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
My features betray nothing, much less the good-natured laughter that threatened to burst forth. It's so rare to catch my friend in a verbal misstep that I can't help but pounce on the opportunity, but I'm sure he won't mind. After all, he's never been one to hold back his own sarcastic retort.
But, never mind all of that, because he's right, and not just about the Academy itself. Korriban was hit hard by the plague, its population- force sensitive and unwashed masses alike- devastated. As far as I can tell, Abbadon, Andor, and myself (along with the handful of visitors that had come and gone since I had arrived) were the only living beings on the planet. There could be small pockets of survivors hiding in the ruins of the few solitary villages scattered throughout the desert, perhaps, but I'd not bothered to find out for sure one way or another.
I take my time in actually answering Ryu's question, leading him further into the tomb-like interior of the Academy. The cold stone walls, the dim lighting, the emptiness that my friend had commented on- I found them all extremely pleasant. This was a place where one could think in peace, without noise or distraction. Bright light tends to give me a headache, as do crowds, and so I think that, should I choose to remain here and work for Abbadon, the Academy itself will be the most productive environment possible.
We round a corner, and I cease my stalling:
[/i] dead, my friend. I assumed you'd felt the upheaval even between dimensions, but perhaps not...regardless, something akin to a galactic extinction event has taken place. I don't know the numbers, but suffice it to say the universe has become a much roomier place lately. All the major players you remember- the Iron Fist, the Galactic and Mandalorian Empires, even the New Order of the Eye- are fragmented, their members either dead and gone or just gone.
Oh, civilization ekes by on most planets; shell-shocked survivors squatting in ruins, mostly. As far as I can tell, however, there are less than a dozen force sensitives of any note or renown left alive, their alignments split relatively evenly.
Before you ask, no, I don't know the specifics of what exactly happened. I was in Chaos when it occurred, which may have been what saved me. The sudden influx of souls drew me back to the mundane and I arrived to find the universe on fire. The short version, from what I've pieced together, is that an economic recession coupled with a plague similar to Blackwing led to widespread loss of life, which lead to total anarchy, which lead to the collapse of every major planetary government.
Welcome back, by the way."[/font][/font][/font] [/ul][/ul]
I halted at an intersection the corridor, giving Ryu time to process the information and ask any questions that might arise.
I'm kept waiting several more minutes before my foe finally reveals himself, leaning from behind one of the pillars that ring the garden wall. A rifle is leveled at me, and a threat issued. For a long moment I am unmoving, content to study the arrival: about my height, weight indeterminate; he is hooded and armored, at least with a breastplate, though at this range I cannot identify its composition despite the lessons Ruy has been giving me in metallurgy. A glint of what might be an optical cybernetic is visible within the shadow of his hood, but his facial features are obscured. A pity; I don't get to battle many people for supremacy these days, and I enjoy watching their expressions throughout. It helps me immerse myself more fully in the experience, and savor the brief rush of adrenaline that comes with my inevitable victory.
No point in dwelling on the disappointment, though. I need to focus on how to gain a positional advantage- which my opponent is in indisputable possession of. A ranged weapon, the force, an elevated position from which to open fire, an armored center mass, and (most likely) enhanced eyesight. This may just prove interesting after all, though even with all of these things going for him, I can still tell he is no match. All it takes is a cursory probe through the force, a gentle reading of his aura, to tell me that I am a god compared to this mortal. It isn't his fault, really- I have only two equals in the entire universe, after all, but his audacity will cost him his life nonetheless.
'We have you surrounded,' he says. 'I certainly hope so,' I think to myself. You are an insect confronting the heel poised to snuff you out; now, your colony will simply die with you.
At my whim, the forward end of Perdition erupts, the crimson blade extending to the standard length setting. My right foot slides backward, and my right hand raises up, lightsaber held in a vertical guard before my center mass, hilt at my navel. The Way of the Mynock is exceptionally well suited to deflecting blaster bolts, and I am exceptionally skilled in its use. Armored or not, a single blaster bolt would carry enough kinetic charge to knock my opponent from the wall, and from there I would have an easier time closing in for the kill. But I must wait for that opening to present itself, and so my focus turns to drawing yet more of the dark side to myself, storing its tainted energy for future use.
OOC Chat:
There is no right or wrong flow for a dueling post- long and flowery, or short and practical, it's all up to the duelist and their individual styles and preferences. You did well in hitting all the points I laid out for you, giving me a clear description of your character and armament, as well as describing your actions well. Clear and concise movements as well as a good understanding of basic physics and SW tech, as well as spacial awareness, will always be the biggest factors in your duels. If you keep those in mind while coming up with your strategies, you'll be well on your way to becoming unstoppable!
