Operation Gothic Shield: House of Representatives

[Rom]

Smirking as he snapped his saber counterclockwise to redirect Kemp's diagonal strike away from his shoulder and down towards the ground, the reptilian Sith Lord drew more and more of the darkside to him as he eyed the Padawan. His light presence was almost completely obliterated by a rising darkness, and though he seemed faster and stronger, it was but a temporary bonus. The dark side was a double edged sword to those unfamiliar with the powers it gave, and soon not only would his distraction be shot, but his ability to sense the ebb and flow of the battle would be diminished; his usual clarity sacrificed to the darkness.

The Barabel suddenly exploded into motion, his saber coming up in a simple jab that twisted into a feint directed at the Padawan's midsection while his other hand slipped down to his belt and grabbed his second saber, the crimson blade spearing into existence through the space the Padawan currently occupied. Holding his left saber close to his body, Vereor lashed out with his right saber in a swipe designed to remove the Padawan's leg at the knee.

"The Dark iz generous, and it iz patient. It is the dark that seeds cruelty into justice, that drips contempt into compassion, that poisons love with grains of doubt. The dark can be patient, because the slightest drop of rain will cause those seeds to sprout." Smirking, he pivoted on his leg and brought his left saber hammering down towards the padawan while his tail came up behind him defensively, the silver blade flicking dangerously near the Padawan's guard ready to fend off any attack as Vereor brought the right blade around in a guard position. "The rain has come, the seeds have sprouted, for the dark is the soil in which they grow, and it is the clouds above them, and it waits behind the star that gives them light. The dark’s patience is infinite. Eventually, even the starz burn out..... yourz already haz. A disgrace to the Jedi..."

 

[DeathToll]

Kemp listened to what the Sith said as his blade was taken down across his body, only now truly hearing his words. Kemp began to feel an out of body experience, peculiar...

He swirled with the same boosted speed, the same boosted power; having only just begun his bolstered edge. His left hand had been concealed from the Sith, as the Sith's first guiding motion had brought Kemp's blade down. Just as the Sith tried, feinted -it did not matter-, Kemp shockingly released his hidden hand right by his shoulder with a Force Push; simultaneously shrinking down into a bent spin away from that left hand. Kemp's blade, already having been brought to the ground and now leading this spin, would easily deflect the sprouting beam from the second saber - as the Sith would have no hands free to deflect the Force Push and Vereor's first stab would actually be redirected back/up into himself - especially due to the twisting feint of his arm, it would be in a weakened angle and thus most definitely Pushed back into himself. And as Kemp spun down and most likely deflected the igniting second beam (or ducked it), the long metal Phrik pike along his back in this spin would also aid in any deflections. And finally, with all of this in one strikingly fast swirl of a motion, Kemp's blade would have come around for a slash through the Barabel's leg - cutting the leg clean off at the thigh if successful; and Kemp rolled away over that shoulder with the motion. And as Kemp rolled away, his free hand used the Force to quickly Pull the blade at Vereor's tail right into himself with a hidden strike from behind with that very tainted tail blade. Since Vereor had shifted his body to bring down that last left strike, his tail would have swayed away from the direction Kemp rolled in; and even if any actions were interrupted, Kemp's roll would have made it near impossible for the tail or any other attempt to make a successful strike.

As he roll away, the groggy feeling seemed to speak to him; echoing familiar words of reason and wisdom. Kemp was readied for the next engagement, eyes widening in a sort of trance.

,~`"Even the noblest of intentions can end in disaster, Kemp. The desperate urge to do what is right can often lead to the very worst wrongs."`~,

It was his Master, his Master's words; the Battlemaster Augustus Primus Leonus.

,~`"I need to know, NOW, if you are capable of taming that darkness I can feel inside you. The hatred, and resentment and anger that you are carrying like a rope around your neck, I need to know that you can overcome it."`~,

,~`"I need to know.. I NEED TO KNOW.. CAN YOU OVERCOME IT!?!"`~,

,~`NOW! NOW!!! NOW!!!!`~,

 

[Rom]

The Force screamed a warning of what was to come and Vereor didn't even bother trying to avoid it. Lightly jumping just off the ground, Vereor caught the force push directly center mass and twisted away through the air, his tail blade snapping out with the blade aimed toward's the padawan's head just as he dropped low to swipe at where the Sith Lord's leg had been - the lightsaber was in a poor position to block the incoming attack and the flaking paste on the blade itself promised terrible consequences should it even cut skin. Hissing, the barabel reoriented himself and slammed into the ground ten feet away. Pushing himself to his feet, Vereor glared at the Jedi padawan as a spear of dark energy formed just next to him and hurled through the air towards the Padawan as he seemed to fall into a mental fog, the Sith Lord following in it's wake his left saber held defensively infront of his body and his right saber coming down in a strike aimed for the padawan's shoulder in a move designed to cut off his arm.

