The Malachor Tournament: THE DARK LORDS!!!

[Caulder Dune]

@[member='Darth Ferus'] | @[member='Mikhail Shorn'] | @[member='Jared Ovmar']

It was in accordance with his agreement with Ovmar that Darth Janus now turn his attention to the Zabarak currently facing Mikhail Shorn. All in all, the tatooed creature did not look like much. It was somewhat surprising that he had lasted this long against Shorn in the first place. No matter, he would not be in the field of battle for much longer.

Darth Janus reached out with the Force, preparing to strike the Zabarak. It was something else Tyrin had liked to dabble in. Not to the extent of Ovmar, but through their combined efforts they would be more than able to reduce Darth Ferus to a gibbering wreck. Like a crashing tidal wave, Janus twisted the Force into an intangible assault on the psyche of Darth Ferus. He piled the unsuspecting Zabarak, wrapped up like he was in using Art of the Small for some reason, with powerful feelings of terror, weakness, and self-doubt.

It was an all-encompassing feeling of dread and hopelessness. Inescapable. Sheer horror, determined to crush both willpower and resolve, stabbing into his heart like a scalding, serrated blade.

 

[Arage Bao]

Just as Darth Janus, I started to draw upon the Force, a storm raged inside of me as I pulled in more of the energy. There were several ways of attacking one’s mind, some were subtle and some… were not so subtle at all. Usually I liked to play with my targets, torture them a little before killing them off.

But this time.. I had something different in mind. Tyrin was already busy weakening the resolve of our target, I could feintly feel the sense of self-doubt and weakness flowing towards the Zabrak.

There was one other factor that played in our advantage. The Art of the Small. It was a powerful technique.. no question about it. But there was one problem with it. When you concentrate onto the microscopic level that deeply.. you restrict your possibilities outside of that.

Ferus had just made sure he wouldn’t be able to mount a proper counter-attack. I used that to my advantage. Where Janus’s attack was subtle, trying to destabilize our target. My attack was pure hatred and pain, forged into a spear of mental power.

Keep in mind, this was my speciality. I spent my entire training, dissecting, torturing and destroying the minds of others. Not entirely healthy, sure. But at this point? I was getting pretty good, if I could say so myself.

I directed the spear of madness right into the fringes of his mind, there were he would expect it least. The spear was accompanied by vivid imageries of horrors unknown to the Galaxy, with personal torture and despair. An entire arena, full of the best Fringe Soldiers.. they had clawed their eyes out after a single touch.

This was more devastating.

Let’s see how the kid was going to tackle this.

[member="Darth Janus"] [member="Mikhail Shorn"] [member="Darth Ferus"]

 

[Darth Ferus]

The main issue with the one known as Jared's plan was Ferus wasn't looking at a molecular level, just enough to focus in on the Throne Breakers heart.

But there was a flaw. Ferus was suspended in midair, unable to defend himself from really anything. The madness, the fear. All of it struck and the Zabrak simply was unable to defend.

Unable to focus, there was nothing he could do against Shorn's plan. With three lords taking him out, his body was lifted, and sent back to the ground, where he would lay broken. There was nothing to stop the meteorite crush, so with all of his bones shattered he laid there, his heart not beating.

The mechanical parts of his form still worked, still continued to twitch, but his organs failed, and his presence gradually shrunk.

 

[Darth Vulcanus]

[member="Christian Slade"]

(Sorry for the late post)

As the fight between Ferus and Shorn raged, Vulcanus was met with yet another opponent who had come to face him. Unbeknownst to Vulcanus, the man's name was Slade and he and Mikhail somehow knew one another from a shaky past. It mattered little, Slade would meet his end either way and the Graug Warlord of the New Order would find his destiny in the glorious light of the victor's circle.

