Faction Trials by Fire - Tournament [TSE]

[Sith Norn]

Once again, the simple soldier proves to hold more skill that the Third Son of Lorale expected, his confidence and worry and need to prove himself and win causing him to shatter every ounce of training his father gave him. His opponent dodges his aimed strikes, leaping and evading and preventing his victory far longer than the Dark Jedi wants. No matter what he does, what stance he adopts, what power and speed he puts behind his attacks, none seem to connect, enraging him beyond comprehension.

"Fight me, coward!" he screams more than once over the roar of the crowd and fellow competitors, his outbursts betraying his once attempted veneer of calm, the fury blinding him more than the sand that is suddenly thrown into his eyes following another failed strike. The minerals and grains stick to his retinas and sclera like a tiny phalanx, preventing sight and coordination. He stumbles, dropping his lightsaber onto the sand as he curses and attempts to clear his vis-

Crack!

The hit to the head comes unprotected and unexpected, hitting the Dark Jedi harshly on the nerves in the side of his face and sending ripples of stabbing, almost burning pain through his face and to his neck. The neurons in his brain fire off in shock and fear, scrambling to enable every function necessary to keep the young man from crumpling to the dirt unconscious like a sack of crops and embarrassing himself with perhaps the most one-sided loss in dueling history.

The scrambling is not enough to salvage the situation and the Dark Jedi falls to the sand, blinded and semi-conscious, the wild hit from the soldier connecting at just the perfect spot, at just the right velocity, with just enough passion and desire behind the motion.

The sweet spot. Everything coming together for this man almost perfectly. This grunt.

To elaborate for the context of my tale and the events that occurred after the arena competition, I must state that there were a few stray, muddled thoughts that ran through the man's head as he slowly fell before his head smacked violently onto the grainy arena floor. These thoughts mostly constituted curses towards himself and his status as a failure amongst the ranks of the Spawn. Losing to a man, a simple, non-Sensitive man...the agony of humiliation would resound in his heart for months and years to come like the deep drums of war.

As darkness washes over him like the heaviest and thickest blanket in the galaxy, he swears to himself that one day, he would kill that soldier. He would kill Anden Fancelo . And he would prove himself then. He has to prove himself.

He has to.

 

[Kelsie Sylvan]

Equipment: Personal Armor, .48-caliber Enforcer pistol (overhauled to modern specifications), HL-27 blaster pistol (overhauled to modern specifications), Ice Gun, CryoBan Grenades (2), Taozin Amulet, Heart of Naboo, phrik vibroknives (2).
Tag: K Kaine Australis

Yep. Should've brought better gear.

She'd been expecting an evasive maneuver, or better yet an attempt at a counter, but what Shebs did was a rather lackluster attempt. If Kelsie was actually trying to kill him, she'd simply continue with her momentum and plunge her sword through his mask and face. Any competent blade-wielder knew not to over swing. In this case, though, it was acceptable -- she saw the Mandalorian's left arm begin to lash out towards her, so instead of stopping her right arm's momentum she simply allowed it to continue and knock aside his attempt to grab her.

Kelsie didn't really notice his attempt at a shot to the gut -- the Ekran-type shields in addition to her suit's baffleweave layer made weak points difficult to detect, much less capitalize on, further discounting the speed she was moving at and the difficulties of using a gun in direct close quarters. The first shatter gun pellet slammed into the shield and ricocheted away, and by the time he pulled the trigger again Kelsie was already attempting to grab his shoulder and slam her helmeted forehead against her opponent's plated face.

No point in pulling punches, more than she needed to anyways.

 

[Lark]

Inwardly, Lark held back a sigh. The banter AMCO tried to get going was enticing, and a number of Lark's other personalities would've taken part in the trash talk. Despite the desire the two combatants had to strike the other down, both of them would walk away from this fight with their lives. A bit of amiable quips might help build a beneficial rivalry between the two, one that would linger long after this battle concluded.

But once Lark drew from the power of the Necronomicon, his personage twisted into something horrifying, something he struggled to control. Whatever monster lurked inside of him unfurled and tried to take control, and it took every inch of Lark's willpower to dominate the eldritch truths he exposed himself to and the beastly urges that lay within him. His ever-shifting took upon a dark form, until he learned to tyrannize the primordial words in the tome, he'd never accomplish his goals.

And he would accomplish what he set out to do.

But the immediate moment had a more pressing concern, whose name was Adrian. The man's sword sent a burst of energy into the sky, eliminating half of the Svariff Lark had summoned. They vanished, consumed by the chaotic whirlwind of strength. Only three birds remained, and another eruption of power was sent in Lark's direction. That power absorbed both my Force Bubble and my Svariff, Lark thought quickly. I'm not sure I can defend against that. The Force ran through Lark's veins like blood, but even as he evaded to the side he still felt the negating effects of the attack. The miasmic energy seemed to slow him down, dampening his connection to the Force, making him grow weary. He could still fight, but his stamina had taken a hit.

