

Rage boiled off of Vires, seeping into his compatriots and filling them with an insatiable bloodlust. Iril'dor continued his inevitable journey through the onslaught, striking down Sith after Sith but changing his course to set him on a beeline for the Warlord himself. Rai concentrated his mastery of the Force to send waves of valor sweeping over his allies to focus and empower not only himself but those around him as well.

In past battles the Jedi had fallen victim to ineffective strategy and the overwhelming presence of the dark side. Iril'dor vowed in the midst of battle that this day the Order would find their victory. As the Jedi surrounding him surged on, Iril'dor plowed through countless foes to reach his ultimate opponent.

Today, the Order's hammer fell.

 

[Mars]

The beat of a well remembered Nar Shaddaa rap flowed through the mind of the Zabrak. For all the time Varek spent training his body for battle he spent an equal length of time training his mind meditating as the music of the criminal underworld played in the background. While most considered the crass rhymes more fitting for a thug than a Sith Lord, Varek paid no heed to such sentiments, the clever lyrics keeping him interested as the slow beats played.

This is the night, we're burning you alive right here, and no one'll hear, your crys of fear.

The Jedi vanguard that traveled with their Battlemaster fell as quickly as they came in front of the masterful warrior. The Kel-Dor came within thirty meters just as Varek cleaved another of his kind in two with a powerful slash. His Shard, however, would provide the perfect taunt for the Battlemaster. Two Jedi standing at the tall man's sides, presumably two of his closer friends, would feel their minds splinter and shatter under the weight of the Shard's mental assault. Mind Shard, ironically named, had broken well past any mental defenses the two could hope to muster, shortly before a nice wave of Force Horror and Insanity infected the poor bastards. While Varek merely built and stored energy into his empty left hand, the Shard had sent the Battlemasters nearest allies into a spiraling insanity that saw all their darkest nightmares come to life before their eyes. The cries of insanity lit the battlefield and had a serious impact on overall morale for what was an otherwise relatively even fight. Harnessing the Shard's energy to ensure he had plenty for the coming duel, Varek cleared the area of Jedi and Sith alike with a quick application of Force wave, knocking those who could interfere back a few meters and clearing the two a sizeable dueling space. Varek's eyes narrowed as the well of energy in his left hand grew ever deeper, locking into those of the Jedi Battlemaster.

The lyrics continued to play, the ball in Iril'dor's court, Varek stood focused and ready for battle.

 

[Mr. Teatime]

Arcturus moved forward as the second wave of defenders streamed from the temple. He Saw the warmaster engage the Jedi battlemaster, himself incapacitating a brave Padawan with a swift strike to the head from an armored gauntlet. Then, he Saw something VERY interesting. A Jedi fighting one of the senior acolytes. The Acolyte was doing well, up until the point the Jedi swung his hammer directly into the acolyte's side.

As the acolyte fell, Arcturus readied his sword. He activating his Fighting-Sight and entered a fighting stance ten feet from the Jedi. Left foot forward, left arm across his chest with his open palm, hand claw-like, facing his opponent at all times. His sword handle was at his hips, tip angled upwards, situated to the right of the arm. It held characteristics of Soresu, but was in fact a stance of his own design, meant for counterattacks. "Hail, Jedi! Finally, a warrior!" His tone held hints of both derision and respect. Derision, for those before who fell too easily, and respect for the only man brave enough to wield a weapon of ancient design in these modern times, besides Arcturus himself. Despite his friendly greeting, however, he was fully ready to enact a counterstrike. A single careless step, and Arcturus would be upon his opponent in one way or another. Soresu taught one patience, after all, as well as precision.

 

[Matty]