Standing strong, the beast held a hand over his abdomen and growled in pain. His rib had snapped completely in two and one end was constantly jabbing the sensitive tissue. Instead of simply folding, however, the beast concentrated on the pain and used it to fuel his own resolve. Sending a course of darkside energy throughout his body, the beast turned to Slade as he spoke his mystic words. They were of an origin that Vulcanus did not recognize and they surly weren't of Sith background. The question of what language it was would be saved for later, for now the beast focused on the attack at hand.

He could feel the surface of the planet tremor beneath his feet, a sensation he recognized from his fight with Darth Ferus when he was still referred to as Krest. The young Knight, at the time, had opened up the earth at Vulcanus's feet and sent him tumbling downward and into the darkness. The beast survived, as it was obvious, but he had also taken a valuable lesson from the fight. Recognizing the tremor, Vulcanus moved as fast as he could to the side of his current position. As any writer could imagine, moving fast for the Graug was a clumsy and comical matter to behold.

Nonetheless, Vulcanus moved just swiftly enough to avoid being swallowed whole by the Earth. The spike was a different matter. The large point moved to impale the beast, but luckily he had moved enough to keep his lower regions unpenetrated by the spiked rod. Unfortunately he was not fast enough to avoid all of the damage that came with it. The spike ran up his chest plate and up into the lower part of his jaw as he moved. The movement backwards was enough to keep him from getting impaled through his skull, but the spike had ripped the lower part of his jaw completely down the middle and left it dangling under his helmet in two mandible-like pieces. It seemed that everyone was out to make his face even uglier today.

The pain shot through the Dark Lord like a burst of power and his one organic eye turned a deep black as he became fully immersed in the darkside force. Then came a growl of pain so loud that it sent tremors through the very force itself, the beast's voice seeming to shake the very foundations of the arena as he screamed in tremendous pain. Throwing his hand forward and onto the spike that had made it up through the surface of the planet, Vulcanus sent a powerful surge of the force into the spike and focused it into a powerful combustion attack.

The spike exploded into a barrage of molten rock and sharp shards of earthly elements, all which aimed to slice and burn Slade to nothing. The hail of death came at him fast and glowing a malevolent red, as if the pits of hell had opened and her striking at him now. That was not the end of the Dark Lord's attack, however, and as red/purple blood ran down his armor from the jaw wound, he stomped his left foot forward and shot his fist toward Slade. By doing so, Vulcanus had sent a wave of darkside energy flowing out through the top of his fist in the form of a magnificent vortex of fire that aimed to burn the man to a crisp as he tried to dodge the shrapnel.

 

[Lord Ghoul]

As described before, Force Aura provided a defense against actions such as brutally crushing an opponent's trachea, or disconnecting the brain's stem. Otherwise, Mikhail would simply waltz around ripping out the hearts of other Sith Lord's and shoving them down their own throats. As it stood, he could not do such an action without the expenditure of a vast, vast amount of energy. And if such a being was more powerful than him? Forget it. If Mikhail Shorn attempted to, for instance, squish Ashin Varanin's brain with telekinesis, he might as well have just shot himself in the foot from the amount of rather useless energy expended.

Ferus, weakened by the pain of a punctured lung and the tiring amount of pyrokinetic power already used, attempted to telekinetically crush Mikhail's heart using some foreign combination of art of the small, he might have succeeded too, given enough time. But a sudden, vicious assault raged across the Zabrak's mind, disrupting the telekinetic attack and giving no resistance to Mikhail's relentless body-slam.

The Sith Lord tore from the heavens, a falling star that collided with the earth in a meteoric impact which caused the entire pit to tremble. The snapping of bones and the tearing of sinews could not be heard beneath that celestial rumble. Dust wafted from the site of the Sith Lord's fall. Shorn's golden eyes narrowed beneath his helm as he stared at the dust until it dissipated, revealing the twitching form of the Zabrak who thought he could best the Breaker of Thrones.

"I will rip all their stars to earth and grind them beneath my heel."

