A Very Sith Welcome [Avicus]

[Lord Ghoul]

Dromund Kaas - Hangar Platform

Mikhail's boots clicked against the durasteel floor of the Hangar. He stopped with arms crossed, watching as yet another Sith Master came to call. This one from the Hutts, no less. Shorn hated Hutts. Hated Sith too. So this guy, Avicass, or os, or whatever his name was, started out in the red. Of course, everyone did with Shorn. However, this was a special case. A Sith employed by the Hutts. Make him a mando and Shorn's day would be made.

Clad in a black leather jacket, with a peculiar lightsaber hilt clipped to his belt, Mikhail watched the man descend the gangplank onto the hangar. Around them were several other ships, a jumble of crates. A few durasteel boxes. Some durasteel canisters. Damn, did they make everything out of durasteel?

The raven haired Sith stood out on the platform though not as some official welcome party for Avicus' arrival, but rather to judge whether or not he should kill the Sith outright. See, in the time since his raising to knighthood, Mikhail took it upon himself to check up on just who exactly the Empire let onto their soil. And sometimes, when he was paying attention, he would even greet new apprentices - specifically ones who murdered their families - with the ultimatum of "explain yourself or die." Mikhail was not big on cliche Sith and from what he had heard, this man was exactly that.

Pale blue eyes seemed to stare through Avicus. Shorn wiggled his fingers at the man in an openly facetious welcome, on his face a perma-smirk to make a smuggler green.

@[member="Avicus DuSang"]

 

[Avicus DuSang]

When the Empress calls, it's wise to not make her wait. So, he made his way to the Capital of the Empire. Dromund Kaas was a fine world, much like Taris. The Capital of the Empire when Avicus sat on the throne.

Stepping off of the Plaguebringer, a twi'lek on each arm, he walked through the hangar. He wore a white silk suit, his sabers in the pocket of his jacket. One twi'lek held up a canister of spice, the other pressed one of his nostrils in.

As the drug was ingested, his face went numb. "Old habits die hard." he mused as his shades were lowered. Yellow eyes fell on the raven haired Sith who was there to greet him. The wave was acknowledged with the slightest of nods.

"Ladies, go back to the ship." The two twi'leks looked up to him, then the other Sith and frowned. They knew some gangsta shit was about to go down. Frowning, the girls walked back to the Plaguebringer.

"You seem to be in my way, boy."

 

[Lord Ghoul]

"Seems that way," agreed Shorn.

His crossed arms shifted. Leather creaked. He began tapping a finger against his elbow.

"You know, the last person to call me boy was a 200 year old Whipid. You don't look a day over seventy. Is that gray I see in your hair, old man? Your Just for Men dye is wearing out. Might want to fix that." His eyes looked past Avicus' shoulder toward the departing Twi'leks. "Mind tricked, I assume? Got to be."

Mikhail squinted. "Are you high?"

 

[Avicus DuSang]

"I have an old soul." he retorted.

He couldn't help but laugh at the 'Just For Men' comment. He brought his glasses down a bit, yellow eyes getting a good look at the leather clad Sith and his very interesting hilt. "Mind tricked? No. I freed them from slavery. You must have me mistaken for someone who has no charm."

His glasses went back up. "Me? High?" He blew on his fingernails, dusting them off on his jacket. "Like a goddamn starfighter."

 

[Lord Ghoul]

"Good. That will make killing you a lot easier."

A crate of durasteel lifted from the ground and zipped toward Avicus. Mikhail attacked on a whim. He did that sometimes. His body flickered slightly as he did so, becoming momentarily opaque. Doing two things at once sure took a lot of concentration.

The man, quite frankly, was not that bad. However, Shorn was tired of Sith shooting insults without repercussions. Besides, the Soulsaber on his belt made him more than a bit antsy for a fight. It stoked a fire in his heart that could not be quenched. A yearning to fight, to feel the adrenaline course through his veins as he dueled. Bloodlust, of sorts. Sith artifact induced. Very powerful. Very dangerous. Unfortunately for the yellow-eyed Hutt-liaison, Avicus happened to be the only person nearby. An outlet. And Mikhail was a fork in a rebellious artifact's hands. Zap.

 

[Avicus DuSang]

"You'd think that." he sighed, as an eruption of energy sent the crate flying in another direction. "Truth is, I'm easiest to overcome when I'm really drunk." If one thought they found Avicus and the man was sober?