Two weeks with no reply, and no word OOC on whether he wants an extension or has any intention of continuing. These two fights qualify for judgment under the forfeiture rules:
You are inside of the beautiful City of Theed on the planet of Naboo. You meet your opponent in one of the many gardens scattered throughout the city, at the site of a large pool, standing calf-deep in the water. Various jets shoot arcing streams of shining water high into the air for decorative purposes. Blood will run red in these clear waters; destroy the peaceful scene of Naboo with your fight!
The aquatic planet of Kamino always seems to be subject to torrential downpours, and today is no exception. The duelists will find themselves on one of Tipoca City’s innumerable landing platforms, exposed to the elements. This scene is reminiscent of the incident in which Jedi Master Obi-Wan Kenobi sought to apprehend the bounty hunter Jango Fett, but it’s almost certain that that took place on a different site than this. The platform itself is a durasteel construct, 50 meters in diameter, recessed into the familiar half-dome structures favored by the Kaminoans. Only a small lip stands between solid footing and a slippery slope to a watery grave. Protruding from the platform are four half-meter wide maintenance catwalks extending over the ocean, located at the two o’clock, four o’clock, eight o’clock, and ten o’clock positions. At the six o’clock position, there is a three-meter wide, ten meter long pathway leading into Tipoca City proper, but the automatic doors of this platform are out of service for the time being. There are also two triads of pillar-like structures, serving as the communications relay and primary source of illumination for guiding vehicles to land and pilots to disembark. Presently, this landing platform plays host to a pair of Mandalorian Protectorate interceptors. Are the owners inside Tipoca City? On a mission, perhaps? Will they return to their ships soon? [After 15 posts, two Mandalorians will appear from Tipoca City. They can be controlled by the duelists as NPCs, or by a third party, but in any case must be hostile to the primary participants.] . Duelists, your scene is set and the pieces are in play! From here on out, the game awaits.
Impact is anarchy, all around me. Durasteel and tile literally disintegrate mere inches from my body. Inferno sweeps through what survives, snuffing it from existence moments later. I've been in many a crashing ship and crumbling bunker, else it would have been a truly fascinating display, I'm sure.
My gaze never leaves Ryu's face.
When the last of the fuel cells finish exploding, and the raging fires begin to die, it's only the two of us that remain unscathed. Apex predators, unbowed on a field of glass, surrounded by falling cinders and wind-borne ash. It's all very poetic, isn't it? I would call it fate, if I believed in such things. But it does feel...right, somehow, doesn't it? We always find our way back to one another, even against our best efforts. Master and apprentice, seekers of truth and of higher power, bound not by destiny but by indomitable will and unyielding determination. The truth is that there IS no other path for me, save the one I walk at your side, Ryu. Even if one day, as inevitable as entropy, we will be forced to snuff each other out. This is also true, an immutable law of the universe. But is it not blasphemy to suggest there exists anything we can not transcend? Even reality itself seems a poor governor of our ambition.
I've made up my mind.
[/font][/font][/font][/ul][/ul]
A brief pause as I fumble through my robes before retrieving my comlink- a battered, outdated device good for little more than sending and receiving beacons. It's the work of moments to send such a beacon to Ielyn, who should still be stationed in the Valley of the Dark Lords. As long as no rogue planetary element has him in their clutches, he should arrive any moment.
For the first time in (months? years?) a long time, I feel something like hope burgeoning within me. Emotional motivations are for lesser Sith, it's true, but this...this I will allow. Perhaps I have not failed after all; perhaps I've simply been given a chance to direct my energies in a more productive direction. Second chances are few and far between when your goal is absolute dominion over every aspect of reality, after all, and so I savor the moment.
In the distance, I hear the whine of an approaching shuttle.
I take a long, slow breath and tilt my face toward the sun, basking in its gentle light. The sound of chirping birds and the gentle rush of the water lapping at the top of my boots fills my ears, and for a moment,I know bliss. How strange to think that only weeks ago I'd been on the verge of oblivion, drifting with no direction. Ah, but now the universe makes sense again, and the fire in my heart has been renewed. I won't stop until my goal is realized: absolute power.
A quick scan of the garden shows that I am, for now, its sole inhabitant. My opponent, whomever they might be, had yet to arrive, and that was good. It gave me a chance to check over my inventory, and gather my strength for the coming fight. Such a luxury would've made no difference to me in the past- I didn't care if I won or lost, after all. Now, I utilize every advantage I have.
Standing at six feet and a hundred and seventy pounds, my new body may very well be the biggest advantage I possess. Casting off my old, failing vessel has revitalized me, and given me a more effective medium through which to wreak havoc.