Mikhail's eyes found a man standing in the corner. A pressure clamped down around his head, urging his eyes to move along, to keep looking. Shorn resisted and tried to focus. At once the pressure eased off and his gaze alighted upon Jared Ovmar. Ah. Mikhail nodded toward the mentalist who had roomed in his mind for one too many a day.

Suddenly, an explosion ripped through the arena, flinging pieces of molten rock through the air. Shorn ducked, shrapnel rebounding off of his armor, leaving him with large welts. He stood up, scrabbling to the far side of the pit and away from the Vulcanus and Slade duel. Throbbing pain from his shattered forearm and collarbone merged into a haze of agony. Mikhail gasped as he let go of the Force slightly. A cold wave of hurt washed over him and he nearly doubled over. Sweat ran down his nose, dripping into a puddle inside his helmet . Shorn's eyes began to fade back to a pale blue. His foot hit something not entirely solid. Mikhail turned and stared at the corpse of the man whom Slade had slain earlier in the fight.

Mikhail tore his helmet off and felt the air, cold upon his face. He panted, glancing to Nemene, to Jared, and back to Slade and Vulcanus. Stretching out in the Force, Mikhail attempted to keep his senses attuned to their presences and any sudden flashes of danger. He deactivated Ferus' lightsaber, hooked it onto his belt, and held out his right hand.

Wrapping the unmoving form in weaves of his will, he beckoned the fallen corpse to him. Cybernetic fingers curled around the human's throat. Hunger roared through Mikhail. He heard the beating of the human's heart and realized that the fool still clung to life, despite every bone in his body being broken. Unable to move save for eyes that stared at Mikhail, terrified. Shorn smiled, exposing canines too long for any human. He drove them into man's neck, finding the artery and ripping it open. Hot, fresh blood spurted into his mouth and he guzzled it down. Life coursed through Shorn. Bones slowly righted themselves in his arm and collarbone, snapping into place as his bodily functions began to knit them back together. Fresh skin regrew over the burns. Mikhail raised his head from the man's neck, strings of blood dribbling down his chin. The coppery ichor revitalized him, making a new man. Strike that, a new Garhoon.

The Thronebreaker callously tossed the body aside, drew the back of his hand across his mouth, and shoved his helmet back into place. It stank of sweat, but the tang of blood now freshened it up again. Mikhail smiled ear to ear. Who next?

His eyes settled on [member="Nemene Talith"]. "Having fun, Talith?" his muffled voice shouted across the pit.

[member="Darth Ferus"], [member="Darth Vulcanus"] [member="Christian Slade"] [member="Darth Janus"] [member="Jared Ovmar"]

 

[Lira Dajenn]

The girl did not respond, instead her head simply turned to the side tilting ever so slightly as orange eyes shifted. She didn't bother speaking, there was no point. Shorn to her was a child who was incapable of growing up, and not in a good way. Speaking to him would be useless.

Besides, she had been told not to speak.

Orange orbs drifted over him, then to the blood on his armor. So he was Garhoon after all. Nemene had been wondering about that for quite some time. Soliael was a Garhoon, at least partially. He had told her quite a bit of that species. They were faster and stronger than regular humans, but suffered from great amounts of blood lust and a dislike of the stars UV light. A silly weakness if one really thought about it, there were many stars in the galaxy after all.

Her eyes shifted to the corpse on the ground, wondering what the man had thought about when he died. Probably nothing pleasant.

A frown crossed her face. She wished she could have known.

Eyes darted up to meet Mikhails again, bright orange giving off a slight glow as she settled back against the stone pillar, her back arched. She seemed almost relaxed, though there was a certain air of readiness about her, like a predator ready to pounce.
[member="Mikhail Shorn"]

 

[Darth Ferus]

Redacted.

 

[Lord Ghoul]

Boring. So very boring.

The silence of the woman told him nothing, except maybe disdain. She too seemed bored. Bored of him. Bored of all of them. The woman's eyes shone a peculiar orange that Mikhail found as unsettling as her silence. He wondered what she was thinking, then realized he didn't really care. Probably something beginning with, "That peasant, Mikhail..."

