Private Overconfidence Killed the Loth-Cat

[Shasill Kaarte]

Shasill Kaarte adjusted his hood, hugging it closer to his face as he descended into the bowels of the temple. "Kriff..." he said aloud as a small portion of the stairs crumbled beneath him. He caught his balance and snarled. He hated this old, dilapidated place. But it was where he had to stay with his master until he decided that Shasill's training was complete. And so the apprentice would do his best to get off this rock faster, chiefly by going down to the bottom of the temple, where sparring sessions were conducted.

The Sith apprentice continued down the stairs, careful not to break any more steps. When he arrived at the bottom floor, he was in a massive chamber. It probably could have held a cruiser or two, parked side by side. Shasill swept his gaze over the many cubicles before him, each hosting a large training room. He guessed there must have been a hundred such cubicles. His gaze lingered on a room to the left, where two cloaked figures were circling each other, crimson lightsabers ignited. Then, the taller one struck with a powerful overhead blow. Shasill shook his head mentally when the smaller Sith tried to block. He was too weak, and went sprawling on the mat. Shasill turned away and headed towards an empty cubicle.

The door before him slid open, revealing a dark, empty room. He flicked a switch on the wall and low-powered glow rods sprang to life on the ceiling. Shasill took a seat and started tapping his foot. The temple was heavily populated; there were maybe a dozen apprentices to a single room. Someone would arrive shortly. All he had to do was be patient...

Drane T'keen

 

[Drane T'keen]

Spoiler: Music OOC

​

Temples. Structures built for worship, after a fashion, beyond both the Jedi and the Sith.
Constructed to honor the dead and the living, in some sense, to learn and to simply exist.
Even the Sith would insist on seeking that inner essence of being, to persist amid the mist.
The haze that draped over the galaxy to cover it in darkness; that burning blur of ignorance.

The Jedi might hide behind a light that blinds, but the Sith were in their own way just as ignorant.
Slaves to their desires, whims and politics. With the fire, find them, and in the darkness, bind them.
Not all. He walked alone across the rock, leather boots tapping on stone, turning toward the end.
Further ahead was an entrance, one door, one whose inhabitants were meant to be combatants.

The man observed other warriors who engaged blades as he passed them by. None trembled.
As solid as a fist. Two duelists moved in truth, unwavering, their swords crackling in the temple.
I was born for this. Across the floor, the Thyrsian reached the door, paused, and closed his eyes.
For war. Day. Night. He breathed in. I am a son of the red sun. My blood burns bright as sunlight!

He breathed out just as his hand found the switch and the door slid open.
The room had already been lit, with one inhabitant, yet no longer so alone.
The new arrival wore neither a smile nor frown, lips rigid, as he moseyed in.
He sported leather clothing, jacket and pants, was clad in black head to toe.

“You are my opponent.” It wasn’t a question. Voice didn’t drip with emotion.
The swordsman stepped forward, his heart rising like a fire, but not with fear.
It was an unmistakable, unshakable feeling, blood pumping, heart thumping.
The guy lived to fight, slay. It was painted on his face today. “Name’s Drane.”

That said, this was yet just a practice match and it wasn't a fight to the death.
Nonetheless, for a warrior who was here to be tested, he would give his best.
On any other occasion, Drane might have walked in grinning—but not today.
He appreciated the stakes, but they're Sith with blades, and this was no game.

Shasill Kaarte

 

[Shasill Kaarte]

Shasill perked up a second before the door slid open to admit a Thyrsian. He was tall, with charcoal skin, and a serious "don't-mess-with-me" air about him.

“You are my opponent.” It wasn’t a question. Voice didn’t drip with emotion.
The swordsman stepped forward, his heart rising like a fire, but not with fear.
It was an unmistakable, unshakable feeling, blood pumping, heart thumping.
The guy lived to fight, slay. It was painted on his face today. “Name’s Drane.”

The apprentice stood (though he noticed he was dwarfed by his fellow Sith) and nodded. Shasill tore off his robes, revealing a tanned and muscular upper body. He took his place on the opposite side of the room and opened his right hand. His lightsaber flew into his palm, and Shasill gripped it tightly.

