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
Who: Alkor Centaris Vs Geir Hammand Rules: Battle Arena Standard, Top 10 powers, Weapons and armor per profile
Neutral location preferred, no real environmental hazards.
Geonosis: Private Hangar
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 purpose of his visit was cut and dry. Enlist the Geonosians for their technology, or take it by force. They were a brutal species by nature, and would comply only with someone proven stronger than themselves, or with the credits to persuade them. Something about the vacancy of the hangar struck him as ominous, however.
The meeting was arranged several days prior, and confirmed by both parties less than twenty standard hours before Alkor broke atmosphere. Geonosians hardly seemed like an ideal vacationers spot, but it at least got a modicum of traffic. He had seen neither a trace of local vehicles nor other small craft.
Then, there was the abject lack of... anything.
He disembarked the shuttle purposefully, unsure whether they were grossly incompetent and late to their meeting, or if it were a trap all along. On top of that, everything just seemed too quiet.
"Is someone here?" he asked, not altogether loud, but still more than enough to reverberate through the room like a dropped pin. "I've come for the scheduled meeting- and I dislike being kept waiting."
Geir's information had not been wrong about the arrival of a Dark Jedi here; that much was certain as the presence of the Dark Side grew upon the man's arrival. However, Geir had been sent here by his Order to apprehend the man and bring him in.
He [Geir] entered the private hangar from the far side of the chamber, the entrance that lead in the direction of the maintenance room and corridor, stopping just feet beyond its threshold. The door hissed shut behind him, mechanisms within making all too familiar sounds as it locked in place. It seemed as though the Geonosians themselves may have set this up. Locking him in the hangar bay with Dark Side character. They sure did love their violence here and deceived in order to get what they relished most.
Nevertheless, Geir shook the brown cloak from his shoulders, allowing it to fall limply in a pile behind him. His single blue-bladed lightsaber hung on his left hip, attached to the belt there with and hook.
Geir never carried much in excess to what he believed he would need for a particular mission and this was no different. Lightsaber. Force. Grapple hook with rope. Energy binders Small and simple inventory, yet one he believed was well enough equipped to complete his assignment.
He stood, maybe fifty feet away and directly in front of the Dark Jedi and waited for their first move.
After the first few steps and calling out his arrival, Alkor did feel something. Specially, he felt someone. The sensation of a thousand eyes molesting his person made him acutely aware of the cameras booting up and focusing on every aspect of the hangar. A trap?
His eyes swept over the far end of the Hangar, and a man in the traditional robes of the Jedi appeared. He shed the brown cloth without any real pretense, and Alkor immediately understood. He had been sold out by the Geonosians.
It was hardly the first time he had been betrayed.
Palpable rage leaked from the put of his stomach and stained the Force around him a deep, fiery red. He drew the miasma into himself, letting the floodgates quiver under the immense pressure as he prepared himself for what was about to happen.
He snatched one of the black cyllinders at his back into his right hand, and it roared to life as it fell to one side. The crimson beam of light crackled, hissed, and spat as it bit into the floor and left a trail of superheated durasteel in its wake.
He did not speak to let the Geonosians know his intention. He did not have to. For now, this wayward adherent of the Light had his full attention.
Once he was dead, the Geonosians would follow him to Hell.
The person before him was filled with so much anger. So much hatred. But why? What was it that pained this man so much? They were questions for another time, but still they ran through is mind. "Seems the Geonosians are not without a sense of humor, huh?" In actuality, Geir didn't expect any response from his jest. It was redundant and required none. The Geonosians had set this entire thing up in their lust for violence. They relished in it and used it for entertainment. They had a Colosseum erected for it; the same Anakin, Obi Wan and Padme had been subject to so many years ago.
However, the task before him now was the quelling of this threat. Before him was a Sith. Perhaps Dark Jedi, but technicalities didn't matter here. The man before him was a servant of the dark and a threat to the peace he'd been sworn to keep as a member of the Jedi Order. "It's not too late to turn away from the Darkness. Let me help you. Free you from the pain. There is another way. A better way. Let me show it to you." He reached out with the Force, feeling and sensing for any semblance of the Light that remained within this man. No one could ever be completely lost; that was just something he refused to believe. The path to redemption was there for all; the only thing that stood in the way was a simple choice. Soon, this Dark Side acolyte would make his; he only prayed it was the right one.
