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
O, the Death Star! You, who can a planet destroy, O, the Death Star! Original copied thus far For Sheev's "operational" ploy And the First Order's bigger toy O, the Death Star!
Ielyn's Song
Mercenary I fly the ship which Ishmael owns. Mercenary At beckon call in spite of me Longing for something else that groans Unending yearning in my bones Mercenary
*The thought of turning this into a snowball fight to the death had crossed my mind. But, the problem with the plateau is that, in the high wind conditions it is unceasingly subjected to, there is an insufficient amount of snow to be found for ammunition. That's why I had to bring mine up from the wind-shielded path below.
At Geir's opening statement, I furrow my brow and prepare my reply. There's so much to say about all of those things he mentioned. Therefore, what matters the most?
I sweep clean a space on the ground and cross my legs, gathering the excess material from Freedom underneath to form a seat and insulate as much of my body heat as possible from leaching into the ground. The fire helps. A lot.*
[/span][/ul] *Those are some heretical words, right there. If you take that thought to be true, you can come up with some wild possibilities. But they're possibilities that I think might be perfectly reasonable. In honesty, I've not fully evaluated all of that yet. Maybe I'm wrong.
Oh, and there's another possibility I've been considering. Does the title, "Jedi" or "Sith", impose the prerequisite that one has the ability to use the Force? I'm not sure that the answer is obvious. But I doubt we'll carry the conversation in that direction.*
[/font][/span][/ul][/font] *They say that knowing yourself and knowing your enemy means that you need not fear the outcome of a thousand battles. The same principle holds true here, with a slight twist (hint: Geir isn't the enemy). I know the Sith philosophy, know it to be absolutely true. Therefore, whether good and evil are relative or absolute, the outcome is the same. The only thing that changes, based on Geir's reply to that question, is the manner in which the truth is presented.
In time, he'll see that the path he considers "innately misguided" is the only Way. I'd add that it would be the only way to save him, but that's not true. The Way doesn't even save those who adhere to it. What the Way does is it elucidates the truth of life, and instructs on how to live while you are alive. Still, knowing the truth is a clear advantage to have. If you play a game versus someone who only knows half of the rules while you know all of them, then the outcome should be obvious.*
There once was a boy of the Force Who was made a Lapay in due course He then became blind But he didn't mind Because he could See through the Force.
The Sith Code Remixed
Only this is: The will to do what must be done. Only this is: Strength and power, never to miss. Through these your victories are won; Liberation has just begun. Only this is.
Anthologia Asterion A selection of poetry from all corners of the universe
• Principal authors/who can post on this thread: Any registered user of the site • Universe rules are in effect where applicable • Posting on this thread gives implicit consent to receive feedback on content • See below for instructions and specific rules for posting here
Posts made here may only contain one or more poems. The poems must be of the forms of limericks, rondelets, heroic couplets, ghazals, or haiku (see below), without exception. Each poem should have a title. The subject of the poems should be limited to characters, events, items, and/or locations within the Star Wars universe or Star Wars role-playing universe.
Rondelets This poetic verse consists of 7 lines, with the first line repeated at two other instances in the stanza. The syllabic structure is 4-8-4-8-8-8-4, and the rhyme scheme is A1-B1-A1-A2-B2-B3-A1 (lines 1, 3, and 7 are identical). Consider the following:
Template for a Rondelet
The rondelet: A lesson introductory. The rondelet -- Two sets of rhymes is how to play. In cyclic form for harmony, This template to you from me, the Rondelet.
Limericks This poetic verse consists of 5 lines. The rhyme scheme is A1-A2-B1-B2-A3, and the syllabic structure is not strict; 'A' lines should each have three feet (feet are a measure of tempo across a poem's lines) while 'B' lines should each have two feet, which puts the number of syllables around 8-11 for the 'A' lines and 4-7 for the 'B' lines. Consider the following:
Template for a Limerick
The template herein lets you see What structure your poem should be So you can rehearse In limerick verse And write it conveniently
Heroic Couplets This poetic verse consists of 4 lines, written in rhyming pairs such that the rhyme scheme is A1-A2-B1-B2. Heroic couplets are written in iambic pentameter, which simply means that there are 10 syllables per line, divided into 5 beats. The emphasized syllable is the second one of each beat, i.e., da-DUM da-DUM da-DUM da-DUM da-DUM. Consider the following:
Template for a Heroic Couplet
To rhyme in iambic pentameter And make your verse to something real refer, Is not particularly hard to do. But counting on your fingers may help you.
