Unregretful Unification. (Isley)

[Darth Rixas]

Oron stood alone a large auditorium in the CIS' confines. He looked down at his ignited saber, the deep crimson blade illuminating the hard, unrelenting interior of the brown and red space in a eery bloody hue. Helios made little movement, looking down at the saber hilt that was held in a forward position in Oron's gloved hand. There was such a history behind the weapon in his hand that Oron had a moment where he'd lost his sense of direction, for it seemed he was guided by the gold, silver, and black hilt in his palm. He arched his forearm upward and brought the red blade rushing forward, the weightless blade stopping in front of his torso. The whirling sound that accompanied the movement echoed slightly in the large auditorium, the emptiness sounded nice to Oron. It reminded him of the nature of the missions he carried out for the Illuminati, somehow.

To some, it may have seemed like Oron was simply entertaining himself until he decided to rid himself of his solitude. But the drifting presence of the Illuminati Knight was doing much more than simply idly passing the time. He was studying. Few things fascinated Helios more than foreign objects and concepts, and lightsabers are definitely a weapon that had always peaked his interest the most. It was exotic, elegant and was a tool to the Force and its many religions. He could spend every hour of the day running through simulation fights and studying other forms and different move variations, although he usually got the chance to do so with his duties to the CIS.

He pressed the red emitter button on the shaft of the weapon and watched as the crimson blade retreated back in the chamber, as if the outside world forced it back in. He slid the hallow shaft back into the fitted slot on his belt before deciding to retire to his chamber. A cursory glance of the area provided that he left none of his possessions, as he turned to leave the auditorium. The corners of Oron's mouth drooped as he sensed a presence nearing. He'd always chosen this particular time of the night to practice techniques in the loneliness of this particular auditorium due to Oron's heavily solitary-like nature. He decided he wouldn't mind another guest entering the quarters however, its not like he owned it.

@[member="Isley Verd"]

 

[Darth Metus]

'Twas one of the rare occassions that the Mandalorian, known as Isley Verd, had been found outside of his beskar'gam. However, the choice to wear an ensemble of clothing befitting physical training was something that Isley decided to do in light of the impending coversation. He wanted to approach the man, his sibling by blood, as himself; not Marshal of the Order, not Colonel of the People's Army, and especially not a Mandalorian...He wanted to approach him as his brother. No more, no less. As such, Isley shoved open the double doors of the auditorium, saberstaff in hand, and calmly strode down the steps. His eyes, gilded by the dark side, gazed down upon the man known as @[member="Oron Verd"], causing a small smirk to form upon his lips.

"I hope I'm not interrupting...brother..." came Isley's simple greeting.

Long, confident strides bore him to the base of the stairwell; where he slid his finger over the ignition of his lightsaber. At once, the first of the staff's two blood-crimson blades erupted into existence with the traditional Snap-Hiss. The Mandalorian then slid his dominant leg forward, assuming the opening stance of Juyo. If his sibling would have it, Isley desired to spar with him this day and get to know him better in the only manner he knew how: through combat. "Training typically works better with a capable partner." he said, giving Oron a nod of encouragement, "If you allow me, I will be your opponent." With that said, Isley waited to see if his challenge would be accepted, holding his stance flawlessly.

@[member="Oron Verd"].

 

[Darth Rixas]

As Isley entered the auditorium Oron folded his arms and slightly raised his right eyebrow. Oron found himself quite capable of avoiding one-on-one encounters, a manifestation of an attitude created as a result of solitary years as an Assassin combined with his current affiliation with the CIS' Illuminati branch. He didn't fear them however, it was only his nature that's created an invisible barrier of emotional distance between Oron and everyone else. Silently, he gave a respectful nod to the Grand Marshal for walking through Oron's very fragile enigmatic wall. As to why Isley was here was beyond Oron, however. His mind raced to possibilities before they were silenced by Isley's opening statement. Oron's eyebrows pushed together, physically displaying a moment of confusion before he regained control and decided to believe him.

Trust was such a fragile concept in Oron's mind, but he didn't regret doing so in this situation. He couldn't think of a reason as to why Isley would lie, so Oron decided not to deflect the statement.

"Not at all." Oron finally said after a long pause. "The company's appreciated."

Oron watched as Isley stopped and activated his saberstaff, following up with a single snap-hiss of his own. Oron held his lightsaber in a reverse-gripped Djem So grip. Oron by nature could not turn down this challenge, feeling a greater urgency than usual because Isley was a Master whereas Oron is a knight. Realizing the difference Oron made note to not underestimate his older brother. His eyes narrowed behind his shades as he loosened up for the impending spar. He inhaled and exhaled heavily, throwing his arms with a shoulder shrug- ready to see how fast his older sibling was.



@[member="Isley Verd"]

 

[Darth Metus]

Although the same blood raced hot throughout their veins, the relationship between the two brothers was...distant. This was, of course, not due to any sort of animosity or strife; but simply because of the paths that each walked. Isley, the eldest, tread along the road of a Mandalorian and took a much more public role within the nation they served...whereas [member="Oron Verd"] preferred the shadows. 'Twas almost poetic irony that the siblings would favor two totally different goals in life; almost akin to opposing sides of the same coin. However, despite his unspoken pride in the fact that his younger sibling was capable and strong, there was much Isley regretted about the current state of their relationship. Of course, the Mandalorian was not the type to seek an arm-in-arm, singing around the campfire sort of brotherhood; but he did seek to shrink the ocean between them considerably...and what better way was there to understand someone than through combat? As such, as Oron held his lightsaber aloft, assuming the reverse-blade grip associated with Shien, Isley too entered his opening stance.

Holding his saberstaff above his head, Isley angled the blade horizontally and pointed it off to the side. For those few who could read a stance simply by recognizing the opening stance, this form was the first that the Mandalorian had been instructed in during his time serving under the Emperor's Hand: Juyo. However, the simple maneuver of lofting his lightsaber into place was not the sole preparation that Isley had to take. Oh no, there was much, much more going on in a place that the naked eyes of any opponent could never see: his mind. Setting aside his desires to understand his younger sibling, the Mandalorian instead allowed himself to begin reveling in the excitement of a coming clash. The impact of saber on saber, the rush of adrenaline as the battle progressed...each savory thought acted as fuel for the growing ember of battle-lust that Isley cultivated within. Drawing a single breath in order to focus himself, he then noted the shrug of his younger sibling...and interpreted it as a challenge. At once, his lips curved into the beginning of a smirk before the Force bent to his whims; surging forth in order to seize his limbs in their might.

Empowered by the energies, Isley pushed off and burst into a quick sprint; crossing the distance between them in the blink of an eye. Now upon his sibling, the intensity of the Form began to characterize the Mandalorian's every movement. With the ferocity of a Vornskr, Isley began to launch an assault of furious strikes upon his sibling, each aimed for a vital zone upon his body. Neck, Torso, Limbs...Yet there was no end in sight to this wrathful sequence of blows. Such was the nature of Juyo...such was the nature of fighting like a Sith.

Spoiler

[member="Oron Verd"]