A massive cataclysm has struck the universe, and destroyed most everything in its wake. The survivors are now trying to pick up the pieces, and figure out exactly what has befallen them. Gather together, lightsiders!! The darkness has shattered the peace and calm of the galaxy...and they will do anything to stop anyone from finding out exactly what has been done! This is our first sitewide RP plotline. Lightsiders, you are looking for the source of this massive event. Clues must be found, lackeys tracked down, and bits of memory discovered. Darksiders, you guys don't want that to happen....because of the one behind the whole thing is furthering his ultimate goal. Mandalorians, and non-force users, you guys can decide where you stand on this line....do you side with the Jedi, and try to discover the reasons behind the ruined universe, or will you side with the darkness, and protect those secrets. Will the secret of the cataclysmic reaping be kept under wraps? Or will the Jedi and their allies find out the truth? Your RP and writing will decide the outcome!
BATTLE ARENA
Welcome to The Saga Continues. We have a section called the Battle Arena. Here you can use your characters to fight other characters. Hone your skills and see what you are made of. Don't worry, anything that happens here, does not effect your characters in posts, so if your character dies, you can still use them over and over. Have fun and check it out!
The Saga Continues is the product of the mind of ADMIN ADI; all contents are copyright their original owners. All characters belong to their original creators, and may not be used or replicated without permission. All images are copyright their original owners. This skin Operation Mindcrime was made by pharaoh leap of Pixel Perfect and put together by ADMIN KRYSTAL
Rai vs. Faust Skirata Standard Battle Arena Rules Top Ten Force Powers
Dantooine: Abandoned Jedi Enclave
Broken beams jut up from a collapsed building to the side. Glass and rubble litter the floors of the hallway. A steady rain plops down from the grey sky, unhurried fat drops of water slowly washing everything back to the dirt. Once, long ago, this place was a bastion of light in the galaxy. Now it is a gutted shell of it's former glory, the Jedi Enclave of Dantooine, a silent marker for the death of the Jedi.
Rai found himself sitting in one of the many dimly lit rooms of the abandoned Jedi Enclave. He sat in the middle, cross-legged, with his eyes shut, his dual minds delved deeply into meditation. Around him, lay scatterings of glass and rubble, dust and dirt, broken beams and collapsed walls and ceilings.... A physical reminder of the destruction that the Jedi had faced long ago, blinded by their own lust for power. His body, clad in the usual tan tunic with brown boots and robe, was the only beacon of light in this otherwise, dark and desolate place.
The Cerean jedi had come here to clear his mind and to find answers that Honoghr and Corellia couldn't seem to bring.... How was the Jedi Order supposed to recover and regroup in this plague? The Sith's attack on the Red Dawn Medical Center had caught them completely off guard, and shaken them to the core. Now, the remnants of the Jedi were running amuck through the galaxy, unsure of their next move, with nobody willing to step forward, take the helm and don the title of Grandmaster. Here, in this mediation, at a site that was once a testament to the Jedi's unity, the healer sought the solution to this maddening predicament.
On his person, he had his usual armament: his two lightsabers, both clipped to his right hip. One lightsaber, its exterior wrapped in strips of dark brown leather, encased a Jenruax crystal, which when wielded, would allow the wielder more agility and speed. This particular weapon, a gift from his master, produced a silver blade. The other hilt, made up of a silver hilt, inlaid with golden circles, produced the traditional color of the Jedi consular, and housed a Kasha crystal, helping the wielder to clear their mind of distractions even during the tensest of combat. It was a crystal that Rai had purposefully utilized when he constructed his own blade.... knowing that if he were ever forced to fight, his mind and opposition to violence would be his worst enemy. Around his left wrist forearm was a gauntlet, strong enough to repel even a lightsaber blade, and with just a thought, would produce a shield of the same material that was approximately 20 inches in diameter: another gift from Mike, this one having been bestowed to him upon his ascension to Jedi Knight. Other than that, all the Jedi brought with him was what was attached to his utility belt: grappling cable and hook, rebreather, an extensive med-kit and a few other small, unnecessary items.
His mind swirled in the light of Ashla, seeking solace, comfort... answers. But all around him, amidst the endless pitter-patter of the falling rain, the shadows seemed to extend towards him, threatening to envelope him and strangle him. And in the corner of his mind, Rai felt a speck of darkness that he couldn't shake. A warning.
The Prophet of Harangir's approach was unhurried, his booted footfalls drowned out by the steady pinging of raindrops against his armor. Beneath the emotionless visage of his buy'ce, he sneered.
