The Gauntlet (Dawn of the Republic Pre-Roleplay)

[Soverin]

@Vashiir

[ ??? : Jungle Labyrinth ]
[ Dusk : Still Weather ]

​

Labyrinthine walls of tall rust coloured metal obscured any sense of bearing, and the thickness of the accompanying jungle only strengthened the sense of misdirection. The heat was dizzying, and the neural sounds of humming and buzzing that came from some unknown source all around was enough to drive lesser men mad. The red sun above bathed the arena with a noxious glow. Occasionally, the dripping of damp moss or the soft patter of footsteps would echo through the long halls of the labyrinth --- but for the most part, there was silence.

A figure crept along, picking up to a sprint every now and again to dash from cover to cover. An ugly scarecrow of a creature, like weeds that took form and shambled about in some impending manner. It so cautiously peaked it's head over every halfwall and around every corner, scanning the surroundings like a twitching bird before quickly proceeding to it's new location.

It paused, puffing and heaving under it's layers of verdant leathers, patched up all over to keep the armour in place. One shaky hand reached up to tear away the re-breather mask it wore, and Mors soaked up all the fresh air he could. Breathable at last. The labyrinth was not without peril. It seemed every corner revealed a new danger. Poisonous gas, flesh-eating insects. His wits had to be about him.

He heard footsteps, Anzat were natural predators, after all. The force cleared his vision and let him see his prey, somewhere nearby. His saber quickly found itself plucked from under the cascading armor, activated in hand with a sharp hiss! The crimson red blade of the saber sang as it carved a path through the air, jutting out idly at his side. He gave another quick inspection of his surroundings and took off toward the distant sound.

 

[Vashiir]

Vashiir, clad in his typical armor, made his way through the maze like ruin, carefully scaling long roots which obscured the path and lined the floors, making what was once a straight walk into a miniature obstacle course. With blaster drawn, he'd carefully navigate the branches and occasionally take cover to peak over them with the utmost caution in a mindful scan of the area, the black dome of his helmet surrendering nothing of his identity or features.

He'd have gone to scale one last large root which blocked his path before he'd hesitate, his exposed tail flicking quickly as his ears perked from inside his helmet. He'd heard something in the distance... rapid footsteps pattering through a distant corridor. The Farghul elected to pursue the footsteps, vaulting over his cover and dashing for the corner that edged the sharp turn of the hallway into a new direction. He'd peak out just enough to steal a glance at what lay before him, and sure enough he'd spot the source of all the reckless noise he'd heard just a few moments prior. A Jedi clad in typical tan colored robes and brandishing a plain blue saber.

With a slow inhale, Vashiir would dash from around the corner and head for the Jedi at full tilt, lofting his blaster and loosing three quick shots from his blaster, the blue energy all trained for the center of the Jedi's chest. The force sensitive saber wielder was savvy however, quickly deflecting the blasts harmlessly into his environment around him and readying his saber for Vashiir's approach. He seemed confident, smirking as the Farghul approached as quickly as he could. The hallway was long, and Vashiir continued his approach while placing his blaster in its holster at his hip and unsheathing his claws, the sharp scythes sprouting from his fingertips.

 

[Soverin]

Blaster fire accompanied the sound of his prey's movement, followed shortly by the familiar sound of a lightsaber. Mors stopped in his dash, balancing back into a stance with his saber held passively out before him. He advanced into the next chamber to find himself onlooking an exchange on an underpass below, a deeper plant-infested hall. Blue sparks scattered into the air, and Vashiir jumped into view, brandishing wicked claws.

Mors quickly vaulted the walkway's railing and descended onto the battle below, tucking into a somersault. The Jedi refocused at an alarming rate, twitching just slightly in his step to align with the newcomer. The Sith was kept at bay, alongside Vashiir, awaiting an attack. They took a defensive strafe, focusing on the Jedi's position to assess an opening.

