Taking on a Sith Lord (Open to one Lord)

[Raien Keth]

A black clad Echani stood at the center of the training grounds, unmoving, reading the language of motion around him. Edge of Truth, his crimson saber pressed to his hip, the only movement on his motionless form came from the fire runes dancing their way across his robe, a robe which now intertwined with basic armor which he was trying to become accustomed to. Only ever having fought in battle robes since his gladiator days, decades ago, the lack of movement they afforded would have at one time hampered his fighting form, now his style was much less about grace than raw power, armor suited his needs.

He was unmasked, grey face and crushed silver eyes watching outward, drawing on the force energy of this place, through the metal limb supports which cut into the ground, up the twisted limbs which had been rebuilt through alchemy, out to his gloved hands and then back inward, pressure in his aura deepening that energy to be like iron in the body.

Around the Knight the gravity increased to anyone walking toward him, only slightly, an echo of what would eventually happen in the wake of his actions, as his aura expanded to encompass the surrounding terrain, but not yet. First he had work to do, and a new life in the Sith to build on.

Who was brave enough to face someone with so much conflict in his eyes? Anyone?

Spoiler

Open to one Sith Lord of ability, don’t take it easy on Raien Keth, push him. He won’t take it easy on you. He’s fought Masters before several times.

 

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Prestige was a commodity in the Sith hierarchy. Prestige was worth more than a thousand credits, more influential than the quickest tongue, stronger than Mandalorian Iron. It was something that one needed if they ever hoped to have some measure of success with the Dark Lords. One needed to play to their agendas, before pressing their own.

Such was Ein's mission now. He was one step closer to uncovering the Republic facility that housed his mother. He knew from past excursions during Sith invasions that she was still somewhere within the core. Whatever world she now called home, however, was lost to the young man.

He still needed the influence of the Sith and their warriors to recover her.

So he had come to this place. A field used to test the Sith acolytes and their betters. A place where the Sith and their compatriots would gather to test their mettle; to cleanse themselves of their inhibitions through the clashing of steel and the spilling of blood.

Ein was not one for blood sport, but he would not pass up the opportunity to ascend when it presented itself.

He strode up toward this stranger with the silver eyes. He was clad in a simple cold weather jacket with light plasteel plates on the joints. is hands were bound in what looked to be some sort of thin metal, though what it was made of was impossible to tell to the naked eye.

The two weapons of choice on his hip, a Verpine Shattergun and the lightsaber he had crafted alongside the Chirikiyat, hung loosely from his belt. He came to a halt a few paces away, paying little heed to the sudden change in gravity around him. It was one of the Sith's attempts at intimidation, no doubt.

"You look a little lonely." He quipped, blue eyes narrowing in amusement. "Want some company?"

He reached down to tap the butt of the shattergun on his hip for emphasis.

[member="Raien Keth"]

 

[Raien Keth]

An influence the Dark Jedi might win from Darth Surtr, if he survived today.

Head turning slowly to regard the one who approached, force scars and wounds littered the face, the body much the same from hundreds of duels. Weighing and measuring the man, eyes crushed further inward drawing on the details of the way [member="Ein Necavich"] moved and carried himself, far more important than anything he did, said or wore. A quip or an insult was nothing to someone who took nothing from words, and everything from motion, as his people did. They communicated through combat, learning of their opponents as they fought them.

The look merely continued, like it might bore right through Ein, as was its intent, to get to the core of the man. To Echani eyes who had seen more conflict than counting, the tap on the weapon indicated a reliance on it, the confidence in Ein’s step indicated either experience and power or overconfidence and weakness. Every single detail that Ein gave to Raien from this point on, would be noted by the Echani he faced, as it always had been.

Unseen about them gravity rippled lightly, not much there yet but noticeable. Intimidation yes Ein had a cunning reading of it, but through the weight of his history and purpose Raien was unable to walk any other way. Past was what he was, the language of what was, his experiences, and a Sith code that was bred in his bones through a life spent living it.

A singular purpose, one which brought his heavy attentions back to full focus.

“If you can stand.” His rebuilt, raspy voice stated. If there was any sense of humor in the betrayer, that mere hint was it. If the man could stand, or would he fall in the first three seconds, so far the Betrayer had met few who could.

Edge of truth ignited its crimson beam, moving over his head in a two handed high and tight grip, angled down over his left shoulder. Raien’s heavy metal boots carved a firm, strong stance to the ground, front foot forward ready to push off. His stance was paramount, indicating a strength of the Sith Knight. Unlike those he considered weak, nothing was hidden about his Djem So style, it was in your face right from the start, and would be till the end. His body was angled slightly to bring the first swing quicker to bear when it started, and give his opponent less room to attack.

