Of Blood Red Blades (PVP)

[Soverin]

[ @Vepos Surge ]

[ Korriban : A dusty ravine ]
[ Midday : Fair weather ]
​

Was there ever truly light there? Day was darkened by thick clouds choked with dust that filled the skies of Korriban. The studious sith below was left entirely to himself. Not even the stars of space or the light of the sun could pierce the atmosphere to keep him company. It was perfect. In complete silence he meditated dangerously close to the overlook's edge. On both sides of the ravine were steep smooth walls of stone that cleared on one side to allow a vista of the deep gorge below. The arena itself was uninteresting. Imposing pillars of stone, stalagmites and hand carved effigies, burst forth from the rocky floor to tower above any who stood near. Blast craters and piles of sandy rubble decorated various corners.

The only foreign obstruction that set apart from the desolate decorum of the ravine was a vibroblade, stuck deep into the crust. It was a blade he forsook long ago when he swore himself Sith and took the name Mors Soverin. Abandoned, it had collected much dust. However little love he had for the relic of a weapon, it still brought him clarity. It helped him to visualize the power he'd so quickly amassed. The pathetic creature he'd slain and overcome. His old self was dead and gone; good riddance, he thought.

Deep in focus, all manner of wrathful emotions swirled within him. Anger, lust, malice... They churned and demanded to be released, ever building within the small vessel of his form. With eyes closed and mind disconnected, he was one with the force. In the dark, he was able to truly see.

 

[Vepos Surge]

Why Gork had come here he had no idea, the only reasoning he could come up with was that he was drawn here by something. What it was he could only assume it was the force, or possibly some kind of spirit, or perhaps destiny itself. Stepping into the arena after a long walk dust was kicked up by the wind around him, striking him in the face, making sight mildly difficult. He knew he should have brought his robe, maybe it would have kept away the prickling particles that annoyed him deeply. Walking several dozen meters the wind would die down some, revealing the statues and pillars around him, as well as an awkwardly lonely vibroblade.

Stepping forward he would look at the weapon for a few moments before gripping its hilt. It was then however that Gork sensed something, another dark side presence, and a surprisingly powerful one at that, if a bit immature. Casting his gaze upwards he spotted a small figure in the distance, at the top of an overlook, the person likely having noticed Gork much earlier. Releasing his grip on the hilt he would rest his palm on the pommel of the blade, his gaze fixed on the darksider before him. "Who might you be?" he shouted up to the individual, his voice deep and beastial. Preparing himself for anything he kept the hilt of his lightsaber within very close reach, his right hand dangling close to his belt where it was stored

 

[Soverin]

Mors rose to a crouch, looking down at the Gamorrean. For a painfully long moment there was silence. Strong gusts whipped his coat-tails and wild locks around before coming to a halt and dying as soon as they came. Such was the sporadic nature of the planet. When he did finally make a further move, it was simply to rise. Mors sent his gaze over the edge of the overlook, surveying the distance to the ground.

With one faithful step he walked over the edge of the overlook, landing gracefully on both feet. There was no sound or impact upon his some forty or fifty foot fall, the force cushioned the shock that would have killed a lesser man. Though the Gamorrean dwarfed him in stature, Mors never the less trained a predatory gaze on the hulking Sith. He kept his head held low with bright corrupted eyes peeking up at Gork, eventually starting an encircling path to close the distance between them.

"F41J." He spoke loud enough to pierce the scraping winds. He was never one to appear arrogant to strangers, especially on homeworld. He could be looking into the eyes of a direct superior.

"Why did you come here?" Mors reissued, this time with more caution in his tone. His eyes eventually drifted from Gork to the Vibroblade he palmed loosely, forgetting his question entirely. "That thing is old... And worthless. Pay it no mind."

 

[Vepos Surge]

Watching as the young man fell to the ground he was surprised to see that he was much younger than his strength in the force lead Gork to believe. His name was odd, likely some kind of code he was given to either hide his indentity or given to him at birth in some military academy or slave camp. "I came here at the whim of the dark side" he spoke, his gaze focused intently upon the human male that stood before him, slowly closing the gap between them. Catching how quickly his attention was averted towards the vibroblade Gork would grin at the boys words, revealing sharp teeth and large tusks. Pulling the blade from the ground with his left hand he would glance at it for a moment before speaking. "Then you wouldn't mind if I took it then?" he questioned, seeing if he could get a rise out of him, trying to determine if the weapon was important to him in some way.

