Faction The Reckoning of Kyyrk Verros

[Gerwald Lechner]

​

Gerwald had little choice in the matter. Whether he thought the man was ready for this stage of his recent journey among the living, he had proven that the trial was at least deserved. This would prove it all. Was the lupine concerned that the man lacked force skill? No. The concerns were of another nature. Readiness was more than skill with a blade, or power in the force. Such advancement also meant the man was ready to teach once more.

He had changed, that much was certain. It seemed he was less patient than Gerwald remembered him being. There was something he carried with him that made the wolf wonder if he should be among the Knights at all. It was not dislike, but rather it was his duty to the Order he led, which made Gerwald cautious.

Yet here they were.

A mental missive was sent to the White Exarch, the Dread Queen, Srina Talon before the event was set to begin.

< “I am having him tested today, if you wish to observe.” >

She would know of whom he spoke. The two had discussed this matter at length. Her insight had led her to other conclusions, ones Gerwald could not dismiss, even if he did not always agree with them. It was odd to think he had grown to a place where he could disagree with the Exarch as though they were equals. That would not keep him from listening to her, or admitting when she was correct.

There were others who would help with this trial. Gerwald always sought to find a test which would be for the individual being tested. He was not interested in following a particular formula. This was meant to determine the readiness of the one being tested, so the wolf had to build each test to do just that.

As everyone gathered in the courtyard, it was time to call for the one being tested. Through the force a summons was sent.

< “Kyyrk-Xho Verros, your reckoning is now!” >

Kyyrk | Oleander Webb | Kristyl Arenais | Srina Talon​

 

[Kyyrk]

S U M M O N S
​

Kyyrk had been summoned. The halls of Arx Obsidia awaited him. It was not a surprise. All who sought to rise within the ranks were forewarned of their impending trials. In the wake of recent conflicts, rumors had begun to spread. That Kyyrk, the very man who brought the Knights Obsidian to her knees, was due for a promotion. They, of course, did not know the truth of this matter. The trials that would proceed it. There was still a chance that he would fail. A chance. Small though it may be. Kyyrk stood, picking up his helmet from the table upon which it rested. He paused, looking at the faceless visage upon it. Horace hooted quietly from across the room. A gesture of comfort. The two hadn't spoken since Kyyrk's return from the incursion.

In fact, Kyyrk hadn't spoken to anyone. The vow of silence he had taken was total. He'd locked himself away in his private chambers, not to be seen by anyone for the weeks since. He was repentant of something. But what, it was not clear. Or perhaps he was preparing? The pale man stepped forward and placed his helmet back upon the table. He would not need it today. Let the Confederacy leer at the face that had led them so far into darkness. As he turned towards the door, Horace lit from his perch and flew across the room to land on Kyyrk's shoulder. Kyyrk exited the small apartment and walked towards the grand bastion of the Arx.

As he walked, Kyyrk remembered the last time he faced such a trial. Hoth. He had been tasked to retrieve a lightsaber. The beasts he slew that day paved the way to the first of the myriad titles he'd earned over his carrer. Lord Verros. Violet eyes shone from his immersion into the Force, only intensifying as he drew closer to the grand temple. His armor shone in the sunlight, and his lightsaber rested proud against his shoulder. His hair was neatly kept, though in opposition to his usual style, he allowed it to run down the side of his face, rather than restricting it to a ponytail. What need had he of his sight, when it was also one of his greatest liabilities?

Kyyrk paused at the base of the stairs to the courtyard. He looked up with a strange...hesitation. This was the moment that would define him. Whether he wanted it to or not. Horace hooted once, then took off. He flew up and over the wall, signaling Kyyrk's arrival to those who knew the connection he shared with the creature. Kyyrk's gaze dropped back to the stairs for a moment as he thought back on all the trials he had endured across his years. All the countless feats he had accomplished. In another life? His name could have been legend. Kyyrk's gaze turned to the side, staring quietly at the empty space beside him. Just once...it would have been nice to have someone standing along side him.

He exhaled quietly, then turned his face towards the courtyard and steeled his resolve. It was time. He began his ascent up the stairs, his head held high. Proud. The shadows of his doubt would have to consume him another day. Today, the Wolf sought to test Kyyrk. As he came to a stop before the gathered Knights, Kyyrk folded his hands neatly at the small of his back. He was a soldier submitting himself for inspection. Whatever test Gerwald threw at him, Kyyrk was prepared to endure.