He could sense that this Sith was far more experienced than him...a Knight then. It couldn't have been a Master, as they had their own section of cubicles. The apprentice chuckled to himself. It wouldn't do if an apprentice was paired with a master, and the former was accidentally killed... then again, that apprentice could be him. Shasill took a deep breath and reassured himself with the knowledge that this fight was not to the death. But that didn't outlaw horrendous injuries...

Shasill observed his opponent through his mask, his yellow eyes fixing the Thyrsian with a sharp gaze. The charcoal-skinned Sith Knight had an athletic build and pointed, long ears. Though there was nothing Shasill could observe that would give him a possible upper hand in combat. It was then that he realized that he didn't introduce himself.

"My name is Shasill."

He ignited his lightsaber, bathing the entire room with red light, and filling the air with a constant hum of energy. The apprentice brought his saber before him and adopted a two-hand grip on his weapon. Then, instead of going forward and trying to attack his opponent, he raised his blade in the air...a common salute among saber-combatants. He wondered if the Thyrsian would be honorable enough to respond in kind, or if he would just attack. But Shasill would be ready for an ambush, they were Sith after all.

Drane T'keen

 

[Drane T'keen]

Spoiler: Music OOC

​

It was not a deathmatch, yet they were Sith, and accidents tended to happen.
And perhaps the black swordsman’s lust for blood would get the better of him.
That, then, is when he finally afforded himself a grin as he studied his opponent.
Masked, muscled, age or rank difficult to pin, but what mattered was his weapon.

That red blade that bathed the room, the arena—humming, haunting, and hungry.
However, Drane didn’t immediately return the gesture with his weapon’s ignition.
Rather, he tasted the other man’s name which meant more than his status or rank.
Shasill... Had he killed before or fought in live combat? Heard the burn and clash?

Perhaps, perhaps not, but nothing else mattered right now save for this moment.
Drane savored it, licked his lips and unclipped the hilt from his belt and opened it.
That -vwoosh!- was ever a rush, just like lust when blood was up, and he loved it.
Scarlet blade, silver hilt, it filled the swordsman’s right hand in a black gloved grip.

Drane’s opponent raised his own blade, saluted with it, something he can appreciate.
His arm leveled with the floor, sword pointed forward, offering Shasill his right flank.
Blade leveled with the chest. “That said, I guess we dance.” With his Makashi stance.
His foe waited for him to strike though. Drane would oblige. The Knight advanced.

Moving forth, Drane raised his blade to the ceiling before his face; more formal salute.
Lowered his sword to his right side, came within range, his front aligned with his foe’s.
Suddenly, Drane lunged forward, right leg leading, thrusting his sword straight and true.
It would connect with Shasil’s chest. Having lunged, Shasill would have to come in close.

Shasill Kaarte

 

[Shasill Kaarte]

Shasill watched the Knight advance, his heart beating out of his chest. He snarled angrily. Don't be a scaredy-cat, Shasill. You can take him. Master Nwul trained you well. At the thought of his master, his eyes flicked to the ceiling corner. There, a tiny camera surveyed all in the sparring room. That way, the masters would know which students had potential...and which students weren't worth their effort. With a surge of resolve, the apprentice swore that he would be one of the apprentice's that would graduate to become a Knight. He had to. To avenge his family.

Then, the Thyrsian lunged, saber outstretched towards Shasill's chest. The apprentice clenched his teeth as he brought his lightsaber to the left, batting aside the thrust. He then stepped ahead and to the right, to the Knight's exposed left flank, and swung, aiming to hit his waist.

Drane T'keen

 

[Drane T'keen]

Spoiler: Music OOC (Recurring)

​

A lunge movement's a bit of a commitment. Saber outstretched, stabbing for opponent’s chest.
It missed. Shasill’s blade connected with Drane’s to successfully strike it toward the former’s left.
However, while Drane had devoted his motion for his saber, he had greater control over his legs.
Right knee bent, boot grounded, he abruptly pushed backward from it as his opponent stepped.

Right leg moving behind left, Drane aligned himself to face his opponent who also repositioned.
This would help keep Drane’s waist out of the way, bringing his torso in as well as his right leg.
Concurrently, as Shasill’s blade connected with Drane’s, Drane arced it upward and to his left.
Now the black swordsman’s left side would be facing his foe while Drane swung his weapon.