"Attack from behind," he spoke in Anzat, a language unbeknownst to those unassociated with an Anzati instructor. It's archaic dialect lacked the proper words to be used comfortably in conversation, but it made an excellent battlefield code.

Without another word, he charged. Throwing his strength into a great swipe that forced the Jedi to stumble. When their sabers met again, he initiated a blade lock with the Jedi. His toxic gaze bore into the Jedi's own, clouding their mind and obscuring Vashiir in ignorance. The Jedi was completely unaware, consumed with his defense against the Sith.

 

[Vashiir]

Vashiir collided with the Jedi in a flurry of sparks, his vibro-gauntlets allowing him to deflect each of the swordsman's swings in turn, taking a small hop back as he found no opening to move in on in the Jedi's defenses. He'd flit his eyes to follow his opponents as he saw that his attentions switched as Mors appeared on the scene, his tail giving a quick flick. As Mors gave him a command in Anzat, he'd recognize the phrase and give a light nod, immediately dashing off to the left as Mors engaged, having made his way around to the backside of the Jedi, his flank made easier by Mors' altering of the man's senses.

As he was busy locked blades with Mors', Vashiir would carefully approach behind and then make a move, snaking his left arm in under the the Jedi's right arm and pressing the button which toggled the light saber, the green blade of light retreating into it's hilt as a look of surprise temporarily spread across the man's face, before he was promptly sliced horizontally by Mors, the force of his pushing into the blade lock following through now since there was no resistance.

Without so much as letting the Jedi's body finish falling, the Farghul would spring up and raise his blaster while Mors' light saber was still in a downward recoil from the swing, attempting to let loose a round straight into Mors' skull. If he didn't react quickly enough, he'd find himself with a hole in his cranium.

 

[Soverin]

Mors tucked forward in his slash and rolled in kind --- damn, he'd not expected such a quick reaction. He hurled himself forward against the mossy floor and turned fast to hold his blade in a defensive stance against Vashiir.

"Need me to burn your helmet for you?" He teased, speaking in a monotone as his eyes dug into Vashiir's helmet. He rocked on his heels, keeping himself nimble so he could dodge if needed. His saber kept a steady alignment out before him, held at a slight angle.

 

[Vashiir]

"Shut up and focus."

his voice echoed through the transmitter which permitted his voice outside of his helmet, before he'd swiftly flick his blaster up to fire a lazily aimed shot at Mors' saber wielding hand, most likely missing entirely. Having fired from the hip he'd quickly sheath the weapon and lean forward, a short burst of a thruster sound being heard from the booster pack on the back of his suit as he began to dash forward, seeming to be propelled faster than someone without the force would normally be able to navigate.
He'd have his right arm held up defensively as he approached at a high speed, ready to defend against his light saber as he trailed his left arm behind him with his claws unsheathed and fingers sprawled, swinging his arm forward savagely in an attempt to slash at his right side as he closed the gap.

 

[Soverin]

Mors was already fleet footed, banishing away the blaster bolt with relative ease. The blade of his saber was held out to his right, taking about a 3 o' clock position. When the blaster bolt did smack against the lower quadrant of the blade, it went soaring off to one stray corner --- a distraction. He knew Vashiir wouldn't be that careless.

Those claws, deadly things in close proximity. He contemplated his next course of action, a brief four second window giving him all the time he needed to devise his strategy. He could align his saber forward and strike out and up with a piercing motion, entering through the rib-cage and exiting through the neck. It would be difficult to block, especially without another blade or shield. His best bet would be to knock the blade off course, leaving Mors's hit box wide open. But such an attack would leave them both wide open.

Better safe than sorry, he thought. His momentary window to consider his tactic was up, and he had to act. His saber hand (left-hand) carved a path up in warning, and his vacant hand dipped under his arm to blast a cone of powerful force energy out at Vashiir. The force blast was enough to push the Farghul off-course and back a ways, perhaps even winding him. It would also provide Mors the proper distance he needed.