They got the wrong guy.

His jacket slipped off of him as it was tossed onto a nearby crate. Two green hilts flew from the pocket. As olive fingers wrapped around them, white lava blades sprang to life.

The man's bloodlust wasn't his own. It was induced, unnatural. Just like the Dark God's state of ecstacy. He smirked, remembering back when words were enough to send him on the attack.

Recklessness never paid off in the long run.

Cracking his neck, he shuddered as the drip fell into the back of his throat. His high growing like a ripple going through a pond. "What's your name?"

 

[Lord Ghoul]

"Dick. And I hear yours is Avicass. Pretty fitting."

Shorn thumbed the activation switch. The emitter, shaped in the head of a dragon with gaping maws, spat out a one-and-a-half meter long bar of violet hue. The dragon's eyes, bronze like the rest of the creature wrapped around the hilt, seemed to glint. The blade hummed wickedly. Hungrily.

A sudden flurry of negativity flooded Mikhail. Anger, aggression, fear. Fuel for the furnace.

The Sith liked to bat a thousand with telekinesis? Well, Mikhail could give him a run for his money. Shorn's telekinetic will stretched out and wrapped itself around Avicus' legs and arms, clamping down on them with pure adumbrate strength in a Force Crush of perilous power. Dark fury flowed through Shorn, enhanced by the Soulsaber he held in his hand. For yes, it was that vile blade. Elsewhere, Avicus might be able to sense a presence building in the dark side. The ability of Battlemind roared to life in Shorn, filling him with a will and passion for the fight. He hungered for it as a wildfire hungers for oxygen... and things to burn.

Shorn's concentration reached a peak as he crushed down on legs and arms in a telekinetic grip stronger than a durasteel claw. In the midst of battle, nothing sounded sweeter than an enemy's snapping bones.

 

[Avicus DuSang]

"Fitting, yes. I see you're as clever as you are mannered." the former Emperor mused. A cigarette flew to his lips as his opponent's lightsaber sparked to life. He raised an eyebrow.

Studying ancient texts with his ex-wife, the Sith Master should've recognized the weapon by hilt alone. However, to his credit, he was high and too busy having a crate thrown at him to really be in the mindset to put two and two together.

Bringing up his lightsaber to light his cigarette, his arm fell just short as the force wrapped around his arms and legs. The pressure was incHeredible. He had to react quickly or his bones would soon shatter.

Dark energy began to pool in the areas of the Force Crush. Wincing from the pain, he fed off of the fear and anger caused from the distress. The energy exploded from underneath the grip. In case the eruption didn't stop the attack, he force jumped skywards.

Levitating, he reacted quickly to prevent a similar attack from occuring. "Very rude to not let me light my smoke. Now, it's my turn." Dark tendrils of the force wrapped around Mikhail's heart. Breaking bones wasn't Avicus' cup of tea.

"It's a shame, really. You have such potential for greatness, but you've become a slave to the Soulsaber. You'll have to be put down like a feral dog." The pressure applied intensified.

How he grew tired of fighting Sith.

 

[Lord Ghoul]

Mikhail let out a cry of pain and fell to the ground where lay writhing. Yes, no doubt this pleased Avicus. Right up until the point where the figure sat up straight, laughed in the man's face, and faded into nonexistence. No doubt this left the Hutt fraternizer a bit confused.

Of course, had the Sith Master been paying closer attention he might have noticed two very important earlier details. The first was that Mikhail's body had literally flickered and become opaque. As in, almost nonexistent. Spirit like. The second was that there was a dark presence somewhere else on the platform. So it was that when the Dark Lord reached out to squeeze down on Mikhail's heart, he squeezed down on something not truly there. A doppelganger.

From behind a stack of crates ten meters to the right came a chuckle. The dark presence flared to life and Mikhail Shorn strode forth from behind the crates. The real Mikhail Shorn. Much more pale in appearance than the previous apparition. The Dark Side took its toll on all. His appearance explained why the bone crushing Force on Avicus had been somewhere around the power range of a low Knight. Dispelled with effort, but not an incredibly dangerous threat. However, Mikhail had come to his full height of power. High Knight. High strength.

"You break my heart, Avicass. If I had one. Why don't we do this saber to saber?"