The ruins stank of Arasuum.
Where once there had been no doubt vibrant life and unchecked growth, there now stood an edifice to death. Frozen in time, a permanent monument to entropy. This place was an affront to the God of Change, and it couldn't be allowed to stand. The priest marched through the mud, taking refuge from the rain within the ruins.
::...Scanning...::
Text scrolled across his HUD as he looked from side to side, down one long, empty corridor and then the other. Broken beams jutted from piles of crushed duracrete like shattered bones. Water pooled in foul-smelling puddles where the roof had collapsed. 'This place is nothing but a corpse,' the prophet decided, 'in need of cleansing.'
He chose a direction at random, trusting the Destroyer to guide his path. It was at his Lord's directive that he stepped foot in this forsaken place, anyway. A holy mission, to right an ancient wrong. Where there was death, there would be rebirth. Where there were rotted remains, something would grow anew.
The ritual dirk sheathed at his left hip clanked rhythmically against his armored kama as he traveled deeper into the ruins. His left hand hovered just beneath it, above the grip of the Mandalorian Ripper holstered there. Just because his HUD had yet to tag anything, didn't mean the ruins were deserted.
"I deal in death and thralls, aruetti. Which is it you seek?"
He shook his head, silently pushing away the darkness that crept closer in his mind. But it wouldn't leave. It stuck to him like a tick to flesh. The force was warning him that someone was closing in. Rai could only assume what was coming. A Sith. Expanding his presence, he searched for the presence of the darkside. If there was a Sith nearby, its cold aura in the Force would be unmistakable.
And yet, he found nothing.
His eyes snapped open, his mind coming back to reality. He strained his ears against the sound of the rain, listening for footsteps, for the clanking of armor, anything that might alert him to the presence of another.
And yet, he still heard nothing.
"There are other sources of darkness than just the Sith."
"I'm obviously aware of that, Kendra."
"Just be ready."
And then, like that, she was gone. Kendra always came and went as she pleased, or at least, that's what Rai told himself. He was fully aware that it was just a fragment of his imagination, a separate personality that had developed to help him manage his grief over the loss of the love and friend of his life. She'd been dead for months now, and yet, Rai couldn't bring himself to let her go.
Be ready. He knew what she meant. He had to be ready to fight, be ready to defend himself if the need arose.... but could he?
Taking a deep breath, the Cerean rose to his feet and smoothed out his robes. Better to go find whatever it was than waiting for it to find him. And with that, he stepped into the hallway, the presence of Ashla lingering over him as he made his way into the darkness.
Perhaps the ruins were empty after all. His HUD scanned ceaselessly as he made his way deeper into the shell of the academy, yet the only result was the ping of a proximity alarm when a fist-sized chunk of the ceiling had landed a few feet away, disturbed by his passing. 'Then why does Kad urge me forward?'
The priest could feel his God's teeth at his ear, gnashing as an incessant stream of insanity flowed into the mind of his chosen. Spurred by Kad's sudden admonishment, armored fingers closed around the hilt of his beskad and yanked it from its resting place.
In the same instant the Jedi stepped into view, a tired apparition in brown robes. Behind his buy'ce, the Reaver Lord's yellow eyes narrowed.
"You haunt a dangerous place, aruetti," said the priest, his voice mechanized by the helmet's vocalizers. "These ruins will soon face Kad's a'den.
His rage."
Faust loosened the Ripper in its holster, but didn't draw it. Killing indiscriminately had long since lost its appeal, and something told him this was all part of a larger design. What the Destroyer God sought to gain from this meeting, he wasn't sure, but he would grant the stranger the chance to speak, at least.
"I deal in death and thralls, aruetti. Which is it you seek?"
He entered the hallway and immediately saw a flicker of light to his left. Turning quickly to center himself with it, Rai found himself standing in the way of an armored Mandalorian with beskad drawn. Of course it would be a Mandalorian: a species that was historically known for their violent lifestyle, and arguably more violent than that of the Sith. But, maybe their encounter was nothing but chance. Maybe, they could just be on their way and let peace prevail.
"Peace is the way."
And then the Mandalorian spoke, something about how the ruins would face something called a'den. Rai recognized the language of Mandalore, and it took him a moment to brush the dust of his studies, until he finally came to the realization that this man was speaking of rage. The ruins would fall to the rage of Kad? Rage was a dangerous emotion, one that famously lay on the path to the darkside.
"Peace is the way."