Ghazals This poetic verse of Arabic origin consists of couplets. In practice, most ghazals range from 10 lines to 30 lines, but for consistency with length compared to the other poetic verses used here, they will be restricted to 5 stanzas. There is no rhyme scheme, nor is there a syllabic limitation on the lines. However, the first couplet should end both lines with the same word or phrase, and every couplet thereafter should end its second line with that phrase. The first line of the last stanza must include a reference to an author or character responding to the events described in the earlier lines. Consider the following:
Template for a Ghazal
How should I go about composing a template? You aspiring authors of a Ghazal should have a template!
The structure belongs to refraining couplets, Which should be apparent from the formation of this template.
Rhyme scheme is nonexistent (unless you want) But it would be difficult to fit a rhyme to a template.
Therefore your diction is of utmost import, Compose your verse with flow as exemplified in this template.
Ryu emerges from the forest of words, He breathes, and re-reads, and nods approval to his template.
Haiku Haiku are a form of poetry of Japanese origin. There is no rhyme scheme, but the poem's structure is three lines, consisting of 5-7-5 syllables per line (many examples, by nature translated from Japanese, do not match this exact number. Nonetheless that number will be strictly adhered to herein). Because of the simple structure and low word count, proper use of a haiku is in its subtlety and in its light metaphorical linkage of two concepts. Frequently, but not imperatively, a haiku uses a seasonal or temporal reference. Because of the simplicity, a template is inappropriate for a haiku. Instead, please consider the following haiku translated from the work of Matsuo Baisho (This work is not titled but please title your haiku):
The summer grasses All that remain today Of brave soldiers' dreams
"Come now, there's no need for humility. If I have come all this way, it can only be for one reason. You're an individual of great repute, Jedi Master Geir Hammand." *I close in, the shelter a mere five meters away now. And, with the conclusion of this statement, I lob the snowball I've created over the structure, on a course to pop Geir upside the head. Hit or miss, without breaking stride, I dust my left hand off on the outside of my coat and circle around the left side of the enclosure, to where we can see each other. Well...to where he can see me.
And I consider his request to entertain. In fact, I can see no downside. It's cold out here, warm in there (I can only assume); and it's not as though I am in any particular rush to get things done. Haste makes waste, as they say, and there is zero possibility for Geir to make an escape, especially if I follow him inside. The potential exists for Geir to have taken the time since announcement of my arrival to lay a trap for me, but I have Force Sight by which to perceive it, and thus I feel it would pose no danger to me. Yes, there no reason against it.
So why not indulge the last request of a dying man?*
"What I've got for you there--" *I refer to the key which I'd packed inside the snowball.* "--belongs to the snowspeeder that's landed back on that other ridge. You can hold on to that, it might prove useful to you." "In the meantime, you can call me Ryu. And since you asked me, I think it would be an excellent idea to step out of the cold for a bit." *I approach the fire where Geir sits, just to the point where I can feel the warmth starting to kiss the edge of my coat, and stop there, hands at my sides. I gaze at the man before me. You know, we say that all people are unique, but in practice I don't think we behave as if that's true. I bring this up because I want to address how interesting it is that he's referred to the inevitable as 'the fun'. I've never before encountered any Jedi who would describe it in such terms. Now to be fair, maybe that's the sort of attitude which gives him the qualifications of a blademaster; but still, it generates an impression in my mind that this is an unusual specimen of the Jedi archetype.
I get the feeling that if more Jedi were like this then I could probably get along with them.*
*Our Gamma-class shuttle erupts from Mandalore's atmosphere near the northen pole of the planetary body. In part, this latitude was chosen due to our ventures near the town of Enceri. But for another part, this was chosen so that we could traverse a route not quite so strewn with space debris. After all, because of the way planetary gravity wells work, within a sufficient timescale, orbiting bodies will tend to approach the equatorial orbital track.
This was necessary, because it gave Ielyn time to transfer our coordinates into the navicomputer. It isn't like we're taking any clandestine, seldom-traveled lanes or anything like that, or that we're trying to throw off pursuers, but our pilot is a by-the-book type of fellow. As a mercenary, he does his job right. And in this case that means taking time to properly consider all of the available routes for travel.*
[/ul] *I'm no expert, but this doesn't sound right to me.*
[/font][/ul]
*Ielyn glanced over his shoulder with the air and confidence of a scientist who's just been asked a naive question in his field of expertise.*
[/font][/ul] *His response was appended with an unspoken "Correct me if I'm wrong." But that's not something I'm able to do. All I've got left is curiosity.*
[/font][/ul]
[/i] you manage to do that, by the way? By all accounts it shouldn't have been possible."[/font][/ul]
[/font][/ul] *Never underestimate my propensity for catastrophic results when given free reign to pilot a ship.