 

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And so it began.

The ways of the Echani were foreign to Ein. Being one who was raised on the very fringes of space, in a home filled with love and good will, he had never possessed much desire to leave. If Togoria was not an empty shell of what it once was, he might have stayed.

It was a side affect of one Darth Vornskr that drove him from his home. The Togorian species was all but wiped out, leaving only a few thousand survivors to wander the galaxy. The planet itself was empty of its spirit, a wound within the force, and had proven far too much for Ein to stand as a boy.

No doubt he would thrive there now, but the man had a purpose. There would be no returning home until his mother walked away alongside him.

This Sith's motions were familiar. Djem So, or as the Chrikyat had called it, a quick and reliable means to cleave a man in two. The Sith's combatant fell into a low crouch. His lips pressed into a thin line, blue eyes narrowing into thin slits as the reflection of the crimson blade caught in his retina.

It was not his body that guided him, but the force itself. The snap-hiss of his amber blade rose to meet the sharp hum of [member="Raien Keth"]'s weapon. He held it firmly in both hands, held dangerously close to his midriff. Ein could feel the energy shimmering along his skin as the blade leveled.

It was a form of Soresu, for one with a trained eye, though not entirely alike the traditional. His feet were level with one another, ready to spring left or right ad much as they were to press forward an meet the stranger's weapon.

"I'll be standing. I've been on my shebs enough this evening, thanks."

 

[Raien Keth]

Soresu he was an expert at, but didn’t recognize the opening stance entirely, and so couldn't be certain. Raien was used to certainty, interesting, “we will see.” Locking eyes, motionless, holding, holding… silence, the moment of attack hanging on knife edge to see if his opponent would flinch and give him an opening.

Darth Surtr didn’t wait for long, he made his own openings. Feet level, soon feet apart.

A force pull was aimed for Ein’s legs, attempting to unsettle his stance and bring his weight closer. While Raien threw his weight forward to meet him. Using a full bodied movement, pushing with the legs, turning the hips, locking the arms, tensing the shoulders and then into the swing, A simple, strong two handed cleave aiming to go straight through the middle of the man, diagonally down from Ein’s left to right.

Ripping at the ground, Raien’s heavy metal boots pushed his weight forward further and so began the pressure that would be built, unrelenting, and with no pause. The next step was much the same, only from the opposite side. Full swings of the body, momentum and power going into the swing, enough to send a lesser man off his feet. Both swings left him sideways on, showing very few target areas on his body to respond to at their ending.

Always the basics maintained, his focus on the combat circle began to deepen, and he would begin to read his opponent…. [member="Ein Necavich"]

 

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The sudden nudge with the force was entirely unexpected. The adept stumbled forth, a curse escaping his lips at the sudden change in stance. It was nothing too lethal however, Ein knew how to adjust in combat.

His blade rose to catch his opponent's. The sudden sparks of energy lifted Ein up half a foot into the air, and sent him stumbling back, though he quickly recovered his footing.

"That's one way to use the force." Ein mused as he extended an invisible barrier around himself. It would not stop the physical, but any attempts at effecting him with the force would require immense concentration. His skill set was not alike most Sith - he was a defender.

"Shall we then?" He offered in challenge as he stepped forth. His blade arced in a crosscut that would cleave the Sith in two, and sudden shifted to a spin upward aiming to carve from the right hip to the left shoulder with a flick of the wrist. The change was mid-swing, and if intercepted, would put Ein in a dangerous position, but in summary was quite effective against the more brutish opponents. This Sith seemed to qualify.

His mind was an unyielding wall. His presence in the force an even tie rather than an uncompromising flame. As far as Ein was concerned, he was in control of things.

[member="Raien Keth"]

 

[Raien Keth]

While the other was readying himself, Raien Keth’s momentum hadn’t stopped for one second, he was always advancing, demanding to be answered, that was his fighting style, overbearing pressure. The Betrayer’s next downward swing was already coming, and simply moved to collide with the Master’s first movement of the beam. Fortunately for Ein, he was a Master and he had the luxury of speed, Raien missed, and was barely able to twist his body left in time to gain distance from the beam.

At one time he’d fought as Ein did with some grace, even used Vaapad, there were hints of it there but not much. The cunning ruse had stalled his momentum, a critical blow to Djem So, but not halted it entirely.

