Xeonon Solomon
The First Order
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Post by Xeonon Solomon on Apr 23, 2013 11:19:46 GMT -8
Who-Adi vs Alky
Where- Judges choice, stable footing, no surprises
Rules-GBA standard
Equipment- Light to no armor, no guns/slugthrowers/blasters
5 - Hangar of the "Executor"
The two duelists find themselves in a massive hangar, the Main Hangar to be exact. TIE Interceptors and TIE/D Defenders hang on their racks, boxes are moved about on turbolifts and repulsor carts. The smell of mechanical fluids linger in the air, and through the view port one can see the blackness of space drifting by.
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Adi
Crew of the Wayward Son
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Post by Adi on Apr 23, 2013 13:12:28 GMT -8
The bastard was late...AGAIN!
It wasn't the first time. Kriff, it was almost -every- time that Alkor was called on that he was late for some reason or another. He was probably sloshed in some seedy bar on Ryloth...for the tenth time this week...and forgot that he had somewhere to be. Why Matango put up with it, he would never know. The man was handy with a blade, to be sure...but he had no respect for any kind of authority. He barely acknowledged the council, and treated the Jedi Watch Lead as if he were co-commander of the team. It was simply infuriating!
The guy was truly handy to have around in a scrap though...and in a situation like that, Adi would rather have no other watching his back.
Adieumus checked his chrono. At last report, Alkor had claimed he was 'on his way, and would be there in fifteen minutes.' That was well over three hours ago. Centaris was supposed to report for training aboard the old flagship of the LAN fleets, 'Light of the Angels'. It had been decimated in the Dark Tide invasion a few years back, and had since sat in the shipyards, slowly being repaired. Currently, the hangar bay was filled with an order of some kind, TIE fighters hung in moving racks above, heading for the rear of the hangar. Shaking his head, and sitting on a random crate, Adi lit a smoke.
"Alkor, my boy, you -are- going to learn a little respect..." He was speaking to no one...at least no one that was here yet. It was just going to be simple weapon training. Adi figured that he could learn some things from Alkor, and vice versa. It was merely a way to see how he could best utilize the former darksider's skills more effectively. Right now, he was just a wildcard....a wildcard that showed up when he wanted to. Checking his gloves and bracers, along with the lightsaber at his hip, he sighed. Taking another drag on the smoke, he exhaled.
...There better be a damn good reason you are late, Alkor...
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Post by Alkor Centaris on Apr 23, 2013 14:50:55 GMT -8
This man expected gratitude. That was something Alkor would never understand. Perhaps he forgot just what Alkor had once been- Jen'jidai. A warrior. Bloodied in a hundred thousand battles. Battles that he could scarce recall now, enemies who's faces had been hollowed out by time and left as piercing howls of suffering in his memory. Imprints in the living force, flowing around him and pushing through his thoughts for fleeting seconds at a time, just enough that his eyes seemed distant, as if searching.
Because that was what he did. Since the moment he had been spared, Alkor had sturggled endlessly, defying even sleep, to find meaning behind his curse being prolonged. Why did he persist in a world that ought to reject him? Once upon a time, Alkor had believed in a semblance of Justice- skewed and myopic as that belief may have been- but now, he was unsure there was anything left to believe in.
Stepping through the entryway into the hangar, Alkor let the sound of the whining gears and the metal scratching at the floor melt away the introspective thoughts that plagued him. Matango always expected him. To be some kind of bright, shining bastion of hope and a brilliant example for his peers. Alkor could not begin to comprehend the Arkanian's thought process.
"I wonder what they would say if they saw me now," he mused as Adi came into view, his gaze never matching the man as he brushed his hand thoughtfully along the hangar's wall. "Defending the innocent. A... Jedi. No. Not a Jedi. Never." His hands tightened and relaxed once, then twice as he suppressed his agitation. "One day, perhaps, I'll overcome this hatred. One day." He had forgiven the Dark Jedi for the torment that had shaped him, somehow. Somehow, he had learned to let go of that, and yet, he had never been able to heal.
That was why the world itself pulsated around him. That was why he had taken up the drink, only to have it taken from him. That was how he sensed tension; disappointment, annoyance, irritation. They swam around the Arkanian Jedi, around Alkor, and they whispered in his ear loudly. His cerulean eyes flicked to Adieumus finally, and he blinked slowly. The Jedi would want to hear some excuse, some reason for why Alkor was late, yet again.
And once more, Alkor gave him no answer. He had never been one for excuses, and so, he wasted no time igniting the blue blade in his left hand. Watching Adieumus smoke for a moment, Alkor turned his gaze skyward, his lips pulling outward into a slight smile, the low thrum of his lightsaber bringing him a shaky peace. And he waited, centering himself for whatever the man decided to say to him.
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Adi
Crew of the Wayward Son
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Post by Adi on Apr 24, 2013 21:17:01 GMT -8
Not even an -excuse-.....smarmy git. Matango was wondering why he even decided to take on reforming the former Dark Jedi. Then, the lightsaber shot to life....
Oh yeah...that's why. He's pretty good with a blade...