Lark chuckled softly, glaring at his opponent with an oddly kind, angelic gaze. "Orphans from Myrkr and Corellia, what a pair are we," he said, taking a brief gaze into Adrian's mind. The galaxy didn't plan on either of them being here, and yet here they stood, locked in combat. And there could only be one victor.

Silently, Lark reached towards his waist and quickly unsheathed his enchanted Sith dagger, and threw it at Adrian as quick as a dart. Dive, my friends. Under his telepathic control, the three remaining Svariff would dive at breakneck speeds in a triangular formation surrounding Adrian. They'd search for any vulnerable spots they could find, and as they hunted Lark's dagger too would search for its target.

 

[Darth Vitium]

As she had in many of her duels, whether it be with Corvus Raaf of the Jedi Order or Cedric Grayson and his watchers or even Carnifex during his deliberate isolation in the Panathan Reach, Vitium allowed herself no time to make a methodical decision. The dark side flowed freely now, she could nearly taste it on her lips - if tasting was something she could still do - as lightning erupted from the fingertips of her outstretched hand, which had just moments ago released the ball of hatred that had provided her with this momentum to strike.

She paid no attention to how distorted her foes form became, nor did she care for whatever pain she might have caused. However, though darkness-made-lightning was erupting like a blinding burst of white light from her fingertips, she could feel an unease growing within her and knew this fight would need to be closed with certainty. Carrying on with her application of lightning, she stepped towards her adversary with the saber held by her other hand still at the ready. She wasn't entirely certain what machinations the Amalgam had planned that she hadn't immediately tried to strike back at her in an open manner, but the sensation of fatigue setting into her abdomen told her to press on with a certain discomforting sense of foreboding.

The Amalgam

 

[AMCO]

Orphans? How utterly misinformed, but then everyone didn't have his intelligence-gathering apparatus. Smirking softly, he moved to respond, only for his features to turn focused as his opponent launched another attack.

Too many variables, too many threats. All but snarling in frustration, the Sith Knight released the vortex of energies, allowing it to burst outwards and downwards. Best case scenario, it would weaken the Acolyte further, but at the very least it would knock up a cloud of whirling sand. A cloud which his rapidly-moving mind was plotting to exploit, even as he moved to defend himself.

Sword whirling in a basic but functional motion, he slammed Lark's Sith dagger away from himself, his left hand simultaneously hurling a perhaps excessively powerful blast of sorcerous energy at the Svarrif flying at his face, tearing it asunder in a flash of blue and black. Too karking many. The two remaining birds, seeing his attention fully focused, hurled themselves at him, razor-sharp claws tearing through his robes and ripping at his skinsuit, clawing their way through and opening a number of shallow wounds on his torso.

"Enough!" Projecting his will outward, Adrian sent the creatures hurling away, a few droplets of sweat joining the slowly trickling blood before the latter stopped, wounds covered by the slowly regenerating mesh of his armour. It would offer little to no protection, but at least he wasn't bleeding all over the place.

Thrusting his blade towards Lark, he poured his anger into a surging burst of lightning, the icy-blue tendrils crystallising scattered grains of sand as they hurtled towards his opponent with all the subtlety of a raging tempest, belying precision born from years of dedicated practice. He may not be much of a swordsman, but this he knew.

 

[Telis Taharin-Zambrano]

Telis would find his blade cutting through the air, looking up briefly as Cara soared beyond his reach and into the air. He didn’t even have a moment to look up before the woman fell onto his back, the weight of her only accentuated by the force of gravity that brought her back down. Before he could react, Telis found himself flung completely forward, propelled by Cara’s flip off of his back, and landing face first into the sand, disorientated and temporarily stunned by the nimble maneuver. He slid over the dirt like a puck, kicking up sand and his robes getting whipped about like the rags of a discarded doll. His sabers rolled from his hands, bouncing across the ground and scorching the earth as they went.

Telis, however, refused to stay down. He would slowly rise up to one knee, his breathing slow and his heartbeat racing. Reaching out his hands, the sabers jumped from the ground, spinning and flying towards his hands once again, activating with a long hiss. He then threw himself up to standing, spinning to face Cara Dorniarn, and twirling the blades to hold them backwards. With a leap, he would lunge towards the Bakuran, not a single shout leaving his lips as he moved to bring down an onslaught on the woman, charging without any sign of inhibition.