Behind the expressionless black and gold helm, Mikhail's eyebrow lifted questioningly. The Sisters of the Cauldron seemed changed of late. Where Evelynn led, Nemene now followed. Evelynn seemed gifted with a newfound confidence. Not the pluck of heroine, but the calculating villainy of a she-vornskr. Whatever had happened to change the two of them, Shorn cared far less about it than about eradicating the rest of these Sith.

"Will you fight your Champion, or will you help me kill?" Shorn questioned, pointing suddenly at Vulcanus, whose enormous bulk dribbled purple blood from a rent lower jaw. "Sith are like a pack of vornskrs. At the slightest hint of weakness they'll all drool and pounce. Vulcanus is weak. I am strong. I'll lead this pack... I'll lead it right off a cliff."

[member="Nemene Talith"]

 

[Lira Dajenn]

Nemene thought for a second, her head once again tilting.

Orange eyes drifted to Vulcanus, a man that she had never fought, met, or even really heard of despite his penchant for murder, something she appreciated. Then she moved on to Jared and his companion, pursing her lips slightly at the thought of killing one of the only people she could consider a friend. Her gaze then shifted to Christian, a man she didn't know at all aside from his peculiar use of the force.

Then, slowly she returned her eyes back to Shorn. An unwavering gaze met his own.

She dismissively waved her hand, shooing him away from her.

No. Nemene would not fight just yet unless she was forced to. The boys would have their fun beating one another into the ground and expanding massive amounts of their energy. She would wait. She would sit, relax, and more importantly observe.

Of course there was always the chance that Mikhail would throw a hissy fit and attack her. He wasn't exactly the most stable personality.

An amused smile touched her lips at the thought, either way she would be ready when the time came.
[member="Mikhail Shorn"]

 

[Christian Slade]

Christian's golden eyes widened as the pillar of stone he'd created with the element of nature was shattered into hundreds of large, burning pieces of stone. They shot in all directions across the arena at everyone within it, but he knew that the attack was meant for him. Turning and ducking his head, Christian covered himself with the durasteel scaled duster he wore, the thick plates of armor taking most of the damage from the burning pieces of stone that careened off the oddly styled armor, but their force was something that he could not completely avoid. The stone did not pierce his armor and the fire did not burn him, but in more than one place across his back and arms he took solid strikes that would raise whelps to the surface of his skin, bruises reaching deep into his muscles in multiple places.

He'd come out, for the most part, perfectly fine after that attack, however, and without a moment's hesitation, Christian spun to find Darth Vulcanus again. It didn't take long for his golden eyes to track the beast down and see that he'd already started to attack him again. It appeared, from what the young Alchemist could see, that this creature was prone to using fire to do his fighting, which told him one very important thing. He was likely using some form of alchemy, in a similar way that Christian himself employed the mystical craft given life by way of the force itself. In any sense, it as an impressive thing to see, and very interesting to spectate as from his experience there weren't many alchemists in the galaxy. He had always searched for different ways to conjure the force, but Alchemy was his chosen form and in it he could control the very elements themselves. This man, however, seemed to be using a different form of it than Christian had employed, and it puzzled him when he realized that there were no spell circles or recited chants. Certainly he wouldn't have to recite the spells he used, but in Christian's eyes it empowered them all the more. This may not have been true, but he did know that choosing not to use the symbols of Alchemy, namely the spell circle itself, weakened the practice of Alchemy considerably. At least, that's how he'd been taught.

Testing this as he watched the beast perform his followup attack, Christian planted his right knee into the ground and slammed his hands together, clasping each digit together and lacing his fingers as the clap of his palms boomed out across the arena, a single, powerful wave of the force rushing across the cracked and broken battlefield as the young Alchemist again called upon the elements. "Invocabo elementum ignis! Talem voluntas!", he hailed, his deep voice billowing out above them all. He then sat silent, watching the vortex of flame turning over itself again and again as it neared him until it was finally upon him. In that one moment before the beast's fire struck, a bead of sweat rolled across Christian's forehead as he waited for the right time.

