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Fight Fire With Fire

the bedbound bard
Demonsgate. A planet on the edge of Known Space, filled with constant seismic disruptions, volcanic eruptions and fiery geysers, it reminded her of the Ashborn, the alchemical creature she had single-handedly subjugated, bent to her will... A weapon for the future, when aptly trained and controlled. After all, a shadow relied on subtleties, even if it meant her actions went unknown to begin with... The grand scheme of things, the future, was what mattered. When she would no longer be Saeldar the Sith Apprentice... But that had yet to come into fruition. Still, the steps she had thusfar taken were a considerable start. Seeds had been planted, and Saeldar was lucky enough to have been blessed with a considerably amount of patience.

At present she was still seeking ways to fully-aid Ashborns physical difficulties. Made almost entirely of ash and fire, only still retaining a humanoid form, he was extremely dangerous and volatile. A room could go up in flames without warning should his emotions so much as spike. She had taken personal precautions against this, the ship they used, the remote building she had housed him within, everything was protected against the heat... But Thyrian was not protected against himself, nor were any who came into contact with him, including Saeldar herself. Besides, she could not keep him cooped up forever. When his training was complete, when he was finally ready for use, he would encounter new problems. What would happen should he step foot on grassy, tree filled plains? A room that held traces of material aside from heat proof metal and stone?

Well, if the room she had first seen him kept in was anything to go by... It was certainly not pretty. As useful as his alterations would be in the future, it was also of no benefit for her to have him uncontrolled. Her studies into Sith Alchemy had led her down the Metallurgy train of thought. If she could create a heat-resistant suit of lightweight, flexible Alchemical armour, then perhaps he could be contained. He was more than a project, more than a weapon, in many respects, yet she could not pinpoint exactly what it was that demanded her to keep him around, something deep within her, locked away... It was embedded deep within her subconsciousness.

But for Saeldar to fully understand the process she would be undertaking, alongside Kaine, who was presently the driving force behind such studied, she had taken it upon herself to do further, personal studied, to make informed observations before she rushed into a decision. There could be better options out there, less taxing ones. And her search had brought her here, to Demonsgate. Yet it seemed as though she had chosen rather an opportune day to visit. Once every blue moon an arena was opened on the planet's surface, a way for men to pit against one another in Gladiatorial battles. Taking a small break from her investigations, the girl decided that she would attend the event, which would take up the best part of a week from start to finish.

Upon entering the Arena's spectator stands she heard tell of something... Disbelieving. There was rumour of a God who had entered the events... Well, maybe not a God, but from the sounds of it the powers he held were the equivalent of such, and already there was a significant cult-following waiting in the stands, hoping for a glimpse of the man. For Saeldar had no doubt in her mind that this was just a man, most likely an extremely strong Force-Sensitive. There was no such thing as Gods or Deities... Only men who liked to dominate others, to tell false tales and claim their will over another man's very soul. In many ways, that is what she had done to Thyrian. It was a matter of subjugation, but real or no this God had definitely piqued Saeldar's interest.

Thus she remained, watching as the latest corpse was dragged off, to the roar of a very pleased crowd. The Champion of the former match stood at the centre of the sandy, sunken pit which acted as the fighting-grounds, a broad grin upon his lips. There would be no rest for this man, she knew. He would be expected to turn and face the next man or woman who exited the gates. Like the rest of the crowd, the Apprentice was curious as to who would emerge...

@[member='Jacen Cavill']

Darron Wraith

Honor | Duty | Courage
The gates opened on the ground floor, and one man walked out alone clad in silver armor. An expression of fury etched into his features, and he walked with a purpose into the center of the arena.​

The roar of the crowd grew, and the towering, well built man stood in the center. Extending his gauntled hands out to the sky, he simply closed his blue eyes and soaked in the energy of all those around him. The red shirt he wore under his armor had originally been a much lighter color, but the blood stains from earlier conflicts had changed the fabric. Light silver armor that he wore up his legs was covered in a few tell-tell blood stains, and a few blaster marks marred the otherwise perfect gear he wore into the arena. The "champion" before him was a small man, and his knees were clearly shaking from either exhaustion or fear. To the naked eye, one couldn't tell. From the stands, the battle in the sands before had been an epic one, and the winner of it had clearly exhausted himself in the affair. There would be no sympathy where the only honor was glory or death, and to the masses, this was the best form of entertainment around.

To the man with his hands to the sky, this was merely strategy and practice.

"You should probably go ahead and say your goodbyes," he whispered while still not directly looking at his opponent. His easy demeanour showed he wasn't worried in the slightest, and his undefeated record and the way he had dominated all challengers had cemented his standings. This WAS the main event because of his presence, and the holo-recorders were out in full mass in this lawless region of space. Everyone was waiting to catch a glimpse of the man who simply obliterated whatever resistance that was thrown his way. Children stood on tip toes, trying to catch glimpses of the two meter tall man with the perfect features. Hungry eyes went to the electrum-plated lightsaber on his belt, and at the dirt on his skin from the previous contests he had been in that morning. None of them had a clue that this man was a former Count of Serenno, that he was a Dark Lord of the Sith, that he was a CEO in his other life, or that he "had" been a Champion for the Sith Empire.

They saw him as a god, Ithari the Bloody to be exact. The God of War they called him, and he didn't argue the point.