As he reached her, he would leap overtop the woman, aiming to bring the blades down and strike at the tops of her shoulders, not aiming to cut off her arms but rather sever some of the machinery that helped the arms to function normally. Landing flightlessly on the other side, facing her, he would lower himself down into a defensive stance, bidding her to come after him with a slash in the ground, and the nod of his head.

Cara Dorniarn

 

[Kelsie Sylvan]

Equipment: Personal Armor, .48-caliber Enforcer pistol (overhauled to modern specifications), HL-27 blaster pistol (overhauled to modern specifications), Ice Gun, CryoBan Grenades (2), Taozin Amulet, Heart of Naboo, phrik vibroknives (2).
Tag: K Kaine Australis

---

Again, forgetting the gear. But this time he was forgetting her body, too.

By grabbing her he'd failed to properly neutralize her right arm -- she'd blocked his earlier attempt to grab her, and the positioning of his arm after she'd blocked it meant he'd been unable to grab both. This Mandalorian had an awfully crude fighting style. Well, they all did. Normally she'd break out of his grip, but there wasn't much time. Speeding towards the ground wasn't very good positioning. She only had about a second... and well, that was all she really needed.

Her free arm's sword retracted and she pointed her gauntlet at the side of her opponent's armored head, beginning to pump it full of ion blasts. Hopefully he didn't die from having his nerves fried. After the first shots her own repulsors blasted to life; the ones on her legs pushing forward to effectively flip them such that Sheb's back was facing the ground. The impact would still hurt.

But not as much as it'd hurt him.

 

[Gryylarc]

The wookie's maneuver was a clever one, but it also marked Tehkyram's gambit playing off. The moment he felt the pull Tehkyram pushed off with his leg in a completed lunge, twisting his head ever so slightly to avoid the staff. He blasted past the extended weapon and instead right into the wookie's furry midsection, tearing him off his feet and down on his back. From there, Tehkyram shifted his position ever so slightly to mount the fearsome competitor and outright throttle him, putting both claws around the wookie's neck and squeezing as hard as he could.

Teyhkram's first gambit was that the wookie would try to get him into striking distance. The second one, the far more riskier one, was that the wookie had no experience in fighting someone bigger than him, more muscular than him, and perhaps more ferocious than him. Force the wookie out of his archetypal comfort zone and strip him of any advantages. That was how Tehkyram was going to win this.

OOC/ Didn't see your post until just now.

IC/ As the Karkarodon bulled him off his feet and his back hit the sand, Gryylarc came to several vital realizations.

For one, he'd misjudged his enemy's bulk. Gryylarc actually outweighed him. The impact was unmistakable.

For another thing, the young, eager Karkarodon had just anchored himself in place and given Gryylarc every possible soft target. The only problem was that disemboweling him or shearing open the probable circulatory vessels in his armpits or even neck would get Gryylarc summarily executed.

As big hands closed crudely around the muscles of Gryylarc's neck, the old Wookiee madclaw gripped Tehkyram 's wrists to blunt the force of the choke. His alchemized claws snapped out into the inside of the Karkarodon's wrists, intending to bite deep and rip. Every vaguely humanoid species of Gryylarc's acquaintance had vital circulatory vessels there. Still a lethal move given enough time, but defensible. 'I didn't MEAN to slit his wrists and drain him out on the sand, Your Honour. I was just so panicked when that big strong shark grabbed me!'

 

[The Amalgam]

The Amalgam barely caught the lightning with one end of her staff, flesh shuddering everywhere at the exposure to such intense power. She fed on some of it, the tainted suit she wore, beginning to quickly repair her skin and muscles due to being in such an intense concentration of The Dark Side. It was clear that her attack, even if it had not affected the Darth as much as she hoped it would, it was clear it was having some effect. Time to get more complex...

She smiled savagely and began to advance against the intense discharge. Her corruption had only grown since instigating the horrific slaughter on the Planet Castagne within CIS territory, decimating the capital.

Make no mistake: This person was crazy AF.

Her flesh shuddered more and more horribly as she advanced closer and closer to Darth Vitium, her lightning grinding violently against purple blades. It shuddered so much that when flesh warped near the eye socket one occasionally got a glimpse of a pearl white skull beneath.

As she approached, she began to push against the lightning even as it threatened to break her blade. She spoke a spell. Her favorite one as she got within striking range.

"Unholy Spirit, pour forth my hatred..." she hissed with a melting, bulging, bubbling, misshapen mouth.