The thought strikes me, though, that it is quite fortuitous to have such an expert on our hands. Though I wonder how often bias can contaminate one's knowledge. For instance, I will never not think of Kamino as being one of Tal's possessions, although that day and age has long since passed. So if you were to tell me that the Jedi had established a temple in Tipoca City, I'd be inclined to doubt you. Making sure that one's information is up-to-date and bias free is a critical task if it is to guide action, and I think it is only fair to cast a fair amount of skepticism on Ielyn's repository. Especially if it's open-source. But he's level three, after all, so maybe he knows this too.
Stars blur as we accelerate to light speed, and make the jump to the Parlemian Route. From there, as described, we'll hop into the wilder reaches of space. Then it's a trip through The Maw that will lead us to Honoghr.*
*As the triple Fang Fighter escort informed us to prepare to make our descent, and instructed us thusly, our plans were suddenly interrupted by an alert emanating from Galbakhnor's comm channel. The source of the message was the captain of Darth Abaddon's Irrukiine company, and the cause was the destruction of the Sith Academy on Korriban. But the message was a voice recording in the native Irrukiine language, which we could not translate into Basic, so we did not come to find out the whole story. That wasn't for a lack of effort, though. Oh, no, indeed.
The message tapered off, and left Galbakhnor visibly agitated. Being the empathetic soul that I am, I waited for a moment and then gently inquired.*
"Orr-errr-arr. Darrr Arrurrorr."[/ul] *Devient conceals my expression, but you can probably imagine it what it looks like behind the expressionless metal facade. Eyebrows raised to the maximum, lips drawn into a tight-lipped expression of futility, and--this one you can see-- a sudden and slight inclination of the head to indicate that communication is going nowhere. So now Galbakhnor decides to incorporate charades to help get his point across.*
[/font][/ul] *He brings his two lower arms up to his face, occluding his mouth, and with the upper two arms, mimes sitting in a chair.*
[/font][/ul] *To which Galbakhnor nods vigorously. Cool.*
[/font][/ul] *He continues by tracing out some complicated geometrical shape with all four hands, accentuating with additional growls and vowel sounds. By now, Curcebithin's interest has been piqued, and he joins in.*
[/font] "Rrrriifff."
"...Academy. Sith Academy. Darth Abaddon fell down a hole in the Sith Academy. He's trapped and he needs our help."[/ul]
*The brothers' excited panting turns into frantic head-shaking as I extrapolate too far with that last guess. They resume their frustrated miming, and by this point even Tal has decided to get in on the game.
Galbakhnor brings all four hands together in the shape of a box.*
[/font]*Curcebithin nods. Galbakhnor then turns all four of his hands palms-up.* "Destroyed." *A yip of affirmation from Galbakhnor. Curcebithin then uses all four of his hands, pointing his index and middle fingers towards the floor and making a scissor-like motion with those fingers while moving his arms past Galbakhnor's distended palms.* "...And people fled the scene."[/ul] *That was, in fact, the solution! Or close enough, anyways. The fine details could wait, the brothers figured. Their pleasure at successful communication is expressed by howls, and I turn to Tal, pleased enough with my contribution to solving the puzzle, to discuss the implications.*
[/font][/ul] *The possibility of attributing the cause to a dark sider is not unheard of, either. There had been fresh fractures in the ceiling and newly-strewn debris around our feet when we had entered the chamber and it would not take much of a stretch to assume that they had been put there during an interview-gone-awry (which is exactly what had happened, with Darth Vastator). Indeed, with the power levels which Abaddon and I had been toying around with, it would take just one slip to cause the whole place to come crashing down.
One thing that is certain is that it could not have been the Mandalorians; we saw their fleets here, drifting listlessly over their homeworld. The scanners indicated no signs of movement from their forces in the direction we'd just come, so as assumed in our arrival over orbit, their navy is either all dead by now, or festering in dysfunction. Clinging on to survival when there's no hope at all for their future.