"I suppose that means you are ready, Alkor?"
Hopping off the crate, and flicking the butt of his smoke across the floor, Adi turned toward the Watchman. Adi didn't even get into a stance, per se...simply turned his left side toward Alkor. Patiently, he waited, hands at his sides, feet shoulder width apart. The force was filling Adieumus with hope, with courage, and the will to go on. Even though this was merely a training duel, Centaris was very skilled, and every bit the Jedi Watch Lead's equal. Adi, however, was pretty sure he had one advantage....calm. The serenity to know when calm was the way to handle most any situation was the manner in which Matango conducted himself. Even with the opponent being skilled, it didn't matter. Alkor would not win.
Matango's eyes blinked slowly, and a knowing grin spread across his face. He rolled his neck a little bit, but never took his icy blue eyes from his opponent. Experience told him that any glance away could spell disaster, and without a move made yet, a disaster would look bad for the Jedi....and not just Adieumus. Strength appeared to be the only thing that Alkor responded to...that and ale...and without ale available, strength would have to do.
...And he continued to patiently wait.
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Post by Alkor Centaris on Apr 24, 2013 21:43:47 GMT -8
Alkor rolled his neck out slightly, an almost undetectable motion for the Arkanian to make ready. The Force was ever present within all living things; even as a firm believer that it was little more than a tool, Alkor had always known better than to discount it's existence as paltry. Quite the opposite, in fact- from the very first time he had felt it, Alkor had never been able to rid himself of the Force. A fact that, even now, plagued him relentlessly. But a weapon you despise is no less a weapon. It was a simple matter of directing that fury.
And that was the mastery Alkor boasted. The ocean of screaming thoughts and emotions swelled up around him, and in the midst of the chaos, Alkor was oddly serene. Adieumus had learned to quiet his baser instincts, to rely on the otherwordly power of the Force for his strength. Alkor had learned how fickle and easy it was for that strength to betray and deny you, and from his very inception as a killer, he had been taught a very opposing view.
Whereas Adieumus appeared to be at peace, even felt that way when you glanced over at him, Alkor embraced his mortality. Humanity, in a strange sense, that most people denied. Thoughts- ethereal, disjointed images of pain and suffering, of lost love and of renewed hope- in the Force, Alkor saw possibility. He saw the past, the future, and unmistakably, he perceived the present. Alkor's strength came not from being at peace, but at making peace with what he was.
The Force flowed around them, through them, and Alkor took firm hold of the strands that had wafted through his body and drew them taut. He felt the invigorating warmth surging through his being, eyes now firmly set on Matango, and his lips drew up in a wry smirk. All of this in the span of a few brief moments. The wamrth of his blade hanging slightly out ahead of him licked at his consciousness, drawing at the baser bloodlust that remained there, and Alkor's baser instincts gave answer.
A primal surge of energy roared through his body as he channeled the Force evenly through his body, in the way only Masters of the art of Lightsaber combat could. His body moved with fluidity and finesse that few could parallel, and as he surged forward, Alkor's cyan blade flicked upward, the tip moving out to strike at the very outside of Adi's guard- his left forearm. True, the man was quick, and his preferred method of subduing his foes was unarmed combat, but Alkor was more than a little prepared for those sorts of parlour tricks.
His smirk said it all so that he would not have to. He waited for what he knew would come next- Alkor's consciousness sank into the Force, even as the stroke may have landed- he sought something there, just beyond what his own eyes could see. Something in this place ththat would unravel the mysteries that the Watch Leader couldn't seem to figure out. Alkor had never been good with words- in his own way, he would teach Adieumus the kind of man he was.
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Adi
Crew of the Wayward Son
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Post by Adi on Apr 29, 2013 15:38:42 GMT -8
Well now, Alkor was quite the aggressive one, wasn't he? More than likely, he was banking on Adi grabbing for the saber, and trying for a disarm. For anyone else? Probably. For Alkor, who had sparred with Adi enough, and fought enough beside him to know some of the tricks and such that Matango employed, this would require more thinking, and better timing. Right now was not the time to be predictable. Now was the time to simply draw him closer....THEN spring the trap.
Besides, it required far simpler tactics this time.
Yanking his left arm back just enough to stay out of strike range, Adi merely grinned, and held his ground. It didn't require much more than that to stay out of reach. It was good bait, but the Watch Lead wasn't biting. He simply bided his time, knowing that Alkor would continue to advance, probing Adi's defenses. He would eventually make a mistake, but until then, the Jedi was patient. Alkor was a good fighter, but he lacked the ability to be patient. It was the downfall of many fine warriors. The knight stayed on the balls of his feet, ready to spring out of the way, or into his opponent should the chance present itself.
He knew it would. It would only be a matter of time.
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Post by Alkor Centaris on Apr 29, 2013 16:38:10 GMT -8
There!