Raien simply swung all his weight around, right back leg moving around to twist him. With a heavy sweep of the beam, two handed and aiming to go through the other man’s right side at his waist. You could telegraph the betrayer sometimes if you were lucky, it was route one, simple brute force pressure, but you still had to deal with those long heavy sweeps of the beam as they came, all his body weight brought into the blow.

Back foot fully around, to put all of himself into the movement, he side stepped, sideways on, he’d end up behind Ein if he didn’t move. Raien's movement was fluid, an expert duelist, edge of truth circled over inverted into a high guard down from his overhead, either coming for Ein’s head, or blocking the next hit, covering many target zones of the body. At a surface reading Ein appeared he wanted to control the pacing, so naturally the Betrayer would deny him that luxury if at all possible, pushing him out of his comfort zone.

[member="Ein Necavich"]

 

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Ein was a fit young man, but his bodily discipline had never been the most important aspect of his training. His time was spent attaining mastery over the force, forming a connection with the invisible energy field on a primal level .This helped him keep in tune with his lightsaber and the world around him, but it also left him at a disadvantage against physically superior opponents.

His blade was not quick enough to fully repel the blow. It caught on Raien's weapon quick enough to forestall the momentum, but not put it to a complete halt.

Pain shot up Ein's left arm like a scorching flame as the crimson blade burned through cloth and carved a shallow, bubbling mess of a slice into his forearm. That would certainly scar.

Despite the primal desire to fall to his knees and caress the wound, Ein back peddled. Well, more along the lines of leaping backward. As his opponent came around to where he would be facing Ein's back, the adept pushed hard off the ground, somersaulting mid-air a pace or so backward, leaving two meters between the combatants.

"Good arm." He grunted. "That does not usually happen."

If I can't beat you traditionally...

What made Ein different than he Sith Lords in the combat applications area, was that he did not train himself for pure destruction. There were areas known to the adept that even the Voices might not ever delve into.

He held out hi right hand. His mind's eye dug deep into his opponent. Past the armor, the cloth, the outer flesh and below the core muscle. It sunk into the fibers of his arms, the tissues that held them together, down to the very cells that made up his body.

Had Raien been an opponent on the battlefield, Ein would have forced the cells apart at a violent pace, which would likely result in a very gory display and the loss of an arm. Now, however he simply shook them. It was enough to make some lose complete control of their limbs, as he had heard the sensation was a mixture of painful and numbing.

"I'll have to take it from you." He cracked the faintest ghost of a smile, and if it became apparent that the move worked, would charge forward to slice at the warrior's other arm, not wishing to do too much bodily harm in a sparring match.

[member="Raien Keth"]

 

[Raien Keth]

What came next was unexpected. What Ein would sense when he attempted this technique was the many, many wounds across Raien’s keths body, those arms had been rebuilt, more than once, twisted tissue and flesh. They broke easier, but more unpredictably and they amplified the pain Darth Surtr felt from the invasion across his physical shell.

His body had received so much damage at this point in his life, it was just the sheer force of will, and reliance on that pain, or past memories that held it together. When the attack came his arm faltered, this was truly a clever twist, and his respect for his opponent increased slightly. Although a Master Ein however was maintaining two techniques now, a bubble and an offense, not unlike fighting two opponents at once, having to expend energy on each. Now was his time to strike, there was more than one way to assault a force bubble!

He threw the saber into his off left hand, and Soresu moved to do a minor orbit, rotating the others beam down and away, using the momentum of the blade, to aid lunging his weight to the side and giving much needed distance.

A roar emanated from Darth Surtr, the pain was used, channelled, the loss of his son, daughter, their betrayals and abduction. Some of the wounds family had inflicted were on his body, fires of the millions dead on his homeworld in his eyes, and they were put into the pain from the arm, resonated into the ground beneath Ein's bubble, it was sped up to incredible speeds. Safe he was inside his bubble from the force, but that only meant a bigger target, negation of the force energies inside meant dealing with what came inside next might be more tricky!

Dust and small debris would blow up from underneath [member="Ein Necavich"] feet, again attempting to unsettle the stance, and potentially cloud the other's vision, for a momentary distraction.

"I have other arms."

Force Shockwave - A technique he had perfected from [member="Darth Proeliator"]'s wounding.

A slow heavy wave of force was sent forward, while behind it a much faster one came, pressure building as the two closed to meet their target, the bubble itself. The moment of impact was aimed for the edge of the bubble, with a loud ear ringing crack of pressure, the two waves collided hopefully picking up and throwing his opponents resonated stance off his feet again or into a wall. The astute might notice a pattern to his attacks, two things, pressure and attacking Ein’s footing.