The correct course of action is clear in light of this event.*
[/font]
"Normally I'd dismiss the Jedi as culprits, but Abaddon does seem rather...fragile, so I suppose it's possible."
"I don't think we can count them out right away. If they feel cornered by the plague, it's reasonable to predict that they would feel like they've got nothing to lose and strike out. In any case, the only way we have anything to do is if it can be traced back to the Jedi."
*As these words elapse, Tal nods thoughtfully.* "Then there's no location more suitable for us to head towards than Honoghr. It's the only safe haven for the surviving Jedi. If they've organized, that's where they'll be....
Not to mention, Honoghr is home to some of the most advanced cybernetic implant surgery centers in the galaxy. We can move right to the next step in realizing our armament improvements. Once we've arrived in orbit, I'll make contact with the Minstrel. If the staff of the hospital on Honoghr prove less than helpful, Elisio will be able to perform the surgeries himself."
"Who's Elisio?" *That's a name I don't recognize, although apparently I should.*
"A scientist I plucked from the ruins of the Grand Sith Alliance on Mustafar. You met him on Kamino, though I'm sure he was too busy to properly introduce himself." *Ah, yes. I remember now. I think Aire had been interacting with the Kaminoan scientists more than I had; I was more preoccupied with straightening Tal out. And speaking of straightening out, the name 'Grand Sith Alliance' sure brings back memories, doesn't it? Another reminder of the way we have interacted with the various Sith factions as time has gone on. All the more reason to do things differently now.*
"And he's on Honoghr? That's useful. Or is it that you intend to acquire the cybernetics and take them offworld?" ... "Well, in either case, it looks like our course is set. Head to the Jedi world, await word from Abaddon if he would like us to retaliate. In the meantime, design and acquire our new cybernetics. Sounds like a plan."
*Tal assents, and then turns towards the cockpit and calls to Ielyn.* "Let the escorts know that we won't be landing after all. Set a course for Honoghr."[/ul]
*Ielyn stifled a sigh. After coming all this way, these two have decided not to land, and while this is in fact an unusual turn of events, it doesn't help the frustration he feels at a journey that has turned out to be a waste of fuel and time and has kept him cooped up in the pilot seat. But, as ordered, he hops on the mic and radios over to the fighters.*
[/font][/ul]
*"At least we can finally open up the engines, full throttle," Ielyn thinks to himself. The Gamma-class shuttle's top speed is 150 km/hr faster than the Fang Fighters'. So, pulling back on the yoke, he angles upwards, high above the treetops, and lets off the air brakes. In a flash, the shuttle is well beyond the airspace over the Kyrimout, and on its way to an escape trajectory from the Mandalorian biosphere.*
*My life for the last 72 hours has been a whirlwind of activity.
First there was the message from Darth Abaddon. "Hunt down the Jedi Blademaster Geir Hammand," sums up the essence of what I was told. Who he is, how we learned of him, what he is poised to do; none of these things matter to me. When Darth Abaddon has a name, and will entrust it to none other than myself to take care of, then I in turn need no further urging. I can trust in his estimate: that this will be a foe worthy of expending my power on.
Tracking him to Arkania amounted to no more than utilizing the Order of Ruin's ever-growing list of operatives. One of them uncovered an uncommon ship, model YX-1980, registered to Geir, in the departure logs from Honoghr air control, under a week ago. From the departure coordinates, leading on a course to the Parlemian Trade Route and then switching over to the Hydian Way, the list of most likely destinations was narrowed to Arkania, Taris, Coruscant, and Kuat. Furthermore, he queried the inbound arrivals of said planets and confirmed the YX's arrival over Arkania. What an overachiever. After preparing a departure of my own, I then recommended Abaddon to give that man a raise.
I arrived on Arkania 24 hours ago. After securing lodging in Adascopolis, and settling in to make myself comfortable in my room, I began the arduous task of scouring the planet with the use of Force Sight. Long-range surveillance and espionage is absolutely feasible with Force Sight, but requires a place free from interruption and relatively secure. The 'Do Not Disturb' sign sufficed for this purpose. In this endeavor, I have to say that the difficulty involved was not excessive. Geir's choice to venture into relative seclusion meant that it took a full six hours to locate him, but his aura, once spotted, was easy to identify at all points thereafter. Can't lose him in the crowd if there is no crowd at all.