Left hand found the hilt by right. Two-handed, he swung his lightsaber diagonally downward.
The overhead parry would bring Shasill’s blade away from Drane’s waist in the same direction.
It would be struck downward but would continue in its path—through thin air instead of flesh.
Performing a kind of 'V' with his sword, Drane immediately swung his blade diagonally upward.

The blade would connect with Shasill’s elbows while he would still be recovering from the parry.
The saber would cleave both his arms in two. The blade may yet connect with his wrists instead.
If Shasill attempted to step back or retract his limbs. Yet he needed only a moment of recovery.
Inertia would see his blade keep swinging after missing Drane's waist, and less able to defend.

Shasill Kaarte

 

[Shasill Kaarte]

Kriff! He countered...

Shasill snarled as the Thyrsian deflected his blow to the waist and came up, trying to cut off the apprentice's arms at the elbows. There wasn't any time to think...

Shasill leapt to the side, and his opponent's blade missed... or so he thought. A burning sensation shot through his left shoulder. As he backed up, he spared a glance at it...there was a portion of his skin that was darker than usual. Even though Drane's lightsaber had missed, it's heat still singed Shasill's skin.

That was a very close call. He looked up at the camera again. Undoubtedly, Master Nwul was watching. Fury filled the apprentice and he jumped forward, straight towards the Sith Knight. His blade was held perpendicular to him, ready to slash at the man's torso from Shasill's left. He smiled inwardly as he descended upon his opponent. He was trapped. He couldn't go to his right towards the lightsaber blade, left into the slash, or down, where he would be hit by a flying kick. He could certainly go up, but the two Sith would collide, and it would take a mere millisecond for Shasill to bring his lightsaber to bear on his opponent.

Shasill's inward smile failed to stay inward. It broke out on his face into a cruel, toothy grin. He would win. He had to. And Master Nwul would be very proud.

Drane T'keen

 

[Drane T'keen]

Spoiler: Music OOC

​

There it is! It was just an instant, one moment, but an opponent owned it. That hiss of singed skin.
It was as good as blood pumping, gushing, exhilarating, enticing, though his foe wasn’t an idiot.
Stepping away to the side and outside of a strike was a good everyday way of avoiding any hit.
One warrior’s challenger had done just this. Then he'd backed up and he spared a glance at it.

The wound, as true as a blood moon—and Drane T’keen was one son of the red sun who knew.
While Shasill granted himself that second to glimpse the camera again, Drane was ready to move.
After his lightsaber had connected with his opponent’s skin, Drane regained control of his weapon.
He did not take any limbs but he relished the combat, the battle. All of this was yet enough for him.

At this time, the other man jumped forward toward the Knight, apparently filled with his intention.
Then again, a fighter's intentions meant little and less unless they were directed into actual action.
Maybe there was some sentiment of having the ground, low or high, but not really for this Knight.
Watching his foe fly, Drane braced for the moment, but would not trust in hope to own this fight.

Rather, he would take his chances. As his opponent closed in, Drane took Shasill’s suggestion.
The latter had missed the former’s attack by sidestepping. Drane did the same, stepping away.
With Shasill’s lightsaber coming in at Drane’s right, he stepped forward in the same direction.
Diagonally forward and rightward, timing his getaway before the blade would reach his space.

It was a similar step of which his opponent’s had been, only Shasill was leaping with a given grace.
Enough that Drane had to think no further as he concurrently swung his blade from right to left.
Stepping away, Drane’s blade would connect with Shasill, airborne and bound, with little escape.
The black swordsman’s sword would hack into Shasill’s back. If not that, then at least his legs.

Shasill Kaarte

 

[Shasill Kaarte]

Shasill watched, almost in slow motion, as the Thyrsian stepped away from his leaping attack, and came at him from his left side. Blast! He keeps outmaneuvering me...

The apprentice thanked the Force that his lightsaber was in a decent position to intercept his enemy's, and angled his blade to intercept the other's. Sparks flew as the Thyrsian's attack connected with Shasill's block. However, given that he was in the air, the apprentice had nothing to stand his ground, and he went flying into the wall ahead of him. He quickly picked himself off the ground and faced his enemy, head throbbing from crashing into the unforgiving wall.