What erupted from her mouth was a purple fire not capable of killing, or even burning. Instead, it was powerful enough to eat away at the target's morale, cause suicidal depression in the cases of very weak minds. It would linger for minutes on whatever the fire was sprayed on. The beast belched the unholy fire at Vitium, hoping to add to whatever damage she might have done with the poisoning, face and muscles peeling back horrifically and bunching upward and to the sides of her face, exposing the lower half of her alien skull completely as it exited from her, mentally commanding it to try and swarm her foe from all sides, to try and catch any attempts to jump away. At the same time she sprang forward, splitting her staff in two in a surprise attack, swinging her now free single bladed lightsaber at Vitium's other weapon in a move barrowed from Shii-Cho, a simple, destroy the weapon move she hoped would catch Vitium off guard, as such foes in her experience often anticipated (as well as equally inflicted) much more serious attempts to wound the foe themselves. Of course The Amalgam, hedging her bets, made sure her upward swing traveled in an arc that might still catch her in the shoulder even if she managed to pull back from having one of her weapons destroyed in time. She was completely deformed at this points, flesh constantly processing and the dark energy it was exposed to, flesh now constantly warping and bubbling now.

One dude, who happened to be watching this with a cyborg eye had this on telescope function wanted to be sick. He sipped a soda.

"The 'nope' is strong with that one..." he remarked, disgusted...

 

[Lark]

Lost birds, you have fulfilled your duty. Lark knew sending his corvian Sithspawn diving towards AMCO would result in their doom, and what a violent fate it was. The first was ripped and torn into nothingness, but its sacrifice was not for nothing. The other two were able to soar in close to Adrian and claw and lacerate his torso, causing faint trickles of blood to drip onto his armor. None of the wounds were fatal, or even near concern, for that matter. A trifling sting, a temporary scar. The final two birds were hurled backwards by a second tremor of energy, snapping their wings, leaving them twitching on the ground, flightless.

They were beasts who never deserved life. Their brief, sole purpose was bloodshed. As miserable as the creatures were, they did what they needed to do. But yet they still had one small role to play. Lark faced the oncoming wave of energy, feeling Adrian's wrath upon being struck by those unholy ravens. Can't let the book get hit by that, Lark thought. He didn't understand how, but the book revealed that extended exposure to Sith Lightning would return the tome to the location he originally found it. As far as he knew no one else alive knew of its origin, but he'd rather not make the trek back to Korriban to retrieve it again. The Necronomicon was invaluable to him. He'd willingly lose this fight in an instant so long as it kept the book safe in his arms.

So in order to keep the book safe and achieve victory, Lark would heed the advice of a traitor. Time seemed to slow down as Lark channeled the Force within him, a technique taught by the turncoat Krest. The first gift of the Force that Lark was trained in, one that was as familiar to him as the pillow of mud he used to sleep on. He wove through the electric webs as best he could, but Adrian's aim was true. Crystal glass left patterns of thin blood on Lark's legs, and a stray current of lightning clipped his shoulder. But he emerged from the storm on his feet, rolling to the side, Necronomicon in hand now that the tempest had passed.

The birds, Lark thought. The birds are all I have.

As Lark pressed through the electric furor, his two living birds feebly twitched to each other. Their wings broken, they were forced to weakly flap and strain towards the other as best they physically could. But their devotion to Lark was absolute, they would not fail him. Once Lark materialized from the storm they began to gouge at one another, ripping their throats out and drilling their talons into the other's chest. They could not shed enough blood from Adrian, but their own dark ichor would work just as well.

Even the pool of blood the two Svariff produced was not substantial enough to summon even one more bird. But Lark didn't require an entire Sithspawn to achieve victory. Perhaps the tail of one would suffice.

Chanting a quick phrase of indecipherable meaning, the spiked tail of a Maelridae would shoot out towards Adrian. The rest of the beast could and would not be birthed from the small pool of blood, but the tail could fit through. Like a tendril of armored thorns the tail would emerge from the pool of blood and travel quickly towards Adrian, attempting to impale him with it's barbed end.

But the summoning took its toll. A bloody teardrop ran down his pale face, and mundane images that would be unextraordinary to any other being in the galaxy ran through his mind, specters sent by the Necronomicon. A cardinal singing a somber tune, a dove looking down in shame. A robin lost from it's flock, a crow and raven so desperately searching for the other.

And the most terrifying of them all: Two black eyes gazing directly at him, judging him for all that he had done. Lark's brother was not pleased with him.

What does it mean? Lark thought. I'm not going mad, I'm not! All of those scenes, they seem so... familiar. Why? I've seen all of those birds before! What is it you're trying to show me?

He gazed upwards towards Adrian, stumbling forward, and ill-effect of the maddening Necronomicon. Whatever it all meant, Lark would raze the galaxy in order to discover it's true meaning. But for now, Adrian would have to do.

 

[AMCO]

With inhuman speed, the Acolyte danced through the raging tempest Adrian had unleashed, evading all but grazing wounds. This one was well-trained, but it would not save him. The time for showmanship was over, now was the time for victory.