A prefabricated shelter accompanies him on the plateau-top which would give him all the respite he needed from the cold. So, that's how he hasn't died yet, or suffered any ill effect from the cold. Is this a camping trip? Contemplative retreat? Research mission? Punitive measure? Voluntary asceticism? Who can tell but Geir himself. Jedi, man, trying to understand them is a waste.
I'm sure that he noticed me. Sense powers aren't completely passive, after all, especially when using such an aggressive means of locating a mark. Especially when a man goes to meditate all by himself and do nothing else.
Satisfied, I then felt it was in my best interest to rest. The mental fatigue induced by this application of Force Sight was significant. I slept, confident that after having felt my presence, he would be certain not to leave that spot. Jedi are, after all, honor-bound. As much as I despise many of their fool-hearted decisions, I must admit that I have never known a Jedi to flee from a threat. Courage in the face of overwhelming opposition is commendable. All the more, having demonstrated my ability to track him down, and given his current location in seclusion, I think that Geir could not opt for a more amenable location for his demise. Out there, there is no risk of collateral damage. If he tries to hide in a city on the other hand, innocents may perish in my quest to vanquish him.
And then, five hours ago, as Olim was just beginning its descent towards the horizon from its solar apex, I roused from slumber. After grabbing some food from the hotel restaurant, I made arrangements to rent a snowspeeder (it being the Arkanian winter, after all). A cursory check with Force Sight prior to departure confirmed that, indeed, Geir was still out there on that plateau. Wrapping myself tightly in the embrace of my trenchcoat, Freedom, I situated myself in the cockpit and prepared for the two hour flight.
Which brings us to the present. I fly over the highlands, homing in on the signature of my quarry, and pass over several times to ensure that he's aware of my arrival, and emerges from his shelter for the reckoning. As I circle overhead, I spy a suitable location to land the craft, on an adjunct butte to this plateau. After setting the airspeeder down and retrieving my effects from the vacant copilot's seat, I hoist open the cockpit and immediately wish that I hadn't.
The frigidity here is unbelievable! Easily ten degrees colder than in the city. My trenchcoat helps stave off the wind a little bit, but unless this fight resolves quickly, it'll get pretty dangerous really fast.
I am pleased, at least, to have been given the chance to get my blood flowing by the hike, making my way from the landing site to the summit where Geir awaits. On my way, I take one of the keys to the airspeeder, keeping the other for myself in one of Freedom's many pockets. I'll give it to him as a promise to let him take the craft to make his escape, should I somehow fail to kill him here and now; because it is perilous out there, and life is precious. I scoop several handfuls of snow and embed it in a snowball, which shall be the means of delivery to him; because life is also cruel and chilling.
Rounding the last bend in the path, I mount the plateau and try not to succumb to the temptation to rest, now that the sun is setting. The icy air burns my lungs, and the frosty breeze (unhindered now by the rock face) whips at me. Surprisingly enough, there's little snow on the peak here -- must be due to the fierce winds blowing it all from the top. I take a moment to observe the surroundings, and then, at my satisfaction, resume my march towards Geir. My left hand loosely grips the snowball present I've prepared for him. My right hand is empty, although the bracer of Saurez is clasped around the outside of Freedom. On my waist, waiting for my left hand to free up, is the hilt of Vol. Crisis and Crux, the two LL-30 pistols I carry, are holstered on my waist as well, concealed by Freedom. Trogdor does not appreciate the cold, so he refused to join me today; and Devient, though she wanted to come, I did not permit, because a metal mask is a good way to leach my body heat into the atmosphere far faster than needed.
I approach to earshot, and call out as I continue to march ever onward.*
[/ul]
*"...to die", I thought to myself. But that would make for a very rude greeting up front, so I left it unsaid.*[/font]
[/ul] *I'd say so, for sure. Nonetheless, as it seems we all agree, it would be a virtually wasted trip just to come here for some gloves, no matter how great they are. Efficiency is best, when acquiring strength. Isn't there some sort of delivery service we could have utilized? Or did the plague knock it out?
Unimportant questions, now that we've come this far. I can rest assured, based on what Tal has just said, that there is more purpose to our visit here than just equipment-gathering.
As the sound of rainfall pattering against the hull of our shuttle becomes audible, I trace a hand over Devient's forehead. It's not really my pace to question the motives of denying our landing in Keldabe; rather, I do as I've always done, with the power available to me. Follow the flow, intervene whenever desired.