He'd not made it this far to be bested by such a simple task.


Gerwald Lechner || Oleander Webb || Kristyl Arenais || Srina Talon

 

[Oleander Webb]

TAG: Gerwald Lechner | Kyyrk | Srina Talon | Kristyl Arenais

Oleander had taken part of a handful of reckonings now, enough that he didn't question the summons now, merely accepted his place in them. This particular reckoning was one he wasn't super gun-ho for, not because he had anything against the one being tested. No, the Vicelord or a Sith could show up for their trial and Oleander would treat them the same.

What was affecting now was the leftover yawns from a nap interrupted. The knight in black had developed a reputation for being the sleepy sort, something he certainly lived up to. Lounging in a tree overlooking the courtyard, not nearly as hidden as he'd normally aim for, Oleander waited for the trials to begin and, more specifically his cue to jump down.

 

[Gerwald Lechner]

​

Gerwald waited for the arrival of the one who had been summoned. This was going to be an exceptionally interesting trial. There was part of the wolf which thought the man did not need a trial, but the test was still necessary. Even though he was the same Voph they had lost, there was something very much different about him as well. Gerwald needed to know that he would be able to lead all the same.

Many of those questions had been answered with recent events, the most notable of which was the attack on Rhand. Kyrrk had led a small team in what had turned out to be a disaster for the entire assault, but how he handled it was what mattered. The Knight did not back down.

“You’ve shown yourself capable beyond your current station, and while it is enough to possibly warrant skipping this whole affair, this is more about what the Order needs, than what you have to prove.”

Gerwald paused, waiting for any indication Kyrrk understood what Gerwald meant with that statement. He grinned as he motioned to Oleander.

“This one here… he will be testing your skill in combat. I just woke him from his nap, so he might be a little cranky. I am certain you will be able to handle this just fine, however.”

He looked to Oleander Webb .

“You may proceed when ready.”

Kyyrk​

 

[Kyyrk]

T R I A L
​

Kyyrk's eyes flicked upwards towards Gerwald. He spoke of Voph proving himself beyond his current station. But of how tradition must be upheld. How this wasn't about what was best for him. This was about what was best for the Knights Obsidian. He paused for a second, allowing Kyyrk a moment to speak. To acknowledge his words. Kyyrk stared in silence, a nearly imperceptible nod of his head the only indication he gave of his understanding. Then Gerwald lifted an arm, gesturing towards Oleander. A man that Kyyrk had encountered on more than one occasion. And now? He stood as an adversary. A test of his combat prowess.

You may proceed when ready.

Kyyrk's head turned slowly to look at the young man being pitted against him. Anzati, he'd know that scent anywhere. Lithe being, with little to no armor. An agile one. A combatant who took pride in their ability to avoid a hit, rather than absorb one. Most likely would seek to counter Kyyrk's every blow with an attack of their own. He'd need to take that into account. He nodded once, in respect for his opponent, then withdrew an item from his belt. Both hands brought the simple black fabric to his face, and tied the mantle around his eyes. The darkness consumed him and surrounded him. But then, like a drop of water upon a still lake, the echoes of vision reached out before him. He could see the room. The obstacles, the wolf waiting above them. But most importantly, he could see his opponent. Kyyrk exhaled slowly and deeply, his palms stretching towards the floor below him. He held this for a moment, then took a step back.

His right hand stretched forward, and a metallic clattering could be heard as his lightsaber loosed itself from its sheath. It slowly, elegantly floated from his shoulder to his waiting hand, his left curling into a waiting claw, and withdrawing to rest near his face. He settled into a stance waiting for his opponent to be ready. His head cocked to the side as if listening, and his breathing slowed. He was ready. If combat was really what Gerwald wished to see of him?

Then combat he would see.

Gerwald Lechner || Oleander Webb || Kristyl Arenais || Srina Talon

 

[Oleander Webb]

TAG: Gerwald Lechner | Kyyrk | Srina Talon | Kristyl Arenais

Oleander gave a short huff as attention was turned to him. Testing one's battle prowess...his least favored aspect of the trial, primarily due to the finality he was known to bring to the battlefield. He doubted any within the Knights Obsidian would take kindly to losing squires to the Reckoning and not emerging with a new knight in the ranks.