The Hapan had never really learned a lightsaber form. He had studied Shien just for the philosophical pleasure that it brought him. His war hammer was far to heavy to ever be a graceful weapon and his light foil was to light to be effective. The Hapan knew that he had to find the middle ground between his weapons if he was to ever be an effective fighter. Tyrrek gave a low grumble as he pulled his spike out of the Quarren's chest. He gave the aquatic alien a morose look and turned away from the gathering pool of blood. He said a silent prayer to his unnamed gods and turned back towards the fray. Another two acolytes began to rush his position, hoping to catch the Master off guard once again. Unluckily for the both of them, the Hapan was fully aware. He called his hammer to his hand once again with the force, firmly gripping it in his vice like two handed grip. One acolyte, a Twi'lek leaped into the air with tremendous height, his abilities supplemented by the force. Tyrrek gave a small shake of his head and shifted on the balls of his feet to the left. His body slid as if it was on ice, causing the Twi'lek's overhanded strike to connect to the floor in a shower of sparks. With as much speed as he could muster, Tyrrek bounced back two steps before swinging his hammer around his head and allowing the blunt face to connect with the Twi'lek's breastplate. The Sith's plastoid battle armor crumpled instantly from the force of the blow. Small gems that had been embedded into the plastoid showered the area in a dazzling display of violence. The second acolyte faltered as she saw her comrade-in-arms go down from a single blow. A life time of being trained to fought against another lightsaber left the young girl paralyzed in fear. The Hapan's weapon was to unique, to strange, to unfamiliar. The girl dropped her blade at once, causing the now lifeless hilt to clamber to the ground. The echo of the hilt resounded throughout the battlefield, briefly drowning out the sounds of battle to the Hapan's ears. He gave a small smile and called the girl and her blade to him with the force. He wrapped an arm around her waist as he sent her crimson-bladed lightsaber into the closest wall of the temple. The black cylinder exploded in a small red fireball, causing another wave of light to envelope the two combating sides.

"Run to the shuttles young one" the Hapan said as he released the girl "You shall receive no quarter from your former friends like you did from me"

The young woman could only nod, her voice seemingly absent. The horrors of the battle had fully donned on her. A lifetime of training, of espionage, of betrayal could not have prepared her for what she faced today. She backed away with one step, then a second and finally on the third and fourth, she entered into a force imbued sprint to escape to the relative safety of the Jedi evacuation shuttles

"Hail, Jedi! Finally, a warrior!" a voice sounded from his right

Tyrrek turned to the sound only to find another armored Sith. He was about to give a small shake of his head when he noticed the man's sword. The Hapan's frown morphed into a small smile at the sight. This may knew honor if he was using a weapon of the old days

"Hail Sith!" he called back, readying his hammer at the same time "Tis' a shame we have to meet during the trials of war"

 

[Brand]

A breeze whispered its way over the war-torn steps of the temple entryway. The wind blew through the temples, and with it came a sorrowful toll. Iril'dor shivered in his fine coat of perspiration. Time slowed around him, and the Force guided his actions; parry, thrust, pivot... survive. These actions came naturally to the seasoned warrior, who followed by rote.

Familiar screams jarred Rai from his concentration. The Master ended the Marauder he had been engaged with and turned, seeing two close friends gripped by the power of the Sith Lord. The Nautolan and Bothan were hunched over with their hands clutched to their skulls, piteous shells left to fend off the darkness that consumed them. A regretful shake of his head was all the contemplation Iril'dor needed before sweeping his lightsabers through both of the men and cleanly ending their suffering. Rai allowed himself a moment to steady his emotions before extending his arm and jettisoning an acolyte twenty yards into the air who had snuck behind him in an attempt to decisively change the course of the battle.

Iril'dor pushed the regret to the back of his mind. The Warmaster had tossed combatants of both alignments away to form a rough circle, approaching the Battlemaster and gathering himself for their bout. Rai swiveled to face the Sith, deactivating and stowing his crimson saber in one smooth action. His remaining blue blade cast an icy tint on the paved stone.

As chaos reigned around the impromptu dueling circle, Battlemaster met Warmaster. It was clear the Zabrak had no intention of opening the duel, so Iril'dor sucked in a breath, sent a reassuring wave of the Force out to his followers, and ran to meet the Sith Lord.

Raising his left hand palm outwards, Iril'dor released a potent wave of the Force while sprinting to close the distance. The Kel Dor could sense the energy building in the Sith's left hand, and raised his lightsaber to the front of his body to guard against a sudden recovery or the unleashing of this pent up destruction. Once he closed to within range he lashed out with a horizontal strike aimed at his opponent's neck.

 

[Mars]

The flames would remain silent for the time being, today Varek's blade would sing.