A violet blade snapped to life in Shorn's right hand. It hummed eagerly, flecks of red shooting up and down its length. A dark whisper came into Mikhail's thoughts. Yes, yes Mikhail, let us kill!

Shorn stepped into a Makashi stance. Ready for whatever the Sith Master threw at him. A Champion of the Empress would not be so easily overcome.

 

[Avicus DuSang]

Another raised eyebrow. As he slowly floated back down to the platform, yellow eyes scanned the area. To the right, the chuckle.was heard before the man appeared. He frowned when he saw just how far Mikhail had let himself go.

True, the darkside took it's toll on all. But, the further one dove into the darkness, the more of the soul was devoured. Without the soul, without the heart, the dark side ceased to be control and took control. Taking a long drag off of the smoke, he spit it out onto the platform.

"The doppelganger technique. Beautifully executed. If I could give you some constructive criticism, if you fill the doppelganger with sand, or something else you could form, the copy gains a more corporeal form." The Soulsaber sprang to life, and Avicus nodded.

His white lava blades moved into a Jar'Kai stance. One arm brought forward, the other going above his head. Both blades pointed towards Mikhail. His opponent had thus far proved to be resourceful and skilled.

It was time to get serious.

 

[Lord Ghoul]

"I usually don't take advice from addicts, but hey there's a first time for everything."

The whole levitation thing had been weird. Certainly the man had skill with the Force, but seriously? Levitation? What was he going to do next, fly faster than a speeding bullet and leap tall buildings in a single bound? Mikhail rolled his eyes and strode forward to attack.

A duelist of Makashi, Mikhail made it a point to understand the principles and basics of every style. This lent him some insight into the Jar'kai form. In addition, he had dueled against practitioners of the form at length. Darron Wraith and Darren Shaw, specifically. The former was the Grand kriffing Master of the Jedi Order, yet somehow Mikhail had survived a fight with him. This Sith, Master though he was, wouldn't match up in comparison.

With fluid footwork, the raven haired Sith moved toward Avicus. He came en guarde, his feet forming an L with the back foot pointing away from his body and his lead foot, his right foot, forward. His balance was centered in between the two legs. His elbow was "off" of his hip and straight under his shoulder, not chickenwinging at an angle to the side, while the tip of his lightsaber pointed up and toward Avicus. The off hand he held up in a fist and his torso he kept at a forty-five degree angle to his opponent, giving Avicus a much thinner target. He advanced, bringing his lead foot forward first and then his back.

Suddenly, he extended his arm holding the saber forward while kicking out and forward with his lead foot in a lunge aimed at Avicus' neck. Makashi was all light thrusts and cuts. After all, one touch from a lightsaber could sear through cloth and flesh. It was very fast, very precise, and full of feints. However, Jar'kai would be a challenge, even for a premiere duelist like Mikhail.

 

[Avicus DuSang]

If only one benefit came from being away from the Empire for so long was that people had forgotten him. Eriadu was the first battlefield he had stepped onto in what seemed a lifetime. And they only got a miniscule taste of his battle prowess.

The fact remained that he was an unknown variable. Only whispers remained of him. A sort of legend that made some Sith shudder at the mention of his name. And the Sith he fought thought him a weaker opponent then what he was.

Avicus fed off of their cockyness. But, he never underestimated any opponent he came across. His mannerisms likened to a cat toying with a mouse. But, he knew full well that if he left himself exposed, the mouse would attack at the throat.

A mentality that allowed him to survive, if not defeat, masters he engaged as a knight. A mentality that had kept him alive when it seemed the Galaxty at large wanted him dead. And he certainly didn't underestimate the Makashi duelist.

His Jar'Kai stance was the most basic the form had to offer. It was the basis of practically every technique the form had to offer. His main hand, outstretched before him, was his attack blade. His off hand, held above his head, was his defensive blade.

As Mikhail stepped forward, his right foot stepped forward as he contorted his body to a sidestep. A slight twist of his arms, and the blades were once again trained on his opponent. Bending at the knees, he was ready for the Raven haired Sith's attack.

Makashi was a fast paced style of simple thrusts and strikes. Yellow eyes focused on the blade, but him only wielding it one handed made him aware a physical strike could also come from his free fist or his feet. With his style of Jar'Kai, he incorporated kicks when the opening presented itself.