Some time passes in silence, as we venture ever further into increasing latitudes. And then, another practical question comes to mind as my interest rekindles on one of the subjects Tal had spoken of.*
[/font][/ul]
*While we converse in the passenger bay, Ielyn receives the instructions from the Fang Fighter escort for where to land the shuttle. In due time, the craft intends set down in the indicated space, with the bay doors to slide open to grant us access to the Mandalor's ranch.*[/font]
*With a reply like that, it's almost as if he's been waiting for the moment I'd ask.
Most of what he says is pretty hard to picture without a bit of paper to sketch it out, he's definitely right about that. A saberstaff, got it...independent emitters, that's pretty standard...crossguards? On a saberstaff? Ok so then if you've got one side inactive the one can behave like a pommel but are you often going to get much use from the active end's guard oh wait hang on we're still going...triple phase well that's going to require some careful engineering, wow.
I understand. Truly, I do. With how Trogdor is designed, there are innumerable variants to how I can weild it. How could I fault Tal's excitement? In fact, were it not for the mask, he would see a grin mirroring his spreading over my face. Envisioning possibilities for maneuvering in combat is a really delightful exercise. It reminds us of a far simpler time, when all there was to being powerful was winning in battle. Back in the days of our respective youths. Before greater responsibility fell upon our shoulders, with the cognizance and duty associated with ever-surpassing power.
...Do you long for a return to the simplicity of those halcyon days? Woe is you, then; no matter how you may wish it, you can never go back. Once enlightened, the beckon call of innocence is no more than a siren song full of naught but empty promises for you.
Nevertheless, there are two parts of what Tal has blurted out that strike a clearer picture than the rest. Things are piecing together, now. First and foremost is the upgrade away from analog emitter switches. It's a really good idea — the only true thing he's spoken about the potential for Trogdor to be improved. The second, on the other hand, requires some clarification.*
[/ul]
*Feels like a cheap trip, if that's the principal driving force behind why we came here. The Mandalorians are renowned for their proprietary metal. Over the course of their checkered history it has both served to empower them and to draw the attention of enemies. Sometimes victorious, sometimes defeated. Don't you think that they would just as soon be rid of the lot of it? If the Mandalorian iron is synonymous with the Mandalorians themselves, don't you think that it bears too much responsibility? Incurs too much weight?
If a piece of your power can be used against you, the right answer is to excise it and start over again. Ironically enough, it was Mandalorians who gave me a practical examination over that very topic.
I passed with flying colors.
And for our part, it does draw to light the question, 'isn't there a better way?' Now, to be sure, our purpose here is surely not solely on behalf of the special gloves. Already that's been proven true with the exemplary progress in communication that I have been making with Curcebithin. And there's surely stacks upon stacks of motive, intrigue, and impending bloodbathing.
[/font][/ul][/quote] *As the leader of a trio of Fang Fighters splashes across our radio, the flight's signatures suddenly appear. Though visually obscured by some convenient cloud banks (it has been, after all, a somewhat turbulent flight) their presence is nonetheless respected by Ielyn. He flicks open the channel and replies in due turn.*
[/font][/ul]
*L'appel du vide. The thought crosses Ielyn's mind to end it all here, take everyone down with him. Being pretty sure that the fortunes that he's amassing are going to outlive him, what difference would it make? His thumb caresses the tractor beam trigger. You can just picture it, can't you? Slug one Fang into another, burn the other down with the heavy laser cannons, then erupt in a fireball of retaliatory fire from the rest of Mandalore's air force. Go out in a blaze of audacious glory. After all, why not…?
The moment passes, his thumb withdraws, and he complies with no further deviant thoughts. The escort drew them away from Keldabe airspace, to the northern reaches of the planet. 10 minutes turned into an hour.*
*The elevator begins its descent to our level. On board it are, as expected, my True Son. There's someone else, too; one I'm not familiar with. Though I haven't met him, we're colleagues in the Order of Ruin. But depending on how philosophical you want to get about it, isn't that true of us all?
Tal has erected a Barrier, I can see it from this far away. Looks just like one of mine; there's no mistaking it. If that's the case, then it means we're going to be wasting our time with a barrage as soon as the doors peel open. The car is still a few floors above us, so with what little time left to us I call out to the gunmen behind me.*
[/ul]
*If it were me in that elevator, and I had another guy with me, I would place a Barrier and concentrate everything on keeping it up so that my partner could manipulate the Force at will to affect our enemies. And, it's not for nothing that Lapay no Tal has followed in my footsteps.