The fire cascaded down across Christian's body, a veil of violet light shimmering across his form as they encircled him and attempting to cook him in seconds. Christian then pushed up from the ground and stepped forwards, throwing his clasped hands out towards Vulcanus. Finally he unlaced his fingers and threw his hands out wide to either side of himself, the vortex of flames splitting in to and rushing around his form like a rock protruding the top of a water in a stream. The fire did not burn him, it would not burn him, because he was protected by how own fire, a fire of a violet hue that mirrored the color of his own force signature. It would protect him, as he too could manipulate the element that was all consuming and most destructive of the four. He too could control the flames that scalded flesh and turned cities to ashes. Vulcanus was out of his league in the field of Alchemy, and he would soon learn such a truth with the stunning realization of defeat as his very own fluids drained from his dried up and drained, lifeless corpse.

"If you wish to play this game...", Christian said, raising both of his hands above his head and watching with intense golden eyes as the two pillars of flame rushed through the air above him and soon repositioned above Dath Vulcanus head. "...then I'll burn you to cinders!", he called out in that deep, hate quenched voice as the pillars of flame collided above his head and melded into one, massive spire that rushed down from above him intent on crushing him to the floor of the arena and his flesh and bone. It would boil his insides and fry his brain, though Christian did hope there was something left of the creature to draw the force from. He was, after all, a powerful Alchemist. His life force could make a much appreciated addition to Christian's own essence if he didn't fight him from beyond the void.

[member="Darth Vulcanus"]

 

[Lord Ghoul]

Shorn's eyes narrowed and he expelled breath in a flash of irritation. That little wave of Nemene's really did piss him off, but he knew he needed time to recover. The fresh blood continued to flow through his system. He could not instantly heal, though with time his skin would look as though it had never been broken. The scars on his arms from brother's flames were gone, as were the numerous bullet wounds he'd received throughout the years. The cybernetic hand remained, a reminder of all that Anaya Fen had taken from him. And nearly taken. She'd almost killed Spencer. Mikhail had returned the favor.

He could hear his own breaths inside the helmet, loud and obnoxious.

A sudden, garish light spilled out across the pit. Shorn swung his head toward Slade and Vulcanus, feeling the heat of their combat even from this distance.

"You're kidding," Mikhail rolled his eyes. "Fight the giant Graug who specializes in pyrokinesis with fire. Real smart move."

[member="Nemene Talith"] [member="Christian Slade"]

 

[Darth Vulcanus]

[member="Christian Slade"] [member="Mikhail Shorn"]


The beast didn't try to move and didn't even show signs of fear, he stayed right where he was as the spire of flames moved to consume his body in a glorious bout of heat. What Slade didn't know was that fire was the element of Vulcanus calling, the only force power he had truly come to master. Sure, force body and strength were things that he was good at but that merely came as a side effect of his immense hatred and rage. Ever since he was a mere apprentice, Vulcanus had trained himself to know fire inside and out. He started off by using simple manipulation of molecules and airwaves, but a meeting with a long dead Sith Lord on his home planet of Gratos had shown him the ways of a true pyromancer.


The Graug moved with the strength of a master Shaper of Kro Var, his movements were based off of their fighting style and he could conjure flames as pure manifestations of the Darkside. The reason why Slade heard no words and saw no circles was because Vulcanus had no need for them, he commanded and the Darkside provided. Unlike Sith Alchemy, the Dark Sorcery that Vulcanus used bent the laws of reality themselves and conjured new aspects of life from nothing. The Darkside was a pathway to many abilities and Vulcanus had dedicated his life to understanding the ways of its elemental practices. So, as the fire engulfed his form and attempted to melt away his skin...the beast merely gave a booming laugh.