Snarling a fell incantation, arcs of greenish light began dancing across the Sorcerer's blade, sparks leaping into the air by their own accord as if eager to pursue his opponent. Smiling coldly, he prepared to ensnare his weakened foe in a web he could not possibly hope to escape, when a sudden surge of danger made him fling himself to the side, sword snaking out sever the suddenly appearing... tail?

Blinking slowly, there was a sense of understanding, followed by a cheerful smile. "Well played, Lark. Well played." Sword once more rising, the arcs of energy reappeared and consolidated at his mental urging, then surged towards the Acolyte, seeking the encase him in their icy embrace.

Lark​

 

[Cara Dorniarn]

Cara bounced to her feet and dug her boots into the sandy soil to brace for Telis's charge. Blood had just started to rush before she reminded herself, "Don't get excited, not for this. Not yet." One breath in, one out. She focused back into the void of rhythm.

His speed was impressive and his leap seemed effortless as he soared over. Instinct forced her forearms above her head to block a strike to her armored cranium. The crimson crashed down on metal shoulders, pushing her forward with the angle of their strike. The ultrachrome shimmered as the hot energy conducted through the plates and dissipated, leaving a residual orange glow from the would-be slash from the sabers.

While Telis landed behind she took a wide step backward to dig in. Throwing her weight to the left she rotated to sweep his legs out from under him, planting a foot on his chest after he fell. She reached down and grasped a saber-holding fist in each hand, taking no time in an effort to break bones and wrench metal.

Telis Taharin-Zambrano

 

[Darth Vitium]

Roughly the moment that the Amalgam seemed to re-purpose the force lightning as a means of healing, which was a bit beyond the scope of what she'd expected as tutaminis was something she'd encountered a handful of times and usually in the hands of someone such as Rave Merril, Ashin Varanin, or Aaralyn Rekali, Vitium extinguished the blade of her second lightsaber, clipping it to her side as she allowed the lightning pouring from her free hand to cease. She was, of course, glad she made that decision when her adversary decided to attempt what she assumed was some primitive form of Sith Magic, though the use of a phrase rather than a name seemed distinctly more dathomirian in concept.

An unseen wall of force energy was erected around her, projected by the same hand that had previously been used to unleash force lightning only moments ago, which kept the strange flames at bay - noticeably not putting much strain on her reserves, which she surmised meant that whatever nature of this attack was less than physically harmful. It was a little more amusing to her, however, that the Amalgam decided to try for yet another leap of faith - perhaps literally - as she split her saberstaff into two separate weapons, a trick that was rather commonly employed by many Sith during the various battles between the One Sith and Galactic Republic of yesteryear.

Granted, the idea was a good one, two blades conjoined at the hint was an excellent method of potentially catching a foe unawares, but leaping at her while doing so was more than ineffective rather than doing so while actually striking at her when she was least capable of defending herself. The unease in her stomach, as the Amalgam's initial strike collided with the barrier she'd erected and the force gathered in the hand she had been previously holding her lightsaber with, shifted into discomfort, something that felt akin to food poisoning, and an inkling of what the enemy had attempted occurred to her. Allowing her facade of stoicism to fall away, she smirked.

"Not bad." She said.

The hand she'd been gathering the force in was lifted as she spoke and as she allowed the barrier held in front of her to fall she released an incredible shockwave of telekinetic force, something usually reserved for clearing debris or ripping a blast door open. She doubted the strike would be lethal, as the Shi'ido had clearly survived the flung spears of Sith magic she had struck her with earlier as it was of similar intensity but less focused in nature. Regardless, it would solve the issue of a foe within striking distance, two blades or not.

The Amalgam

 

[Telis Taharin-Zambrano]

When Telis felt his feet leave the ground, he felt weightless as he soared, airborne, detaching from the ground and spinning through the air, upside down and around 180 degrees as Cara held up her arm to block his vision blow. The plating in his combatants arm nullified the strike, distributing the head over the entire length of her arms rather than the two precise points of impact, but even still the blades left a shower of red sparks fizzling in the air, dancing before winking out of existence. There was beauty in the destruction, and for a moment all light faded beyond the blinding bedazzle of sparks and rogue light. Once more, without disturbing a single grain of sand beyond his slide, he touched ground, facing Cara with his blades at his sides.

But beyond that, his landing was far from graceful.

Before he could react, he felt his feet ripped out from under him, once more feeling the weightlessness of being in air, before he was broken from his trance, Cara’s foot striking him in the chest with a sickening and echoing sound, his armor doing little to block the blow. He was delivered back onto the ground, his head slamming against the floor and leaving him in a slight fog, but he was far from out of the fight. As soon as he could breath, he lifted his sabers to defend himself and strike at Cara-

And once more, she caught his game.

