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
Lapay no Ryu vs. Lapay no Tal Rules: GBA Standard, Top Ten Force Powers, Equipment listed in first post, no extensions (two weeks without a post=automatic forfeiture) Where:
You find yourselves inside of the legendary Dooku's Hanger, the site of the battle between Separatist Count Dooku and a trio of Jedi, Anakin Skywalker, Obi-wan Kenobi, and Yoda. High ceilings give and airy feel to the cave and gas release tubes run along all of the walls, letting out the natural gas of the planet in small measures. Two doors are on either side of the chamber, one leading to a maintenance room and corridor, the other leading to a fuel storage room. Currently there is not a ship in the hangar.
*The Geonosians are a race long extinct from this galaxy.
In order to tie up loose ends, and to prevent the plans for the Death Star from being reconstructed from the knowledge of those who helped build it, Grand Moff Tarkin signed the order for the extermination of the insects which used to inhabit this world.
A cold-hearted move, to be sure. But that was who Tarkin was: a man absolutely committed to ensuring that nothing could oppose the might of the Empire. The hardest choices require the strongest wills. If it meant that the Empire could thwart opposition, and survive for long enough to stabilize the necessary change in regime from the Republic which had been rotting from within, then what weight does the death of millions hold in light of the peace and prosperity for trillions?
If anything, Tarkin did only what he considered to be right and good for the majority of the universe. You cannot find fault with that. The ones responsible for making the deaths of all the Geonosians be in vain are the Erso family.
All this to say that there are no more than four living sentient beings on the whole of the planet Geonosis at this moment in time. An Aggressor Assault Fighter carries two of them: myself, and my pilot, Dorian Schiff. I have learned, after all, from my many mistakes. I'm not suited to the task of piloting, so I found this guy, out of a ship and out of a job. In exchange for gifting him this starfighter free-of-charge, he agreed to ferry me around wherever I'd need to go. Or something like that. Maybe Dominate Mind was involved somewhere along the line, maybe not; who knows, my memory's grown a bit fuzzy.
Dorian flies the craft low, fluidly navigating the skeletal hive structures of the landscape of Geonosia. We come to the famous landmark of the Petranaki Arena, adjunct to the plains which marked the site of the first battle of the Clone Wars. One might have expected a monument. If not erected by the Empire, then by the First Order, surely. But I suppose not.
The agile craft streaks towards the hangar which Dooku had used to make his escape, traveling far faster than a speeder or an LAAT could do. In a matter of seconds, we're upon the site. As we speed towards the rock face into which the entryway was carved, Dorian slams the craft into -- not the side of the mountain, as I would have -- an Eimalgan Turn maneuver, with the gimballed propulsion vanes of the craft swiveling expertly into place at his command. A moment later and the rear-facing ramp extends as Dorian indicates to me that we've arrived at the destination.
I gather my effects and make to depart. Before I leave, though, I offer final instructions.*
[/i][/font][/span]"Ha ha! You got it. Take care of yourself, Ryu, I'll see you tomorrow."[/ul][/spoiler]
*I validate that I've brought my weaponry with me, and enter the historic site.*
*And with that, I hop off the ramp, and then my ship jets off with little more than a blue afterglow. Out of sight, out of mind, as the saying goes, but for me it's really the opposite. Out of mind is out of sight, because it's Force Sight. With what awaits me, it simply wouldn't do (despite how possible it would be) to keep my focus fixed on my pilot. There's a far more pertinent matter to attend to.
...whenever I leave a vehicle, I'm not sure if this is a ubiquitous phenomenon or not, about five seconds after it's flown off is when I think to double-check that I have everything. So I go through the mental inventory. Saurez, strapped to my right arm, got it. Vol, held in my left hand, check. The two pieces of Trogdor, magnetically affixed to my back on two parallel metal plates which I've installed on my trenchcoat, Freedom, with their respective saber ends extending past my right shoulder and left thigh, pointed at about 2 o'clock and 8 o'clock, yep. Crisis and Crux, holstered appropriately on my belt at the left and right sides, good. Devient, my Sith mask, innocuously stuck on the outside of my left shoulder, prongs pointed towards the elbow, ready. Inventory complete, I'm good to go.
What I didn't do was test whether all of the cybernetic mental controls were in working order, but we'll take that one as granted; they're far too new to have fallen into malfunction yet. At Tal's excellent recommendation, we had gone through the trouble of procuring cybernetic communicators and installing them in ourselves for the purpose of enhancing our equipment so that all of our weapons can be activated and deactivated with no more than a mental command. Not having to finger activation studs is a massive improvement, after all, when one's armament reaches a certain size. There was a significant period of acclimation needed, more so for me than for Tal, but in time I got there. Now I've become proficient, and the reward of an increase in power is rightfully mine to claim.
