A Second Attempt At Escape.

[Darth Caedes]

Outer Rim Territories;
Albarrio Sector;
Mygeeto.

Things were falling south. Spoiling and becoming too sour to continue drinking from. Each passing word of the Sith inspired feelings of further hatred. Provocation he knew now how to deal with. He tried pressing the feeling back down, stamping them out and burying them with anything he could. He tried to release them, let them flow through his body under his own command, but these were things he had no dominion over. He was the victim here, tasked with sorting emotions he could not properly identify. But he knew right from wrong, in the most basic sense. After what seemed like a response of silence, Nejaa stood back and summoned forth his emerald blade. He was close, though his movements weren't threatening. Lightsaber hilt unhooking and flipping into place through use of the force, Nejaa put a solid barrier between the two of them and glared. There was of course fear in those eyes when he stared back into the Sith's own, but it was a fear he was trying to channel.

"You underestimate me, Sith. It is you who sounds desperate, running from planet to planet in search of threats. Fearful of kids, and in service to your superiors. I do not need to crawl before your insults in order to make myself strong..."

Inside, he was shaking. Quivering. Close to sickness by the effect of his own words. But he could not fall willingly into the trap of a Sith. Give himself over to failure and betrayal, only to then be dealt with in the manner of the dark side. He knew how this would end, how it would have to end, and he would never be the dead body on the floor. He sounded harsh, stronger than before, and spat his tones as if disgusted by the blatant attempt at weakening his resolve. Testing his loyalty, and failing to win him over.

"The Jedi seek to find solace in peace, removing violence or hostility from their process. They seek to combat evil with words of serenity, and diplomacy, all of which I see as a failing political game. I find myself at odds with the Jedi, Sith, though I will never fall inline with something just as flawed, and just as out of breath. If you must fight me, defeat me, then so be it. But I will never be controlled by one side of the force. You're just as blinded by your dark devotion as the Jedi are blinded by the light they shine into their own eyes."

[member="Asterion"]

 

[Stephanie Swail]

With Nejaa falling behind and staying quiet, Asterion knew what was going to happen and at the sound the lightsaber blade cracking into life behind him, he came to a slow stop and looked upwards, rolling his eyes. So predictable. Turning to see the Clawdite, Asterion simply looked at him with disgust, and sorrow, in his eyes.

”Problem is, I’m not serving a Master. I’m serving myself. The Empire of the Hand is just as doomed as the ones before it, but it gives me a chance of cover to explore places and understand more cultures and Factions than being blinded to one Order gives me.”

He pointed upwards.

”Why do you think it’s as black and white as good versus bad, boy? Jedi against Sith? Please, I couldn’t care less. I don’t serve a Master in what I do, and honing my knowledge of the power that I control is worth far more to me than your words. You just sound desperate.”

Asterion moved forward two steps and held his lightsaber hilt, pointing it down at Nejaa, but without activating it. A ship flew overhead, kicking up a dusting of frost and illuminating them both in a sickly yellow light for a few moments.

”I was giving you a chance to find yourself away from the Jedi and the Sith, you fool. Not join the Sith – you’re too weak for that, but I understood your reservations about how both are as blind as each other. Of course they are. But I will embrace one side so not to forget who I am. It will keep my grounded and remind me what I strive for. And that, Nejaa, is why you fail. You don’t even know who you are anymore.”

The crimson blade hissed into life, cutting into the night.

”You’ve wasted enough of my time.”

With the Force to amplify his speed, Asterion pushed out to Nejaa with his right shoulder, aiming at his chest in order to knock him backwards violently towards the incline of the spaceport on the edge of the city there were outside.


[member="Nejaa Niynx"]

 

[Darth Caedes]

Outer Rim Territories;
Albarrio Sector;
Mygeeto.

Nejaa's response was quick, almost pre-meditated. Asterion tossed himself further, his speed a sudden burst the likes of which Nejaa had not prepared for. The older man's body slammed into his own, and even the cushion Nejaa attempted to provide with the force didn't stop him taking the brunt of the damage. Sent whirling into the air, and back against a durasteel obstacle, Nejaa fell back to the ground, lightsaber fumbling from his fingers. He was on his knees when he looked back up, an oddly colored blood leaking from his mouth. Although it was proven to be useless, he raised his hand and blasted another potent bolt of fire towards his enemy, and grabbed his lightsaber, standing upright again and preparing the next attack. His body was hunched over and in pain, free hand hugging his lower torso.