Therefore, it's doubly important that I am prepared to reply with my own Barrier. If a stalemate situation develops, then we outnumber them. Once both Barriers go out, then we have an advantage. Concentrate, Ryu, concentrate. You must survive the other one's attacks.
Fortunately, for as long as they keep the elevator stuck on our floor, the others won't be able to get down here...will they?
I call out once again, this time to Mel.*
[/font][/ul]
*I give one last glance behind me, checking to see where the evacuation cargo hauler has gotten. The operators are moving it down the hallway, far far slower than anyone in an emergency situation has a right to go. Like, okay, I do understand that safe operations take precedence…but there's a time when operating things according to all of the prescribed safety features is actually endangering to everyone else. Sometimes safety ought to be sacrificed, right guys?
But that's the last of my attention that I can spare. I stop focusing on them and return my gaze to the elevator car, which is nearing arrival. Anything less than everything I've got, and I'm sure it will be lethal. This is going to be a real mess, isn't it.*[/font]
*It turns out that all of that blue-shaded light side aura that he’s been intensifying is not just for show. Good.
All of a sudden, Adi uses the Force to augment his body’s musculature and movements. It’s a bit of a relief, I guess; I really expected a more direct application of the power of the Force. Something like Telekinetically shoving the fighter, and sweeping me off the landing platform with it, would have been more akin to what I’d have thought to do. Still, if he can’t confirm that I’ve been killed (which would be ambiguous at best, if I fell into the Kaminoan sea), then he hasn’t got assured safety, so maybe my way wouldn’t be the best after all.
And then he thumbs the ignition switch on his lightsaber, and with a supernaturally swift motion throws it like a dart at my cover, on target to where I am behind it.
The fact that he is aiming for the proton torpedoes at rest in the launch tube does not occur to me until well after the fact. It just looks to me like he’s trying to impale me with this throw.
Fortunately, I am ready. I have been ready for some time now. The burst in intensity of his aura, plus the rising from his kneeling position (in order to make a good throw), in addition to the fact that his saber was at his belt, and the need to ignite it, the arm wind-up (as opposed to breaking into a sprint across the walkway)... all of these things have given me clues to what’s coming before it becomes too late to react. They say that to dodge a bullet, you need only to avoid being pointed at by the nose of the gun before it’s shot. A similar statement can be made here. With plenty of movement letting me know that he’s going to use his lightsaber, even his impressive use of Force Speed does not preclude my ability to recognize the form of his attack.
The saber flies, far too fast for me to swing at it, even if I were to have had an unobstructed path to deflect it. He'd strike me out, in a sports competition. Or in a game of dodging balls, I'd definitely not manage to dive out of the way of this. But that’s not a problem, because it's not a sports competition. My objective was always to use the Force to afford a defense capable of surviving his presumable Force assault. Thus as the energy weapon shears through the rain at breakneck speed, crossing the gap in an instant, his lightsaber’s flight path is suddenly diverted, just before it bites into the hull of my lean-to shelter, by an encounter with a rapidly-erected Force Barrier.
Yes indeed. Force Barrier is my most reliable and familiar technique (apart from my Miraluka-esque Force Sight). Even while I maneuvered to draw Crisis into my hand, the power of the Dark Side had been the bulk of my focus. Would I have thought myself untouchable while behind the cover of the felled fighter? Certainly not! Most things in this universe aren’t adequate protection against lightsabers, not to mention the power of the Force. At the instant I noted that his saber was being drawn, I instinctively knew I needed only to perceive the trajectory it would follow. And now, with no more than a mental command, faster than the blink of an eye, at the speed of thought, the Force forms a Barrier for my protection.
To tell the truth, it is a little unsatisfying. Thanks to Adi’s ingenious use of Force Speed to supplement his throwing speed, I was constrained to produce a very simple Barrier, in a location that provided as much distance as possible between me and him. I would far rather have liked to have made a Barrier that encapsulated the entire saber, holding it hostage; or one that directly interrupted his arm’s trajectory and caused a dislocation of his shoulder. By launching the saber at such a fierce velocity, it is all I can do to just get it up, and even then, I don't finish the whole thing. What I can muster is a hemispherical array of seven interlocking hexagonal plates: a projected partial bubble of shimmering geometrical beauty, adequate to shield both myself and the starfighter I’m using for cover.