The large Kel'dor closed the gap quickly, but the sizeable distance between the two gave the Sith Warmaster more than enough time to react. Varek is known far and wide for his talent with Pyrokinesis and it was that skill which brought the Zabrak what infamy he has, V's skill with Pyrokinesis is a direct result of his skill with defensive powers to unleash such fury. As the Battlemaster's lightsaber came in bound for his neck, Varek's left arm was wrapped in a protective shield of Tutaminis energy, effectively shielding the already lightsaber-resistant armor from the blade as it'd impact against the midst of his forearm, parrying the blade to his left as his arm turned from horizontal to vertical. Just as Iril'dor's blade made its impact Varek's own blade would lance forward with blinding speed in a stab bound straight for the center of his opponents chest. The chances of dodging such a blow just as own slash was misdirected was incredibly small, especially when one considers how large of a target V had, along with his own skill with a blade. The Jedi wore simple robes that would have no hope at stopping the crimson saber as it lanced in and ran him through.

 

[Brand]

As the Darth blocked Iril'dor pivoted back, utilizing the lightsaber-resistant gauntlets as additional support. He attempted to move his body out of immediate danger, angling himself as the Darth continued forward so that his opponent's unarmored forearm and elbow were exposed. None the less, the Darth was quick, and his thrust came forwards as a blur. Iril'dor felt a stab of pain register from his midsection and deduced he had taken a glancing blow to the ribs from the Sith. Blood slowly seeped through Iril'dor's brown robes, but for the time being at least, the Kel Dor's wound would not prove to be life threatening. Determined to respond even in the face of unexpected injury, Iril'dor flicked his wrist, using minimalistic gestures to slash at Vires' elbow while it was exposed and in the process of cutting into the Battlemaster.

 

[Mr. Teatime]

Within his helmet, a grin lit his face. "Indeed. Your Republic has much to answer for." Arcturus was mostly referring to the corruption and such, but he considered their misuse of the Jedi as another. He was fairly sure the Jedi had to have been fooled somehow into thinking the Republic was a force for good. Silly Jedi. Arcturus gave a fencing step forward, right foot not passing his frontward left. Then his right foot slid in front of his left, his stance adjusting so his sword was in front. At any time, Arcturus was prepared to counter any offensive action with a swift stab, since he started at ten feet away. Once finished this quick stepping motion, his sword dipped left, point going from facing his opponent to facing straight left and down, and then swung up in one smooth, quick motion, his blade whistling ominously like something far heavier than it appeared. It was aimed at his the Jedi's lower right side. Keeping in mind the ordinary-looking sword weighs as much as a spikey, yellow-haired game character's sword despite it's normal size, length, and appearance, blocking the blow would be nearly impossible should the Jedi be wielding a lightsaber, but he is instead wielding a hammer. So Arcturus is staying at range and attempting to strike with the latter third of the sword, the tip, which if it struck would slice him from liver to heart in one movement. This also meant less of the sword's force would impact and stop on the hammer should it block, but it was still significant.

Arcturus was excited. He had fought in many battles, but the only one that involved a swordsman, well... They were just useless vibroswords, and the swordsman in question swung quite wildly and without aim, striking only Arcturus' durable armor. At least, that was Arcturus' take on it, since the Jedi was incapacitated and taken prisoner. Why else would a proper swordsman lose, after all?

 

[Mars]

A slight grin on his face, the Warmaster had all but won.

His lightsabers blade lanced forward and glanced the Kel'dor before him, who attempted to pivot away and counter. Varek kept the distance closed utilizing the Force running through his veins to speed his movements up considerably, his saber sweeping across as he turned on the ball of his right foot, continuing horizontally and following Irl'dors initial turn to avoid V's last attack. The close proximity between the two combatants dictated that the center section of the saber would be cutting through Irl'dor, allowing no opportunity to simply back out of the sudden attack. The Battlemaster's lightsaber would bounce off the phrik plating of the armor that covered his forearm and Varek's own lightsaber would cut the man in half unless he could somehow get his lightsaber back to the centerline after trying to strike towards the outer portion of V's arm. Irl'dor's strike towards V's arm also locked him into close proximity with V, meaning there was little he could do against the saber attack. Simultaneously with the lightsaber attack, Varek's left hand exploded in burst of light that would undoubtedly blind the Jedi and render attack, defending and countering nigh impossible, and severely reducing the accuracy of Irl'dor's counter strike.