 

[Vashiir]

Vashiir would have done his best to stop his advance as he saw the slash, pushing back as he placed his right foot and sliding along the floor, able to stop just before the swing of Mors' light saber, but not in enough time to react to the force push, feeling the wave of energy smack against his person and send him flying back.

Vashiir would compensate in mid air, although still trying to catch his breath after the blow, he'd manage to kick his legs up and flip upside down while flying backward, throwing a hand to the floor as he started to descend from the strike to spring off of, and land from the reverse handspring in a slide with a crouched stance, his arms held outward while his tail flicked too and fro to maintain his exquisite balance until he came to a stop.

Immediately, he'd turn his left wrist and quickly exchange with the interface which was hidden under a panel on his left gauntlet and look up to Mors, the Sith now seeing three grey lines converge in a triangle on the black dome of his helmet, before flashing a few times and transitioning to a deep red which filled rapidly in a clockwise motion. From then on, Mors would notice that wherever he was within Vashiir's vision, the triangle always was pointed directly at him.

 

[Soverin]

The fallen jedi's saber skipped across the stone-like floor, soaring into Mors hand and activating with a bright green pillar of light. He flourished it alongside his own crimson blade, taking a vicious stance with both blades held firmly out at each side. The Sith rolled off his virescent cloak, unburdening his arms and giving him the maneuverability he'd need. His armour was synthetic leather, albeit a bit more constricting than his usual attire, given it's mesh of cortosis plates.

More time to coordinate a strategy, though not much. He didn't need it, his fate was in the hands of the dark side, and it would guide him to the destruction of his foe. He charged in a dead-on assault, making a jagged path to meet Vashiir. The zigzagged path took him right to Vashiir, making him momentarily vulnerable as well as forcing the Farghul to hastily react. It wouldn't be long before he was upon him, invading his space to thrust his saber inwards at Vashiir, crossing up with his opposing saber to swipe diagonally down his person --- keen to bisect him shoulder to hip.

 

[Vashiir]

Vashiir stood as Mors approached, trying to read his movements, before settling on a course of action. His tail swished impatiently until Mors' arrived in front of him and his body spoke its intentions, where Vashiir would act with purpose.
Vashiir would shift his left foot out and raise his right forearm, the heavy cortosis plates which lined the forearms of his gauntlets vibrating rapidly as he shifted his right foot forward, pushing out on the side of the glowing green saber with a firm arm. As he pushed the saber, he'd use this motion to block Mors' main handed blade with the offhanded one he just deflected, and would then aim to throw Mors to the ground by lifting his right leg and hooking it behind the crook of Mors' left leg, while reaching his left arm across to push with an arm-bar like shove at Mors' collar.

 

[Soverin]

It happened in an instant, a heartbeat after he detected the Farghul's swift deflection. Mors made the risky (and admittedly dirty) choice of deactivating his right-hand saber's blade, the hilt passing safely by the vibro-bracer which kept the blade at bay. When the inactive saber made it's course and infiltrated his defense it was flicked back on, shooting to life a startlingly short distance away from Vashiir's neck. The ensuing chop was without intricacy or flash, meant only to decapitate the Farghul and be done with it.

To add insult to injury, he redoubled with his left-hand saber and sent a slash in the opposite direction of his right-hand saber's, leaving Vashiir little room to dodge.

 

[Vashiir]

Vashiir had seen this trick before. Many desperate saber wielders had tried this time and time again when they saw he was able to deflect their sabers to try the saber flicking trick on him, but every one of his stances held multiple purposes. Since his right foot was shifted forward and his left was sturdily planted further back, he was well postured enough to bend backward underneath the re-emerging saber.

He'd then dart his already postured right hand to grab at Mors' wrist which belonged to the hand that wielded the saber he tried to trick the felinoid with, using his arm to pull himself up and twist into Mors almost as if he were wrapping the Sith's right arm around his person with his back to him, and angled the saber to catch the assumedly continuing swing of his left handed saber while flinging his head back to try and bash the bridge of the Anzat's nose as hard as he could while trying to wrench the green light saber from Mors' hand.