Perdition, my saberstaff, is held loosely in my right hand, gripped just a few inches above one of the emitters. The eighteen inch phrik hilt extended up to my elbow, the cool metal laying against my forearm. Its surface is smooth, lacking the plethora of activation studs usually set in the hilts of sabers. Instead, Perdition is linked to my cybernetic implant. Activating and deactivating the dual-phase blades is as simple as flexing a muscle- it requires no thought, and is as effortless as a flick of the forefinger.
Both of my hands are encased in phrikite Crushgaunts- Mandalorian-designed armored gloves that give me the ability to effortlessly rend flesh and bone. Sith runes sprawl across their faces, the sinister black lettering a sharp contrast to the shining silver of the phrik.
Taking a deep breath, I draw the dark side to me, gathering its energy in an unhurried, almost lazy manner. Using it would be a last resort, but preparation is key, after all.
Running my left hand over my shaved skull, I narrowed my eyes on the opposite side of the pool and awaited my opponent's inevitable arrival.
OOC said:
Okay Kirwin, welcome to the Battle Arena! The goal here is to walk you through the basics of a duel in a fun, relaxed setting where we can converse on the finer points the battle out of character, and help get you ready to step into a true-blue challenge match.
First thing's first: you're opening post. Generally, you want to accomplish three things with your first post in a duel.
1: Describe your character, or at least their general appearance. This gives your opponent a frame of reference for who they're fighting. While the color of your eyes aren't likely to be a factor in a duel, your height, weight, and species may come into play.
2: Describe your position, and your inventory. If you're making the first post in the duel, you can 'call dibs' on whatever spot you want. If not, you need to describe your position in relation to your opponent, so that it's clear where everyone's starting out, and how much distance there is before the fists can start flying. As for weapons and armor, it's considered good manners to go into detail on what exactly you're bringing to the fight. It saves your opponent from having to dig through your character sheet, and prevents any surprise hand grenades from magically entering the fray.
3: Tap into the force. This one isn't mandatory, but is a good idea nonetheless. Using force powers in the arena requires focus and preparation; casting powers without the appropriate build up, or casting too many too fast, is a good way to get points taken away by the Judge.
Side note: my posts are about ninety percent fluff. The Battle Arena isn't a writing competition, it's a duel. Producing a moving story or beautiful prose are absolutely appreciated, especially by the judges who take the time to read through them, but they won't count toward your win. What will is superior tactics, conservative force use, and well described movements and spacial awareness.
On that note, everything that pertains to the fight, and isn't just narrative in my posts, will be in bold, that way you don't have to sift through my inner monologue to find my move
You are inside of the beautiful City of Theed on the planet of Naboo. You meet your opponent in one of the many gardens scattered throughout the city, at the site of a large pool, standing calf-deep in the water. Various jets shoot arcing streams of shining water high into the air for decorative purposes. Blood will run red in these clear waters; destroy the peaceful scene of Naboo with your fight
Rules: Battle Arena Standard, Top Ten Force Powers
I've barely taken two steps when the Mandalorian makes his move. It's no matter; the vibrosword, despite not being fully functional, would have made killing the warrior quite a bit easier, but I didn't need it. Besides, it would've taken all of the challenge out of it- facing an armed Mandalorian with nothing but my bare hands would nearly put us on even footing.
Nearly. I've been a student of Stava for nearly as long as I've studied Makashi, and am just as proficient. It's a high-impact martial art focusing on knee and elbow strikes, joint locks, and grappling, and with my new body- six feet and one-hundred and seventy pounds of corded muscle- I am in a position to apply it more effectively than ever. The brute is quite a bit larger than me, but his bulk will account for little- once I get him on the ground. In a way, wrestling is just as elegant as fencing, and applies many of the same principles- positioning, leverage, economy of motion, stamina management...the list goes on.
But where Makashi is dazzlingly lethal, I think you're about to find my grappling is nothing but brutally effective. Ah, but first I must get my hands on the Mandalorian, and there's that rather dangerous looking length of metal to contend with.
No matter. He lunges, and I respond.
As the rod comes up in preparation for the strike, I step in with my left foot, then sag beneath the strike, tucking my head down and leaning to my left. My left leg bends lower to compensate for the shift in weight as I essentially weave beneath the oncoming strike. I feel the air from the weapon slicing overhead, and shudder to think of the damage it would've done had it connected.