 

[Brand]

[ST]The Battlemaster's blade clipped the Warmaster's armor, digging in to the weak plating around the joint between his opponent's elbow. A sharp twinge assaulted him as his opponent's blade began to cleave into his body, but he sneered in grim satisfaction as he clove his opponent's arm off at the elbow. Without the lower part of his arm, it would be impossible for the warmaster to continue his attack, and while the attack did tear into Iri's side, the battlemaster was able to shrug it off by pouring the strengthening effect of Force Valor through his body. Even though his opponent lacked his main arm and lightsaber, the battlemaster did not stop his attack there. He followed through with a burst of Force speed, enhancing his striking speed by a factor of two as he altered direction to decapitate his foe. The attack was made from his opponent's right to minimize chances of an effective block. Indeed: his opponent lacked a weapon and half an arm, so the shock, if not the pain, would play against his opponent's ability to respond, and half an arm, so the shock, if not the pain, would play against his opponent's ability to respond, especially coupled with Iri's augmented speed..[/ST]

NexEdit: This post is to be stricken from the RP, as per the arbitration of the admins that can be found in the OOC thread for the Battle of Empress Teta

 

[Mars]

Checkmate, Jedi.

Varek's lightsaber changed course, sliding up the Kel'dor's side with blinding speed and unceremoniously removing his left arm at the shoulder as it carved through sinew, flesh and bone as though it were paper. The Zabrak's assault was not complete though. Vires' turned his hips, lightsaber whirling through the air as it arced over the Battlemaster's head as a red blur before coming down and severing his right arm at the mid-bicep. The lightsaber would continue on it's downward path and cut the Kel'dor's right leg out from under him at the mid-thigh before coming back to Varek's side, where the blade would return to it's hilt. The Force flooded Varek's right arm as he pivoted on his right foot, rolling his shoulder and pivoting his hips, throwing a picture perfect right cross as his fist connected with a vicious crack in the center of the Jedi Battlemaster's face.

Well, what was left of him at least.

In the span of but a few seconds, thanks to Force Speed, Varek had removed three of the Jedi's limbs and likely smashed multiple bones in his face with the vicious punch, knockinh the single-legged man to the floor and utterly unconscious. A rare grin played on the Zabrak's face. He had just proved himself dominant over the only man in the galaxy thought to be his rival in the art of war outside the Sith. The crumpled, broken body of the Jedi Battlemaster lay at his feet and the Shard hatched an idea in his mind, immediately sending Arcturus a message. Vires' stepped over and past what was left of the barely living Kel'dor, moving to the temple entrance with few to stop him. His Shard would tell the other Sith Lords of their victory and that it was time to get out of here. Varek's "spare lightsaber" was launched deep into the temple telekinetically as the Sith Lord and his vanguard left the field. The bodies of the fallen Jedi vastly outnumbered those of the Sith. It was a crushing, brutal victory.

And soon, the temple would be counted among the list of casualties.

 

[Mr. Teatime]

Arcturus' fight with the hammer-armed Master was quite something to behold. Although the Hammer didn't have the weight behind it that the sword did, it was still heavier than a lightsaber, and the Master had trained with it for some time. Their weapons hammered on each other with lethal intent, the clash of metal on metal ringing uniquely across the battlefield. However, Arcturus had the advantage of his weapon being of an alchemical nature. It was it's full weight only to people who weren't Arcturus, and so his fast, heavy swings took no more effort than the swings of an ordinary blade. Eventually, he closed the distance and grasped the blade of his weapon, halfswording, and blocked a blow at his left side. Stopping it, he used the hammer's shaft as leverage to smash his sword's crossguard against Tyrrek's wrist, forcing him to drop it, and then rising the pommel into the right side of his chin with the force of two hands behind it. With a loud crack, Tyrrek dropped to the ground, out cold. Arcturus sighed. It had been a good battle, but Arcturus had won at last. He took the hammer up in his left hand, taking it as a trophy.

Suddenly, he got a signal from his master. Two, in fact. One from the Shard, actually. Arcturus was off, long strides seeing him swiftly through the chaos, shouldering a fleeing Jedi from his path. He discovered the downed Jedi Councilor, the idea the Shard fed him taking form. Tendrils came forth from the 'nostrils' of his mask as he bent down, sliding through what was left of the Jedi's face, and draining out his 'Soup'. With it came a burst of strength, subtle memories, and a burning chill that spread throughout his body. With a small shiver, he stood again, the tendrils snaking their way back beneath his mask. He then turned away, heading towards their escape shuttle, his Sight turning towards the roof. There were many things going on there, but the most interesting to Arcturus was the line that connected to a particularly small Jedi, one that lead far away. Arcturus followed it as he reached Vires', clearly distracted by it. Suddenly, he found it's source. One of the dark side, of similar size. One who he recognized. One who should not be on Empress Teta, for he was not chosen to come.

An interesting development, indeed.