Yet this one, he'd encountered before on a couple occasions, both in this rendition and earlier. The squire had proven himself, sure, though he also had the arrogance that beckoned Oleander to knock him down a few pegs. Was this the place for that? Eh, probably not. But it did mean he would worry less of going too far.

He stood from his resting position, rolling his shoulders back to push through the last veil of drowsiness, watching as Kyyrk blindfolded himself. Curious, but not overtly concerning. Oleander's own lightsaber drifted to his hand, the Anzat tossing it lightly in the air once, twice, testing its weight in his palm. Shrouded in his usual alchemized leathers, no longer half asleep, he gave a short inhale, almost giving the battlefield a quick taste though careful not to lose himself to the hunt.

At last he jumped down from his tree limb, boots making only the slightest of sounds as he touched the ground and he was in motion once more. His agility would serve him well as it always did, the Anzat being quick to approach now that the bout was his focus. The transparent blade that moved with him was quick to strike at its target, aiming first for the midsection and then to sweep at the legs.

 

[Kyyrk]

T R I A L
​

Kyyrk did not move. The assassin was allowed to approach uninterrupted. Kyyrk drew a deep breath, his head bowing ever so slightly as he exhaled.

You are a bladewalker.

Kyyrk slid into motion, his forward foot drawing back against the cold stone floor as he pivoted in place. His movement seemed odd, as it put him in the direct path of the feint, and yet when Oleander switched to launch his true attack, Kyyrk was out of line, letting the man's blade just barely miss the trim of his greaves. One could not hide much from the Archon of Visions.

Nay.

One could not hide from the Archon of Visions.

Where others see conflict and strife, you will see art.

Kyyrk pivoted back as the blade swung past his leg, turning his chest parallel to Oleander's. In turn, Kyyrk stepped forward, his torso turning as his hand closed into a fist. As his thumb met the activation plate across the back of his fingers, the shield generator crackled to life, mere inches away from slamming into Oleander's nose. A clothes line in every sense of the term.

But Kyyrk was not content to stop there.

Many will practice your art, and call themselves legend

Agility was key. Oleander would dodge the attack. There was no way the Anzat would be hit by such an obvious one unless he permitted it. So Kyyrk moved his back foot to cross behind his front, spinning counter-clockwise away from the younger man, yet still maintaining his forward velocity. Agility worked best at range. A luxury he would not afford his opponent. His right fist dipped as his arm swung around, loosing a jet of flame towards the man's feet.

But art by any other artist is but a pale imitation.

Kyyrk's blade raised, ready to strike again as his arm drifted to the conclusion of the flaming arc. Memories were flooding Kyyrk's mind. Two hundred years of hunting the unsuspecting had honed Oleander into a well tuned killing machine. This much was certain.

Kyyrk had spent the better part of Five Thousand hunting demons the realms of the living could only hope to imagine. With the Force as his ally? There were few that could hope to overcome him.

Gerwald Lechner || Oleander Webb || Srina Talon

 

[Oleander Webb]

TAG: Gerwald Lechner | Kyyrk | Srina Talon | Kristyl Arenais

The Anzat drew back as the shield generator formed just a tad too close for comfort, nose wrinkling in both distaste and the thought of what would've been if the shield had made contact. For one who was the incarnation of a hidden weapon, he'd developed a rather particular bias against other hidden devices. Back in his day, the hidden knife was a delectable turning point of a battle. Elegant, precise, almost assuredly guaranteeing a victory to the one who mastered its timing. Kids these days didn't understand the old ways.

He could respect the tactics though, even if he didn't enjoy them. He initially intended on pressing his attack forward, taking whatever ground Kyyrk gave as his own, only for that plan to quickly fall back as flames shot forward to encompass his legs. Unexpected. One less experienced in combat would've struggled to keep up with the surprise flame. Good.

Oleander retreated from the flame, stopping just short of its licks as his senses caught another motion from his foe, the blade raising to strike. He lifted his saber-less arm above his head, with intention to let the alchemized leathers of his braces serve as a block. His other arm brought his own blade across once more for a lightning-quick swipe along the midsection. The slight twitch of a grin tugged at the outer corner of his mouth.

 

[Kyyrk]

T R I A L
​

Kyyrk's blade landed hard against the man's arm and locked there. Under his helmet, Kyyrk smiled. For agility being the man's strongest asset, he was loathe to use it. The smaller man's blade came to strike Kyyrk's midsection, and his own off hand came down to meet it, the Cortosis ridge along the back of the gauntlet stopping the blade cold. Now it was his turn to press the attack again. With the two beings locked in a grapple, Kyyrk was at a clear and distinct advantage. He stepped forward, using the two points of contact to shove the assassin backwards with all his might.