"Greetings, friend." He smiled before he gave the mandalorian before him a small bow of his head, although being wary enough to keep him in his vision, "As you can see, these ruins have already fallen. There's no need for any further destruction."
"Do you really think you can talk your way out of this?"
"Yes. Ashla is with me."
"There is no need to draw your weapon," Rai stated, using his left hand to gesture towards the mandalorian's drawn blade, "I am a servant of peace and offer you no threat or harm."
At this distance, in the dim and dust-choked light, the Jedi's smile went unseen. But his words did not go unheard, and they sealed his fate. The Mandalorian's scarred lips turned down in a frown as the Cerean proudly proclaimed that he was a servant of peace, as if unaware that he spat in the Destroyer God's face.
'Peace,' the priest mused as he lifted the Ripper free of its holster. 'The very mantle of Arasuum.'
Faust tilted the pistol upward and fired as soon as it cleared the holster- a hasty shot aimed for the Jedi's stomach. There was a good thirty paces between them, but the HUD's targeting system more than made up for the distance.
Without hesitating despite the recoil, the pistol continued to rise, until his arm was at full extension. He took a moment, letting the rest of the breath out of his lungs, then fired again- this time aiming for the alien's rather large cranium. As the dull roar of the pistol began to abate, the priest marched forward. The clanking of his boots intertwined with his muttered prayers.
A litany of destruction.
"I deal in death and thralls, aruetti. Which is it you seek?"
Rai readied himself as the Mandalorian's hand grasped around the hilt of his pistol, withdrawing it from its holster. "Don't do this." His body was tense as his eyes stayed locked onto the weapon, watching it rise. And then, it barked, as it spit forth its first slug before the man's arm was even fully extended.
Rai was already in motion, his muscle memory sharp and honed from his decades of training and conditioning. The first rule against someone armed with a blaster was to not stand still. No matter how great of a marksmen they were, it was always more difficult to hit a moving target than it was to hit a stationary one.
He bladed his body so that his left shoulder faced his assailant, the bullet searing through the space where his stomach had been not a half second before, its metal casing missing by only the closest of space, the passing wind causing Rai's tunic to ripple. Already, the shield in his gauntlet spiraling into view, as Rai raised his left arm to head height.
The second bullet ricocheted off the metal surface with a cascade of angry sparks, before careening into the roof above them, sending down a small shower of debris. The Cerean gritted his teeth as he dropped his shield to cover his midsection, his right hand extending forward as his eyes caught sight of his target.
With a small push of the Force, Rai attempted to swat the Ripper to his left (Faust's right) in an attempt to throw off the aim of an anticipated third shot while (hopefully) grabbing it and yanking it from his grip, in an attempt to bring the pistol into the Cerean's own grip.
His first shot went wide as the Jedi twisted to the side. Not unexpected- he was familiar with the preternatural senses possessed by Forcefuls. It made them dangerous, but not invincible. The priest lined up his second shot and fired, the Ripper spitting fire just as his target hastily deployed what looked to be some type of buckler.
::Scanning...:: ::...:: ::Material Unknown::
His flayed features wrinkled in irritation, and he squeezed the trigger again...pumping a round into the wall as an invisible slap knocked his weapon to the side. Dust and crushed duracrete sprayed into the corridor between them as the slug buried itself.
And then a vicegrip closed around the Ripper's barrel and yanked. There would be no stealing the pistol from his grasp; his shuk'orok could crush a bantha's skull in their grip. Instead, the Reaver Lord locked his arm at the elbow, abating the stress to his shoulder, and took a bounding step forward with his left foot.
As a byproduct of the Jedi's telekinetic pull, the barrel of the Ripper found itself reoriented. In the space of a few heartbeats, Faust emptied the clip at the Jedi's outstretched right hand, a thunderous cacophony filling the narrow corridor as the ten slugs sought to bury themselves in Cerean flesh.
Then, if the pressure failed to relent, the priest would relinquish his weapon at last.
Behind his buy'ce the Prophet of Harangir wore an expression of apathy. His time in the military had turned fighting Forceful's into business as usual, and while some of them had proven challenging, every fight went the same way. They were only dangerous in the beginning, when their connection to the force was strong and fresh. So, to keep them from crushing your windpipe or crawling into your mind, you threw firepower at them, and kept them so busy they couldn't counterattack.
Eventually, they would tire, and once they no longer had their magic crutch, they crumbled.
Faust hoped Kad had finally sent him a worthy soul to collect, but it was beginning to look like he'd simply been given a chore.
"I deal in death and thralls, aruetti. Which is it you seek?"
