Bloodshot
Member
Posts: 311
Affiliation: Chaos and credits, baby.
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Post by Bloodshot on Jan 16, 2016 22:34:16 GMT -8
Alkor Centaris vs. Bedrovelse Hevn
Rules: Standard GBA
Scenario:
7. Abeloth's Planet. Ruin of the Ancients
A planet situated in the Maw, this place once housed a Darkside entity of fearsome power. Though she is no longer here her presence had twisted the planet so much that a miasma of evil lurks here still. This isn't the kind of evil that would empower a Sith or other Darksider but a corrupt rot that stains everything around them, making use of the Force distasteful though relatively easy and ample. While no increase or decrease in the power available is evident or duelists may find that grasping their power is quicker to achieve and that they tire less when applying their skills.
The planet itself is shrouded in jungles with strangely coloured vines that seethe and undulate hungrily. The plant-life is dangerous here and will attack anyone that comes into range of their tendrils. Even the water will try to kill of corrupt in this unholy place so caution is needed at all times to merely survive.
Or two fighter find themselves facing off in the Ancient Ruins on the planet. Crumbling rock structures are situated around them, crumbling walls that portray strange runes that depicts tentacled creatures or vines, its difficult to make out. Rubble is strewn about and off to the side rests the Font of Power, a nexus of dark side Force energy. Tainted by the dark side of the Force and the presence of the Darkide Entity, it was said to offer limitless power though at what price is anyone's guess.
The plants writhe and twists viciously around the edges of the ruins as if thirsting after the blood of those who trespass upon their world. There is an overwhelming sense that they are not welcome here and a rumble shakes the ground, thunder in clear skies...
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Post by Bedrovelse Hevn on Feb 7, 2016 5:47:36 GMT -8
Bedrovelse kneels at the Font of Power. Within the dark side of the force he tried to touch it. Become one with it. Melt inside and learn the secrets that lurk within. What he found was a hellish grip on his body and soul. It felt as though daggers were ripping into his spirit and carving his entity apart in violent slashing strokes. Hevn collapses to his knees, body curling over with his forehead pressed to the temple floor to a rock. It sounded like a growling that turns into a roar. Externally blades were searing every inch of his skin. Hevn could feel the plants hug the walls of the ruins tighter with every scream aching from his lungs. Hungry fans listening at the wall for any whisper they could get of the show.
Internally Hevn was in a deadlock wrestling match for control of his body. Every ounce of will he pushed against the mighty witch was met with equal voracity. Every second he carried on tired his spirit and slowly he began to topple against her. Such a grievous mistake. To open his mind to this. He had pushed arrogantly beyond his abilities and was now facing possession of an insidious entity that would never release him. Sorrow chokes his heart as he realizes the end coming. There was only one last thing he could do. One last fleeting hope that his existence would not fade entirely, or be caught in some limbo of living hell. Hevn would be left a spectator to her crimes. The tool of the apocalypse.
Alkor. Brother.......please.....help me.
The last tears roll from his blood shot golden eyes. The last scream pounds off the walls and is met with cold still silence. Bedrovelse's body erects itself into an upright stance. His combat boot strikes the rock and kicks it clean across the room. The twisted corrupted gaze meanders down to his attire. Spider silk robes. Armorweave tunic. Dyed black of the norris root. Hevn's hand finds the hilt of his krayt dragon lightsaber hilt. The jaws snap open as he ignites it in his right hand. The pearly white blade springs to life with a reptilian hiss. His left hand wields the gauntlet of C'thulu. Behind the gauntlet his Sith lanvarok rests on his left forearm, loaded with four ninja star sized buzz saw discs. On his belt he wore a second lightsaber, gold of hilt, and red of blade. Hevn drinks the corrupted air in like a sweet and delicious tea. Hevn's will swims through the dark side. Opening his awareness. Saturating himself with the taint of the ruin.
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Post by Alkor Centaris on Apr 18, 2016 23:06:30 GMT -8
"Flesh of my flesh, blood of my blood..."
Alkor's lips dripped the ancient words in Galactic Basic as he deciphered the Ancient Sith runes. The Dark side of the Force had ceded to many sects over the course of four thousand years. Since the time of the Old Republic, there had been religious fanatics devoted to Bogan, an archaic name for the darkness as an entity. The words scrawled here in this cesspit of enmity were ritualistic, and they alluded to a dangerous version of soul transference. "I should warn Hevn," he began as he shifted in obvious discomfort. The tension rippled through his form, then a spike of frost tore down his spine. "This Artifact is not what he thought it was."
He turned slowly from the wall and ceased to utter any of the words written there. Despite a lack of any true connection to the spells woven over this place, the Jen'jidai would not risk further speech. Words had power, he knew firsthand. A single wrongly spoken word could invoke something far worse than imagination, especially in a nexus of power.
This was a tomb, of sorts.
Something older than time festered here, locked away and erased from memory. The Sith themselves took measures to drive this presence into oblivion, where it could do no harm to their designs. Fear- even among the Sith who vaunted emotion- was a cause for caution. Where most dark oriented Force Users would hurry in to tap the power and harness it for their own uses, Alkor knew better. Hevn would have too, if he had only known what his brother now knew.
"Alkor. Brother....... please..... help me."
The words permeated his mind and Alkor jerked. It was a foul sign when Bedrovelse called out for assistance. It was fouler still when his words struggled against him to simply be heard. Power surged through every syllable, sounds dueling against their source in vain. The darkness had ever been strong in Hevn, but the nuances underlying his presence spoke volumes to someone with acute senses. Something far more dangerous than his Brother had taken hold, and the already empty man descended further into depravity.
"I feel you," Alkor murmured as the words whispered away from his mind, a distant memory. He probed for their source and stretched out with his own thoughts in a desperate attempt not to lose Hevn forever.
"We are the last of our kind," Centaris hissed, "and I will not abide you being consumed by a specter."
As he spoke, the Dark Jedi Master strode through the open hallway and into the room where sat Abeloth's resting place. He saw the form of Hevn, but what he sensed within the shell was not familiar. With an expression akin to contempt, Alkor lifted the hilt from his waist and the crimson blade erupted forth. "What have I told you about placing so much stock in powers beyond your own?"
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