Corr
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You can lead a fool to knowledge but you can't make him think.
Posts: 940 
Affiliation: Clan Vhett
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Post by Corr on Apr 24, 2013 11:56:03 GMT -8
Location: Kashyyyk Shadowlands.
Rules: Top 10 Force Powers. GBA standard.
Weapons: Melee.
Armor: Light to none.
The Shadowlands, also known as the Shadow Forest and the Nother World, was a dark place, the ground level of the forests on the planet Kashyyyk. It was dark since the sunlight could not reach it through the tall trees and the rich foliage casting an eerie gloom over the massive gnarled and twisted trunks of the mighty tree's. A hellish scene of nightmares, it was inhabited by a variety of vicious and fearsome creatures like Terentateks and Katarns.
Our duelists find themselves astride a massive deadfall in the depths of the jungles first tier of madness. The tree, core rotten, had fallen to form a bridge through the undergrowth, the massive trunk forming a wide path from east to west. The ground to either side of the rotting corpse of the tree was alive with the frenzied growth of other plants feeding of their dead brother, surrounding the trunk with foliage, walling in the wooden boulevard in on each side.
Savage creatures creep around, ever waiting for an opportunity to pounce, seeking an easy meal in a place where there were no free rides, where everyday survived was a bonus...
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Post by Darth Ocious on Apr 25, 2013 10:56:16 GMT -8
« Someone is coming to meet you. »
* I look up at the pitch-black canopy of the Shadowlands in response to the voice of the Dark Side in my mind. Someone coming? Interesting...I wonder what the matter of discourse will be, here in the deep dark forest of the Nother World. I have already killed the katarn, I have already visited the tomb of Electrix, what is in store for me this time?
Knowing that someone was on his way, however, leads me to act in preparation. Unlike Electrix, this person is coming to meet me. Not being a ghost, it would only be convenient for both of us if there were some light by which we could see each other. I have observed, during my time in the Shadowlands, the phosflea being used in makeshift lanterns scattered here and there, surely left over from Wookiees who have died to the numerous predators in this place while they sought to prove their manhood. Wookiee-hood. Whatever.
I intend to use the same technology now. It is merely a question of backtracking a few meters before I find the open shell of one such light. With next to no effort at all, I am able to trap a few of the necessary insects inside, before they all escape to the upper forest levels to memorialize the death of the sun on this day. The now-illuminated piece is no trouble for me to mount on a low-lying tree branch, where its soft natural glow manages to bring enough light to see for a small radius. I am confident, however, that the glimmer of the lantern will be able to be seen from quite some distance away in darkness this thick.
Come what will, now; I am satisfied with the work. I take a seat in order to meditate until my counterpart arrives, with the rod of my master laid across my knees. The ten Alchemy discs I made are in one the pockets near to my chest in the dim violet robes I wear. * |
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Post by Alkor Centaris on Apr 25, 2013 22:44:19 GMT -8
There were whispers here, sunken deep into the recesses of this darkened place, resonating with a paradoxical feeling of loudness, insofar as they seemed to brush over everything and cause a tremor, and yet silence, because these words were not for Alkor. These words were born of a path that was once his, but ultimately, a path that had betrayed him. He knew well the subtleties and secrets of the darkness, and perhaps more importantly, he knew better than to delve into it in pursuit of the secrets it kept from him. Alkor could feel it all- the darkness and its treachery notwithstanding- he could sense it all intertwining. How all of it came together.
Like some sort of errant god standing high above the universe, and yet, immersed deep within the tragedies and trials of mankind, Alkor felt both inexorably linked to the Force and all of its children, and yet, utterly detached from them all. That was the nature of his curse; once, he had been taught to believe this gift of sight was a blessing- the ability to comprehend things that take most men their entire lifetimes to master even a fleeting glimpse of, Alkor could simply "feel."