It seemed that because Rai was pulling on the pistol, he had inadvertently made it so that the barrel was pointed directly at his outstretched hand. But as he made the pulling motion with his arm, his hand came close into his body and all he had to do was shift his shield a little bit to the right across his torso to protect his hand. The bullets crashed into his shield, the constant hammering cause Rai to take a few precarious steps backwards before he gained his balance as he planted his feet firmly into the ground, so that his left leg was still forward but most of his weight rested on his rear, right leg, letting it bend slightly to make a true back stance.
As the ten shots pounded int his shield, the explosion of sparks and the destruction of the walls and ceiling continued as the slugs ricocheted, Rai kept the pistol within his gaze as his eyes peered over the lip of the shield, still pulling and fighting the mandalorian's grip. It would take more to break the Cerean's concentration that it would the "average-joe" of the Jedi Order, only due to Cerean's biological makeup. There was a lull in the gunfire and Rai stepped backwards again, moving himself down the long hallway, another room resting just a few more steps backwards and to his right. The pistol finally broke free of his opponents grasp and soared through the air into Rai's outstretched hand. The gun felt cold and heavy, a sick symbol of death. It was so uncivilized.
"This is your last warning. Stand down." His voice was low, deep and authoritative as the realization of the inevitability of the battle really began to sink in. He wanted to run. Technically, he could. He wanted to leave this place and warn the others of the rise of some Mandalorian cult, but he knew that if this guy got away, an unknown number of lives would be lost before he could be apprehended. This guy was nuts. "Please."
"You threaten and plead in the same breath, aruetti." Faust said in a mechanical snarl. "Your words are wind. Arasuum clings to you like a death-shroud."
In the split second that the Cerean had to extend his hand past the lip of his shield in order to catch the Force-borne pistol, the Priest struck. A single beam from the wrist laser of his already aloft left hand, expertly aimed and aided by the target assistance program in his buy'ce. A single shot, meant to cripple and maim the Jedi's hand.
And then the Reaver Lord was advancing.
Long strides carried him down the hallway, his armor jangling. His left hand closed around the hilt of the knife on his hip. Whipping his beskad out to the side, he dragged the tip along the duracrete wall as he came, a cacophony of shrieks and sparks joining his approach.
He closed the distance with one final step, lunging forward on his right foot and bringing the heavy blade of Mandalorian Iron thundering down in an overhead chop. His forward knee was bent, his shoulders dropping into the strike. The priest was coiled like a whip, ready to snap at a moment's notice.
"I deal in death and thralls, aruetti. Which is it you seek?"
It all happened so suddenly. Rai's hand extended to catch the mandalorian's firearm. As it came through the air in a straight trajectory from one man's hand to another in a circular rotation, a laser shot appeared out of seemingly nowhere. It streaked across the hallway, illuminating it in its harsh glow, before searing through the pistol's barrel, and into the Cerean's hand. Rai was fast, but not fast enough, as he tried to retract his hand.
There was a flash of white, hot pain as the beam of weaponize energy seared through his skin. The Cerean's pinky dropped to the floor from the second knuckle, cauterized and smoking, with a large burn coursing down the outer side of his hand from the first knuckle of his pinky stub to his wrist. The pistol clatters to the ground, the molten orange slowly dimming into nothingness.
Rai gave a sharp gasp of pain, his facial features contorting as he brought his injured hand into his stomach, giving off a standard wounded "look." His opponent approached, and Rai let him, waiting until his opponent's blade moved from above. Quickly, he ducked beneath it and to his left, keeping his distance from Faust's other hand that lingered near his dagger. As he pivoted around and behind his opponent with the elegance of a dancer, he put all his weight into his swing as he brought his hardened shield around in an arc, aiming to smash it in the underarm area of Faust's striking arm, with the mandalorian's blade crashing against it as it swiped past. His mind was alive, and his right, pinky less hand, gingerly unclipped the hilt that contained the Kasha crystal. The emerald blade shot forward with a snap-hiss, and immediately, Rai found his mind clearer than he could have made it on his own.
Ashla was with him, and he was done playing nice. A quick jab, one more backed with speed than power, sent the green blade streaking for his opponent's lower back (or his stomach if he happens to follow his opponent), in an attempt to pierce the man's armor and score a blow... even though his knowledge of Manadlorian armor reminded him it would probably be a futile attempt.
His nostrils flared as he caught the scent of hot blood and ozone. It was an incense that oft accompanied the Rites of Harangir, and soon enough the music of the Cerean's screams would complete the ritual. Unfaltering in his advance despite drawing first blood, he closed the gap and lashed out.