His laughing shot specks of purple blood across the arena floor. Absorbing the heat from the flames and using them to sear closed the wound of his jaw, the beast continued to laugh in a mix of agony and pleasure while the flames died around him. "You have lost, lesser" the Dark Lord said to the man through a telepathic message, knowing that his words would come out unintelligible if he were to speak them.


Using the essence he had absorbed from the alchemist's flames, Vulcanus stretched out his hand in a punching motion, but with his fingers opened wide, and stomped his foot forward once. The result would be a sudden conjuration of darkside manifested force flames that would encircle the alchemist on all sides with an orb of powerful black and purple flames that radiated dark energy. These flames would have the same effect as a powerful Darkside barrier that would try to block the Alchemist in with a mixture of an invisible shield and scorching heat. If all went well, the alchemist would be trapped in a ball of fire that radiated with volcanic heat. He was literally using his own force energy against him.


Assuming that the attack worked, the Dark Lord would simply close his grip tight and cause the center of the ball to quickly spike in heat. The temperatures would rival that of the lava rivers of Mustafar and would burn the man's flesh with their unnatural heat. As a pose to what Slade might of thought, he was out of his league and this time he wouldn't be able to fight fire with fire....

 

[Christian Slade]

Christian glanced over at Shorn for a moment during his fight with the Sith beast. As he did, those golden eyes narrowed at him as he said, "Well thanks a damn lot for filling me in about that one, but it's not like it's going to set me back to use his own flames against him. It's just wasted time, not energy."

Watching as the flames crashed down on top of Darth Vulcanus, Christian studied his reaction to it carefully. It seemed as if he was unable to be burned at all, which would be something quite handy for a creature that employed the use of fire so often. The realization that he would need to adjust his strategy came to him as he could feel the force baring down on him from all sides. This creature thought he was going to be able to box Christian in with a force barrier and flames to scald him to death. That wasn't going to happen, Christian wouldn't let the overconfident beast end his life as if he were some passer by Sith. "I didn't come here to lose.", he said as his golden eyes watched the beast with care. The Casino owning young entrepreneur had been studying the ways of the Dark Side since he'd been on his own as a child. He'd scraped by all those years with nothing but the growing hatred in his heart for his fellow Dark Siders, most of which were as selfish and arrogant as ever before. He couldn't stand their kind, and he'd kill every last one of them given he got the chance, and he knew exactly who to start with.

"Invocabo elementum Natura! Elementis impedimentum!", he called out as he reached down and slammed his hands into the ground while in a squatting motion. The moment he did, a rush of energy shot out across the cracked and shattered arena floor, dust and dirt rising up into a wall that rolled out away from him the ground shook. The next moment, the ground around him began to split and part, pieces of the stone shelf beneath them shifting and changing at his will, slabs of stone shooting up all around him and digging firmly into one another above his head. In just a matter of seconds, Christian was completely covered by a stone barrier, but he wasn't sure that this would be enough. That was why he lifted a barrier of the force all around him as the fire cascaded down across his rock and burned it black, but it would not burn through the stone.

Regardless of being protected by the stone, it was still intensely hot inside the barrier where he sat, legs cross and hands planted to the ground on either side of him. He was used to the heat, in fact his body was always abnormally hot based on his connection to the element of fire, but it was still hot enough to be damaging to the man if he remained there too long. Beads of sweat began soaking his long brunette hair and created long moist ribbons that hung down in front of his bowed head. moisture gathered until they grew too heavy and began to trickle down the bridge of his nose and his cheeks. It was intense, but he had to concentrate to keep his body temperature cooled and continue to fight. Closing his eyes slowly, Christian bore into the force itself and began to search for his opponent's signature. He found it with next to no effort, because a force signature like this creatures was not only vile, but one that you would certainly never forget.