The Darth was a blur of motion, switching seamlessly between Soresu and Juyo as only a master of the two forms could, blocking or redirecting all strikes aimed at his body while striking quickly and without any warning at the padawan's chest, left leg, groin, and throat in no discernible pattern with one saber while his other saber was held close to him to block any attack. The fight needed to end soon; the Hungry One bayed for the Jedi's blood and the Barabel was determined to deliver.

 

[DeathToll]

The Darth was too overconfident and Kemp thought he had made a fatal mistake, having not sensed Kemp's Forceful tug on his tail. And as the Sith let himself fly with the Force Push and shot out a strike with his tail, Kemp had yanked on it with the Force more in angle of where Vereor had been; thus stretching it out for his saber to catch as they both parted ways. Kemp's saber would have cut the blade clean off of the tail as his head duck away and out of reach of the strike, just as Veroer was sent away into the air with the Push and not quite within reach of Kemp's head - as the pike along his back moved through this space as a deterent as it was, though it was not needed; nor was the slick black helmet still surrounding his head.

...The words were like a pounding fist upon fogged glass, an unknown trying to get out. It was an unknown. Kemp had not let himself, truly - himself - into the world. He'd contained himself in all of the walls and barriers of his life, only remembering the touch of the Jedi at his most strenuous moments in a duel. It was fitting that he find himself in a duel, enlightenend on all the things that troubled him. In the now, he let go of his past. Forgiveness, in this moment of peril and a possible end, set him free.

Kemp bloomed with a Force Enlightenment, feeling more than rejuvinated anew; glowing with a serenity and a purity. Kemp's distance upon where he now stood in relation to the Darth gave him enough space to dodge right with a jerk of a lean and let the dark weapon disapear back into darkness. Kemp further spaced himself out, sidestepping and angling himself off of Vereor's side as he attack. This simple adjusting movement of Kemp's -over and over- was as much as he could muster, keeping as much space between him and the Sith as possible. Kemp's own movements were that of an Enlightened Jedi, moving even faster than he had before. He was on his way back to the Light.

As Vereor made the strike at Kemp's chest, Kemp barely let the strike shoot over his short shoulder with an angled-away bend and would simultaneously cut up a slight burning slit into Vereor's open and outstretched underarm; feeling the light singe of the Sith's blade upon his skin. Kemp's saber arm tight up by his chest and moving a fraction of the distance compared to Vereor. As Vereor shot down his next attack at Kemp's left leg (again a larger distance than Kemp's simple and free of anticipation backing away with a lift of the foot), Kemp had already further stepped away with a simultaneous slash at Vereor's open lower rib to possibly sear another slight cut into his body; as Kemp's body was a thinner target still with only his side drifting away from the Darth in a continuous distance-keeping strategy. His boot, however, now also singed with a cut almost reaching skin. And as the Sith next went for Kemp's groin, Kemp dove up into the air with a simultaneous pounding of a Force Push down on Vereor's face; though as Kemp then tucked into that flip, his saber spun along his side and inbetween them with another possibilty for a searing cut along the Sith's neck (or hand, if he reacted in time to deflect the push). Kemp would likely land with a twisting duck off to Vereor's side and a bit further away from Vereor's desired direction of attack, as the last attack at his throat came and Kemp had angled a twist of his body so that the strike would instead reach out before him as he slice down to lob off the arm just above the wrist. Kemp's final strike would end the blade nearly straight out, having been only a cutting motion to extened his arm horizontally and just through the exposed arm.

Kemp's movements were fluid and confident, facing the desperation of his end of forgiveness. His body angles were complex and difficult to hit with reduced body zones, and his reading of the battle was clear yet fleeting.

"The Dark is generous! It forces us to find our Light, and ignite it! For even a small spark is enough to find our way through it! And it _ is _ -NEVER- too late to rekindle our spark deep within!!!"

 

[Rom]

Grinning widely at the padawan's quick responses, Vereor quickly disengaged his left lightsaber and turned his wrist up, re-activating the blade just in time over his arm to intercept the Padawan's strike. Digging his foot into the ground, Vereor pushed off to the right and hunched low, the blue lightsaber blade sparking and spitting as it slammed into the krayt dragon scales and burned through until it hit the cortosis plate beneath. Tail snapping out like a whip in anticipation, Vereor stepped back, dodging the Force Push in one simple motion and reversed his grip on his lightsaber and deactivated it, the emitter turning back under his grip with the emitter pointing diagonally towards the roof... and exactly through the space where the Jedi was flipping.

The Force within the Darth seemed to cry out in joy as the left red blade burned through the air with a muted *snap-hiss* as his right blade swung up to block the strike aimed for his neck. The crimson line of fire from his left blade entered the padawan's body just as his body straightened in preparation of landing, the lightsaber punching through the Jedi's body armor and burning through his body. Pulling the lightsaber out, Darth Vereor turned to face the Jedi as his body fell to the ground and looked down at him. The Hungry One rejoiced, the Force practically sang with his joy as the Darkness surged and choked the entire area in a suffocating aura.