The scream was piercing in Alkor's mind as the subtle movement came from the Arkanian, yanking himself out of the way of the blade. Which did exactly what Alkor intended. Adieumus had unwittingly freed the blade to continue it's fluid motion. The smaller Corellian felt the almost unnoticable shift in the Force itself- a single moment in time, wherein everything became possible. Time seemed to slow down as his adrenaline rushed into his mind, and he looked at Adi now and himself both, like a spectator outside his own body. His thoughts stopped, mitigated by some greater power that shook Alkor to his core.
Kill him! The voice came once more, this time taking a more sinister tone. He could feel it- the darkness, rushing toward his unbound psyche, threating to overwhelm him. Sweat poured from his flesh, as his body responded to the Force itself, and the blade of his saber died away. He gasped for air as the thoughts rushed into his mind, his frail human body finally catching up with the things he had seen.
The man in front of him stood at the apex of a mountain, and his existence- for better or for worse- directly affected the future. A future that without him, would be shaped by the hands of many hardworking men and women, instead of the interference of Jedi, instead of the wiles of Sith. He could kill Adi now, and he would answer a hundred million voices, screaming out for justice.
Wasn't one life worth that? Wasn't it? "No," Alkor said through gritting teeth, "no more killing. No more justified murder. His thoughts came in time with two backward steps, the Watchman obviously pressing down his own drive to give in to the Vision. Just like so many that had come before. He stared down at the floor, then smiled slowly up at Adi. "You left an opening," he said with a laugh, "it wouldn't have been right of me to end it that quickly."
Alkor's words were startlingly cryptic as his eyes closed and his smile became wider, his body now covered in sweat. It was disturbing how much he had strained with that vision- so much power, and for what. To see how easily a single backswing would have rendered the man a corpse? "Stay out of this," he said, addressing the Force. "He wants to fight me. Not you. He's welcome to that exercise in futility whenever he damn well wants it. This fight is mine."
And two breaths later, the familiar snap and hiss of a saber brought the blue blade back to life.
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Adi
Crew of the Wayward Son
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Post by Adi on May 4, 2013 8:20:46 GMT -8
Alkor disengaged his saber after the first exchange had barely completed...and Matango cocked his head as Alkor spoke.
"You left an opening."
"Guess we'll never know, eh?" Shrugging, the Watch lead smiled. The Force was fickle like that. To some, it may have appeared there was an opening, perhaps...but to Adi, it was merely just another chance to win the fight.
He didn't even wait for a reply to his own query of the former Dark Jedi. As Alkor was laughing, Adi advanced. He touched Ashla's light, and felt her power enter his body, accenting his speed slightly. He wasn't waiting to see what Alkor was going to do this time. Instead, Matango was going to use motion to force the other Watchman's hand. Feigning driving straight in, Adi tried to make it look like he was grabbing for the emitter end of Alkor's saber before he could ignite it. Instead, he altered his trajectory slightly, and aimed for the wrist with a palmstrike. Even if Alky activate the saber before the strike happened, the phrik-encased left palm/hand of Adi was protected, not to mention his forearm. It was a tactical calculation, using quick, rapid movements to draw an opponent into moving where Adi wanted. He was nearly positive that Alkor would do something off the wall, or stupid...
But, Alkor was no ordinary fighter either. If he were , Adi wouldn't be allowing him in the Watch. Only the best were allowed to join....and Alkor was on the top of the heap even in that group. It was fully expected that the entire move would be negated somehow...but in a way, Adi was hoping for that....it would create new openings. This was merely to get the ball rolling again.
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Post by Alkor Centaris on May 4, 2013 18:47:14 GMT -8
Ah, the face of opportunism. Alkor had felt that, too- the downside of not exploiting a moment of opportunity was that it would inevitably lead to history flowing on as usual. And Adieumus had become an unfortunate victim of that selfsame fate. Alkor had no idea how the man would strike, but he had left such an opening purposefully. His laughter ceased abruptly as the twitch in the Force came, and Adi surged forward, seeking to strike in the instant before the saber came back to haunt him.
But Alkor didn't move. His eyes opened a shallow fraction, the man's arm fast entering his sphere of control. Alkor's saber moved with inhuman, precise quickness- the sort of which came from both years of instinctual training, and instruction in flowing within the Force itself during combat. Adi's palm strike met with Alkor's abdomen, though if any pain came to the Corellian, it did not show in his face, nor did it stop his motion.
Instead, Alkor had brought the weapon up, the arm of his opponent going beneath his own to strike into his gut. Alkor's cerulean blade had snapped into being once more, and now, it would be looming a fraction of an inch from Adi's face, should the man not have moved. Adieumus' attack, however, was entirely committed to a forward motion, however, seemingly intent on driving Alkor back. A long breath was still issuing from Alkor's nose, a man versed in pain once more transcending it with sheer willpower. In reality, there was a bruise there, and a pain he simply did not acknowledge. He had no time for such things.
After all, to yield in the face of pain? Foolishness. Weakness. It had always been beneath him. Even back before, back when he was a child in the Corellian slums. "Unlike you Jedi, I do not fear pain," he grunted, "and I long for death."
Alkor ripped the blade downward, where it would surgically slice down the front of the Arkanian if the man did not back away, possibly taking his arm off at the bicep in the process. In all of this, Alkor gave no ground.
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