If the shockwave collided successfully, Raien’s metal clawed boots dug into the ground, ripping and tearing as he was pushed backward, but he advanced again, relentless, saber in his left hand, rotating over and over in his new grip.

[member="Ein Necavich"]​

 

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Reminder number one: all Sith Lords are narcissists.

It was no surprise that Raien carried such wounds. Most of the Sith did, from Ein's experience. Even the Chirikin had been painted with a thousand little nicks and burns. It was just the way they went about training. There was no holding back - which was Ein's issue here.

He was being reserved in his combat style; his opponent was not.

He uttered a curse as the shockwave crashed against his unseen bubble. It popped upon impact, and Ein was sent reeling. His grip on his weapon was iron as he fell down against the dusty ground. Flecks of dirt and detritus flew up into his eyes, temporarily blinding him from the Sith's assault.

"I'll have to take that one too." He shot back with far more animosity than intended.

The crimson blade came for his neck. Ein did not so much see it or sense it as he smelled the burning ozone intermingling with the uprooted later of dust. On instinct, he back peddled across the ground, narrowly avoiding an untimely death and a closed casket.

He did not linger. The sudden spark of pain that came from his wounded arm drew him back to reality. The temporary dust storm had irritated the burn. Grimacing, Ein forced himself up to his feet. His opponent was still coming, relentless in his assault.

Ein did not rely on his pain for strength. It would only cripple him. The physical pain he could master. The emotional, that of his homeworld burning under Sith guns, of his neighbors being carted out to the street and put down for being Togorian, was too much to handle. Perhaps that was part of his weakness.

Rather, he dove deep into the pools of his outrage. He was not prideful, nor too arrogant, but the warrior possessed a monstrous desire to succeed. He would not be bested so quickly.

He was a storm within the force as he perceived it. The normally calls sees were churning with angry black waters. His blade mimicked such, the force amplifying his strength as he swung to meet Raien's attack. The amber beam shifted left to right, up and down, whatever was necessary to match his opponent's movements.

[member="Raien Keth"]

 

[Raien Keth]

Spoiler

Raien is as arrogant as they come! Great posts!

Both men had suffered wounds, in the hundred or more duels he had stood within, he had never not suffered a wound to show for it, to remind him of the day and draw on the memory at a later date. His opponent held back, that was Raien’s advantage and he pushed that, all the way, to give him a more level playing field against a Master’s speed. Raien trained daily to the edge, so that every blow might be the last, because this kept you lethal and ready at all times. His apprentices over the years had suffered the same training, those that survived became the greatest Sith they could become, the others simply perished unworthy of that title.

A complete switch of style.

One handed now, he was using Soresu, a vastly different form than Djem-So. Raien drew the pressure to him. Truth be told, all the force energy he had just expended, the respite of his own offense gave his body and force signature time to balance out. Soresu relied on your opponent putting all the strength into the attack, meeting it with minimal tight rotations, moved from adjustments of the body rather than the arm. Raien made saber orbits side to side, brushing with and assisting each strike to fall harmlessly away. It did not match with raw pressure, or power, it was largely receptive in nature for a Jedi. Only Raien was far from passive, or a Jedi.

Force Gravity/Pressure - Decreased

His eyes crushed to narrow focus, pushed back, back, back, drawing the pressure. Soresu was no longer looking to make an opening or score a killing blow, so Ein matching Raien meant moving with him, which the Master did skilfully, pushing the Echani Knight’s heavy steps backward, and scoring a grazing burn on his left shoulder! Which only deepened the Betrayer's focus through gritted teeth.

Odd to see a Sith in a purely defensive form, yes, until that pressure decreased, enhancing the fluidity of the style, the moment close. Over Raien’s saber rotated, tapping off of Ein’s strong strike, spinning the Betrayer around, and using his opponents own momentum against him. Raien's attack reversed direction and came back up the opposite way, from low to high, to simply swipe for Ein’s saber hilt, going for his dueling hand.

One unbroken movement: It was fluid, it had Ein's own momentum added to it, it had the relaxed gravity of the surroundings speeding it up, and had been done so many times before.

Hints of Vaapad, but Soresu of form.

[member="Ein Necavich"]​

 

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Spoiler

Aye, it's been enjoyable!

The lightsaber was where Ein lacked. Raien was the better swordsman, that much was evident.