He tossed his own saber in the air, catching it in his left hand and a second lightsaber blade sprang to life. A small concealed emitter on his right gauntlet. He lunged forward with a thrusting attack with the smaller blade, also sending a jet of CryoBan directly at the man. Kyyrk pivoted, spinning counter-clockwise to bring his off hand around in a mighty, horizontal arc, the white blade of the lightsaber it bore crackling with electricity. It was slowly becoming apparent that Kyyrk was not seeking to land a blow against Oleander.

He was studying him.

Gerwald Lechner || Oleander Webb || Srina Talon

 

[Oleander Webb]

TAG: Gerwald Lechner | Kyyrk | Srina Talon | Kristyl Arenais

Oleander fell back, the deathly pale creature using his opponent's shove as a springboard rather than resisting, with the intention to move the other off balance. 'An object in motion...' and all that jazz. His brow furrowed further as a second blade snapped into action. Again with the hidden weapons. But with the grapple broken, he dropped into a roll, the chill of CryoBan licking his tailcoats, the hair on the back of his neck standing tall.

Rising to his feet, his empty hand closed into a fist once, twice, as if to shake off the residual chill lest it lock up his limbs. He'd known Carbonite well, too well for his liking. It'd locked him in a slumber that'd nearly taken his vision and succeeded in taking whatever mortal connections he'd had before. To have it used against him now...tactical on Kyyrk's part but also unfortunate. For Death no longer had an interest in playing nice.

His ghostly blade met the crackling white of his opponent's with new vigor. A more well-tempered individual might've taken notice in Kyyrk's wide arcs and what intentions were hidden behind them but in the moment, the complicated and conniving had been lost on the Anzat. A tactician's mind had been traded for a wave of necrosis that emanated from the entity, signaling the change in demeanor. And with that it was his turn to press an attack, the Anzat advancing with less interest in avoiding retaliation altogether and more so ensuring that he'd be too close not to catch Kyyrk in the aftermath.

In a snap of movement, finally utilizing those reflexes he'd become so known for, his clawed hand moved with intent to clasp the man's throat. We're done here. The statement crept in telepathically regardless of whether or not he actually made contact, not without the beguiling hints of persuasion that had made many a meal for the Anzat. Though feeding was not his intention, this time. He'd served his purpose in this trial, finding Kyyrk's skills acceptable. And his gaze drifted toward Gerwald so that the fight might be officially concluded, though still keeping an eye out for another attack from Kyyrk.

 

[Kyyrk]

T R I A L
​

Kyyrk was perpetually in motion. Seldom did he linger in his efforts. But it was not mindless. No, never mindless. Kyyrk pressed the attack. The other man had become enraged. It would seem the use of CryoBan had struck a nerve. Good. Kyyrk's right hand formed into a fist, the Vajra launcher upon it priming its next shot. But then Kyyrk realized, the creature before him had no intent of finishing this civil. He could feel the death wave from where he stood as the Anzat charged him.

Kyyrk made a decision in that moment. For the purposes of this test, neither opponent would kill the other. But that didn't mean he would fail without a fight. Kyyrk deactivated his Vajra launcher, and flipped his saber around to hold it inverted. If the Anzat was going to charge him, so be it. They would go down together. Kyyrk pulled his blade close to his chest, waiting till the final hour. Then, as the Anzat made contact with his throat, he shoved his right hand forward, palm opened, directly into the man's gut near his kidney. A critical wound, had his wrist blade remained in play. His lightsaber also deactivated at the last moment. It was poised such that all Kyyrk would have to do is lunge forward, and they both would have been wounded by the blade.

But both blades died at the last moment. Kyyrk was not going to kill a fellow Knight over a spar. Even as the senior Knight signaled the end of the spar, Kyyrk held his footing for a moment, then stepped back to disengage from the Anzat, holding his now deactivated saber at his side. He lifted the hilt to his chest, and offered his opponent a bow. A sign of respect for a spar well fought. There was some part of Kyyrk that remained on edge, prepared for the Anzat to strike again. You never knew with these trials. But Kyyrk outwardly displayed confidence that Oleander had no such devious designs.

Gerwald Lechner || Oleander Webb || Srina Talon