How will you judge me Lord of the Templars?

[Serian Loria]

The waves lapped at the shore languidly, the rushing pulse of the water, he watched it lap towards him quietly. He stood on the beach, the stars overhead, he was the only one out enjoying the sight that he could see. Almost everyone had left the area, the party over with, Abel otherwise occupied and him? A quiet beach was perfect. A sweep with his Senses didn’t pick up anyone who’d see him, though someone could be hiding from him, it mattered not in the end. He ignited his saberstaff and moved through the slow meditative forms he knew, listening to the water, his mind at peace. His lit ruby gaze was closed, he matched his breathing to the lazy pounding of the waves.

Being near the ocean always has an invigorating effect for him, the ebb and flow to the tide tugging at his own hearts-blood. His estate was somewhat close to the coast, it was still a walk, but not a taxing one. It didn’t matter what planet he was on, the water’s pull always affected him the same. It was an unusual thing as he had an affinity for fire, not water, but then he didn’t know if there were water forms. So many things about the new era he found himself in was still so new, the books, tomes and scrolls he found were always filled with surprising things.

He’d been around those of the Confederacy twice now, but he still held himself apart. Abel thought he would fit in, yet he was still so unsure. He tried to See his path, but the Sight was not something he could make sense of. His path had always been a mystery to him, even the Force was silent which was unusual. It would pull him hither and yon towards others, but the one time he looked for himself? It was frustrating. He had two students, freedom, he should be content, but something was missing. The easy acceptance of his presence by those around him was an unusual thing for him.

He was not at all sure of himself and that awkwardness only made things harder. He was gnawed by indecision, a fact that added to his agitation. Ever since the party and the Templar Leader had challenged him so, he’d wanted to pit himself against him, to face his judgment. He’d never cared much for the opinions of others, but the man was much more than he seemed and part of him felt that facing that man in combat would give him the answers he craved. It was the only thing that was so sure in the turbulent waters of his heart.

He wasn’t much of a physical dueler and only had so many tricks up his sleeve. His past was much more simple in so many ways compared to his present, he felt certain that he would lose to that man. It didn’t bother him, his goal was not to lose his life, but to unburden himself. To burn himself out and finally feel at peace again, only then did he feel like he could make such a choice with clarity. Maybe then the Force would finally speak to him. The final form came to a close, his saberstaff powering off with a snap. He knew not if Isley was still on the planet, but if the man was one who followed the Dark path, he would feel his challenge. Even in his time a Master of the Dark path that unfurled their aura so blatantly meant a desire for a fight.

He stopped concealing his power, the dark cloak that was his fully visible. His Mark didn’t seethe and rage like the last time, it hung about him passively. He’d never been one whose power was some burning thing that drew attention. Were he surrounded by others of the same level his Aura would take a back seat, blending in and lying in wait. It was a subtle thing, like quicksand or a concealed hunting cat. More blatant auras would only seem stronger were his added in the background, but that did not mean he was the lesser of those that took front stage. It hung about him like a Dark cloak, shrouding him in its shadow, his lit ruby gaze blazed in the dark, twin glittering gems glinting in the shadows near the water. His awakening of his Gifts always made his eyes thus, the only question now was, would the man respond and give him what he desired.




@[member="Isley Verd"]

 

[Darth Metus]

After several hours spent galavanting about on the beach, the festivities that had characterized the Mandalorian's day came to a conclusion. As the hour drew closer and closer to nightfall, those populating the sandy shore began to make themselves scarce. Some headed for taverns and other such establishments for a continuation of the merriment whilst others simply returned home. However, in the case of Isley Verd, there was an important errand which demanded his full attention. One of the finest hotels, overlooking the ocean, became the destination; and the "burden" he carried was more precious to him than all the gold, silver, and credits in the Galaxy. With the pride of a father literally bleeding from every step he took, the Mandalorian carried his youngest child across the beach and into the hotel. Upon arrival in their room, he then tucked her in underneath the posh, fluffy sheets, amused her with a tale of knights and dragons, and bid her the fondest of good nights with a kiss on the brow.

From there, Isley fully intended to make the best of his time on the world by simply resting by the fireplace with his spouse...but something began to gnaw at the edge of his consciousness. 'Twas as if someone were, metaphorically, shining a light in his peripheral vision; thereby drawing his attention to the balcony of his hotel. Excusing himself from the couch, Isley rose and strode calmly across the room; taking absolute care for the rustling of his beskar'gam to not awaken his slumbering child. Upon stepping out, he was greeted with the scent of the ocean and the light taste of salt on his tongue. Truly, the beach was quite lovely and Isley found himself very much enjoying the time he had spent on the world...but this time, that "happy" sensation was gone. Instead, the light-hearted feeling of content that came from the scenery was replaced by something cold...It manifested itself as it always did; forming a bad taste in the very rear of Isley's mouth. 'Twas the taste of Darkness.