He tucked to try and out maneuver the Knight, but to no avail. The crimson blade carved a chunk of flesh out of his right hand, and sent his amber blade tumbling across the floor.

Ein gave a shout of pain and outrage, and at that moment, this ceased to be a friendly duel. Blood had been drawn, and there would be no reservation from the rogue adept. Ein elbowed into his opponent's swing, falling into a crouch as the blade hummed over his head.

He thrust his mangled hands upward in open palms. A wave of concussive force energy barreled out from his fingertips, Ein's true talent. Where he lacked in the lightsaber, he excelled in the mysteries of the force. His connection was a primal one, forged during a year of captivity in a depraved dungeon on Anaxes.

The force had been his only company. It had kept him sane, kept him alive. It far outweighed any formal training Ein had ever received. The force was not a religious being to him; it was apart of him, and when he needed it, it delivered.

His attack was not simply a push. The insurmountable fury emanating from the very core of his being was focused on the attack, pressing down to lift his opponent a meter or so in the air, and crush downward. A weight that would be enough to cause immense pain, and if it lasted some time, could cause serious injury.

[member="Raien Keth"]

 

[Raien Keth]

Not with cost did you start down this path, a cost felt fully to remind him.

Now the full force potential of a Master was unleashed, he had felt such several times, and never had it been without cost. Through his actions Ein stopped holding back, that was the Betrayers way, to once upon a time encourage that even in his own Master, and ultimately liberate true strength.

A path that saw a new technique turned against him as it often did in its infancy, the natural gravity lessened slightly, meant the force behind Ein's lift and crush was all the easier to achieve.

Dangerously trapped mid air, crushing pain on his body, the Betrayer did what he always did in these situations, amplify it for both combatants, taking it to the edge to draw out further potential from both. Small fractures on his body re-fractured, as the pressure built, sending a long roar as the pain was drawn inward, crushed down to his core. He had lost the use of his right arm and shoulder now completely until healed, his body physically battered. Letting his saber roll free to the floor for the next technique.

Could either stand?

Pushed to the edge against great force or pressure, was Raien Keth's strength, forever the underdog for most of his life, once more here. The nearest temple wall or structure behind Ein, specifically a metal support picked out, was resonated, up, up and up. Cutting metal slicing free, exploding outward with more dust, not to drop it, to send it downward spinning unpredictable shards in all directions. Manipulating the explosion as it happened, the shards would come at all angles, some straight, some cutting behind, some to bounce wildly or unpredictably if deflected, or spinning from Ein's side.

[member="Ein Necavich"]​

 

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The spinning metal caught Ein in his midriff. A curse fell from his lips as the sharp edge carved a bloody line through his side. His focus wavered for half a second, and then refocused on his opponent. A trail of crimson began to soak his shirt, but he paid it no mind.

"Enough." He snapped, breaking his hold on the Knight. His arms fell down to his sides, though he did not yet holster his lightsaber. "No point in killing one another." He added quietly, drawing in a deep breath.

It was a good match, but anything further might be irreversible. He had no desire to cause, or receive any serious wounds. He withdrew into himself for a moment, beginning the delicate work of stitching his wounds with the force.





[member="Raien Keth"]

 

[Raien Keth]

To one such as Ein faced, his body a walking wound on all sides. You did not win a duel, you survived it, and endured as Ein had. The Master called enough, and Raien heeded the call, surprisingly receptive yes but you had to know him to understand why. The language of conflict was the Echani’s way of communicating. Though he would be further and further drawn from what being an Echani was, in this at least he remained true to his heritage.

Released from the air he fell to his knees, the fracturing on his body had rebroken several small bones, and he remained there gathering breath silently, with a heavy rise and fall of his chest. His saber was soon drawn into his free hand. The pain etched its way across his body as he stood, soon to add to the language of suffering across his robes, a litany of conflicts across his form. His saber flew to his belt, extending his wrist, hand to wrist to shake if [member="Ein Necavich"] took it.

Respect had developed for Ein, he had stood, and stayed standing. Know it or not, understand it or not, it was a respect of the Sith code, one that was possible to draw on when the time came.

“You fight well.” His crushed silver eyes locked ahead. “Conflicts to come, I will speak in them with you if it is time.” His usual cryptic response, the language of conflict and motion would be expressed if the other had a battle coming that required... the sith code to be expressed.

With that Darth Surtr raised his hood and heavy steps carried him across the training grounds, not out of them to heal his body... further in.

[member="Ein Necavich"]​