Private The Purpose of Sacrifice

[Marcus Dinn]

Marcus barely had a chance to catch the glass-gleam of a shikkar before it intercepted his dagger in midair, shattering on impact. The acolyte instinctively covered his eyes with a raised arm, afraid of being blinded by the scattering shards. For all his creativity, Marcus was skittish and easily frightened, willing to do anything just to avoid being mutilated.

It gave Malum an opening to exploit. Marcus heard the crunch of glass underfoot as the Sith Lord charged at him. He had just enough time to ignite his lightsaber, the blue blade crashing into the red.

His block was sloppy, his fingers and hand saved only by the phrik crossguard his mother had so lovingly suggested. It caught Malum's blade, forcing him to keep moving. Marcus' next parry was a drastic improvement over the first; his effectiveness only seemed to increase the longer they dueled. The boy was a quick learner, observing his opponent's fighting style and adjusting his own accordingly, patiently maintaining his defenses until he could spot an opportunity to strike back...

Darth Malum of House Marr​

 

[Darth Malum of House Marr]

If there had been hesitation in his swing as Marcus raised his hand to cover his eyes from the glass, cowering away from the threat to him, Malum would not admit it to himself, let alone anyone else, but gazing at the clashing blades at the edge of the arena, the red of a Sith and the blue of a Jedi, it was enough for him to narrow his eyes.

"That is certainly a choice," He broke off from the swing only to take it from another direction, only to be caught upon the phrik crossguard as another parry answered, "I would like to know what influenced that decision," He would not mention the previous instance of fear, the approaching lightsabre only barely deflected would be enough lesson to never take your eye off your enemy.

Instead, he pulled away once more, Marcus was his ideal foe, one with a lot to defend, twisting upon his knee, pushed forward by the Wind summoned by the Force, he threw himself behind a stab to break the guard, only to be denied against, flashes of light as the plasma of different modes burned against each other. Yet, each deflection, each parry, each dodge and block, only made Malum grow faster, as if he was stealing the energy from the foe, the momentum pressing in like the waves of the oceans currents,

He would withdraw only to throw himself back in, swing in one direction only to feint in the other, Marcus was on the defence, forever the worst position to be, yet, behind those green eyes he was analysing, thinking.

To move faster than thought was the goal.

To end this even faster.

His free hand turned into a fist, pulling the sand beneath their feet, launching them forward toward the acolyte's eyes, as he swung to throw the lightsabre from his grip.

Marcus Dinn

 

[Marcus Dinn]

"That is certainly a choice. I would like to know what influenced that decision."

The question gave Marcus an opportunity to cast aside his fear. "I like blue," he replied with a cheeky grin. The answer really was that simple. Color-coding either side was arbitrary and silly. Good and evil came in all shades.

As for his defenses, patience was one of Marcus' few virtues. He was determined, yet unhurried as he parried Malum's strikes. His endurance, however, could not hold out forever. Eventually his opponent would wear him down. He could not afford to be tired when fighting a Sith Lord. The mere idea of being weakened in Malum's presence made the boy's anxiety shoot up through the roof.

So when the chance came, he seized it. As soon as Malum reached for the sand at their feet, Marcus struck out, jabbing at the vulnerable space between the Sith Lord's neck and right shoulder. Some of the grains of sand hit his blade, crystallizing on contact; the rest decorated his robes. But he did not allow his eyes to be blinded, shielding them with the Force.

"Really?" he asked Malum, smirking. "Did you think I wouldn't know that trick?"

Darth Malum of House Marr​

 

[Darth Malum of House Marr]

Malum raised an eyebrow at the answer.

He raised the other as time slowed and the blue blade was heading towards a direct collision course between his shoulder and neck, his own red aimed for hilt switched course in an instant, as the sand rose beneath their feet as his boots struck the earth with enough stopping temerity to raise the particles.

As the loud hiss of plasma clashing shook the air, red and blue collided the sheen of purple sparing them apart, as the Force shot out of his fingertips like the freak of nature, aimed to throw him out of the arena, and using the resulting momentum to draw distance between them. His legs groaned as the wind whipped against them, thrown back himself as they drew parallel lines across the sand.

"What can I say?" Malum smirked with a knowing look in his eyes, "I enjoy my ironies."

He drew into the robes of his cloak, his fingers finding between the gaps the simple hilts of his query, between his dominant digits three Shikkars emerged, flung towards target, whistling through the air, if he survived the Force, then this aimed to finish him.

Victory by arena knockout would have to do.

"As for liking blue..." The eyes were filled with mirth, "...It might not be worth the friendly fire."

Marcus Dinn

 

[Marcus Dinn]

In response, Malum slowed down time. Marcus felt the shift with rising panic. He swallowed his gorge and adjusted his own speed, pressing through the slow-mo and whirling around in the expectation that Malum would stab him in the back.

Their blades crashed together, blue and red flashing purple. Then the Sith Lord did something weird. Raw Force energy shot out of his fingertips, a powerful exercise of telekinesis. Marcus was unprepared for the force of the blow and was knocked off his feet, thrown through the air, and landed outside the arena.

"What can I say? I enjoy my ironies."

Groaning, Marcus peeled his body up off the hard floor. He wasn't seriously injured, thankfully, but the bruises still hurt. A moment later, he heard the whistling of air as three more shikkars sailed toward him. He rolled to the side, narrowly avoiding splash damage by either shattered glass or the acid contained inside the blades.

"As for liking blue... It might not be worth the friendly fire."

Marcus barked out a hoarse laugh. "What Jedi or Sith relies on their eyes to see?" he said. "I radiate the Dark Side, same as you. They can sense that." He rose to his feet and bowed respectfully. "It was an honor to practice with you, master."

Darth Malum of House Marr​