"Wha-- What threat do I pose, Sith, that requires my erasure?"

He held up his blade, a passive defense though a weaker one than before. He was again desperate. "I'd sooner join you than go after your Empire, I am no threat Asterion. Why must you continue this?" He'd stagger back, trying to put as much distance between him and the opposer as possible.

[member="Asterion"]

 

[Stephanie Swail]

Asterion nodded to himself with the satisfying crunch of bone on metal as Nejaa fell back into the large wall that surrounded the spaceport, acting as a mild barrier to the wilder weather of Mygeeto. The emerald blade disappeared, falling from his hands. Already seeing his hands curl, embers forming from the elements in the air, Asterion flicked his fingers out and parted the flame as it came forward, splitting it like a violent fork.

The orange flame illumined Asterion as he gave a snarl, the heat warming him and creating a rather devilish glow to them both. It soon vanished, and replaced by the snap-hiss of the emerald blade. Nejaa was showing weakness, but Asterion was aware this may well be a ruse.

”You are not a threat, Jedi. You are simply an embarrassing waste of a life.”

Asterion swung up his blade into Nejaa’s, sending up upwards and leaving him open for his right boot to kick forward into his chest, slamming him back again into the durasteel wall.

”I would not want to waste my time trying to help you find your way, you are the very thing the Jedi represent. Misdirection, confusion and fear.”

The Sith leaned in and grabbed Nejaa by the shoulder, ripping into his robe and using his strength to throw him forward, stumbling and hoping to send him splaying out over the hard icy floor. This was the combat Asterion enjoyed – personal, bone crunching brutality.

He stalked forward to Nejaa and stood over him, tracing his crimson blade across the base of his back, slicing through the robe and the flesh with a satisfying sizzle of burning skin. Not enough to tear into the muscle but give him a nice scar and flurry of pain.

”A little present to remember me by, Nejaa. A reminder of how your pathetic view on things cost you your dignity.”

Asterion killed the blade, a satisfied look on his face. He brought his boot and pressed down on the smouldering burn on his back.


[member="Nejaa Niynx"]

 

[Darth Caedes]

Outer Rim Territories;
Albarrio Sector;
Mygeeto.

Asterion's lightsaber crashed against his own, and they held a lock for all of a few seconds before Nejaa was forced into submission. The blade flew high as the sith directed it to do so, and he was exposed. A powerful kick, resisted by a last minute bubble of kinetic energy Nejaa was able to extend around himself. A last ditch effort to accomplish some level of defense where his resources were nullified. But he only managed to once again fall hard against durasteel, and then back to the ground. His cloak had been torn away, cast about his elbows and ripped under layers letting skin hit ice on his descent. A bare chest shivered against a world in which his skin steamed. He scrambled, but almost gave up when his right hand slipped across the icy terrain and floored him a second time. Small rivets in the ice cut a gash into his palm, blood spreading to the floor below him. Not red blood, not human blood. The whirr of a lightsaber inspired Nejaa's reflexive change, all of his skin mutating and changing back into that of a human's, though the burning and burned skin always remained grey. Dead, and unable to mutate as well as the rest therefore.

The youth screamed when the blade pressed against him, searing his flesh and causing a most unnerving sound. He felt humiliated, dishonored, and utterly defeated by the dark side of the force. Nothing to be proud of, and nothing had he even accomplished in coming here. Seeking solace had only turned into a death trap, there was no escape from the chaos. Turning onto his back, slowly, Nejaa moved as though he were already the property of the sith. As if he were no longer able to resist, and put no urgency into his actions.

"Please-- stop... there is no purpose in this, Asterion."

He panted with each word, out of breath and hoarse from the previous screaming.

[member="Asterion"]

 

[Stephanie Swail]

Killing the blade, Asterion looked around casually, left and right. No-one was around. Why would they be? The weather wasn’t pleasant and from the spaceport they could go right into the city, not the outskirts like the place he had led the Clawdite.

Crouching down, hands on his knees, Asterion looked over the youth and pointed a casual finger at him.

”There was no purpose in me being abandoned by the Jedi Order. No purpose in my Master deserting me during training. No purpose in anything really, don’t you think? You just have to carry on.”

He itched his nose casually and placed his hand on Nejaa’s chest, feeling it rise and fall heavily and also the heartbeat thumping faster and faster.

”So. There IS a purpose to this, or there will be when you look back on it. You either stay here, confused and scared, to die a cold death. Or you get up, you choose to survive, you get off this world and then come find me one day when you know what you really are.”