He felt a sudden pressure around both of his hands, a new weight added to his arms as Cara grasped his hands in her own, and began to squeeze the limbs. He couldn’t move nor struggle to escape, his hands locked and quickly being crushed by the cybernetic strength of the Sith pugilist. There was no pain in the hand he had already lost, and while it would take a lot of force to break it, sparks flew from the prosthetic as Cara squeezed more and more, a war of metallic attrition. His other hand, however, held out not even a fraction as well, with her fingers digging into his wrists and drawing blood from beneath his gloves, and the pressure forcing his bones to shift and bend to the circular shape of his lightsaber, fracturing with tiny rivulets of blood leaking into his gloves from the skin as it was torn against the woman’s metallic hand and his lightsaber. A sound like breaking twigs filled the air as Telis shouted, a scream and cry of pain that quickly turned to something far more primal: anger.

With no way to escape without damaging his hands or disarming himself, he would let the shout fill his veins with anger, anger that he channeled to the very tips of his fingers, and directed at Cara. His hands became electrified, and it conducted upwards into her arms, like a virus spreading from one person to another, dancing across her arms as it danced through his hands and burned away his gloves. He channeled the Sith lightening unrelentingly, no intention of killing, but every intention of inflicting the same pain that his master had inflicted on the woman who questioned him. Cara now questioned his ability to fight, and he would show not only her, but all other onlookers that though he was down, he could bring the storm down upon them.

Cara Dorniarn

 

[The Amalgam]

Well, that wasn't gonna work.

The Amalgam had no real answer for what happened next after the barrier came up and stopped her blades. She didn't even hear the honor of having Darth Vitium compliment her before the shockwave hit.

There was no room to dodge, it slammed into her painfully, flinging her away from the Darth. The Witch's flesh shuddered from the powerful impact, sloughing off the skeleton on one side, obviously torn open and leaking as she staggered up, but the local and intense darkness began reversing the damage, the muscles and skin slowly pulling themselves back up the skeleton. Her face was now torn open, parts of white muscle hanging out, though that too, was starting to recede, but slowly. She guarded, skin within her suit hanging limply off the arm, sagging.

But she sensed her poison attack was having some effect. Now to try something else.

The hideous beast, unable to hide beneath the guise of a near-impossible beauty any further stared right at her, specifically her face, and concentrated, using her ability with deadly sight to try and cause heavy, distracting burns to Vitium that might hurt her concentration, still guarding as she held back, using another spell, this one much more dangerous, and enhanced with blood from her exposed face which burned as she spoke the words.

She wasn't summoning the constructs to kill, merely to give Vitium a moments distraction.

They erupted from the ground behind Vitium, emaciated, naked female Togrutan's with no face and purple skin, five in all, sprinting with the speed of a ninja in full naruto-run, snarling as their clawed hands moved almost faster than the eye could follow for her legs. They could be destroyed fairly easy...a single swipe of the blade would do it, but the damn things were fast, and with a hopefully now burned face, Vitium would not be able to react in time...

 

[Cara Dorniarn]

It seared like wayward slag from the furnace. Cara's pained howl bellowed in the chamber of her helmet as the threads of electricity snaked up the arms and burrowed beneath her armor. Each strike felt as if delivered by molten fangs, jagged teeth that found their way to what little true flesh was left on Cara's neck and chest. The helmet's HUD blinked in and out, scrambled by the overload, and she felt her arms begin to lock at the elbows. Her neural chip was on the fritz, and what blips of the HUD remained readable was a scrolling message stating, "System shutdown. Recalibrating. Recalibrating. Recali--" It finally blinked away, replaced by an assured message that system reboot had initiated and connection would resume "shortly."

Hands remained clasped over her opponent's, the servo motors unable to force the metal phalanges to release while neural connections were shot. Cara stumbled off of Telis and used her back muscles to swing the man around, the force of the throw pulling the two Sith apart and throwing Cara on her back. She gasped a free breath while residual threads of electricity zipped across her armor. Arms remained lock at the elbow, making themselves a stiff problem to resolve later. She raised the rigid mounds at the shoulder, slamming them into the arena floor as she got back to her feet. Did she underestimate him? Was she not expecting him to retaliate with the Dark Side's most iconic calling card? ...Yes. Cara did underestimate Telis's ability to snap back with such a move. A mistake she wouldn't make again.

Since Telis decided to reach into the Dark, Cara decided to reciprocate his action. Her leg sported the weight of dead iron as she set her stance, a familiar metallic taste pooled under her tongue, and her arms twitched fake movements of life. Through her blank visor, Cara's eyes locked onto Telis's robed form, looking past the armor and plates which covered him. She needed not hands to feel the implants under his skin, nor needed a voice to communicate with their wired nodes. Her absent stare did not convey the calculations she prepared in tandem with the information his implants gave her. Their technical communion was finished, and Cara's eyes formed a yellow glow.