Before the piece of metal has completed its arc, I strike back. My left leg uncoils like a whip as I shoot for the takedown, launching myself toward the Mandalorian's midsection. Should he fail to move out of the way or otherwise stifle my attempt- which seems unlikely considering he stepped into his strike, putting his weight into it, and to move before the momentum dissipated would be incredibly awkward- my right shoulder will plow into his waist. In the same instant my hands will reach down to clamp onto the back of his heels- claws savaging digging in, trying to sever the achilles tendons of both legs.
The beauty of this maneuver, and why I'd chosen this particular takedown, is that it renders my opponent's weight advantage completely ineffective. While I am quite a bit smaller, he has no muscle that can directly resist the pressure I'm applying with my hands, and my shoulder will act as the second part of the lever that will topple this giant, one way or another. The standard defense, of course, is a sprawl- wherein my foe would throw their weight over the top of me, hinging to avoid being levered over. In this case, however, such a defense will do nothing but give me more time to rip apart his tendons, and render his legs completely useless.
A heartbeat after this analyses runs through my mind, my right foot is planted in the middle of the Mandalorian's stance, and I yank backward with both hands while simultaneously throwing my weight off my lead leg, looking to bowl him over onto his back.
If all that were successful- and I think it will be- then I can truly go to work.
I smiled despite myself. Ryu's arrogance has always been a tonic for my soul, though I couldn't say why. He is a chiding, smirking mentor that poked and cajoled his way through our lessons, smugly observing my fumbling attempts to grasp the truth he offered. From anyone else, such behavior would result in their death. Ryu, though, is different (and not just because I'm incapable of killing him). He is my mentor, my colleague, my friend...
How ridiculous. Moments ago I was consumed with apathy, adrift in the senseless ruins of an empty galaxy. And now I'm holding back a laugh at the sudden recollection of the time we had our way with the Emperor of the Tarisian Empire. Raven and his entire regime had been our playthings, wringing their hands and smiling nervously in the face of our unstoppable power, knowing the moment they stopped playing along would be the moment we swept them all from the playing field.
Those had been good days. Fresh-faced with enthusiasm and full of new purpose, I had felt unstoppable. Finally, I'd cast off the decaying trappings of the lesser Sith, and opened my mind to the truth. It had been exhilarating...intoxicating...
But I lost sight of the truth, and here we are. I force myself back from old thoughts, and meet his gaze once more.
[/font][/ul][/ul] The temperature was rising- beads of sweat were beginning to form on my forehead. A glance at the glowing viewports told me the station wasn't handling re entry as gracefully as it handled its collision with the frigate. Effortlessly, I cloak myself with a Force Barrier. Millimeters thick, it will nonetheless be more than capable of dispersing the kinetic and thermal energy that would otherwise vaporize me upon impact.
The two duelists find themselves in a massive hangar, the Main Hangar to be exact. TIE Interceptors and TIE/D Defenders hang on their racks, boxes are moved about on turbolifts and repulsor carts. The smell of mechanical fluids linger in the air, and through the view port one can see the blackness of space drifting by.
A harsh world of tundra and ice, Arkania was able to sustain life and civilization despite the harsh climate. Deep underground, the planet was fulled with diamond stores considered extremely valuable by those on the surface, resulting in the excavation of extensive mines across the world.
Our duelists find themselves in a howling blizzard far out on a frozen plateau, miles away from the nearest settlement. Every now and then a break in the relentless snow will reveal the blanketed tundra stretching off in every direction, laying far below the elevation of the plateau's top. Te air is bitingly cold, the height at which they were situated seeming to suck the warmth from their body's. Likely one of the harshest setting the GBA has ever thrown at its contestants it was unlikely either duelist would survive to grace the hallowed ranks of the arena's again, their frozen remains lying here preserved for all eternity.
The savage winds had cleared most of the snow from the rocky ground so footing would not be hampered by a layer of the white death, unlike the snow-covered plains below. Still, the rocky ground was treacherous in its own right, ice and loose rock promising stumbles with every step.
Our duelists will have to work to keep the cold at bay and stave off fatigue as the conditions will seep the energy from their limbs faster than they could swing their weapons. The real enemy here will be the environment, the victor the one best able to manage their body the better...
RULES: Equipment in first post, general force powers of whatever variety
I didn't respond. I can feel the pain and the hatred boiling off of the Lesser Sith, and my eyes narrowed in anticipation. As I had expected, his injury would make him more dangerous...for a time, anyway. When you back an animal into the corner it will often turn ferocious, and it seems Andor is no exception. Fortunately, I am quite unlike anything he's ever faced before.
His power lashed out unopposed, and I felt its full weight.
Affliction. Plague. The technique had many names- I should know, as I'm highly proficient in its use. Over time it would kill me in arguably the most gruesome fashion possible. Within seconds I would be horribly ill, within minutes I would be unconscious. Nausea, fever, boils and pox, swelling of the brain, unchecked necrosis of the extremities. It is possible to guard against Andor's efforts simply by swelling my power to meet his own- in order to work a constant stream of energy must be maintained, unopposed.