If the world were a series of dots, connected by a single, ever twisting line, Alkor could place a finger on each dot in turn, in spite of how worn or faded the line overlapping them became. That was the nature of his "sight." And what he felt now, he did not need to dip into the Force to verify. Strange, natural and luminous, it seemed as if the flora had come to life ahead of him. The Watchman declined his head slightly as the most sour of chills ran down his spine, and his eyes closed reflexively. "I have a bad feeling about this," he thought, his hand moving thoughtlessly over the hilt of his blade.
This place was not one of peace; somewhere in the depths of the shadowlands, Alkor could feel the ebb and flow of life, predator and prey interlocked in a constant struggle for survival. He could sense panic and discord, and he could almost taste the flowing blood of some poor and dying creature on his tongue, his grip on his weapon solidifying itself. There was no doubt in Alkor that there would be a confrontation. No other Jedi would simply find solace in this manner of place, and if the utterances of the dark side were any indicator, he was about to come face to face with an adversary.
The figure of a man seated on the ground that came into view as Alkor came closer confirmed it for him. The only sort of being who could possibly find their focus in this chaos- for the turmoil in this place disconcerted the former Jen'jidai, enough that he could not fully relax-
would be the kind of man he once had been. His own reason for being in this place was even less clear to him. The Force had pointed him in this direction, though he could not understand why until right now.
The hilt of his saber in hand now, Alkor bowed his head in mute reverence to the will of the Force- ironic, for at one time in his life he rejected any notion of the Force having some will of its own- and took several breaths to steady himself. This would not be over quickly. He would not enjoy this. "Hello, sir," Alkor said finally, his voice even, ""what brings you so far out into the dark?"
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Post by Darth Ocious on Apr 26, 2013 20:00:18 GMT -8
* Someone far more skilled than I would have noticed the approach of the stranger much sooner than I did. Would have seen him long before he stepped into the fringes of where the diffuse light reached. However, sight is a skill born out of need, and anyways, I had had my eyes closed until the man spoke. *
[/u][/span][/ul] "Hello sir, what brings you so far out into the dark?"[/ul][/ul][/ul] * My eyes flicker open, revealing the jet-black irises typical of the Thyrsian race. We are polar opposites to the Arkanians, you know. So I suppose it was a reasonable question to ask, if he knew the culture of my father, which he had attempted in vain to beget to me. My race is a people that worships the sun. So why would I be here, far away from the possible reaches of its rays? *[/u][/span][/ul] "...
It's a long story, and you might not believe the truth even if you heard it from me..."[/ul][/ul][/ul] * My eyebrows knot and I strain to see a bit more of the man who came to me just as the Dark Side foretold. A head shorter than me, by an estimate that is a bit generous in my favor. Pale-skinned. Black, worn-out robes-- when the lights go out, that will be something to take note of. He will be a silhouette in the dim light, a shadow that moves in the Shadowlands, and shadows are not invisible. But they are robes, they are not going to make much noise. Brown hair, pretty eyes. His hands were hidden from me, I cannot tell if he has a weapon drawn or not. So I chose to remain seated. *[/u][/span][/ul] "I am looking for an Alchemist to learn from. I want to pick his brain about some ideas I had. I'm pretty good at it already, but I still have a long way to go to improve. So what about you? Why are you here in the darkness?"[/ul][/ul][/ul] * I sniff deeply, and then pull from my robes one of the discs I made with alchemy some time ago. There is a hole in the center of the metal piece, just larger than a finger-- I slipped it on my right index, and spun it around idly as I awaited his response, casually maintaining eye contact. I enjoyed that the sleeve of my robe slipped down after a time, and that the muscles of my forearm controlling the motion of that finger were visibly flexing beneath the skin. It's the simple things in life, really. *[/font] [/font]
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Post by Alkor Centaris on Apr 26, 2013 20:43:32 GMT -8
There was some merit in!how open and truthful the man was, and yet, truth was as much a weapon as dishonesty. Words created misdirection just as well as sleight of hand; Alkor knew the tricks of the Sith trade from the time he spent culling them, among other breeds of weaker force users, as a Jen'jidai. As a sword forged by dark siders to use against anyone who dared to oppose them. This man, in a very estranged sort of way, was exactly as he had been. Wayward- and Alkor noticed immediately that something was amiss.