Shut off and dislodge heat sinks. Suppress overload protocols. Ramp up power gain.

The energy of the arena was electric. So were Telis's subdermals. An incapacitating heatwave, a blown node or two... payment enough for her own damaged cybernetics.

At least the light show would be phenomenal.

Telis Taharin-Zambrano

 

[Telis Taharin-Zambrano]

As Telis channeled his anger into the painful lashing that he delivered into Cara, more and more his gloves and sleeves burned away, revealing fully the cybernetic hand and his lightly tanned olive skin. Even faceless, Telis carried his intensity like a storm, and he was relentless in his reproach, continuing to shock Cara until she eventually pulled a force trick of her own, flipping him over alongside herself, separating the pair of them and sending himself careening once more, tumbling into the sand and being separate of both his mask and his sabers.

For a moment he laid still in the arena’s floor, his back heaving as he attempted to raise himself up, using his cybernetic hand due to how mangled his real hand was. It had taken all of his focus in Mechu-deru to keep the hand from being crunched, and the strain of it wore on him, his golden eyes filled with wear alongside with pain and dedication. His lip was bleeding from where he had accidentally bit down onto it, and despite how much of a rough condition his hand was in, he was still using it to pull himself forward, intent on winning this fight at all costs, even risking permanent injury.

And so, Cara’s manipulation was perhaps for his own good, in the long run.

All at once he felt the cold grasp of foreign control seize his nerves, before feeling spontaneously the sudden itching tingle of his implants activating all at once, the entirety of his hand glowing the same gold as Cara’s eyes, and his eyes being forced to change to the same shade. Telis shut his eyes tightly as he felt the burning irritation cover them first, before it bled downwards, into and around his neck like a burning collar, before settling into his lungs, choking him and asphyxiating him. Everywhere where he had flesh, the pain was searing, like waves of heat thrumming against him and seizing up every muscle in his body, the what intensifying and mounting higher and higher... Telis, Beyond the first initial cry, however, kept as stoic as possible. The lights shined as brightly as daylight, glowing brighter, and brighter, and brighter.

Until all at once, they shut off, overloaded with power and sending a painful jolt through Telis’s system, accompanied by a muscle spasm that grasped his lungs, and put him down for the count. For a brief moment his eyes opened, and the gray irises were visible, but then he once more closed them, trying to regain his breath, his muscles continuing to twitch and flex, and his hand still actively bleeding. Despite how he tried, he couldn’t bring himself to stand - it was far too much to endure, especially after the heatstroke Cara just struck upon him.

Telis had lost, utterly and completely.

Cara Dorniarn

 

[Darth Vitium]

For a moment there was some mild concern that she'd been a bit too expecting of her adversary to make it through the shockwave in one piece, and judging by her appearance the concern wasn't without its merits, but the rather sudden searing pain that erupted across the front of her face very quickly changed her perspective on things. This was what she wanted, this was how the newer generation needed to act if they wanted to become better than the last. She smiled, even as she reeled back in pain, knowing that in this moment, when it seemed like the Amalgam was stuck in a loop of throwing ideas at a wall based on precedence and hoping something would stick, that her enemy had finally found the desperation, perhaps, to improvise a strike that relied on exploiting vulnerability rather than tried-and-true methods.

Now, if Vitium hadn't been equally as invested in overcompensating for her lack of visibility, due to the instinctive nature of blurred vision and watering eyes from pain felt directly on the face, the follow up would have been quite a bit more brutal than in turned out to be. Perhaps if she had less experience, maybe, or less experience specific to group settings, the idea of raising what she could only assume had been undead would have met with more immediate success. However, very much like the shockwave that had repelled her attacker before, the force could be utilized to release a powerful wave of energy in all directions. This was a tad bit more risky, as they shared a large stage with other contestants, but there hadn't been any verbalized rules regarding accidental interference so she didn't let that bother her as she lashed out with the force.

Rather unfortunately, at least for the five that approached her and potentially for the Amalgam, Silara's specialty was something that typically put her at an advantage against Jedi that were stumbling away from their path. She'd honed it from her early teens and made use of it well into her time in warfare against the Jedi Order of the late Galactic Republic and the older incarnation of the Silver Jedi. The ability dubbed, by the scholarly types, as consume essence was the core of Vitium's arsenal. It was what allowed her to meet someone like Vornskr - now Carnifex - on equal footing in their duel when her skills were likely similar but her physical strength and brutality almost always fell short. To feed on the dark side, literally, and the negative emotions of others that fed into it, was what truly made Sith Lords of yesteryear monsters to deal with.