Targeting his force signature, Christian began to chant under his breath, a dark violet hue glowing out from beneath his hands. "Invocabo elementum Natura. Lapis mortem...", he whispered as beyond his burning rock barrier more thin pillars of sharp stone began rushing up from the soft and cracked ground beneath Darth Vulcanus feet intent on skewering the creature.

[member="Darth Vulcanus"] - [member="Mikhail Shorn"]

 

[Lira Dajenn]

Leaning against the side of the rock pillar Nemene inclined her head slightly. Her eyes closed and she let herself relax, body and mind drifting off into sheer nothingness. Of course she still opened her eyes every few seconds, a single lid lifting momentarily to check on the battle before her. Things were growing interesting and she could hear whirling flames and shouting of monsters as the fight raged on.

To her there was nothing to do, nothing but wait.

Eventually they would all tire each other out. Use of the force was difficult on the body, and extended use of the force was even more tiring when it came to manipulating flames and the earth around one self. Much more difficult than just using a simple force push or lightning. All she had to do was wait.

Then, she would kill.

 

[Matreya]

Damien continued his lean against the far wall. He expended minimal energies pushing attacks and debris away, as he wasnt the target. However, he began to formulate attack styles of each individual. Through great control, on a degree few throughout time would know, Mikhail utilized telekinesis. He threw objects faster then shells fired from a gun, then after weakening an enemy, sought to leave their mark on the ground - literally. Vulcanus was......obvious.

Slade was odd, using powers in a fashion he had yet to see. But through such a broad talent spectrum, he was adept. Nemene was...bored. And Ferus....

Continuing his plotting, The Hammer decided whom he would attempt first when the time came. They would all eventually find out, but he planned each in their due orders.

 

[Lord Ghoul]

The waiting game was one Mikhail had never been good at, too much a man of impulse. He rolled his right arm, testing the shoulder and curled and uncurled the fingers of his left hand. Draining the blood from Slade's hapless victim had done the trick. Shorn's wounds were healing at an accelerated rate due to his Garhoon biology. Time to get back in the game.

From behind the black helmet, Mikhail regarded Vulcanus and Slade. They were both concentrating in full on their attacks, Slade on his spell casting, Vulcanus on not dying. Two metal balls the size of knuckle bones rose from the pouch at Mikhail's waist and rotated above his palm. The phrik ball bearings were the same as the ones he'd used earlier, only this time he'd have the element of surprise.

Without so much of a hint of warning, Mikhail unleashed both phrik balls simultaneously. One shrieked toward Christian's side with the velocity of a sniper round, easily capable of punching through the man's durasteel armor and terentatek leather beneath. And if by some miracle it didn't pierce his body, then the sheer blunt force of impact would be more than enough to shatter bones and rupture internal organs. Shorn knew what it meant when he'd tried to touch Slade's duster with the Force and found the thing immovable. The solution was rather easy for Mikhail. If he couldn't hit the man directly with telekinesis, he'd just throw stuff at him.

The other phrik ball bearing zipped off for Vulcanus' side. The Graug had almost been killed by the first ball. Shorn was sure not to make the same mistake twice. He guided the bearing like a heat seeking missile, taking it straight toward the Graug's armpit, where the armor would either be very thin or nonexistent. If it worked as intended, the phrik would rip through the Graug's armpit and right into his organs, chiefly, his heart - if he had one.

Sudden, yet inevitable betrayal.

[member="Christian Slade"] [member="Darth Vulcanus"]

 

[Caulder Dune]

"Invocabo elementum Natura! Elementis impedimentum!", he called out as he reached down and slammed his hands into the ground while in a squatting motion.

@[member='Mikhail Shorn'] | @[member='Christian Slade'] | @[member='Jared Ovmar']

Alright, since the Zabarak now had more in common with roadkill than most would find optimal, Tyrin would have to move on to the next shmuck. Ultimately the choice did not lay with him, but with Shorn. In order to maximize the effectiveness of the impromptu tournament-triumvirate of Ovmar-Ardik-Shorn, he would need to telepathically assault the next competitor Shorn went after. This time, it was some dude Tyrin had never seen nor heard of, squatting and yelping in some nonsensical language as he worked the Force.