He was too relaxed. Someone not prepared would have been further on edge. People who knew the subtleties of warfare did not mentally and physically prepare themselves for it. They immersed themselves in it, and they savored every moment. Combat was like artwork- it was never the same twice, and no two artists did the same work. To any other artist, this Sith's unseen devices would go completely unchecked. Alkor, however, was far less trusting."Belief is relative to the person," he answered in earnest, measuring the weight of his words as he drew the Force around him inward, a subtle shift in the flow evidencing his intention- to interrogate the Sith, because no Sith was without sinister motives.
"I find that I am more successful gleaning truth from a man who is not standing with equal footing to me. I am at a loss- I cannot see weapons about your person, but I am not so bold as to believe they are not there. In this, of all places, I am forced to believe that they must exist, and therefore, I believe you are far more of a threat than you are playing yourself up to be." He waited a handful of heartbeats, unmoving from his place as the sound of some beast howling in the distance broke the eerie quiet, and then, he smiled.
"That is what I believe." The wait was, however, far from over; he had not moved, likewise, neither had the man. That was not to say, however, that an attack was not imminent. And so, Alkor steeled himself for that. He seeped himself deep into the warmth of the Force, opening his senses to a new microcosm of sensation- where there was naught but darkness, the world lit up like an inferno in his mind's eye. Slight sounds echoed for what seemed like ages, things that were not there announced themselves to him- but Alkor kept his focus narrowed on the Sith.
Something was about to happen.
His finger hovered just over the activation switch of his lightsaber, eyes locked on where the man sat on the ground. If the lights went out, that position would be a good vantage point- Alkor's senses would serve him well, even without his eyes. Alkor had grown less and less reliant on his eyes- they had betrayed him far too many times for him to consider it coincidence. No, Alkor put far more stock in his mind. And so, as the Force coalesced around him, answering his unspoken call, Alkor amassed it in the pit of his stomach, letting it flow through his body like a river with many branches.
"I am Alkor Centaris, and I'd like to ask you a few questions." He supposed, for a nonviolent invitation to converse, he could do far worse; there was no implication that he were any sort of Jedi, though he could certainly not blame the man for coming to that sort of conclusion on his own. Hopefully, Alkor had decided, this could be settled without a mess.
Hopefully.
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Post by Darth Ocious on Apr 29, 2013 13:42:48 GMT -8
[/u][/span][/ul] "...I am Alkor Centaris, and I'd like to ask you a few questions."[/ul][/ul][/ul]
* ...I take a seat in order to meditate until my counterpart arrives, with the rod of my master laid across my knees. The ten Alchemy discs I made are in one the pockets near to my chest in the dim violet robes I wear. *[/u][/span][/ul] "Questions? Ask away, Alkor Centaris. And you may call me Darth Ocious. But let me say this, first: you're mistaken to say that you haven't seen my weapons. This rod on my lap--" * I incline my head towards it. * "--that is a weapon, my former master made it with Alchemy. This disc I am spinning? Also a weapon, I made it with Alchemy. And there are nine more, just like it, right here." * I tap the pocket in which they are located. * "And in addition to that... ...
...I've got two guns."[/ul][/ul][/ul] * I guessed that he was underestimating me, if he thought the things I had made so overt to him did not count as weapons. That, or he was one of the conceited types that thought that lightweapons were the only ones worth their salt. He did not strike me as that type, though I have been wrong before. And he definitely was underestimating me, given his suggestion that I needed weapons to be out here alone like this. But then again, he said so himself: belief is relative to the person. What a lack of esteem!
A spell of anger riles up inside me as this implication becomes clear in my mind. I stifle it, however, before it boils into a full-blown rage; let that sort of thing wait for the appropriate time.