"Darling, I'm stepping out for a bit. I'll be back shortly." he said, with his tone taking on an edge of severity. In an effort to make certain that his daughter's rest was not disturbed, Isley then made a swift exit that deviated from his norm. Typically, he would simply engage his jetpack and surge through the heavens until he reached his destination. However, that would cause an unholy racket that would surely awaken his little princess. As such, he simply shrugged off the cumbersome device, along with the vast majority of his "bag of tricks". Slughthrowers, grenades, and other tools of the trade were left in a neat pile beside the jetpack; leaving the Mandalorian armed with only three things: his armor, his sword, and his tomahawk. Once situated, Isley closed the sliding glass door behind him and bounded forward, literally leaping off the balcony. Gravity gripped him like a stone, yet the Force would see him safely to the ground. Through simply pushing throughout the descent, his boots touched down on the pavement without so much as disturbing a single stone.

At once, he then made off for the beach and arrived just in time to see the extinguishment of [member="Serian Loria"] 's saberstaff. From behind the visor of his helm, Isley looked down upon the man from the small dune of white sand he stood atop. If not for the crunching of his boots upon the white as he approached, Serian would not have been able to feel his arrival; for the Taozin incorporated into his armor did an excellent job of veiling his presence in the Force...and the auras of the two weapons which were upon his person. However, as if to announce that...the challenge had been accepted...Isley reached his dominant hand back and wrapped his fingers about the hilt of Devorah's Song. With but the slightest tug, the din of alchemized steel grinding against its scabbard filled the air, followed by the unmistakable sound of a flame's ignition. At once, a force-born aura manifested itself as a flurry of dancing flames about the blade; but they did not carry heat, nor could they burn. Instead, they were a physical manifestation of the Force's perpetual presence within the blade...and also heralded the nexus of Dark Side energies it housed.

Now, the beacon of Darkness which the challenger boldly unleashed was matched by a literal nexus of the Dark Side. The die was cast and the time for Judgment was nigh.

"Come."

Spoiler

[member="Serian Loria"]

 

[Serian Loria]

In true form for what he’d always seen from the Mandalorians the man arrived in his armor, indeed it would have seemed odd to him if he hadn’t. He took the man in for a moment, tasting with his Senses what he might gleam, but the armor kept his secrets from him. A duel between Masters always seemed, at least from the outside view, a long affair. An inexperianced opponent would eventually get impatient and attack, but Serian was if nothing else patient, especially since he cried the challenge. “Would you honor me by showing your face till the end?”

It wasn’t that he expected the man to show any tells, far from it, he wanted to see his eyes. His master drilled into him to never make any movements or gestures giving himself away with what he was about to do. He kept his eyes on the man, using his senses to go where his eyes might have, like the ground he couldn’t see or to Sense something in his peripheral vision. There were some things that even he had to signal, but if and when he did it was merely a catalyst not a tell for direction. He would find out soon enough what kind of fighter Isley was, his initial impression was that he might favor balance, that he was both ranged and close, the middle of the two.

That of course made things harder for him since he was a ranged fighter, relying on his mental abilities and force skills to fight.

Vod, this armor is more than just for what you expect.

Really?

Depending on the properties imbued into it, even you would struggle against even me. It can hide much, protect against your weapons and even repel your Force born abilities. It can be destroyed, but it takes effort and from what I’ve heard, few Sith or even Jedi know how to fight us properly.

Careful, you’ll give me ideas…

Pff, now you know why I make sure you like me, you’d take too long to put me out of my misery.

The memory was a bittersweet one, but he’d paid careful attention then and he wondered what happened to the man. He started walking, but as he did he hid his aura just as several other versions of himself started walking with him. Just as suddenly as they appeared he, along with his illusions, moved with speed putting distance between him and them, arranging themselves around. He was going to find out whether or not his friend had been bragging or, if this man was one of the ones he’d struggle with. Each image was perfect, in looks, they even sunk into the sand. His master drilled into him to pay attention to these details and this skill wound up being one he had an affinity for. Just as they settled, they snapped their fingers on one hand each and the air lit up on fire on and around Isley.

The darkness was perfect for setting the stage, his goal was to temporarily blind him and give himself an opening for another attack. He launched sand at him that melded into sharp stone projectiles. His best talents were in shaping the environment around him, something he took pleasure in. He could still hear the taunts about it after all, no ‘true sith’ mussed with things because they could, they did it for war and to use as fodder for dominion. It still made his anger smolder, those memories and more, memories that even now had him doubting himself.

Would joining this man be just another bad choice? Would he once again find himself mocked and belittled because of his talents? Would he once again see the very things that made him proud wither to dust when a new leader arose to taint it all? He wanted to belong to feel apart of something again, to be able to follow his passions, not just for war, but for pleasure and to learn. To further his abilities under a banner he could look upon with pride. Abel said that this Confederacy was where he belonged, but he had thought he’d belonged before. He didn’t care much for war merely for the sake of fighting, he wanted more.

His heart craved more than to be used as a pawn in desires for dominion, he wanted a cause that wasn’t bred from greed and lust. He wanted to be himself and not have to contend with others preconceptions about who and what he should be. He was tired of blood soaked stagnation, of infighting and bickering. He would not kneel to a leader he did not find worthy and he doubted this man was all Abel thought he was. Mandalorian or no, even his people could be corrupt, deceitful and without honor, especially one who followed the Dark path. He would not trust so easily, he would not hope, but he would test him and lay his soul bare and see what happened.

Only then would he see the man’s true colors and not the ones he painted on his armor.

[member="Isley Verd"]