Spinning the blade in his hand he would spin it around into a proper grip, holding it horizontal just below neck height so he could look at it. "Your turn to tell me why you're here" he spoke, still prepared for anything, as the young in the Sith are often agressive towards superiors when given an opportunity so that they can kill them and take their rank.

 

[Soverin]

And get a rise he did. Mors gaze shot back to meet Gork's, giving the faintest expression of forewarning before he once again relaxed himself back into his apathetic state. His body trembled under it's steely exterior. For the second time in their encounter there was a painfully long moment of silence. Exchanges didn't seem to be the boy's strongest suit. An internal struggle was visible of his expression as he looked between Gork and the vibroblade.

"You can't." He made his decision, finally opting to reach down and clutch his saber. The blade's hilt soared from his belt a short distance to meet his hand, and with a quick flick of his thumb it crackled to life --- sprinkling a small area around the hilt with fiery sparks. The handcrafted blade hissed and whined as it finally settled, projecting a noisy beam of splintered energy. The saber's shifting orange and yellow pattern was reminiscent of fire. A serrated streak of energy whose edge was almost too fine to tell. "It isn't yours."

It was a warning attempt, but it was certainly a clear message. Gork had gotten what he wanted; Mors was not about to let him leave with it.

 

[Vepos Surge]

Glee spread across Gork's face as the boy ignited his lightsaber, its unusual crystal creating a blade akin to flame. Impressive that such a young acolyte would be in possession of what he could only guess was an exceedingly rare crystal. The hum of the boys saber filled his mind, feeding the blood lust that nearly all members of his race held deep within them. Even the notion that battle could take place between them nearly drove Gork into attacking with reckless abandon. However, luckily for him he was beyond likely all of his kin when it came to control and intelligence. His own lightsaber flying from his belt came to rest firmly within the grasp of his right hand, being brought to life with the simple motion of his thumb. The crimson blade crackled as particles of dust were blown into the intense heat of the plasma blade, disintegrating into little more than ash.

"Over a tooth pick?" he questioned, gesturing to the blade he held in front of him with his left hand. Tossing the vibroblade to his left well over a dozen meters he would focus his attention on the boy and his surroundings. Bringing his lightsaber in front of him in a defensive posture he would grip it with both hands. Waiting to see what the boy would do next he would speak, taunting him further. "Please don't tell me it meant something to you, that would just break my little old heart" he spoke before chuckling softly, revealing his sharp teeth and tusks once again.

 

[Soverin]

"Why are you doing this?" Confusion began to meld into his rage. His thoughts swirled violently until he could no longer keep track of them. He was blind, and he had found his clarity. The one true answer became apparent: kill him and be done with it. That pillar of fiery energy hummed as it slowly rose out in challenge at Gork. "Why are you doing this?"

There was something unnatural in his breathing as he held his stoic position. "You test me?" Both hands took a hold of his saber. His stance was unremarkable... Unidentifiable even.

 

[Vepos Surge]

More talking, exactly the thing Gork was trying to avoid at this point, as the boy was the first to draw a weapon. "Why doesn't matter now, all that matters is that you drew your lightsaber when you should have stayed calm". His inexperience was beginning to become rather obvious now, true the boy held power with the force, but he did not control it, he let it control him. He allowed the dark side to make actions for him instead of using and directing it in the way he wished. His potential was clear, but it would not matter anymore, as today he would finally be taught a lesson, perhaps the ultimate one if he continued to push his luck.

Moving forward quickly Gork would focus the force inwards, increasing his speed greatly so that he could close the gap between them within an instant. His sword still held firmly with both hands he would thrust it forward, not too agressively however as he planned only to pick at the boys defense, he wasn't attempting to break it, yet. His footing perfect he remained balanced and stopped his forward momentum quickly, making sure he was prepared for any kind of counter attack, prepared to defend and retaliate.

 

[Soverin]

The Gamorrean rushed him like a Reek, with startling speed. The quick readjustment of his level of balance was evident that he'd underestimated how quickly Gork would be able to advance. Their sabers collided in a shower of quickly dissipating sparks. The loud crack of the weapons meeting filled the hollow landscape with sound, disturbingly so. The meeting of their sabers was real and visceral, with little to no room for extravagance. Truly a vicious attempt.

Mors did a dance in his step that never seemed systematic. his reply to Gork's attack was present and instinctual. It was clear that by whatever method he learned his swordplay, it was based on being reactive and intuitive. When Gork struck he adjusted accordingly --- a simple system. He lashed out at a tilt and forced Gork's blade up to the right in a bind. A brazen response to the imposing creature's assault.