I have my suspicions that he is probably some sort of peacekeeper, maybe a Jedi, maybe not, by the fact that he wants to ask me some questions. Usually there is some sort of procedure required, and if I fulfill the conditions, I win! Nah, just kidding. If I fulfill the necessary conditions, then I am considered 'fair game' and he gets to act without reprimand from his organization. Let me see just how quickly I can meet them-- that is, if the mere fact that I introduce myself openly as a Sith has not done so already.
All the while I continue to spin the disc on my right hand's index finger. Considering, considering, just how I could act from this clearly disadvantageous position with my back against the tree. Clarity of thought is essential, you know, before giving yourself over to the storm of ferocious emotion. The results are always better if you have established a plan. Plan requires knowing or guessing at what your opponent will do (you see already how I have accepted the inevitability that I will have to kill him? I blame his arrogance, though) and that is a troublesome question for me right now. But I also dare say that the openings I am leaving at the moment are surprisingly few for as unready as I appear. *[/font] |
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Post by Alkor Centaris on Apr 29, 2013 14:19:23 GMT -8
Alkor's lips pulled up into a half smile as the man fell into the trap; the antiquated belief that anything and everything could be considered a weapon held as true in these times as it did at its inception, however, Alkor's attempt to gauge the man's honest yielded the most fruit of all. The admissions that he was armed- indeed, a full on detailed list of weapons (incomplete though it may have been, Alkor wisely observed) still gave him some idea of what he could expect. Firearms, for one, were something that- while he was prepared to deal with- he had much more time to react to now. Those discs- ten of them? It was probable that they were some sort of throwing weapon, or one that he would manipulate with the Force. Much in the style Eversio once had with the knives in his gauntlets. Alkor had seen the parlor trick once or twice from the zealot, though he had never formerly been introduced to it.
The rod, however, seemed more malevolent than it had at first glance. If it was some momento of his master, it was likely that this, rather than the creation of some lightsaber, was his rite of passage into Sith-hood. Alkor had never been much for the details behind Sith practices, culture, rituals or anything like that, but it closed a great deal of gaps. There would be things about the rod that were different. That were abnormal, or far more subtle than the man wielding them. Like Alkor had once been, this man was a liar. Everything about him was a lie, right down to his facade of blunt honesty.
But the greatest of all this Ocious' confessions spoke volumes to Alkor. It was small, hidden, it was barely detectable- and indeed, anyone but an Empath would probably never have sensed it. Anger. That damned bastard Adieumus had one thing going for him- he was not wrong that a few choice words yielded incredible results. This Sith, though he hinted at very little beyond a desire to kill, had told Alkor everything. In the span on an instant.
"You are an inspirational specimen among Sith," Alkor offered genuinely, "loading your words so fiercely toward instigating combat. So many of your peers could learn something of action. We are alike in that way, you see; I never did become any good at patience." The admission was more in jest than serious, for Alkor had obviously not yet lunged forward to strike the man as he once would have. The blue blade in his hand, however, answered the telltale ante that they man had left unsaid. "Here are my weapons. Where are yours?"
"And so, in the absence of further questions of import, I'll improvise. Are you just going to sit there, or are you going to come get your arse kicked?"
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Post by Darth Ocious on Apr 29, 2013 18:12:47 GMT -8
[/u][/span][/ul] "...Are you just going to sit there, or are you going to come get your arse kicked?"[/ul][/ul][/ul] * At these words, I could not keep the grin from taking the right corner of my mouth into a wry smile. I can appreciate some wit and some impatience to begin already. After all, in spite of his request and my invitation, he really did not have any questions to ask at all. But there was one matter that I felt the need to correct for him, all the same, before we began. *[/u][/span][/ul] "Alkor Centaris. I think I have a question of my own to ask you."[/ul][/ul][/ul] * I heft my staff in my left hand and push myself back against the tree, digging the tip into the dirt as I do. Straightening my legs, I slide to an upright position. Basically, I do a wall squat, only the wall is the tree. I get some bark in my hair, but I don't mind. *[/u][/span][/ul] "I am not sitting, you see?