He braced himself, centering himself in the Force and patiently waiting for the man to make his move.
Alkor felt the immense heat at his side steadily rise, a mirror to the Forge inside his chest. The circumstances of his life, and the training given to him by the Dark Jedi had hammered him from the inside out. Alkor had gone from a malleable scrap of iron to cold, implacable steel.
It bubbled, spat, and churned around the blade, welling up like a mound and sloughing off. All the while, the Jedi spoke. Alkor let out a sigh, exhaling through his nose like a dragon expelling smoke. They always talked about redemption as though it were some simple matter. Jedi liked to see the good in others, even where it did not exist. Was it pity that Alkor felt, or disgust? He never found himself able to discern those complex emotions. Every sensation was bleak, because they were all ultimately the same.
And so, he disregarded it.
What Alkor did know, was that pain was everything. It was all he had known, and perhaps all that he would ever know. The strong all knew pain, because it both validated them and shaped them. The weak knew pain because it oppressed them. Pain was the true nature of the galaxy, and above all...
Pain was fuel for Power.
He did not wait for the Jedi to fully finish his sale's pitch before he burst into action. Words, actions, seconds all bleed together as his sinister purpose was complete. In a fluid motion, the Force bent around him and inside him, and Alkor propelled himself forward at impossible speed, augmented by the Force.
His arm snapped up, and the lightsaber ripped free of the floor with a sloshing sound. A chunk of molten slag upheaved from the floor, and with the momentum transferred from the Dark Jedi whipping his arm, coupled with his forward motion, it was launched at the Jedi.
It did the only reasonable thing a broken down compound could do- it fanned out and broke apart, spraying a hail of super hot, bullet-like droplets toward the unfortunate victim.
He would teach this man about pain, he had decided.
"Always so quick to action." The words were but a thought that danced around in his mind as the Dark character in front of him seemingly readied for an assault while gathering immense Dark Side energies within and around him. It seemed the tango of life and death - of light and dark - was inevitable now; there would be no civil end to this and that was disheartening to Geir. He preferred to believe in the good in people - possibly to a flaw, but it's what he did. It's who he was. This man didn't change that.
In a flash of motion, Geir's right hand raised in front of him. With the Force he had gathered within, the molten shrapnel came to a sudden halt, quivering as the fragments remained suspended in the air caught in a Force Stasis. He stepped to his right a few steps, not for even a single moment taking his eyes off the aggressor, and released the molten slag to continue about its merry way, doing him no harm. "Again, I do not wish to fight you, but I will do what I must." The hilt of his lighstaber pulled itself from the clasp along his belt and to his right hand as Geir pulled it to him through the Force. In the class snap-hiss, the sapphire-blue blue sprung to life. He stepped back into an Ataru form, his left foot in from of him and his lightsaber readied for combat. The fight was on and time would tell the victor. Alkor would set the pace, disciples of the Dark Side always did. His overly aggressive tactics would be his downfall; Geir had seen it before. It was the true weakness of those who fed off their emotions and anger to aid them in a fight.
The real threat came in the instant Geir targeted the free-flowing mass of metal. It was the proper move by all rights- no creature large or small, no matter their level of tolerance to pain would benefit from a deluge of molten durasteel. It simply happened to be the lesser of two evils.
He trailed just behind his initial onslaught, carried on the wings of the superhuman speed that slowly ebbed away from him. Alkor perceived the droplets of magma acted on by the Force, first rapidly increasing at his behest, and then instantly grinding to a halt as the Jedi reached out for sanctuary by the same power.
There was some irony in the willingness of that power to both injure and sustain.
Dark Jedi and crimson blade alike alighted centimeters from the defensive fighter, in perfect time with the last vestiges of his plea for salvation. The Jedi stepped aside as inertia was returned to the fragments of slag, and Alkor brought his blade thundering downward toward the Morellian from above, his practiced movements taking full advantage of momentum to augment his offensive.
In that same instant, the Jedi's blade snapped to life.