Mors did pick up on the momentum of his reply, however. He sent a faint of his blade into the opposite line of his attack, jabbing at the left and striking in the right. A sharp thrust of his saber aimed at Gork's abdomen.

 

[Vepos Surge]

His ability to react was impressive, able to keep track of and defend against Gork's rapid assault. However, if it wasn't for the fact Gork was holding back a tremendous amount of strength its likely that he could have powered right through him. After all, Gork was of an exceptionaly strong species, and even more so in his case, as he was extremely large, even among his kin. Going on the defensive however he would watch the movements of the boy closely, shifting slightly to the right of his faint. As for the strike to his abdomen he would swing his lightsaber, striking the right side of his blade with a mountain of force, easily enough to rip a weapon from the hand of an untrained warrior, sending it soaring off to the right.

Having likely at least knocked the males blade off course by a wide margin he would simply tilt his blade, aiming its tip towards the boys throat. Thrusting his saber forward he intended for it to pass straight through the front of his neck, severing his spinal cord and exiting through the back.

 

[Soverin]

There was a sharp crackle that pierced the air as their blades once again collided. The sharp sweep to Mors weapon sent it careening off to his right, thrown right from his hand. The Anzat redoubled in two quick movements that flowed in tandem. He bowed deep inward to avoid the horizontal placement of Gork's blade, simultaneously outstretching his hand to recall his own saber with the force. The hilt of his blade quickly reverted back to his hand with the blade held back behind him in something of a Vaapad technique.

A few paces were taken in a wide circle, giving him some range. A dust-ridden layer of sweat was now building on his face. Deep but steady breaths escaped him, like he were caught in permanent hyperventilation. He was tiring at a steady rate --- but he could continue on for some time, and it was now his turn.

Mors threw his palm forward and spawned a force push, or at least what appeared to be a force push. The maneuver would be quick, causing a wave of staggering heat to brush over Gork, swallowing the dry atmosphere around him. The consuming heat wouldn't be enough to spawn flames, but was certainly enough to fry any armour's shielding, forcing it to reboot and power back on. Mors charged just after it, hoping to stun the armoured Gamorrean for a brief moment. When Mors carved a path through the scalding air it was banished to both sides, his blade coming down upon Gork in a vertical slash, one that would leave a grizzly mark on him if struck.

 

[Vepos Surge]

Watching as the young man put distance between them he kept his guard steady. His footing firm and percise he would simply wait for his opponents next action. The boy, thrusting his hand towards Gork would release a powerful wave of heat, somethinng akin to high temperature steam. Luckily and unluckily for Gork however his armor held no shields, but instead was solid and durable metal with a layer underneath meant to protect him from extreme temperatures. Sadly however his face was not covered by this armor, meaning that his skin was exposed to the intense heat, causing him minor pain and injury to his flesh, less than that of a first degree burn.

Not one to be overwhelmed by even the most intense pains one could experience he would remain focused on combat. Releasing his left hand from the hilt of his lightsaber as the boy approached he would raise his own blade to parry the Anzat's attack with his blade positioned horizontally. Sparks being flung from the weapons colliding he would quickly thrust his left hand towards the boys abdomen, releasing a copious amount of force power to send his opponent flying backwards. Easily enough to crack a rib or two if unprotected he hoped this would be enough to stun this Anzat for some time. This of course would allow Gork to pursue, swinging his blade downwards towards the right shoulder of the boy, meaning to seperate his arm from his body.

 

[Soverin]

Mors was far too late in his response. When Gork's hand came to his torso to propel him back with a tremendous amount of force, he could only soften the blow with a push of his own. A sharp projection of power that cut into the right margin of the Gamorrean's own attempt. The colliding forces sent Mors barreling off to some stray angle like a ragdoll. His aim wasn't to keep his footing, but rather to cushion the blow that would have otherwise shattered his ribcage. His recovery was quick, using the momentum of his tumble to roll back onto his feet.

But the assault wasn't over. Gork followed up on his stagger with a brutal chop, aimed to bisect the recovering Sith. Mors learned from his last attempt at a counter, and didn't move to guard against the attack with his own saber. Instead he strengthened his posture and blasted himself across the rocky ground with yet another force push.

Saber still in hand there was another encircling movement. There was much distance between them now, and Mors surely wasn't going to hastily close it; a fool's move.

"Your name." He spoke, still focused in his waltz around the other Sith. "You didn't tell me." He let his attention fall for only a moment, spatting a bit of bloody phlegm to the crust. Though he was able to preserve himself, Gork's force attack did indeed take something out of him.