A lunatic, clearly, and thus of little threat. Like the festering pile of gore and broken dreams that had once been a Zabarak, Shorn could probably handle this guy on his own. However, Tyrin believed in insurance.

Darth Janus stretched out with the Force, lashing at Slade's consciousness. A sudden bombardment would take hold over the Sithling, inspiring powerful feelings of dread and despair. If it worked, as it probably should, Darth Janus' target would swiftly drown in a sea of self-doubt and utter fear. He would become distracted and unfocused at the very least, leaving him open to attack by Shorn.

 

[Arage Bao]

I yawned.

It seemed they had a new target, which was just as well because I was really getting bored by now. Again I took a bite from the orange, which was still conveniently in my hands, I cherished the juices coming forth from it. The thrill of the fruit made me happy to be alive.

Nothing can match a bite from a ripe orange. Well.. almost nothing.

Anyway, Janus attacked Harry Potter, so I did the same.

From the depths of my inner being, I drawed upon the Force. I grabbed all the pain and misery, all the torture and hate that was in me. Then I channeled it into one big karking mental mace, which I directed against Slade's mind.

Mikhail would attack him physically, Janus and me would take him on mentally.

Booyah, that's what I call teamwork.

[member="Darth Janus"] [member="Mikhail Shorn"] [member="Christian Slade"]

 

[Lira Dajenn]

Nemene sat against the pillar with her eyes closed. She could sense the fluctuations and warpings of power as the force was thrown around. It felt like tiny waves rushing across a pool of water, small pushed and pulls against the branches of a tree.

Each and every time one of them used the force, she could feel it. She was hardly an expert with sensing the force, but this close, with so much power being thrown around, even she could detect the subtle nuances of strength coming from each person near her. She frowned slightly as her eyes snapped open. Bright orange shone slightly as she observed the group of men assaulting the man that had spoken in a different language.

She frowned slightly. What was all this teaming up?

They were Sith, not jedi.

From the ground Nemene picked up a small pebble, scooping up a handful of dirt and sifting through it until only a small rock remained. She let the rock run down her hand and into the pad of her middle finger. She flipped it, pinning the pebble between her index and her Thumb. It was [member="Mikhail Shorn"]'s MO to use small accelerated phrik orbs to attack, Nemene had observed that.

While she couldn't use telekinesis to replicate the effect, she had other methods.

With a smirk she aimed her hand towards [member="Jared Ovmar"]. She rolled the rock down her thumb and placed her middle finger behind it, then with a face made of marble she flicked the pebble towards Jared's spine.

The tiny rock flew at impossible speeds, more fast enough to tear through flesh.

There, that should make things more exciting. Jared would think Mikhail attacked him, and hopefully round on him.

 

[Lord Ghoul]

Bored. Eternally bored.

Things here did not move fast enough for Mikhail. Time to stir the pot.

Shorn gathered up his energy, all the pent up raw power, and turned it into an omnidirectional blast of telekinesis that ripped through the air. The concussive forces as of a bomb blast ripped through the pit, shaking the very walls and causing them to groan beneath the stress of the overpressure shockwave that approached five pounds per square inch. Enough pressure to knock over buildings not made from stuff sturdier than permacrete.

Eyes of liquid gold tinges by red watched from behind the black helmet, relishing the destruction unleashed. Nemene would likely be the first to receive the blast, perhaps Janus and Jared next, though they stood at the other end of the arena. The blast would hopefully send them smashing into the walls with enough force to shatter bones from blunt trauma alone. Perhaps killing them all, or knocking them unconscious and rendering Mikhail the sole victor.

"Tying is for losers."

[member="Nemene Talith"] [member="Jared Ovmar"] [member="Darth Janus"]