...But who did you bring with you, with whose assistance you might hope to perform this arse kicking?"[/ul][/ul][/ul] * NOW is the time for the anger to erupt. Now is when I set the Force alight with the hatred I hold within. My own despicable words, and the audacity with which I throw contempt towards him, send a shudder through my body. A shudder that indicates to me the power that I wield. Confirmation from the Dark Side that, in this place, it will not abandon me. That I am justified. I leer at Alkor Centaris in the natural glow of the phosflea latern tinted blue by his Jedi blade. Stare blankly and unseeingly into his eyes-- for I am not interested in the soul. I am interested in the man. Let your spirit fret all it wants, Alkor Centaris...your blade is all that matters. Your blade and your body, which I shall take apart piece by piece.
And then I take a fast lunge-step towards him with my right foot, but delay any further action. He is a bit too far away from me for me to act with that step alone (without overextending myself dangerously). I want to see. See if he jumps backwards or forwards in reaction to a sudden change of position on my part. *[/font] |
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Post by Alkor Centaris on Apr 30, 2013 9:39:15 GMT -8
The answer came as expected, and Alkor felt the traitor flowing pointlessly iver his flesh, bidding his skin to crawl. Alkor, however, was far too jaded when it came to hatred. He had burnt a need for it out long ago, then run on it's fumes for so long that the very concept became ineffectual. It was cold and lifeless to Alkor now, where the Sith before him more than likely felt an inferno. Some manner of glorious blaze, feeding him with raw power.
Where in reality, it sucked the life from him. As overflowing with raw strength and incorporeal darkness as the man was, he was nothing more than a conduit. A scion through which an enormous amount of power could flow, all at once, and then, he would be left empty. Whereas Alkor looked inward for his strength, this man was as he once was. Desperately grasping for a reason, and finding in that a need for destruction.
Alkor smiled at the question as it came, the man somewhat righting himself as if to say he did not need to stand upright to face the challenge. Another ploy. He very likely did not- there was a trap waiting, and he wanted Alkor to spring it. What he might have noticed, however, if he was paying attention to the intricacies of the Force, was a slowly, gently tightening grip- not on himself, but somewhere very close by.
Alkor's eyes were fixed on the Thyrsian Sith during the exchange, but in his peripheral vision, he was focused on the tree behind the man. To say Telekinesis required the hands was to undermine the truth that it was a mastery of one's mind, to assert some measure of dominance over the outside world. It was a power that required control both inward and outward, and in the case of Alkor, it was among the few things he had ever been good at.
The smile stretched a bit wider as the creaking sound came, and then, with a rough jerk that caused Alkor to flinch visibly, his eyes snapping shut for an instant, Alkor saw the tree bending in his mind's eye, tightening his grip into a deadlock, ripping at it with supreme intensity. It lurched and spasmed in defiance, and Alkor let his hand shoot outward, squeezing visibly now and ripping it backward toward him slowly, beckoning the tree to come plummeting down on the unfortunate Ocious.
It wasn't the quickest of openings, but then, it was not quite the most expected, either. He both expected and hoped the man would react in accordance with his expectations, and his saber remained idle, but ready, in the gulf between them. Ocious had asked for an army- but who needed an army with the Force as their ally?
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Post by Darth Ocious on May 1, 2013 11:11:29 GMT -8
* Becoming fully aware of Alkor's action was a joint process: I felt his action in the Force and I heard the resistance of the tree from the onset of his influence. And since this was his response to my action of stepping forward like that, I realized that I could proceed with absolute confidence.
While Alkor is spending a small amount of time tearing down a tree, I am going to use a far more direct application of Telekinesis than that. I realize swiftly that I have some time, so I had better make the most of this opportunity and do it correctly. To punish him for his impudence. His principle is quite correct, though: the truth of Telekinesis is that it is a matter of the mastery of the mind. And mine is focused on one thing: his utter destruction. *
« Telekinesis »
* The action I pursue to execute is this: to encase his left hand (which grips his saber), his right arm (which he is just now extending), his left foot, and his right foot, with the Force and to prevent them from moving. His feet I intend to pull towards the ground, his left hand I intend to keep clenched around the saber and pinned to his side, and his right arm I intend to keep extended by suspension of the shoulder, to remain just as it is.