"The spark is defined by the darkness it illuminates... the depthz of the shadowz that hid your soul... This one haz seen your soul... haz corrupted it... and have now destroyed it. Pitiful Jedi...."

The Lord would, in the back of his mind only, admit that the Padawan had been spirited, and had the makings of a warrior. With more time, he would have been a truly capable fighter for the Light....... but now he would be just the first of many. The first to fall.. the first to die... and the one who would carry his message.

 

[DeathToll]

"PMPHHBHHP!"

Kemp blurted the clenching tighten of his muscles as the blade interrupt his body's flow, landing with a cluttered collapse as two parts of a whole. Alfa Raven, almost symbolically, veering in a uncontrollable diagonal freefall towards the far end of the rooftop just as Kemp was cut in half. The craft, no longer able to resist the earlier damages of the destructive Force attack, spewing out the other Padawan's unconcious body as it crash into a blast of surface flame and smoke.

Kemp's legs pattered down to a dying series of twitches and his torso plopped onto his back, as his helmet fumble off of him as the back of his head smack onto the rooftop. His face revealed, Kemp's mouth foaming with a thick red druel, Kemp's eyes had teared up. He looked up at the Sith, his arms bent out to his sides up off of the ground in a trembling shiver as his bottom lip pouted to release a flow of newly released blood from his system. Having dropped his lightsaber 'Aegir' by his side, it deactivated and rolled to tap against the side of his head; the dark brown of his sweaty hair softening the rolling silver hilt.

As he lay there staring at his executioner, a single tear loosened from the corner of his right eye - streaming down the side of his temple. It was not in sadness, not in fear, or hate. Kemp heard those words from his Master once again, with a fullfilled heart. His only solace in death, that he fulfilled his promise; his one promise in this existence. Thinking of Jarak, Kemp thought only of how he'd appologize once he met his friend after life. Thinking of his brother, Kemp only wished he had seen him one last time...

Kemp struggled with a numbness to the severe pain, as only a torso with arms and a head; his elbows pressing against the ground to extend his head off closer to the Sith, his deathly angel. With a smile, another stream of blood came pooring out of the childlike face that was Kemp's iconic innocent feature.

"YOU ...are the _ darkness that I-I... ...illuminate. I am _ the spark _ that will bring... will bring... a wave... of..."

Kemp's words trailed off, his head slapping back onto the now pooled blood soaking up his hair with a release of strength and an end to his life; only having whispered the last words of his existence. Whether Darth Vereor heard Kemp's last promise, speaking of this Sith's fate to bring about a great wave of a burning Light, or not was no longer up to Kemp. He had died, in a halo of blood over the hostages; the ones he had sworn to save and protect....

 

[Rom]

Smirking at the Jedi's last promise, Vereor looked down upon his young visage. The padawan had been younger than he thought he would be, his skills suggesting that he would be quite a few years older. Summoning his cloak towards him with a negligent wave, the reptilian Sith Lord reached down and picked up the Jedi's lightsaber and the interesting light pike kept on his back; the metal had been gouged and pitted by the strike but had overall come out of the fight unscathed. Slinging the pike over his shoulder and clipping the Jedi's saber to his belt, Vereor gestured for Varek to join him on the roof and hissed as he stared down into the House of Representatives, his eyes tracking the small silver balls as they rolled across the floor towards the hostages clustered in the center of the room. Ignoring the panicked screams coming from the bound men and women, Vereor turned to walk towards the downed Raven smoking across the roof. "Varek... retrieve the ship. We are leaving."

The screams were cut off in a flash of light and a roar of flame as six thermal detonators activated and vaporized the hostages and the surviving infantry men of Konstallen. Eying a floating cambot, Vereor raised a clawed hand and pulled the droid towards him, the frantically beeping recording droid containing what could only be a full recording of the fight between the Jedi Padawan and the Sith Lord. Plans began to form in the Sith's head; he hadn't revealed too much in the fight that would be visible from the distance the droid had recorded and this was just the thing he needed.

Ducking into the Raven, Vereor looked down at the unconcious body of another Jedi Padawan, his life force flickering; faint but still there. Holding the Cambot in front of him, the Barabel Sith Lord gestured and watched as a spear of midnight black smalled into the chest of the Padawan, killing him instantly and leaving a gaping and smoking hole in the center of his chest. No mercy. No quarter. The Jedi would suffer, and this weakling certainly didnt deserve to live to tell the tale of this battle. Retrieving the holocube from the depths of the Cambot, Darth Vereor dropped it into a pouch within his cloak and pulled the body out of the hovercraft.

Dropping the body onto the ground next to the halved remains of the Jedi semi-worthy of being called a warrior, Vereor bowed his head and waited for his Apprentice to return with their shuttle. Konstallen had been an experiment, a chance to test tactics and his own battle readiness before the real war started. The success of the General's coup didn't matter to the reptilian Sith at all: He had bigger plans now. They would leave this planet... and the two Sith would not be leaving alone.