My footsteps resonate softly through the sandy corridor leading to the main hangar area, which I enter and stop, considering the space. Just large enough for two ships to land in side-by-side, if they're flown with finesse. More real estate than could be asked for for a mere two combatants. This is where Darth Tyranus famously defeated Anakin and Obi-Wan, and had Yoda on the ropes before he made his exodus to Coruscant. While I'd like to avoid analogies involving Jedi, I'll at least admit that it does seem fitting that the same site that had featured the showdown between a Master-Apprentice pair so long ago would play host to the same matchup today. There are some striking differences to be found, too, but there's no need to go into all of those.
The one contrasting element worth talking about is that this is a preconceived meeting, not a chance interception. There's no larger conflict brewing that we need to be present for, or that would serve to distract us. The event about to unfold is the end unto its own means: the final showdown to answer the question burning within our kindred souls. Accordingly, I call out, my ever-calm voice echoing around the cavernous room.*
We landed within the cavernous hangar without incident, Ielyn piloting in his typical fashion- safe, dependable, boring. It was how he approached every task set before him, and it was why I kept him on such an obscenely high retainer (well, that, and the fact that he was too smart to face certain death for any less), but it was his lack of flair when it came to piloting that I appreciated the most. After traversing the galaxy in the Yama with Ryu at the helm, it was a welcome change of pace to not be constantly anticipating impact.
Speaking of Ryu...he's the reason I'm here, in more ways than one. Our recent travels together- dispersing Jedi from Honoghr to obtain cybernetics, joining our knowledge of alchemy to construct my gauntlets and Perdition, exploring the Way in more depth than ever before- have served to bolster my power to unprecedented levels. Sitting in the co-pilot seat of a nondescript Gamma-class shuttle as Ielyn gently sets its weight upon the landing struts, I am, I think, the closest thing to a god the galaxy has ever witnessed.
Either that, or the second closest thing. That's what I'm here to discover. There is only one person left for me to test my power against. All others- every. single. one.- have been crushed beneath my heel, fallen to the wayside of a path leading to an inevitable confrontation. I stand at that path's end now.
Yet my triumph is tinged with grief. I don't think it's necessary to explain why. Ryu has played many roles in my journey, but first and foremost, he is my best and only friend.
"Ramp's down," Ielyn grunted.
"Mm. You may depart once I disembark. I'll contact you if I require your services again."
"If?" I rose without answering, turning to depart. "Hey, wait a second!"
To his credit, Ielyn didn't wither beneath my glare. To mine, that was as far as it went. The most important event in galactic history- and I refute your accusation of hyperbole- is about to take place, and my nerves are coiled tight, whips ready to crack. "What is it?"
The mercenary reached beneath his seat, fishing for a moment before retrieving a battered looking DL-44 blaster pistol, sporting a worn handgrip and iron sights. Brow furrowed, he pushed it at me. "You...ah, you should take this, boss. I know it doesn't look like much, but it's saved my life more than once. Had a wise woman- don't know if she was sensitive or addled, but she told me it was lucky. 'Imbued', or something."
My expression softened as I regarded the pistol, and for just a moment I wonder at the path I've chosen. Then I close a black hand around the gun. "Ah, indeed. She may have been right, in her own way. Some molecules bear a closer attenuation to the force than others. When an item is created from enough of those materials, I imagine it begins to seem very lucky indeed. Thank you, Ielyn."
I moved to turn before he could reply, putting an end to the conversation, but he simply stared out the viewport, silent in the wake of my departure.
I waited until the glow of his sublight engines shrank against the horizon before I walked to the hangar's mouth. Before me stretches an endless wasteland: desert plateaus and yawning canyons, the brutal beauty of a dead world. With a sigh, I tossed the blaster pistol over the edge.
But, that doesn't leave me unarmed. I'm wearing the crushgaunts Ryu and I created: micronized beskar gloves that extended halfway up my forearms. I'm carrying the saberstaff that Ryu and I forged: Perdition, a monstrous, double ended weapon with independent blades featuring dual phase lengths, linked to my cybernetics for instantaneous, effortless control. I'm wearing my robes: black cloth dyed with Norris-root and interwoven with strands of shell-spider silk for excellent energy absorption. And the runes that Ryu helped me draw glow brightly upon my gloves: alchemical glyphs scribed to hold a single charge of a single power- Ballistakinesis- until I chose to release it.
You know Ryu, if you lose you'll finally know the answer to that age old question: is there a Sith Lord powerful enough to create a weapon that even he can't defeat? Even if you lose, in a way that's still a victory for you. Some consolation, eh?