And the Jedi spun away, moving with a grace common to Forcefuls. Utilizing the three-hundred and sixty degree view afforded him by his visor, Faust tracked his movement without turning his head, and made to pursue his quarry.
Simultaneously he yanked his arm back, tucking his elbow against his body, and tugged the dirk free with his other hand, holding the knife in a reverse-grip. The Jedi's shield lashed out, too late: the priest was already turning, a lightning-fast pirouette to his left. The edge of the shield clashed against his right pauldron, drowning out the familiar snap-hiss of a lightsaber.
Kad's chosen was still turning as the tip of the Cerean's blade tagged the back of his cuirass, drawing a thin white line across the beskar as he shifted away. His aim flawless despite the fact that his target was behind him, Faust drove the tip of his dirk toward the Jedi's head in a horizontal stab that would come from the Cerean's left side, aiming to drive the weapon home just below the top of his elongated cranium.
Something was stirring within him that cut a bloody swath through the tedium of it all- an exhilaration at finding an opponent who did not die so easily. They were few and far between. Indeed, the lack of worthy warriors was the reason Kad had chosen him to impart his truth to the galaxy.
Faust was only too happy to spread the good word.
"I deal in death and thralls, aruetti. Which is it you seek?"
Everything was a single continuous motion, as the two combatants launched themselves at one another. Rai found himself behind his opponent, his shield between himself and the Mandalorian at chest height, trying to force the man backwards. Rai's lightsaber was in front of him, horizontally in a thrust, skimming the surface of the beskar.
But this man was trained for combat, and was already spinning in the opposite direction, tucked low with his left arm coming up high for the Cerean's head. Rai's body tucked, his knees bending as he ducked beneath the swiping blade. As it passed over him, he extended back to his full height, pushing his shield at an upward angle in an attempt to smash the Mandalorian into the wall behind him with all of his weight and strength.
Quickly, he followed through with a shuffle backwards, putting distance between himself and his opponent, as he slashed his lightsaber from left to right, hoping to bring the blade across the back of the man's waist, a weak point between the chest piece and the leggings.
"Don't make me do this. Please don't make me do this." Rai's heart felt heavy as it labored to pump the blood and adrenaline through his veins. It pained him to face this man. It pained him to face conflict with his blade. But he was being given no choice, his hand forced on him. If it came to having to take a life, Rai assured himself he would make it swift and painless for his opponent..... If it came to that....
The meaty thud and shock of impact from a blow struck true never came; instead, the Jedi ducked below his strike, demonstrating again that he held the advantage when it came to speed and agility. No great feat when your opponent wore metal plate, but an irritation nonetheless.
The momentum of the Reaver Lord's strike carried him through his pirouette, spinning him so that they were face to face, Faust's arms outstretched to either side, just as the Cerean began to rise. There was no time to avoid the incoming shield bash, quick as it was, and so instead he planted his feet and leaned into it, a savage smile twisting his features even as an alarm prompt appeared in the upper corner of his HUD.
The impact rocked him back on his heels, insufficient to actually move the armor-clad Mandalorian, and in the same instant that the shield crashed against his cuirass, the Prophet struck back. A tilt of his wrist reversed the direction of his beskad just before he drove it home with brutal power, a sideways thrust across the body, meant to hook behind the shield still planted against his midsection, and pierce the arm supporting it. In tandem with his follow-through, Faust's left elbow collapsed against his ribs, cocked at a ninety-degree angle with his dirk held aloft before him, at the ready to defend against the Jedi's lightsaber.
His opponent had already proven himself quick, in his movements and his strategy, and that was good- it made Kad's chore a little more bearable, after all- but there were none who could stand against the Destroyer's Chosen once the horrible, grinding pressure of his fury was applied. A lifetime fighting for his God and his life- first against his fellow Initiates and the sadistic Blood Matrons of the Temple, then the united front presented by the Forcefuls during the Crusade- had forged Faust Skirata into something altogether unlike any that came before him.
A fact the Jedi would soon be witness to.
Lightning fast, the priest stomped forward with his right boot, aiming to pin the Cerean's left foot beneath it. In the same motion he leaned back and brought his left hand cutting through the space created, forearm bracing against the shield. Then, he pushed- a savage shove with all his weight behind it to send the alien sprawling to the ground, likely shattering his pinned ankle in the process.
"I deal in death and thralls, aruetti. Which is it you seek?"