Asterion pushed down on his chest hard as he stood up.

”And then I can kill you with dignity. You’re not worth my spit about now.”

With that, he hooked the hilt of his saber back to his utility belt and pulled the Sith Armour over his chest to begin a gentle walk back into the spaceport.


[member="Nejaa Niynx"]

 

[Darth Caedes]

Outer Rim Territories;
Albarrio Sector;
Mygeeto.

First it was a finger, the hot skin of the sith coming against the raw, cold flesh he wore. Then an entire palm pushed against his smooth, tanned skin, hurting with a dull sting against the scrapes he had now against his torso. Nejaa's mind whirled, he was being toyed with and strung out before whatever death would come his way. Each word of the sith seemed to condemn him more, but finally he pushed away, knocking Nejaa into a ground laden with iced thorns. He groaned and winced, not believing that he would end the day still alive. Nejaa's eyes rounded, and he craned his neck to confirm that the sith was just... walking away. One hand placed over his heart, and his head fell back to the ground, though his palm shifted instead to where the man had touched him.

"Where can I find you...?" he groaned.

[member="Asterion"]

 

[Stephanie Swail]

Asterion stopped and turned his head half-way, not granting the youth with a full acknowledgement.

”Korriban. You’ll know when the time is right. The Force will tell you. And then I can bury you amongst the other cowards who tried to rupture the Sith, but I think they had a better shot at it that you will have, boy.”

With a grin, the Knight headed back to his ship. Pulling the cowl behind him as the wind picked up, Asterion exhaled slowly and simply waited until it was time to continue his way on in the galaxy.

This had been a fun little hiccup along the way.


[member="Nejaa Niynx"]

 

[Darth Caedes]

Outer Rim Territories;
Albarrio Sector;
Mygeeto.

Nejaa didn't move for quite some time. He was out of sight to most, and those who had seen him wanted nothing to do with him. There was a muffled silence before he propped himself up on one elbow. Inspecting his state, shivering flesh which had been much exposed was more common than he wanted. Most of his cloak fell about him, a long strip torn down the back's spine. Tightening lips and still, concentrated eyes wore greatly upon his face in arising to his feet, a small kick of frustration sending small shards of ice scattering over the barely metal surface. A single touch was enough to tell the state of the burn on his neck. It still hurt, and still felt hot, even in the icy climate. The skin had lost its hue, not matching the rest of the 'tan.' A green, burnt into black instead. It took him some time to start walking, and when he tried, he fell victim to a sharp pain in his leg. His step interrupted, he dropped to one knee-- even that hurt, coming down hard on an ice covered rock.

Lips curled in a deep scowl, and fingers did the same. A howling scream let loose and the earth cracked. Everything, all at once, ice fracturing in low, churning crunches. Floated up around him and swung as if orbiting the youth. Tears of frustration and spite dumped like buckets from his eyes and he screamed again, stepping forward with what he had thought to be his 'good' leg-- it wasn't good either. The ice cracked, and shattered further, and he stumbled in a few broken steps to avoid falling once more. Like he threw them, Nejaa tossed his curled fingers forward, hurling the chunks of element he had picked up. A much larger groan of metal gave proof that the rocks were not the only thing effected; so to were the structures around him, large columns bending and snapping. Lights cut out, and they hung there, only half attached to their initial implantation. It wasn't enough. Angrily, he summoned his lightsaber back to his hand, hooked it in place on his belt, and grabbed his over-robe from the ground. A torn tunic could be covered, but his front was still exposed, a young looking torso, not yet fully developed and pumping breaths quickly.

A blast of fire, so much larger than anything Asterion had seen. A torrent, compressed and with enough destructive force to shatter one of the columns completely. A spray of liquid heat, and a deafening ripping noises before it detached, falling into the cliffs below. Flame encircled his body, lashing out around him like rough armor, melting the ice around him. When he screamed a third time, fire blasted from his mouth, heating him from the core. He knew the eyes of many were on him already, but he would be gone from here before any more trouble. Staggering backwards, drunken looking eyes beholding what he had caused and smiling at his work. A gleeful reflection on glassy spheres. Grinding his teeth together, he hurried quickly over the metallic bridges, some fleeing when he approached. Though, he had long since changed-- the Rodian once more, large eyes looking at them all in round suspicion. One he got into the Stolen Pride it was easy, pulling away from the world and dialing the connection keys to Kashyyyk.

[End]

[member="Asterion"]