And there it was . . . the first "true" attack from the Dark Sider. The attack that Geir had actually been waiting for. As soon as the flicker of motion began from the Dark Sider, Geir, too, increased his own pace, readying his lightsaber as he moved. Because of this, he was able to just bring his ignited lightsaber to a defensive posturing to absorb the strong attack from the aggressor. As the blades collided, they howled out in pain. The ferocious chord the two blades sang out would be short lived, though, as Geir used the energy generated by the blow to force himself into a roll toward his right and then quickly come back to his feet.
The fight was on and there was no avoiding it any longer. He'd given the other a chance to surrender and turn away from the Dark - to be redeemed in the Light - but they'd refused. The sad truth was that they would now fight and one would likely die.
With both hands gripping the hilt of his lightsaber, Geir threw a horizontal slash (from Geir's left to his right) to the Dark Sider's mid back region. It was doubtful with would connect and instead would result in the blades sing their violent once more when Alkor chose to parry the blow. Still, he did - all while continuing to center himself in the force. He would need the Force in the fight, that much was certain.
The glob of flaming metal splashed against the floor and walls of the facility, clinging to them and rapidly cooling. Protests hissed from the foundations of the hangar, but they were forever distorted, a perfect mirror to those that tapped into the darkness for power.
Not unlike the metal, the heat around Alkor seeped back toward the Force. His contrived emotions that had been brought to a boil were stymied. Thus was the curious case of Alkor Centaris. The truth?
He was a thief, one who stole power from feelings long dead, or from others.
After their blades clashed, the Jedi left no room for a follow through. Instead, he elected to retreat, and Alkor's weapon cleaved harmlessly through the immaterial. His eyes narrowed as they followed the man through, and his body shifted to reposition.
His body turned a full one hundred and twenty degrees, and the crimson saber whirled around to connect with the horizontal strike from his adversary, another moan from their diametrically opposed blades.
Alkor turned his body to square up with the other man, then brought the blade around in a flash of thrumming light.
It came up from an angle (right to left) completely detached from the first strike. Everything about his motions seemed erratic, violent, devoid of finesse.
The man's motions were quick, yet erratic in nature. The assault wasn't as predictable combinations and techniques so far, making it slightly more difficult to anticipate movements. However, Geir had trained a great many years for this. He was a Jedi master and specialized in lightsaber combat. A blademaster. This was his forum. This is where he was comfortable and this Dark Sider would soon learn he was no easy kill.
Pivoting as to square up to Alkor as he did the same (right foot trailing left), his blade quickly came to a vertical stature in from of him. Once more their blades sung their violent tune. And once more had these two adversaries countered one another. A blow at a time, the chess match continued. Alkor would strike. Geir would parry. Geir would strike. Alkor would parry.
He stepped back a step once his block an parry was completed, continuing to center himself in the Force. A time would arise in this where he would need it and conjuring a skill from nothing was highly less effective than letting loose one from the reserves swelling from within.
Next, Geir made a a quick thrust forward with his blade (held in both hands). The target was center mass on the man but his quickly retreated the blade back into a defensive position. He was prepared for whatever the next thing was that Alkor would throw at him.
Both combatants seemed immovable as they traded blows, blades clashing in a discordant duet. Alkor's own blood colored blade deflected the thrust from Geir downward, a swift slap away from his body with a thunderous report. In the same motion, as the Jedi moved to renege his weapon, the Dark Jedi's own gave answer.
His blade arced inward in a fierce backhand, traveling over the arm that Geir had extended and toward his torso. The opening was slight at best, and could close just as quickly- but a burn from a lightsaber no matter how diminutive had the potential to be devastating.
It was like the claw of a hungry beast, raking out at flesh in hopes of stealing even a single bite.
The slag had dried by now, leaving deformities along the walls and across the floor of the hangar. The trench his blade had dug in the floor let off steam, blackened, slowly returning to a state of relative dormancy. Chaos came, changed the world around it, and disappeared in an instant.
It was through that change that the universe blossomed, or withered.
So...Alkor had proven himself a capable duelist and one of the more skilled combatants that he'd faced in his lifetime. Perhaps even . . . a better duelist than himself. However, there was no time time dwell on such things as a doubt in one's would lead to an immediate defeat so as quickly as he marveled on the man's prowess, he dismissed it for the next assault would be inbound very soon. Any duelist knew to never let up if there was an advantage you could press on your opponent.