Shasill resisted the urge to look up at the camera and instead focused on his enemy. Eventually, the teenager would wear himself out and the Knight would get the best of him. So he needed to finish the battle quickly. His brow furrowed in anger, and he changed his lightsaber form to Djem So. He mentally chastised himself for not doing that earlier, when he'd been fighting with no form at all.

He gripped his lightsaber with two hands and took a big step forward, lightsaber over his head. While Djem So prioritized power, it didn't necessarily mean Shasill would be slow...

He brought the lightsaber down on the Thyrsian, relying on brute strength to defeat Drane's guard. If the man slipped away, Shasill would be quick on his heels.

Drane T'keen

 

[Drane T'keen]

Spoiler: Music OOC (Recurring)

​

Drane intended to swing his blade from behind the other guy swinging toward his right.
Then again...what was that mention of intentions..? Maybe Shasill banked on momentum.
Spinning into his swing so that his rear flank traded his back for his lightsaber just in time.
Whatever the case, it was too late to speculate, as red light sparked from both opponents.

-Krackkk!- That clash was so seductive, pulsing, pulsating, like a skull cracking onto a wall.
Up. Drane insisted. So his opponent got up as that black swordsman was still standing tall.
Shasill came at him with Djem So so Drane held his weapon low, blade pointed downward.
Both held their hilts in both hands as Drane remained in his stance, ready to swing upward.

Shasill’s sword came down. Drane did not slip away but he swung his sword forth in a parry.
His blade would clash into the side of his opponent’s, knocking it away. Drane then released.
Disengaging from the connection, he quickly swung his sword diagonally down for the limbs.
Riposte on Shasill's wrists again, or forearms based on position—to sever them in two for him.

Shasill Kaarte

 

[Shasill Kaarte]

Shasill was deflected by the Thyrsian, with a blow to his saber knocking him off course. Then, as he tried to regain balance, his opponent's ruby blade came down in front of his face, striking at his extended wrists. This guy just loves my wrists, doesn't he? But he's really good.

Seeing as he was not in a good position to step away, as he was still unbalanced, Shasill got risky and went to the ground, rolling to the right, away from the lightsaber. He came up in a crouch, lightsaber extended, pointing at the Knight. The apprentice paused to catch his breath, and cursed. He was running out of space, time, and tricks. Even now, his back was up against the wall. He decided to wait for the Thyrsian to attack. That would give him enoug time to figure things out.

For now, he got to his feet, and into a defensive posture, ready to hopefully parry or block anything that came his way.

Drane T'keen

 

[Drane T'keen]

Spoiler: Music OOC

​

There was an adage that at least one opponent could quote: ‘If it isn’t broken, then why fix it?’
Maybe that is a bit fitting when the intention was to divide someone’s arms into two portions.
More or less, two arms for four shorter arms. To repeat his attack, though, just seemed best.
Separate the hilt from the hand, job well done. Separate the hand from the body? Oh yes…

Except Shasill rolled to his right, keeping his weapon and his hands intact and okay so be it.
Unfazed, Drane turned toward his opponent who was once again beckoning him to attack.
That was well and good. Drane marched across their arena, not caring about any camera.
Makashi might be perceived as fancy, though not his attack. He erupted in a basic slash.

Right foot in front of left, offering right side yet again, holding hilt in just right hand.
This was serious, this was practice, but Drane was smiling into that other man’s mask.
Just as he stepped into range, Drane swung his blade diagonally down toward his left.
If successful, Shasill will feel a burn from his left shoulder to his right hip but not death.

Shasill Kaarte

 

[Shasill Kaarte]

Drane came forward, taking long, confident strides. Then, he raised his saber to come down diagonally, proabably aiming for Shasill's shoulder. For a brief moment, the apprentice thought about stabbing the Thyrsian in the stomach (regretting that his saber was turned to training mode) then quickly cast aside the idea. His opponent's lightsaber came down too fast for Shasill to launch an attack of his own.

So, the masked teenager raised his blade to his left side to intercept the Thyrsian's blade. As he did so, he glared at the Knight furiously. Sith had always had rivalries and infighting. Usually, the higher-ups picked on the apprentices and acolytes. But this would be different. Shasill would show his Master that he was worthy, by defeating this Knight. And so his glare had a certain...piercing and determined quality. He would win this fight, no matter what.

