Private Serendipity

[Kyrinov]

R E C R E A T I O N
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Typically, the Noxidome was full of Prowlers and Shadows sparring. Commented critiques shouted out in the heat of battle by senior Silencers into the large cavern that surrounded the circular arena, boots clawing and grasping at the thin layer of sand to find some purchase of friction or leverage, the whacking of training swords and vibrosabers alike, the winces as shocking zaps coursed into the skin and numbed it. ​

Today, it was empty.​

Void of any sound except the quiet rustling of sand beneath his boots as he awaited his sparring partner, the young Disciple of the Eight Arrows Sect that he’d met only days ago when the threat of the Vagaari rose on and around the Scintilla. Her skills were impressive and quite unexpected for her rank. Then, again, rank did not always denote skill. One could be at the top of an organization’s hierarchy and still fall to those of a lower ranking than their own. What truly mattered it seemed was accuracy and observation. If a warrior had no goal or rational thought process, they are not a warrior. They would simply be a brute that only lusted after bloodshed and “glory” on the battlefield. ​

The air here was stale and heavy, the pressure of it far more noticeable when few were here. But, even that was by design. Noxidome Arena was built to have Silencers fight under literal atmospheric pressure in order to make fighting under “normal” atmospheric conditions easier and allowing a Silencer to exert more force behind attacks because they’re accustomed to striking harder to get the same effect in the Arena underneath the Temple. That would be one of his advantages during this first bout. He was accustomed to the pressure and knew how to move and breathe within it, his opponent likely did not. The leverage would only last a short while, if his opponent was quick to adapt, she might adjust to the difference during the first round. ​

Only time would tell. Amnesia found her way out of the sheath on his side and into his hand. Twirling it idly, the Epicanthix stood, waiting on the Priestess-In-Training, steel eyes locked on the steps that led up to the Arena’s main platform.​

Khal'vyssa ​

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[Khal'vyssa]

Location: Noxidome Arena, Mikdash ha’Sheketh
Gear and Equipment: Phrik Vibro-Ring Blade (Integrated Phase I Gravitational Field Disruption Module) │ Whimsy Knife - X (2) │ Dress of Salvation - X (Taozin Skin Nodule)
Tag: Kyrinov

Chassella had been made aware of her date with the chaplain in the very early hours of the morning.

Obriss, the blind Aetharian who was her teacher, had informed her via a direct telepathic message, one which had left no question of her apprentice’s expectations. As such, it went without saying that she had been exempted from part of the daily course of martial arts training and study, with the expectation that during that period, she would be working with the chaplain. While her study at the monastery was important, there was no turning down an offer from the head of the Silencers. It was a distinct compliment to be personally recognized by the Paragon of Insanity, and while Obriss had made her aware of that, she had also emphasized the expectation that she carry herself with dignity befitting a sister of the Eight Arrows, more so than showing off her martial talents.

Even so, Chassella sought to do both.

In doing so, she had decided to take the exotic ring blade she had been teaching herself to use over the past month, from a dusty old martial arts holotome she had picked out by accident from the library of the monastery. Within moments, Chassella had quickly found herself engrossed in the text, which described an ancient martial arts technique and weapon art that dated back to the days of the Old Republic, centering around the use of a large ring blade in combat. The text had warned her of the skill, patience, and bravery that the weapon demanded out of its user, more so than that of a lightsaber. It was far different from a chakram or a discblade, in the sense that it was much larger and therefore, typically impractical to utilize as a throwing weapon unless the user was extremely strong. In the hands of a master, it was capable of shockingly violent kills, especially since it was the kind of weapon that even the most seasoned fighters would never see or even fight against, putting its wielder at a distinct advantage since their opponents rarely knew how to defend against it. However, in the hands of a novice, it was just as dangerous to the wielder as it was to their target.

That knowledge had not stopped Chassella from practicing with the weapon and studying the old holomanual with the fever of a student cramming for an exam.

In a way, the ring blade was very complementary to her physical gifts. While she lacked the height of most of her sisters, her multiple hearts gave her a larger air capacity, affording her significantly greater stamina, athleticism, flexibility, physical strength, and speed than her sisters. It was likely part of why she had left such an impression on the chaplain, in spite of her low rank.