Minutes turn into hours as I lean against the hangar's back wall, bathed in shadows and meditation. Drawing the force to me is effortless, but the waiting...the waiting is difficult. At last, another ship approaches, the whine of the engines echoing on the empty world, and I can feel his presence plain as day. I'm sure he can see me even from there, but I don't bother approaching.
I let out a breath when he takes his first step off the ramp. This is really happening. The two most powerful beings in the universe meet...in the middle of nowhere, surrounded by wastes.
Sure enough, he calls out, and I make my reply while striding forward to meet him:
"That desire does indeed burn within me, Lapay no Ryu. There is no one else left to test my power against...you're it, my friend."
*It took a long time for me to come to an appreciation of the Rule of Two. Even now, I still don't see eye-to-eye with Darth Bane on all accounts. We can all appreciate the intentions, of course: quality assurance of what was produced -- for if the fledgling cannot fly, then he should never be released from the nest -- and devotion of the instructor -- for if there is no future but to die at the hands of his creation, then the master will hold nothing back.
As we know, it does not always play out as intended.
And from the perspective of collective power, elementary math will tell you that three is greater than two. Apprenticeship is not a life-long endeavor, either, and a suitable Master ought to be able to produce satisfactory Apprentices several times over.
Well, so it would seem, anyways, but of all the ones who I have permitted to inherit my name, only Tal has flourished. Ken, lost in the depths of Ison, and Aire, killed in the ambush set by none other than Tal aboard the DP20 frigate, by which he sought to forestall this moment. Or perhaps accomplish it prematurely, who can say? So maybe there's more empirical truth to the notion of the Rule of Two than I'd be willing to admit. Especially because I know my history, I know that the Rule of Two was little more than an excuse used by Bane to destroy the Sith Empire from within and to prevent its resurgence -- out of which surely would have come an era of prosperity for the Sith, and likely a rival which would have surpassed him in power, so that's all there was to it, really.
Yet as I stand here in the presence of my own apprentice, and here at the very end deem my work to be complete, there is a sense of discontentment at the thought of allowing both monuments to stand. Power always serves a purpose, and there is a beauty to be beheld at the sight of two aspirants challenging one another to see whose construct should be allowed to stand, and whose should give way to the other's.
So I guess you could say I now see the artistic side of what Bane was getting at.*
*With a thought, the saber in my left hand and the energy shield on my right arm ignite; then I draw my flash-pistol, center myself in the Force, and walk towards Tal.*
*Having decided on this much, and wistfully imagining what can become of the future of the one who departs this place alive, there's naught else to do but attend to the task at hand. In my well-practiced mental routine, I send the command to Vol and Saurez, to activate. Moreover, I let my right hand fall to my side, and grasp the familiar handgrip of Crux, then return the arm to a readied position, with my elbow bent not quite to 90 degrees.
I stride, calmly, towards Tal. Left hand and cyan lightfoil tilted ever so slightly, such that the tip is pointed directly at his eyes, I make my way across the distance. The clop of my soles echoes around the room, accentuated by the hum of energy weapons, for there is little else to be said right now.
Yes, there is little else to be said. Why, what would you say? "Don't take me lightly," or "Come at me with everything you've got"? Rubbish. If you thought so, then you don't know Tal as I do. And Tal knows me in like manner. Seeing as I'm not the type to waste words, I don't need to give utterance to what I already know that he knows. My heavy footsteps, laden with the shared experiences, shout out far louder and more meaningfully than my words ever could. My armament, brought to bear upon my opponent with nothing held back, testifies to the respect I have for him. And my Force Sight, affixed upon the sinister green hue which I used to greet with warmth, now speaks to the great care with which I will approach, meet, and defeat my foe.
Two of my steps makes a meter. At the moment I began to walk, we were about thirty five meters apart. Now, ten meters from where I began, I raise my shield and my foil to a ready position and begin to sharpen my focus in the Force. It is no longer a question of who he is to me, or what I ought to do for him.
No, now it is only a question of holding true to my power, and placing my absolute confidence in the foundations I have given myself.
The top edge of Saurez rises just above my shoulder, and the bottom edge to mid-thigh, when I stand straight. As stated, the tip of Vol is pointed directly at Tal's face, mostly through angling of the wrist. My left elbow is held loosely, with about a 45 degree bend. Above all, my weight is balanced well. There is always the possibility of Tal to interrupt my approach, hence at any point in time I'll have to be ready.