 

[Soverin]

The Farghul's hand-to-hand prowess was disorienting. He maneuvered in the strangest manner of contortion, and before Mors could read what was happening it was too late. The Farghul's position, however, was unfortunate. The Sith threw his head nearer his right shoulder to avoid Vashiir's headbutt attempt, all at once utilizing the arm wrap to grab Vashiir close against his chest. His bicep constricted just under his chin and strangulated him. Mors threw his left arm up, entirely banishing his saber, to lock his other arm in the chokehold, further keeping Vashiir from squirming in his grip.

Mors jerked Vashiir around like a shark, trying to dissuade him from freeing himself. "Don't --- struggle," he tried to lull him with his mind control, although focus was hard to maintain.

 

[Vashiir]

Vashiir would struggle in Mors' choke hold, feeling his mental influence washing over him like a stream of warm water, his mind clouding as he felt his muscles relaxing of their own accord. Why was it that he didn't want to be strangled again? It took him a few moments before he shocked himself out of the mind control, clarity rushing to him like someone jolting away after nearly falling asleep. The Farghul would act quickly for fear of falling under Mors' spell once more, reaching his left half up and attempting to stab his claws Mors' left forearm while reaching for his blaster at his right side, drawing it and blindly aiming it down at Mors' foot. he'd have pullied the trigger three times in a few inaccurate shots in an attempt to earn his freedom from the grasp.

 

[Soverin]

Blaster fire tore through the atmosphere, ripping through the jungle in shrill echoes. One stray bolt put a smoking hole through Mors foot and forced him to recoil backwards in a stumble. He scrambled to keep his footing but inevitably slid to his side, caught against a patch of thick moss.

Mors began to rise but never the less wasted no time in preparing his remise --- an aggressive force attack. Heat scored the air, crackling as it took form in a wave of bright red flames when the Sith cast his arm out. He clutched his saber and stood, once again recalling the slain Jedi's saber into his free hand. Holding both weapons firm, he activated them and once again postured himself, keeping both his upper and lower targets guarded. A bestial but tactical battle stance.

 

[Vashiir]

Vashiir stumbled forward once he'd gained his freedom as he purchased for air, not realizing just got long he'd been unable to breathe until after he had free access once more. In his gasps for air, he'd have only just barely reacted to the vertically aligned wave of shimmering heat which roiled toward him. As the blast of fire grazed his suit, many warnings would appear on the inside of his helmet, sparks flying from the electronics that lay underneath the plates of his suit as some functions temporarily went offline and needed time to reboot. Just as Vashiir would have taken a stance while facing Mors, a voice would echo through the walls.

"Attention all personnel. Debris detected in transport passage 5-E. Inspection crews are asked to vacate the hall within ten seconds. Ten, Ni-.. All crew should be vacated. Beginning process."

As the antiquated module glitched straight to the end of its programmed dialogue, a loud clank would be heard at the beginning of the hall as a black frame which squared the large space assembled from the walls, a shimmering red screen appearing between it. It would then begin rapidly approaching, all of the debris they had to navigate beforehand swiftly being disintegrated into ash as the black frame passed through the hall.

Mors would only see Vashiir look straight past him for a moment, before turning around and beginning to sprint away as fast as he could.

 

[Soverin]

Bright lasers tore through the room, and as Mors pushed off of the mossy patch he lay upon and sprinted in the direction of Vashiir all foliage was rendered to ash. The moss sizzled and cried in protest against the laser's encroachment, reduced to little more than shriveled ash. There was absolutely no escaping the systematic cleansing, the only option was to run for their lives.

