Duel Dance of Shadow and Darkness (Ren Vs Sith)

[Kyrel Ren]

The Master of Ren had spent too long denied what he long sought, the death of a Sith Lord, to finally take his revenge on the Sith for ruining the great plan, the plan for the Dark Side to always move from the Sith, The Sith themselves had as they had always done stretched themselves too thin. As with many great Sith Lords, Naga Sadow, Exar Kun, Revan, Vitiate, Bane, Sidious, Krayt, and just as it had with Carnifex. The Sith only wanted to dominate the Dark Side, and thus as with every Sith Empire, they had grown stagnant instead of following the will of the Dark, the Will of the Shadow. They had disrupted the plans of the Shadow, for there was once a time where the Knights of Ren unified as one would seek to gain what the Sith would not. Total subjugation of the galaxy once and for all. Yet even Kyrel saw that this was only folly for the Ren. The Ren had all but collapsed, and the Sith once more rose and became stagnant, until he had no choice but to work alongside the Sith Emperor begrudgingly. It wasn't until the New Imperial Order formed that the dark sider soon saw his vision for the future. A galaxy where a new form of evil would take shape, one not to suffer the curse of the Sith.

Even now as his fingers were on the control yokes of his TIE Silencer, endlessly in between jumps of hyperspace. Hunting down his enemy. Too long had he been denied the right to a warrior's death, too long had he been denied a fight that would grant him honor before he went to the gates of hell, too long had he been denied a duel with a Sith Lord. Perhaps his final one. Since the battle that had emerged on a world that had been given no name. He had been in the relentless hunt of a Sith Lord that fled in cowardice. For hours if they did not exchange laser fire between both Fighters. Kyrel with his skills and his experience as both a Pilot and Warrior, was on the hunt. Until with one final jump, he slammed his own fighter into that of his enemy. Sending both combatants colliding down towards a planet below, even as sparks flew, even as his damaged fighter tumbled between the dark space above, and the colorful atmosphere below. He remained still, a quiet calm taking form around him. As if meditating as the Fighter dropped to the Planet. All he could think o was how his blades would meet that of his foe, for he would destroy a Sith at long last. To end the long-standing hatred he carried for such kind of beings he had held disgust for all of his life.

The TIE Stopped screeching like a Banshee as pieces started to fly off, until only the ball remained. Spinning as it slowly became a fireball towards the world. A smirk grew on Ren's face. A gloved hand, touched the only friend he had, the only companion he had that had stuck by his side through it all. Vader's Bane. The dark side weapon had seen the deaths of countless beings, and engaged in great duels. Often sleeping in anticipation until it heard it's Master's call. Now there would be one final battle for the weapon of Kyrel Ren. One that would clash with similar darkness all the more like that of the Ren. They both knew it, and they both anticipated for a moment like this ever since Kyrel rose as a cybernetic monstrosity.

The damaged TIE that had stuck by Kyrel for years.. Reached a climax as it plummeted as a ball of fire through the morning sunrise on the world. Crashing hard into a field. Kyrel remained unshaken. He was here to only do one thing, one thing he only desired, death. Death would be the topic of today's agenda. As the fire burned itself out, Kyrel emerged slowly the battle armor that he wore for a decade, was now from bright silver to a charred black, the blood-red cloak wrapped around the armor was in tatters, his own mask destroyed in his duel against the Jedi showed the angered face of a man only seeking one purpose, a warriors death. Walking alone among a field of tall grass, he spotted the sunrise a bloody red among a blue sky. Perhaps the sunrise also signified his intent. He could only hope that his prey would be so obliging, as like a predator on the prowl he moved with slow yet deadly intent. Onwards to glory and death to appease the Shadow.

Kascalion Giedfield

 

[Kascalion Giedfield]

He had barely survived the fight. Even the unleashing of the evil within him, the Twilight - one of the forbidden powers of his bloodline - could not put down the man that was Rurik Fel . He had survived with aid from the Force - the damnable thing - and landed one last strike across his chest. Damaged, weakened, exhausted, he had to run when the Master of the Knights of Ren had appeared like a gull seeking to peck at the scraps. His mind had told him that it was he who would land the fatal blow upon this body - his second to last - and force him down a path he struggled to accept. Death, a "fated" death nonetheless, at the hands of one who claims to serve a greater dark, a Shadow in the void, like all Ren. Entropy is his dessert for a dinner of blood and violence. He would not let the warrior receive such a delight so easily.

Yet, the thought ran through his mind: would the boy, scant of years, be able to secure such a victory? The Devil both hoped for and cursed at the prospect.

The scars on his body were still fresh and healing during the hunt he was engaged into with the Shadow's Acolyte, battling across the stars, jumping from system to system, an endless game of cat and mouse. Two blazing comets trailing tails of burning ozone and plasmic beams. At their speed and ferocity, to any living on one of the worlds the two warriors passed over, they would appear as ethereal stars from a realm beyond perception. And then the stars burst together - an explosion of particles and shattering hyperdrives, careening down into the planet in an unidentified system in an unidentified sector.

By the time his TIE Fighter crashed into the field, far from where the Shadow's Acolyte's own had shunted into the ground, his wounds had sealed. The TIE was not as lucky, now a crumpled mess - a hunk of burning metal and clumps of dirt and grass charred to embers. He had crawled from it like an inchworm before setting off down the field, towards the distant plume of smoke where the Master of Ren had surely landed. His skin was coated in fire's dust and the armor plating of his pants had been stained to charcoal. Under the bloodied sun clashing against an ocean sky, he appears a wraith of war, long forgotten and haunting his grave for eons to come.

He walks alone now, not even his shadow present to accompany him - devoured by the tall grass surely full of ticks and gnats and other bloodsucking vermin and insects - the second blade of his lightsaber damaged beyond usage. A single magenta blade scratches against the edges of the field, singing the blades to their centers. How long will he have to walk until he comes upon his foe? Hours? Days? What if he is walking in the opposite direction or he himself?

"Come meet your fate, Master of Ren," he begins to whisper to himself, hoping that the boy would hear it through the darkness. "And lend me your aid to make me meet mine."

Kyrel Ren