Should he remain put, however, I will take my last step just past the three-meter mark away from him with my left foot. There I will pause for a moment, before I commence my attack.*
I remain still in the face of Ryu's advance, but not idle. Perdition finds its way into my right hand. I grip its hilt in the center, and with a thought, the forward end ignites, a crimson blade of plasma extending to standard length in a heartbeat. The beskar of my crushgaunts creaks against the phrikite, and my eyes narrow in anticipation.
There are two things I'm reasonably sure of. The first is that, given the choice, Ryu will never make the first attack. Against lesser Sith, maybe, or those who pose no threat, but against a true foe, his preference is always to defend and and exploit the first opening that presents itself. That's fine by me- while I hold the same preferences, someone must always take the first step. Besides, I am the challenger, am I not? I took the initiative, and it remains mine.
The second is that, mathematically, I cannot defeat him. 'Everything else being equal,' is a phrase preceding many of our discussions. It can reasonably be assumed that our martial skills are nearly identical, with perhaps some minor discrepancies. I'm probably the better swordsman, for instance, while Ryu's an unparalleled marksman (that makes it interesting that he's closing the distance, doesn't it? At range, he would have an incredibly strong advantage. Curious.). But, all in all, I'd say we're close to equal fighters. His strengths, however- the myriad aspects of his power- far surpass mine.
But, I didn't challenge him because I thought defeat was inevitable. Make of that what you will.
As he closes I discern that he's drawn the flash pistol. Out of his ranged weaponry, it's the only one that would pose a serious threat- yet again, heatbeams and blaster bolts, while unlikely to kill me, could harry me endlessly- so I'll have to keep an eye on it. I have no defense against it save avoidance, and even that will achieve the same effect as the flash itself.
Drawing on the force is effortless, shaping it is child's play. It begins to take form as I prepare it for a specific task: Telekinesis. Let's keep it simple for now, shall we? If my sorcery comes into play, it'll be later, when other avenues have exhausted themselves.
But he's close, now, and my observations end.
I stride forward to meet him at the last second, a step forward with my left foot, and then a lunge forward on my right, Perdition streaking forward as my weight settles, knee bent slightly, saber thrusting toward his sternum in a lightning fast probe.
As my arm reaches two-thirds extension, another thought sends the blade screaming out to its full length of six feet, staggering the timing. I doubt it will throw him off much- he knows the weapon as well as I do, after all- but it will add some complexity to the attack.
*If there is an advantage that I am giving up by forgoing the opportunity to attack at range, then there is at least as much of one that Tal is declining by taking the initiative to launch the first strike. He knows me as well as I know myself, and therefore knows equally well my inclination toward counter-attacking. In other words, we're saying the same thing.
He takes a step forward and launches a thrust at the moment that I have come to pause at the end of my approach. Incorporating the step and the arm extension makes it that the distance is just close enough that the extended phase of Perdition can reach me, and he aims directly for the gap between Saurez and Vol, to burn a hole in my solar plexus. But that is a gap that is neatly covered, with no need to rely on the Force Barrier that I have prepared to make.
As his right arm begins its motion for a forward thrust, I slide my right foot towards its own heel, bringing it underneath me, and immediately following cast my left footforward to restore my stance, having effectively moved diagonally: to my left and towards Tal. This places Saurez between my flesh and his weapon. Accordingly, the saber tip will strike harmlessly onto the energy shield.*
*In return, I charge in and threaten his right tricep with my lightfoil.*
{ ▼} *From that position, I take two quick steps leading into an attack of my own, moving along a parallel trajectory on the outside of his saber blade. Left, right, lunge! This is the number of steps needed for me to reconcile the distance between us with my attack range.
Springing forward off of my right foot, I aim to strike at the outstretched arm. Tal's beskar gauntlets provide coverage from his forearm to wrist, but just above the elbow, his tricep presents an ideal target. Maneuvering to the outside as I did at the onset of my movement provides his saber with a tangent line to follow along the surface of Saurez which would tend to rebuff it towards his left, supposing he keeps it lit and at that length and in contact with my shield. A tall supposition.
My attack on his tricep is as follows: a dip and an outward turn of the tip of Vol, which had been pointing at his face before I moved, and at the apex of my lunge, a flick to unleash a short horizontal slash from left to right with the intent to gouge into the muscle responsible for straightening the elbow, if not to cleave the arm entirely.
Upon conclusion of the lunge, I will need to quickly draw my right foot back to a balanced position in order to recover and continue my aggression as needed. This is one of those times wherein making an attack on a meaningful target supercedes the importance of carefully cultivating a series of movements from your opponent leading into an inescapable coup de grace. Tal is an opponent the caliber of which probably can't be controlled in the ways I'd like to, anyways. So the question is really just of executing attacks while minimizing openings.
That, and whether it is more valuable to take an arm or a leg.*