Roaring chants for blood soon quieted, and the "God" set his arms down while simply opening his cerulean eyes and looking up at the Editor of the games. His competition followed suit, and the sound of a pin falling could be heard in the space of silence before his booming voice sounded through. "Welcome to the main event!" He extended his arms towards those on the sands. "I give you Ithari the Bloody, the God of War versus Xersus the cunning!" Roars for bloodlust started, but he soon quieted them once more before speaking again. This time, doors opened on the ground floor as he did so. Shadows could be seen coming out and all were drawn to the five other beings coming out. "Feast your eyes on the great warriors we have procured, their energy swords will amaze! They were given to us as a donation for the games, and we will use them in a six on one battle against the God who has caught us all by storm."

To Jacen's right stood a pair of Anzati, and their crimson lightsabers were already ignited by the time they were four meters away from him. The darkside was emanating strongly off of them, and the Herglic in the center took up a large portion of the arena. Standing at almost three meters tall, he blotted out the sun, and the dark nexus of power that he was was blotting out most of the light that the Force even emanated in a place of murder and death. A Zabrak of little note ignited his saberstaff at the same moment the Herglic's weapon came to ignition. A mighty Wookie Sith Knight was the last among the assembled team, and Jacen could see him visibly shaking. They knew each other from the Empire, in fact he knew them all. That was why they were all drawing near, and why their fear was powering them.

This was practice to him, survival for them.

An eternity spanned as they all stared and sized each other up, and the collective awe from the crowd could be felt as much as heard. Anticipation was practically saturating the air and dripping from it. All were waiting for the Editor to give his final command, and the "God" could seem to care less about any of that. He instead whispered to those assembled before him. "I promise this will be quick." Tension was mounting, and their fear disgusted him in the Force. Instead, Ithari as they called him focused on changing his perception in that moment. No longer a point in the Universe, he shifted it to where he was the very axis of it all, his mind clearing in the act. The Force reverberated all around him as he poured all his rage, and his world burning anger out into the Force. Jacen Cavill closed his blue eyes one last time while taking the cool, lightsaber hilt from his waist. Keeping it's tip pointed towards the ground, he thumbed the activation switch as his power fully revealed itself. No long was the atmosphere the only thing burning on Demonsgate, so was the Sith Master with all his rage and power.

"Let the contest begin!" Roared the editor.

Ithari the Bloody, God of War opened his eyes as his feet shifted into a wide stance. HIs armor reflected off the sun as he stood on the balls of his feet while keeping himself set. Taking the hilt in both hands, he held it high and overhead, the smell of ozone flooding his nostrils. Finally in those last few seconds before they all lunged in unison, he opened his now yellow and red eyes. Full darkside immersion had taken place, and now he was no longer truly just a man. "I can't promise this will be painless though."

They they all converged on him.
the bedbound bard
From the gates the form of an enormous human strode, all the while his name was chanted throughout the arena. Ithari. It was not a name she was familiar with, but all the same the individual down in the sands had power that most here would not be able to even begin to comprehend. As she suspected, the man had a darkside presence, and the likelihood was that this presence, which could easily have made even the bravest of men fall to their knees in fear, was the cause for all the Godly rumours.

Someone close to Saeldar murmured that Ithari had yet to be beaten, that his prowess with a blade could not be matched anywhere within the Galaxy, yet all Saeldar saw was a large man wielding a lightsaber. A familiar sight when one belonged to the Sith. The Gladiator, the former Champion, trembled in his boots and Saeldar could tell he had already lost any hope he might have had of winning the match, his confidence shattered. The sight of him, of his cowering, reminded her of the Village Warrior on Maramere, their defender who had given in at the first hurdle, when Depravious took from him his arm. He still has one more she had remarked even then, at only seven years of age. A similar feeling of disgust rose through her now as it had then.

Yet she could see the coward physically ease up when the commentator announced several additions to the pit, all of whom would be fighting for the blood of 'Ithari', or whoever he really was. It amused her that even the he regarded the man as a God, although perhaps that was to draw the attention of the crowd. After all, there was a lot of money to be made from organized violence such as this.

To Anzati Sith, from the sights of them, strolled from the gates, looking like they had never been blooded in their lives, they held about them an air of arrogance, lacking any form of doubt in whether or not they would bring down the giant ... yet the moment they saw who it was, that seemed to change. The hunger in their eyes remained, they wanted Ithari, they knew who he was, or could sense his power like she could. Like most Anzat's in their position, they likely longed for the soup he could provide them with... Yet this was dampened by their fears. It was an odd thing to see a man both fearful and determined at once.

But there were more; a Herglic who stood taller than the God himself, a blood thirsty Zabrak and a physically-trembling Wookie. They knew, each and every one of them. And the way Ithari stood, the way he held himself, was without arrogance, yet he lacked no fear. He knew the outcome already, and had the air of a seasoned warrior around him, after all he had faced many battles prior and won each, from the sounds of it with minimal effort. Why should this prove any different?

Turning her burnt face from the sun, the left side of which held thick scars where Thyrian had lashed out at her with his fiery hand, she refocused her attention upon Ithari, and waited in anticipation, watching as the commentator announced the beginning of the match, and the Sith approached as one, with the addition of the still-terrified Gladiator, who hung behind. It was clear from his actions that he wanted the others to die first, if only so that one might luck-out and land a hit which might turn the table in their favour...

Making a mental note to seek out this God once the battle had ended, for she like the man himself had no doubt of it's conclusion, Saeldar made a point of trying to enjoy the day, for it would be the only one of the week she would spend here at the games. Work had to be done, and if she did not do it then who? She had not come to Demonsgate to lazy around, after all. Something drew her to the formidable giant of a man and it was more than just curiosity... It was as though she had landed on Demonsgate on this particular day, during this specific tournament, for a reason... And Saeldar was not one to pass up such opportunities.

@[member="Jacen Cavill"]