But I don't. Within two steps a sheen of sweat breaks out on my forehead, the beginning of a fever. I ignore it and instead pull let my energy swell not in defense, but in preparation.
As Andor's hand comes up, I mirror his movement while twisting to the side- pivoting on my forward foot and blading my body to the right, my left arm snaps out toward my opponent. My left hand curls into a claw and twists, like turning a door knob, and once again I strike with Telekinesis- a Force Grip to twist the lesser Sith's wrist in one savage motion, snapping bones and hopefully shattering his concentration. If not, it would at least remove the blaster pistol from the playing field.
In the midst of this, the first blaster bolt streaked by me, close enough I felt the heat of it through my robes.
I feel a heavy wave of fatigue roll over me, and not from Andor's plague. Using the force twice in rapid succession like that was draining, even if they were incredibly minor applications. If I kept up this pace I would burn myself out almost immediately, but that's alright. The fight is over, all that's left is to mop up the mess.
And then...
-Snap/Hiss!-
The crimson blade of my lightsaber suddenly flares to life- sputtering once before boiling out to its full length. Expressionless still, I resume my march toward my seated prey. I am unhurried, but my stride is nearly three feet, and I will be upon him in five steps. You have only seconds to stop me, Andor, and even if you maintain your focus, I'll be upon you before I'm suffering from anything worse than a nasty flu, and I promise, you're not going to like what happens when I finally get ahold of you.
I considered his words for a long moment, weighing them carefully. I'd expected Ryu to snuff me out the next time we met. There was no question of his ability to do so, after all, and I had no doubt set him back by years at least with my betrayal. Not that I think anything so dramatic as vengeance would drive him. No, I imagined I'd just be cut down to avoid further inconvenience.
Thus, I am surprised- a perpetual state when dealing with Ryu, it seems. How many years had he mentored me, and yet he is still such a mystery. Aside from his manifesto, I know nothing about the man. But when that maddening smile appears on his lips, I heave a sigh and deactivate my lightsaber. Without preamble I toss it to the side. The curved, phrikite hilt rolled awkwardly down the sloping hallway and lodged against a bulkhead. I don't know it now, but I won't ever see it again.
"I don't know who I am anymore, Ryu. Certainly not a Lapay. I've...stagnated in your absence, and I don't know how or why. With you gone I was quite literally the most powerful entity in the galaxy. So why do I still feel these chains around my neck? Why have I not achieved freedom?
Was it all a lie?"
Ah, but I know better. I can feel, lodged in my gut like a poisoned quarrel, that I am the one that is at fault, not the prophecy. And yet I don't understand. There are none who can oppose me. I am free from any form of reprisal the pathetic, mewling denizens of the galaxy could possibly hope to muster.
Still, I am not free. Frustration gave way to rage gave way to apathy. What does it matter if I'm struck down here? In a way, I'm free from Ryu's reprisal as well. I have nothing to lose through death, no power to cling to. Maybe it would even be better, merciful on his part, to snuff out my consciousness. At least then I wouldn't have to come to terms with the full scope of my ignorance.
I took a halting step toward him on shaking legs, and then another, until I was standing before him, pale features drawn into a mask of...what? Pain? Anger? Bah. These emotions...unworthy of a Sith, of a Lapay.
The door slides open, and there he is, unchanged from my memory of him. How long has it been, now? Between the spirit transference and the Cataclysm, I'm not entirely sure. Years, at least. It may as well have been centuries- the sight of him nearly floors me. Yet I advance, inexorably, even in the face of Trogdor baring its fangs, until I am just out of his reach.
Like a moth to the flame, indeed.
I'm almost hypnotized by the moment. My legs feel leaden, my fingertips tingle with a creeping numbness, and I wonder: is this real? Ah, but it has to be. No force borne illusion could hijack my psyche, no Lesser Sith's will could subvert my own, replacing my perception with a vision of their making. And then he speaks, a simple, generic greeting that almost pulls hysterical laughter from me. Almost.
Instead I nod, and pull my lightsaber from my belt with my right hand. The blade activates with its trademark -snap/hiss!-, but I don't move. There is no point. I cannot defeat Ryu- his very presence, standing here before me, is concrete evidence of that fact.
"Are you here to punish your wayward son?" I wonder aloud, my eyes never leaving his emotionless black orbs.
The station continues to fall, its hull surviving the rigors of atmospheric entry remarkably well. One wonders how it will fare during the inevitable impact.