And the pain of being struck by the force, the rage that had built up this entire time at someone that pushed them constantly while hardly moving at all - nourishment, filling even. The pain that she, herself, had suffered was indeed channeled as a way to anchor herself to the dark side, that surely was a basic staple for all dark siders, she hoped, but to reach out and use the darker feelings of others for her own gain? How else would a Sith Lord in an era of infighting hold up to the competition on wits and skill alone?

Pain and anger amplified the wave of telekinetic force that poured out from her body as she screamed, shrilly, and pushed aside sand, rock, and dirt alike. Reanimated fodder were no different, though she couldn't quite see at the moment to discern what exactly damage she had dealt. If such an action didn't come quite so instinctively then things probably would have dealt with in a more showy manner - from the invasion of Kasshyyk to tail end of the Netherworld Crisis Vitium had been blinded by the explosion of her own lightsaber in her own hand and had learned to live physically blind. The pain, of course, had required her to dig in and lash out in a more wild manner, but the shock of being unable to see clearly would have passed and only hindered her for the brief few moments that the transition took accepting.

In either case, the wave of telekinetic force had ran its course, and, being the good sport that she was, Vitium allowed her opponent the opportunity to react in equal measure. After all, things had only become interesting after she'd denied her foe the chance to advance before, maybe she'd take another creative turn.

The Amalgam

 

[The Amalgam]

The way a Sith like Darth Vitium could make the Dark Side rage...it was something the disgusting beast attacking her could feel true admiration for. She had always lacked at telekinesis, no matter the method used to improve herself at it. It was what made her rely on the Dark Side and dark side magic so heavily...she simply could not spam telekinesis like it was going out of style. She had been forced to find alternate methods.

Still only half repaired, the Shi'ido was driven back further, flesh wriggling as she felt the Darth feed on the darkness itself in a way that fascinated her.

No point in holding back.

The Amalgam figured, direct assault failed with Vitium yet indirect assault succeeded. This was clearly not someone you could just smash aside. You had to go for a death of a thousand cuts strategy, wear her down.

The wave came from afar, forcing the Amalgam backward hard but not truely doing much more damage then blasting off loose, exposed muscle which burned to ash.

The Darth had her tricks. The Amalgam had hers.

And one of hers was reaching deep, deep into even the very strongest of minds, and conjuring their darkest fears, and ramping them to the nth degree. The effect would not last long...about twenty seconds if it worked. But if it did...Vitium would be open to other attacks.

This is what the Amalgam attempted to do on Vitium, using Force Horror. This was a tried and true attack of hers, one she had honed to the point even a mind as formidable as a Darth's was vulnerable. Not completely vulnerable but vulnerable enough she would have to struggle 'really' hard to fight it off.

The Amalgam was delighted in truth. It had been a long time since she had been challenged like this...

 

[Sith Norn]

A few days have passed to give the competitors time to heal, rest, eat, plan. They have reached the halfway point, which is in of itself incredible given what is on the line. A fight against the Emperor of the Sith. A chance unlike any other, a chance to prove that you are truly worthy to serve the Sith. What reward could be considered better in life than this? The fans who would attend know this, ravenous in their desire to see one face off against Carnifex, roaring in their delight at the combative sport presented to them.

When the competitors, of whom remain eight, return to the fight, they will find that the arena had undergone some drastic changes prior to the second round to account for the smaller lineup and increasing pressure. It will be as if they have been transported to an area completely different location entirely, the shapers of the arena having worked overtime to ensure the best outcome for the arena.

Most noticeable, perhaps, is that the sand floor has been replaced by a smooth grey stone while the stands and general structure have been reformed into a demonic construct of spiked wood and red leather barriers. Guards of a monstrous size are stationed every twenty feet to guard the stands and prevent over-zealous fans from getting too close, especially as the eight contestants begin to enter the arena once again. Such is the atmosphere this night.

The crowd quiets down as a figure suddenly appears in the center, a short and lithe man dressed in the finest silks the Empire can grant to a citizen. "Citizens of the Empire!" he calls out in a booming voice that belittles his small stature. "Welcome, once again, to the Arena. Tonight! we present to you the eight victors from the previous round! Tonight! they will continue in their bid to battle the glorious, impeccable, irreplaceable Emperor Carnifex! Contestants! Mark your enemy! Steel your hearts! And...BEGIN!

---
OOC

Same rules as round one. No killing. No auto-hits. Grievous injuries require consent from the opposing party. No power gaming. No UNLIMITED POWAH. Three days to reply to your opponent before a winner is decided based on who posted last or a mutual decision is made. Etc, etc.

Again, here is the lineup:

Anden Fancelo vs Kelsie Sylvan

AMCO vs Dorian Sicarrio

Cara Dorniarn vs The Amalgam

Gryylarc vs Valeria Sempronia

Most of all, have fun everyone.