All this I can do, and have trained to do, and am equipped by my murderous rage to do.
Alkor is not defenseless, in principle, however. He may yet escape me. But he may also become my marionette, held by the strings of the Dark Side that I control.
But I now push off of the extended right foot. Whereas this was quite dangerous before, since Alkor elected to remain rooted to the spot and foolishly focus his attention on something that is not me instead of closing or retreating, and since I have taken steps to make him even more rooted, it has lost quite a bit of the danger. My left foot comes forward now in a second lunge, this time enabling me to enter striking distance.
The tip of the staff that I had traced through the dirt now lifts as my left wrist calls it up; thrusting that arm forward, I aim to drive its blunt tip directly into Alkor's diaphragm. (This is a much better choice than driving its tip through his presumably clenched teeth and down his throat. While that is possibly lethal, the head is a much smaller target than the center of mass, and I did not want to spend the extra effort to keep him from moving his neck around) This blow, if it lands, will surely knock the wind from him. And that will open up further possibilities for me to exploit him. I will not release any of the Telekinesis when I do this, so that if everything goes correctly he will take the maximum amount of damage, being unable to jump backwards with his feet fixed where they are (which is a nice way of reducing impacts like this).
The conclusion to this thrust, which carries nearly all of my weight behind it, is a stutter-step to get my legs underneath me properly again and to return myself to a standing position. With that done, I will drop-step my right leg behind my body and out to my left so that I can hop that way, and thereby quickly dance to his right side. A step forward will be a step towards getting behind him-- again, if everything has gone well. For me.
And there is quite a lot more to come after if that happens. *
[/ul][/ul] [/font]
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Post by Alkor Centaris on May 1, 2013 11:57:24 GMT -8
The man acted almost entirely in the manner that had been expected, with the exception of several things. First, the more direct telekinetic attack, which Alkor felt closing around him quickly. Problematic, yes, but Alkor would see how Ocious followed that through in a moment- if he followed through with it at all. All of this happened very quickly- when Alkor's hand shot up to pull at the tree, the roots creaked as they gave in, but Alkor was already finished with the extent of his manipulations. The loud whine startled creatures in close proximity, various birds and reptiles that had been living in the tree screaching out loudly, skittering and flying off in tandem to escape. But more specifically, the noise had scattered the bugs that had become their makeshift light source.
All at once, the insects flitted off in several directions, and, in time with that, the blue blade fizzled away. Shrouding the two men in abject darkness, Alkor throwing himself out into a fiendishly mad roll to his left- Ocious had exploded forward to close the distance between them, trying to hold Alkor in place, perhaps? But Alkor had anticipated a full frontal assault. Hopefully, the darkness would have aided in escaping the telekinetic deathgrip, the man no longer able to establish a line of sight.
Ocious might have been disappointed to feel the rod whip through air, but then, he would have seen the last vestiges of Alkor fade from view as the saber bled away. A smile on the Watchman's face, and then, utter blackness.
But more importantly, as the tree came down with a feverish slamming sound, Alkor wondered if the man would have been able to avoid it fully, so intent as he was on striking the Watchman. Alkor somehow knew he would, of course, using the sound of the tree's collapse reverberating through the Shadowlands to mask his repositioning. Swift footfalls, light as he could make them, followed his dive roll, and he twisted mid-run, backpedaling slowly after creating a good twenty feet between where he had been previously and where he was now, body still shaking from the gargantuan aftershock. He stifled his breathing as best he could- the combined effort of pulling the tree lose and running for his life causing him to breathe rapidly.
He kept his senses open, aware, the weapon ready in his hand. Alkor took a moment to center himself, containing his thoughts to the present, patitioning off his emotions. They could be made to serve him, yes, but now, he knew better than to let them run free. After several moments, his breathing slowed, and he closed his eyes, trusting his other senses.
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Corr Vhett - puts the "Laughter" in "Manslaughter"..... 