With great force, he pushed his opponent's blade away from him, and stepped to the right, bringing his blade horizontally towards the Thyrsian's hips. It was angled to prevent the Knight's lightsaber from intercepting his on the same path, forcing him to either dodge, or hope that he could move his lightsaber in the way using another path fast enough. Shasill hoped Drane knew what he was doing, for his sake.

Drane T'keen

 

[Drane T'keen]

Spoiler: Music OOC (Recurring)

​

Actions and reactions. Steps and consequences. Even for Sith, there was no escaping this.
Time was on their side more than what some would call mundane, yet it would not delay.
What that nonsense meant was that Shasill would first connect with the blade of Drane.
Glares beware, Shasill had to then step into range of Drane in order to swing his blade.

Drane had attacked, not from far away, but when he was just in range, right side facing.
As soon as his blade was pushed away, Drane regained control while his opponent came.
He arced his blade back toward him with momentum but, more importantly, he stepped.
Drane retracted right foot behind his left, which meant his opponent had further to step.

Two-handed once again, Drane swung his blade underhanded to intercept his opponent’s.
His saber parried Shasill’s off to the side—to otherwise negate Shasill’s hip-attack outright.
As soon as both sabers would connect, Drane withdrew his blade, reversing in his directions.
This time he swung his sword diagonally upward from Shasill’s hip to shoulder. Well, he tried.

Shasill Kaarte

 

[Shasill Kaarte]

Shasill suddenly found his slash stopped, as he had overextended himself when Drane stepped back. The Thyrsian's lightsaber batted his aside, and withdrew his saber back the other way to hit the boy's hips. Shasill reacted quickly, leaping back...then found that he couldn't. Instead, he slipped because of his overextended foot, and Drane's lightsaber whooshed past his left ear.

Quickly, Shasill brought his lightsaber up, stabbing at the Thyrsian's abdomen from below. What else could he do except keep attacking? He hoped to keep the Knight on the defensive, hopefully to break his guard in time, and for him to yield. But that might not happen. The Thyrsian seemed quite persistent in his defense and offense. It could be Shasill that found himself yielding.

Drane T'keen

 

[Drane T'keen]

Spoiler: Music OOC

​

What else can an attacker do in a situation where attacking meant everything? Keep attacking.
You could defend with Soresu, if you were an idiot, or otherwise so versed. Sure, the Jedi were.
In fairness, then, a good defense can prove to be a great offense, and all that jazz ‘n’ nonsense.
Whatever the form, Drane relied on his experience, not even Makashi, to dance with opponents.

Bladework took effort and, sure, either one of these Sith may have resorted to Force maneuvers.
Shasill hadn’t, however, so Drane didn’t. Till then, the latter defended his abdomen as he twisted.
Shasill tried to leap back while evading the nasty gash from hip to shoulder, and then he stabbed.
As his blade came Drane’s way, Drane also attacked, stepping diagonally forward toward his left.

This would bring him out of the path of his opponent’s blade. Concurrently, he swung his own.
Drane swung his lightsaber down on Shasill’s extended arms; something to repeat on any foe.
This time, however, Shasill was already close or had to advance after attempting to leap back.
Either way, Drane’s blade would land on his target’s forearms, or on his wrists if he retracted.

Shasill Kaarte

 

[Shasill Kaarte]

Shasill stabbed...at empty air. His opponent had already stepped out of the way, and was bringing his blade down on the apprentice's arms. Panicking, the teenager got up to roll away...and felt the heat of the lightsaber singeing his back. He let out a yelp, but continued his roll.

Once back on his feet, he took a hand off his lightsaber and touched his back...more pain. Drane got him good. Shasill suddenly became aware of how horribly he was performing. Anger swelled within him. Sure, the Thyrsian was a Knight, but Shasill was the apprentice of the Steward of the Dark Side. He should be much more powerful than this lowly Sith. His rage blanked out his feeling of pain, and he stepped forward, lightsaber at the ready.

Then he swung. First he would go for the legs, then bring his lightsaber back for a hit on the torso. Lastly, his blade would come diagonally upwards towards Drane's head, completing the (kind of) sideways-M shape. With his muscles and mind cleared by his anger, he would surely be able to land a hit... right?