An awkward strike came in from the aggressor and it was one Geir had fully been prepared to handle. Hell . . . if it hadn't been for his own rigorous training in lightsaber combat, it very well could have been his end, but instead, he was going to be able to survive this one blow, though only just barely.
As he fell back with his blade retreating from the parried thrust he'd given, he angled his blade vertically, blade pointing to the ground to parry away the attack of the man. If he'd been but a fraction of a second slower in positioning his blade, he would have been done for. It was fortunate for him, that when he had thrust previously, that he had done so with both hands, leaving himself less vulnerable to the ensuing counter that came afterward. He had been quick, but not entirely quick enough as singed fabric fell from the baggier portion of his right sleeve, the smoldering material leaving a trail of smoke as gingerly lofted to the floor beneath their feet.
Geir called on the Force now to accelerate his movements, empowering him in the form of Force Speed. With it, he took several steps back to create a gap of roughly 10 to fifteen feet between himself and his opponent, releasing the Force Speed as the gap was achieved.
Throwing his right hand forward, palm open, and in the standard Ataru form once more, Geir threw a negligible Force push at Alkor. The intent behind the push was not to harm, but rather to distract and buy himself a little more time. Every moment extra was precious; he was getting beat so far in the bout.
Alkor let a sigh escape through his nostrils as the attack went off without making full contact. The Jedi exploded into defensive action, and Alkor lowered his blade. It was pointless to overextend as an opponent retreated, after all- it made things sloppy and invited counterattacks.
He tracked the movements of his adversary the best he could, what with Force enhanced speed carrying him at staggering speed, and watched as he came to rest at a presumably safe distance.
The Dark Jedi utilized the annoyance he felt, melting it down and drawing it out like forming liquid metal. He felt the fangs of darkness sink deep into his soul once more, promising power in exchange for their poison. He took the serpent by the throat and milked it.
When Geir launched his Push, Alkor's feet parted and his weapon bit into the ground again. The ephemeral kinetic energy forced him backward, and his blade drew a hot line in the durasteel. He slid to a halt not far from the hangar doors.
Then, his hand whipped forward and his fingers curled into a claw. "..." words fprmed, but they fell inaudible from his lips. He reached out with his mind and clenched his fist, then ripped his arm violently backward.
The initial sensation would have been extremely subtle- Alkor intended to grip Geir by the nose, then quickly tighten his grip and twist as he pulled the man toward the floor.
"What the hell?" The phrase was but a thought as Geir felt the Force tighten around his nose of all locations. It twisted it and tried to pull him to the floor as he fought to resist it. However, to grasp at such a fine target would no doubt take more focus than trying to do so on his entire frame. Perhaps if there was a way to break Alkor's concentration, he could very well take to an advantage in this fight.
Quickly scanning the area around Alkor, Geir's eyes fell almost immediately on the new added molten material of the floor. Alkor's blade had certainly dragged the fiery substance to the surface as i dragged through the durasteel floor as he resisted the push from before. Since it was molten now, having yet to cool off, it would be movable and such a hot substance should have quite an extraordinary chemical reaction with dry, tattered clothing. Reaching out with the Force once again, this time in more or less of a desperate effort from the Force exhaustion now creeping in, Geir grasped at the liquid metal and flung it feebly at the dry cloth the other man wore.
Geir fell to a knee, though, gritting his teeth while struggling to resist the on-setting pain from the Force trying to wrench his nose from his face. At this point, it was too risky to call further on the force to aid him. Even by way of utilizing one of his most honed skills of Force Body may have proven detrimental unless there was some way he could recover enough. Alkor had pushed him further than any in recent memory, and for that, Geir was truly thankful. It had proven to him that even he still had more he could learn. Skills he could better master. And a mind he could better focus. But, perhaps this was all a game. Perhaps it was time for Geir to stop trying to save the man and instead just vanquish him. Perhaps Alkor was indeed beyond saving on this day.
Geir remained on a knee, his right, never breaking his gaze from the man who sought him dead.