The Sith was only footsteps ahead of the web of fine red beams. The hole Vashiir had put in his foot proved to be a hindrance to the situation, an unfortunate coincidence. He vaulted over a halfwall and clumsily tumbled to the other side of it. Within moments the halfwall too was dissected into smoldering rubble. The lasers trailed him and forewarned of his impending death, never seeming to fall too far behind. Like an animal he scrambled across the floor and up to his feet, slamming his wounded foot into the ground to force a surge of adrenaline up through his being. The pain made him numb, placing him in an odd state of euphoria --- probably shock.

"All personnel evacuate through the west terminal --- All personnel evacuate through the west terminal." They were picked up by the facility's security grid, and where one problem had arisen so quickly came a solution. A blast gate opened itself, painfully slow. The gate to the West Terminal opened from the floor and didn't offer them much in the way of reassurance. Mors stopped at the gate, about halfway between he and Vashiir, and dropped to a prone stance. The wall of lasers imposingly advanced, but he had more than enough time to roll through the opening to safety.

On the other side was a hover-lift, docked and ready for transport. The large platform was aligned via rails that crossed a heart-stopping drop. Out in every direction were floating islands, covered in thick jungle. The facility was seemingly built upon many of these islands, spanning out between them in rusty paths and cages. He took one look back to consider Vashiir, before proceeding onto the platform.

 

[Vashiir]

As the chiming of the intercom system continued to reiterate it's message, Vashiir would have glanced back in his sprint, having noticed quickly that not only was Mors not following him, but that an access had opened on the side of the hall. With little time to decide, He would have decided to double back and try to make it through the door before the laser wall blocked his access.

Using his momentum, he'd leap forward and flick his tail violently as he attempted to contort himself horizontal to the ground in the air as he approached a felled tree in the passage, and meeting the trunk with his boots while bending his knees. Activating his thruster pack at it's full capacity, he'd kick off and send himself flying back in the direction he came, twisting himself as he jetted backward with the force he maintained so that he faced the ground and poised himself to re assume his run with the momentum he'd gathered. The wall seemed to match him pace for pace, approaching only slightly slower than the Farghul could carry himself.Panting heavily under his helmet, he closed in on the door. His eyes flitted from obstacle to obstacle to try and survey his best route to get through the door in the least amount of time. With a decision made, Vashiir decided to bum rush the shortest path he saw, cutting diagonally across the hall and over whatever obstacles met him as he approached the access hatch.

The door having opened fully waited for him as the wall approached, Vashiir sprinted at full tilt for the door, beginning to yell from within his helmet as he pushed his physical limits to just barely dive through the port as the disintegrating wall of death swished past. He would simply lay on the floor of the lift for a moment, gasping loudly for air as he heard his heart in his ears from the exhaustive rush, his thought process beginning to slow and normalize as his adrenaline toned itself down a bit. He'd slowly climb to his feet, the red triangle on his helmet zipping up to lock onto Mors as he came back into view in front of him. Vashiir would simply stand in a slightly slouched posture, still trying to catch his breath.

 

[Soverin]

Mors wasted no time. As Vashiir came into sight he'd immediately feel the crushing weight of the force on him. Mors, now slightly delusional from shock, gripped out at the air to pluck Vashiir up in an attempt to slam him against the transport platform. The rusted thing was only meant to support a certain weight limit, and though Vashiir and Mors were far too light to ever cause it to malfunction, the exerting amount of force energy Mors was continuously slamming onto him certainly was.

 

[Vashiir]

Vashiir would feel himself being manipulated without so much as a few moments to try and recompose himself, feeling his body being forced down and crushed under Mors' will, the Farghul finding it difficult to draw the breath he required from the strenuous force. With strained movements, Vashiir would reach his right hand down for his blaster, snatching it out of its holster and lofting it toward the nearby control panel which commanded the platform they stood on. With only a few moments of aiming, He'd pull the trigger and send a bright blue bolt of energy to blast through the interface, the antiquated technology erupting into sparks as the platform suddenly jerked.