Drane T'keen

 

[Drane T'keen]

Spoiler: Music OOC

​

It was either step away or take the hit to his abdomen and Drane was looking forward to dinner.
There was ‘landing a hit’ and then there was ‘landing a hit’. Singed skin, burnt fabrics—worthless.
Miss by an inch or a centimeter, a miss was a miss, and Drane could accept this from his opponent.
In hindsight, the Sith Knight might not know why his foe got singed on his back while he rolled away.

Had he rolled forward, beneath Drane’s blade, while it missed his limbs? Should have rolled sideways.
Oh well. Shasill was back on his feet, feeling his back, and his opponent had granted him this moment.

Ohhh… Drane could feel Shasill’s anger building. Hello… Yet the Knight had time to prepare.
Pain and anger were great, worth the effort, they could fuel one’s power—drive their blade.
Drane fed on neither. Fear was what did it for him. Yet right now neither Sith was scared.
Shasill swung his sword toward Drane’s legs. As the blade came, Drane reacted in haste.

At the rate his foe was moving with his rage, the Knight knew he had to keep his distance.
As the blade came from one side, Drane stepped diagonally forward to his enemy’s other.
Shasill’s sword would be swinging in Drane’s direction, but he would be behind the saber.
Aligning with Shasill’s side, keeping a distance, Drane concurrently attacked his opponent.

He swung his saber horizontally for Shasill’s flank. At this range, the tip of it would bite his back.
It would hit below the armpit. If he tried to duck then it would connect with his shoulder blade.
Drane had stepped behind Shasill’s swing for his legs, whose blade would still be in its path.
Yet Shasill would have to raise it from his low attack in order to block the attack from Drane.

Shasill Kaarte

 

[Shasill Kaarte]

Shasill's eyes widened as Drane stepped forward towards his left side. The apprentice's blade would no longer make contact with the Knight's legs. Instead, the hilt would. Not good enough. Meanwhile, Drane was making an attack of his own; a simple swing to Shasill's left waist.

The teenager copied Drane's move, taking a long step forward and bending down low, so the blade would go right by his head. He felt the intense heat even through the lightsaber's containment field, letting him know how close the Knight had come to hitting his neck.

Shasill then realized his saber was still behind him at his left side, while Drane was behind the weapon. So, he flicked his wrist back. The blade was now on a course aimed for the back of the Thyrsian's knees. It would be easily dodged, but right now, Shasill only wanted his opponent to move. As he flicked his wrist, he also began to stand up. It wouldn't do to be cut down while crouched, not even trying to defend himself. No, that certainly wouldn't look good.

Drane T'keen

 

[Drane T'keen]

Spoiler: Music OOC (Recurring)

​

Wise move if ever there was one. Drane’s blade may have taken waist, shoulderblade or head.
However, his opponent moved faster, driven by a Force Rage, no mistake, a power to contend.
It was no surprise to the attacker that his swipe had missed outright. His opponent was no idiot.
Instead of trying to block the attack with his saber, Shasill banked on his swing and momentum.

Drane had stepped diagonally forward for his opponent’s side, to keep his distance at his flank.
For his attack, he had pivoted on his landing foot, maintaining range as any swordsman would.
He spotted his opponent dodge, Drane’s blade carrying away overhead, and missing its target.
Meanwhile Shasill’s blade continued uninterrupted—as much as Drane had missed his armpit.

Keeping his offensive side aligned with his opponent, Drane quickly withdrew in order to evade.
He brought one foot behind the other, in the Makashi stance, though his opponent proved faster.
As Drane withdrew his leg, he cursed beneath his breath, gritting teeth, yet it was a welcome burn.
His opponent’s lightsaber singed his garment as well as his skin, though that was enough for Drane.

“Good!” He grinned. He was aware that the other Sith was engaged in Force Rage and all that.
Anger was a blessing in disguise, the Sith realized, but was just as much an unbridled emotion.
Rather than retaliating and reacting with some immediate swing, Drane wanted to beckon him in.
There was the slice on his thigh, as superficial as he had given his opponent, though still an attack.

“I sense...great anger in you…boy…”
Drane taunted, tempted, and toyed.
Was his opponent some teenager?
“Use it! That pain! And that anger!”

Shasill Kaarte