The beginning of a lightsaber duel was nothing more then the duelists feeling each other out. Although the strikes held lethal capabilities, the primary objective was to test their capabilities and feel out for weaknesses to exploit later on. But, if a blow connected, that was just an added bonus.

As the thrust came forward, his blades went into action. His attack blade was brought back behind him, removing his arm from the circle of attack. His defensive swing fell back as his arm rotated, bringing the blade in a heavy upwards parry.

With fluidity and grace, he spun to his right. His movements being a hybrid of a noble duelist and martial artist. Using the momentum of the spin, his attack hand came forward. An arc of white lava came hurling towards his opponent's midsection.

 

[Lord Ghoul]

Footwork. Footwork was what made Makashi great. Some thought it was the fancy feints, the deadly thrusts, or the debilitating cuts. Yet for all of their timing and precision they were nothing without the feet. For the parry is not the only way to avoid a blow and what would a thrust be without a lunge? Yes, footwork denoted true skill. The fluidity, grace, and economy of motion applied in the expenditure of energy for movements, these would tell a duelist's worth. Training since childhood with a lightfoil gave Mikhail such worth, and an upperhand when it came to the modern day saber battles, as not many Force Users could say that they had been practically trained since birth to wield a blade.

As soon as Mikhail's thrust met the parry, he recovered, bringing his lead foot back and pulling his arm back until it rested off the hip in guard. Though the Dark Side filled his mind with anger, it was a cold fury. The controlled rage of Battlemind. Shorn knew what he was about. He did not underestimate this Sith, who held a great amount of power. He merely wanted him dead.

Jar'kai generally valued footwork, but only to a certain degree. Enough so that a practitioner didn't lop his own arm off when swinging both weapons around. Much more emphasis was placed on flurry of attacks. It made the form fast and aggressive, as well as giving the wielder a variety of options. However, it lacked precision. The gyroscopic effects of lightsabers made them very difficult to control. Using one hand was one thing, but holding a lightsaber in each hands was entirely different. Where Mikhail's Makashi strikes were lightning quick and precise, Jar'kai's were aggressive and swift. A distinct and important difference.

Makashi, on the other hand, was developed to counter Shii-Cho's sweeping movements. So when Avicus' blade came round in a sweeping attack aimed for Mikhail's side, the raven haired Sith responded appropriately in a manner befitting the Makashi style. Continuing his recovery, he brought his lead foot even further back and transitioned into a rearward step with his back foot, maintaining balance while moving his torso out of the way of Avicus' sweeping blade.

Mikhail's distance between Avicus was enough that movement of the feet would be required for either opponent to attack each other. It was how he had started off their engagement and it was to this distance that he had returned. Sweeping blows and a flurry of attacks would grant the man nothing if Mikhail simply sidled out of reach.

Instead of simply letting Avicus recover, Mikhail's saber leapt out, not to strike at Avicus' body - no, that would have been foolish with his defensive saber waiting - rather, Mikhail's blade moved in a beat touch. He beat at Avicus' blade as it swept past, displacing the Sith master's lightsaber. He then tapped his blade lightly downward immediately after aiming to "touch" Avicus' hand. It was a lightning quick maneuver, precise in its target, but economical in its power.

Makashi strikes were hardly ever "simple."

 

[Avicus DuSang]

Mikhail's emphasis on footwork reminded the Sith Lord of his childhood. As the son of a noble house, he was expected to know the etiquette of dance, dining, and dueling. His father instilled the latter in him moreso then the others.

High in the spacescrapers of Coruscant, as a boy, he began with a vibroblade. As his muscles developed, he was able to wield the vibroblade in one hand, leaving his off-hand armed with a vibro-dagger. By the time he was a teenager, he could wield two vibroblades with deadly efficiency. So, when he began his training as a Sith, it was only natural for him to wield two lightsabers.

It was a smooth transition, to say the least.

Plasma, the primary substance in a lightsaber, was much lighter then durasteel, and the other various metals used to construct vibroblades. The difference in weight caused his attacks to be quicker, more powerful. To this day, when training apprentices, he started them off with vibroblades to get them used to the weight.

His blade was struck and yellow eyes saw the plasma moving towards his hand. The attack was coming in too fast to bring his defensive blade in to counter the attack. So, he had to improvise.

As he stood, his arm quickly pulled back. The attack touched white lava instead of his hand. Plasma connected with plasma, he twisted his wrist in an attempt to use the leverage to disarm his opponent.