The tip of the saber strikes the Barrier — a blow that will glance along the curvature. It will shunted away, off to the right of its initial mark; down and away (from my perspective) toward the left side of the platform, acquiring a significant amount of rotational momentum as it does. Therefore it will begin to spin madly, a deadly whirl of blue, and it will cleanly miss both fighters along its new trajectory. It will sail like a buzz saw into the durasteel platform itself, just shy of hitting the rear landing struts of the second fighter, and will tear through the lightsaber-permeable metal with no resistance to speak of. How far does it go? Well, there’s nothing to stop it. With the Force-augmented Speed at which it was flying, in no time at all it will have passed out of sight, cutting through layer after layer of the underbelly of the platform in a straight shot leading down to the ocean. Once there, it will short out upon contact with the water (unless Adi’s specially-crafted lightsaber has that convenient cyclical-ignition modification). Feed that saber to the gooberfish, why don’t you?
Isn’t it funny how Adi wound up caving to temptation and actually commencing the fighting? After making me look silly when I took up my fighting stance at which point he refused to even draw his saber, now he’s elected to be the one to fire the first shot. Well, I guess the time for words has ended, in Adi's estimation. For what it's worth, I don't have anything more to say right now, either.
With all of the Force energy that Adi has drawn to himself, I am certain that this instance of Speed has not drained his mental faculties yet. Of course, the same could be said for me; this wasn't any special substantiation of Force Barrier. Plenty of fuel left in the tanks, so to speak. After assuring that the saber is cleanly away, I will relinquish the Barrier and take a moment’s respite to re-gather my focus; then, completing my draw of Crisis, and with no saber on hand with which to contest, I will have full license to shoot Adi to my heart’s content. My heart will be content if it comes to a close-quarters fight, although given this sudden insight into his willingness to weaponize Force Speed for what I would call an ‘unusual’ type of attack, I will have to be cautious. Let’s make him use some more of that Speed, why don’t we? I should be able to exhaust him, right?
Crisis's heatbeam attachment (which replaced the sights on the standard LL-30 model, since I’m a blind man and don’t need that garbage) now peeks around the nose of the ship, as I had been maneuvering to do before this interruption by a game of high-stakes lawn darts. In reply to the rude impalement attempt, a deep blue heatbeam shot flashes out from this piece, erupting at the literal speed of light towards where Adi stands. This is an archaic device, capable of cutting through light durasteel with ease. A small spot, no more than two centimeters in diameter once it traverses the distance from me to Adi, it is nonetheless quite something. The continuous beam isn’t capable of causing significant damage, unless it hits a sensitive spot. For instance, I could burn a hole through his trachea, if he lets the beam linger in a single spot for that long. The beam is currently aligned to strike his right pectoral area, though it’ll have to ablate through his rain-soaked cloak first (though, let’s not be disingenuous, the heatbeam can do that in short order). So it’ll sting, if he’s hit by it; crisp his skin right up before gradually wilting it away under the heat of absorption and scattering light. And if that’s the case, it’ll make him move to avoid the burning. I predict he’ll use Force Speed, since that’s already one of the cards already in his hand, and frankly it’s my goal now to have him do it.
For when he takes the bait and makes to close the gap between us, I’ll be prepared to get a second Barrier up. And, the element of surprise of Speed is now extinct: I'll finish what I begin. Go on, Adi, splat yourself onto my Force-field like an insect on the glass of a cockpit.
One must be careful, though, never to let down their guard, no matter how advantageous a situation might appear. There is now a deadly weapon careening through the building below me, which he may try to utilize (but he’d have to do so pretty soon, else it’ll sink to the bottom of the ocean before he has a chance). He can probably sense it, even as far away as he is; lightsaber wielders are very good about being attuned to the crystals inside their blades, so it’s not out of the picture yet. And there’s the issue of what he’ll do if he doesn’t use Force Speed, and can manage to withstand a few seconds of pain while I intend to heatbeam him to exhaustion. For that reason, despite a moment of ostensible disarmedness on Adi's part, I still remain behind the intact cover of the crippled fighter, and intend to do so as much as possible while executing my counter-tactic.
...Hah! There was a torpedo in those tubes! Was he trying to blow up the whole platform?
Now, let us review what has just transpired with a question. If a man earnestly claims that fighting is violence, and that violence is weakness personified, and then turns around and launches a preemptive attack before having received any indication of aggression from his opponent, then which of the following statements is true: that he is admitting himself to be weak, that he is admitting his own failure to avoid violence, or that he does not sincerely believe what he says?