Her day had gone somewhat slowly upon hearing of the date from her teacher. She had spent much of the morning warming up in the monastery’s training yards, before taking a small lunch, then a sonic shower before leaving early for the Temple of Silence, so as to avoid being late.

In what seemed like a minute later, she found herself standing in the stale and heavy air of the Noxidome.

The towering figure of the Paragon of Insanity was as distinct as it had been the moment she had seen him for the first time in person only days before. She approached him, then set the massive ring blade down at her side and lowered herself into a bow, holding it for a few moments until she sensed that it was appropriate for her to rise.

“Chaplain.” Chassella spoke as she came up from her bow, taking up her ring blade as she rose. “Let Chaos Reign.” She said in greeting, before taking a few steps back, activating the weapon's integrated gravitational field disruptor, and shifting herself into a fighting stance.

 

[Kyrinov]

R E C R E A T I O N​

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“Let Chaos Reign, priestess. I trust your studies under Prioress Obriss are going well, yes?”​

His booming baritone echoed and filled the cave which contained the Noxidome as he gave his own shallow bow out of courtesy, bouncing and ricocheting off of stone and dense air particles until the sound was absorbed and lost to the void. His eyes found the weapon at her side, eyeing it and inspecting it briefly, memorizing its design and grooved edges. The Sith Lord was nothing if not meticulous and calculating. Though he mellowed with both age and experience, the wicked and sadistic part of him pondered ways to bypass the natural defense of the ring blade’s design, mind racing as his eyes focused on her once more. ​

Ready. ​

Kyrinov stood in a rather relaxed form which, from his own perspective, did not suit him. He was not the sort of man that was made to have much down time on his hands, work and battle were the domains that he knew. He watched the smaller woman nonchalantly, but carefully, silver orbs tracking every nuance of movement. Somewhere within him, Svea tensed in preparation for the coming battle like a snake poised to strike, swift and true. ​

Mark. ​

This brought back pleasant yet equally bittersweet memories of training under Caligo, may Chaos consume the poor soul when he passed on. The Kiffar was as unforgiving as the day he’d dragged the boy from his burning home and “took him in” as though he was not the assailant. He’d often spend hours upon hours of continuous training, pushed far past the limits of his body until he collapsed. Training ceased for the day when he could not stand, conditioning him to believe that he was not done in a battle until he could literally do nothing else to help the situation.​

Draw. ​

The calm and laid back manner that enveloped the priest was temporary. It melted away as he showed a full smile of sharp canines, his hands stretched out wide with his palms towards the endless heavens, Amnesia loosely held in his left hand. He called on the Force and it answered, flooding within him until it seemed to leak from his pores. His body felt like it was burning alive but it was invigorating beyond compare. The Deep combined with his covenant with the sword was an intoxicating and equally malignant rush, one he craved and hungered after for years. A maddening laughter filled the vast, empty chamber, amplified by the Force to create a deafening cacophony that bounced endlessly off of the cavern’s walls. Hands and arms still outstretched, he dared her to challenge him. If she was to stand against him, she would face all of him. He would disgrace her by holding back in the slightest. ​

Loose. ​

The laugh only grew in volume and still, his presence climbed and filled the expanse until the very air was suffocating. The click of boots impossibly cut through the madness, each step punctuated by a sharp rapping against the stone.With both his natural and self-placed mental walls up, he stalked towards her, eyeing her like prey attempting to fawn its existence away before the predator hunting it could find it.​

He suddenly broke into a blur of augmented movement and speed. A near invisible black and white tenth of a second and then nothing until he reappeared, Amnesia scrapping and clashing with the blade of his pupil. He found himself lunging forward once more as if to complete the charge. His nimble body maneuvered around the ring with his sword still in contact with the smooth metal. He grinned and swung himself around, using the leftover momentum still stored in his muscles waiting to either be burned or left alone. The Silencer ducked to avoid the curve that he swiftly approached and twirled toward the opposite flank of his opponent. He feinted a strike to her side and angled the blade of his sword up at the last possible second to carve towards her neck. For a giant, he was light on his feet.​

“There is no teacher but the enemy, Chassella. None but the enemy will tell you what the enemy is going to do. No one but the enemy will ever teach you how to conquer and overcome him. Only the enemy shows you where you are weak, where he is strong.” ​

There was a pause in his voice for but a moment as his lips curled into a cruel smirk. ​

“For today, I am your enemy.”​

Khal'vyssa ​

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